Rose Garden: Chapter 18

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When Kyle asked where the wagon was headed, the man answered gruffly, “Torney Village.” He clearly wasn’t pleased about being forced by Tosha to take a stranger on board. Kyle didn’t press any further. He just curled up with his knees to his chest, rounding his back.

How ironic, that their destination happened to be Torney, the very village where Warren lived. When Tosha asked where he wanted to go, he’d blurted out “south” without thinking. Maybe… maybe some part of me wanted to be near Warren, if I was going to die anyway.

Once the sun set, the monsters would come, drawn to the scent of an angel who had lost all power. If he stayed at a brothel, there was a chance someone might witness him being devoured. That was why he had to leave town he needed to be somewhere no one would see him like that.

He did feel sorry for leaving everything to Tosha, forcing her to cut his wings, relying on her for what came after. But there was no one else. And there was nothing left for him now but to be consumed.

Gently, Kyle opened his tightly clenched right hand. Nestled in his palm was a small brooch handmade by Warren, once gifted to Claudia. She had adored it, always wearing it close to her chest. It was his keepsake now… and the handiwork of someone he had once loved. He closed his fingers around it again, tightly.

He had never once regretted giving his wings to Claudia. Even if it meant he’d be devoured by monsters and disappear forever, it didn’t matter. I wanted to send her to Heaven, even if it meant sacrificing myself. I wanted her to see her sister again. I wanted her soul to rest in peace… to be at peace, even if just that much.

Rocked by the wagon’s motion, Kyle let out a quiet chuckle. If the angels in Heaven found out what he had done, it would cause a major uproar. After all, granting wings to a soul bound for Hell and sending it up to Heaven was completely unheard of. If I were still living in Heaven, I probably would’ve laughed through my nose at such a stupid idea too.

Soon, his body and soul would be torn apart by devils and monsters. He would suffer the torments of Hell until he vanished entirely. There would be no reincarnation. He knew that. He knew… and yet, he couldn’t help imagining it. That maybe, thousands or tens of thousands of years from now, by some whim of the gods, I might be forgiven.

If I were ever born again… I’d want to be human. I don’t need wings to fly, or the power to make flowers bloom. I don’t need beauty that once rivaled Lady Agatha’s. I don’t need any of it. I’d just want to be human… and meet him again, that strange being, neither fully demon nor man.

“Hey!”

The man’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“You were so quiet, I thought you might’ve died. If you’re still breathing, that’s fine.”

With that, the man raised his whip and snapped it against the horse’s flank.

“How far are you planning to go?”

Kyle looked around. The land was gently sloping and open, no houses in sight. In the golden light of the setting sun, dry grass swayed faintly in the wind.

“...Let me off here.”

The man clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“There’s no inn or anything out here, you know.”

“It’s fine.”

The man shrugged and brought the wagon to a stop. Once the rocking ceased, Kyle slowly stood up on the bed of the cart. At that moment, he saw another wagon approaching from the opposite direction.

By the time Kyle had managed to climb down, the smaller wagon had already pulled up beside the first.

“I knew it, Füsli!”

The small wagon was being driven by a stout, commanding middle-aged woman with a flower-patterned scarf wrapped around her head.

“Manaf, is that you? Been a while,” she said.

Apparently, the two knew each other. They stopped their wagons and began chatting, leaving Kyle with no opening to properly thank the man for the ride.

“There was a wedding in town today, Eugene’s, wasn’t it? How was it?”

The man chuckled.

“Clothes make the man, huh? She looked beautiful. Strong-willed, bit of an oddball, but she found herself a good match. Her groom’s the only son of the Biamont family, and they run quite the business. There was plenty of celebratory booze, generous folks, really.”

Kyle couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. When he caught the phrase “the only son of Biamont,” he tilted his head in confusion.

“Eugene’s marrying… not Warren?”

He interrupted without thinking. The man furrowed his brow, clearly puzzled. “Warren? Who’s that?”

“Warren’s tall, black-haired…”

“Never heard of him. Eugene’s groom is Biamont’s only son, Evan. He’s got black hair, sure, but he’s not tall.”

“Evan’s only twenty-five, isn’t he? But he’s already been put in charge of a whole shop,” the woman added, resting her cheek on her hand atop the wagon.

“Yeah, I think someone mentioned it was a general store…”

“Oh? I heard it was a jewelry shop brooches and necklaces and the like. Well, whatever the case, that girl really landed herself a catch. When she was little, she used to say crazy things like she’d marry a demon. Had us all worried about her future.”

There weren’t many jewelry shops in town. Kyle immediately thought of the black-haired shopkeeper he used to visit just to see the brooches. That man had claimed to know Warren. If he was the one Eugene married, then… what does this mean?

“Speaking of strange things,” the man said, clapping his hands, “something odd happened during the wedding.”

“Oh?” the woman tilted her head.

“After the ceremony, when the celebratory wagons returned to the church, these white wings drifted into the plaza.”

“Wings?”

“It was big, pure white, beautiful, like something from an angel. Just floated in out of nowhere and started rising into the sky until it vanished. Everyone was saying it must be a divine blessing on the marriage. People were in an uproar.”

“…Strange things do happen,” the woman murmured. “Wish I could’ve seen that. Anyway, we’ve chatted long enough. Tell me the rest next time.”

Her small wagon clattered away down the road. The man raised his whip but before it could fall, Kyle frantically grabbed the side of the cart.

“Please let me ride a little longer.”

The man paused, looked back.

“Take me to Torney Village.”

With a sigh and a flick of his chin, the man gestured him aboard. Kyle climbed back into the wagon, his heart restless, thoughts spiraling.

The woman Warren said he loved… had married a human man. Does that mean Warren no longer loves her? Or maybe… maybe it’s her love that faded first.

I need to know. I want to understand what the demon feels… I want to talk to him.

Kyle clasped his hands together and prayed with everything he had that the sun would not set. Please don’t set… please…

Because once it did, the monsters would come. They would come to devour what was left of him.

Impatient beasts, one or two already leapt onto the wagon. Kyle swatted away a frog-like creature with the end of his staff. But as soon as one fell, another took its place. The sun was almost gone, only a sliver remained.

“Ah… It’s gotten damn near pitch dark already…”

The man muttered under his breath, then cracked his whip sharply against the horse’s rear, urging it forward.

“Where are you getting off? Entrance of Torney Village good enough for you?”

He asked without turning around. Kyle wanted to answer but couldn’t. A frog-like monster had latched itself onto his mouth, pinching it shut.

“I asked how far you’re going!”

The man shouted, turning his head and screamed.

“Waaaahhh!!”

There were five small monsters clinging to the back of the wagon, grasping onto Kyle’s arms and legs like greedy parasites.

“Uwahhh! Uwahh! UWAAAAAAHHHH!!”

The man lashed his whip wildly in panic. The horse broke into a gallop, the wagon jolting violently over the uneven road. Empty milk cans toppled over and clanged loudly against the wooden sides. Kyle, unable to shake the monsters off, tumbled back and forth inside the bed of the wagon.

This is it… there’s no escape. It’s too late. The sun’s nearly gone, there’s no time left.

The terrified driver could only keep screaming as he drove the horses harder, his voice high and ragged. Kyle wished he could leap off the wagon to spare the man any more terror but the monsters wrapped around his limbs held him down.

Then, suddenly, the wagon struck a deep rut. It bucked violently. Kyle, along with the empty milk cans, was thrown clean off the back and into the road.

Clattering and rattling, the wagon sped away, vanishing into the dark. As Kyle lay on the ground, monsters swarmed him from all directions. They tugged at the hair others had once described as the color of honey, and sank their teeth into skin said to resemble freshly drawn milk.

“Outta the way!”

A cracked, rasping voice rang out, followed by a stench so foul it could rot a man’s nose.

Lifting his head, Kyle saw three new monsters appear from the deepening dusk. Each stood upright, roughly the size of a man. They had the heads of chickens, bodies like dogs, and walked on two legs.

“That treat right there’s ours.”

The chicken-headed monster in the middle opened its beak wide. A long, green tongue split down the middle slithered out and drooped grotesquely.

“We saw it first!”

A horde of ten frog-like monsters the ones who’d jumped on the wagon before sunset clustered together, shouting in protest.

But the chicken-beasts didn’t care. With a screech, they lunged into the group of frogs, kicking them aside and skewering them with their beaks. Weakened frogs were gulped down whole, one after another. The remaining frog-creatures scattered, fleeing in a panic.

“Not very tasty.”

The central chicken-beast spat out only the legs of one of the frogs.

“But that meal over there… that looks delicious.”

Another one licked its beak with its grotesque, split tongue.

“It’s been three hundred years since we’ve had an angel. Though this one reeks a bit too much of human.”

One of the chicken monsters casually kicked Kyle in the leg.

“C’mon, show some fear. Cry out. Scream in terror. Meat soaked in fear tastes the best.”

A horrid screech pierced the air like claws dragging across glass. All three monsters suddenly turned their heads upward.

There, perched on a branch of an elm tree by the roadside, was a monkey-like creature. The same one that had once damaged Kyle’s wings. It swayed the branch back and forth as it chanted:

“My turf… Myyy tuuuurf…”

With a sharp click of the tongue, one of the chicken-beasts shot a glance to the others. It was all the signal they needed.

All three dropped to all fours and, without hesitation, bit down on Kyle’s clothing and bolted.

“GUOOOOOH! STOP!!”

With a guttural roar, the monkey-beast gave chase but the chicken-creatures were far faster. They tore down the wagon path, swift and relentless. For an instant, Kyle glimpsed the glow of a lantern and realized they had just passed a human traveler. But the light quickly dwindled, then vanished altogether.

The chicken-beasts veered off the path and into the fields. There, they tossed Kyle onto the grass and began stabbing at his legs, back, and ribs with their razor-sharp beaks.

But they didn’t go for a killing blow. Not yet. They were toying with him taking their time, trying to wring every drop of fear out of his soul.

When it was thrust in, it hurt. It was agonizing. And yet, strangely, he wasn’t afraid. He had already braced himself for this outcome.

He just… wished he could have spoken to Warren one more time. No, even speaking wasn’t necessary. Nothing would bring back a love that had already been lost, even if Warren ended up alone again. Just seeing him would have been enough. Just once more he wanted to see him again.

He felt the sharp beak near his face and instinctively raised his hands to shield himself. In doing so, the brooch he’d been clutching slipped from his grip and fell to the ground with a soft clink. As he hastily reached for it, a searing pain tore through his throat.

Ah, he thought but it was already too late. The razor-sharp beak had torn a chunk of flesh from his neck. His mouth opened wide from the sheer agony, but no scream came.

"KUEEEEHH!"

The monstrous chicken that had ripped into Kyle’s throat was suddenly hurled sideways.

Collapsed onto the dead grass, Kyle glimpsed one bat-like wing unfurled in the murky darkness. A hand with long, hooked claws swung in a wide arc slashing, biting, tearing down the monsters.

Perhaps realizing it stood no chance, the chicken-like creature soon fled, scrambling away in a tangled mess with its two companions.

The one-winged demon turned back and dropped to its knees at Kyle’s side.

“Kyle… Kyle.”

It lifted him gently with its clawed hands. Tears welled in its cat-like black eyes.

He wanted to speak, to say something… Kyle opened his mouth wide, but still, no voice came.

“You poor thing… so terribly hurt…”

The one-winged demon cradled the wounded angel tightly to its chest and dashed down the carriage road like the wind.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

On the bed of a crumbling, familiar bedroom in a house that was no longer quite a home, Warren carefully wiped the blood from Kyle’s body, dabbing cloth to the deepest wounds. The monster’s sharp beak had jabbed him all over, but the worst injury by far was his throat. He couldn’t speak.

As Warren tended to him, he began to speak in a slow, measured voice.

“I saw that thing Kukunael, that monster with a chicken’s head running with a person in its jaws. I ran after it in a panic, and then I realized it was you. I was shocked.”

That fleeting glimpse of lantern light on the carriage road… the man who passed by had been Warren. Kyle gently folded his hands together, offering silent thanks to God for such an improbable miracle.

“I was in town today… had some errands, was on my way back. First time I’ve been around people in ten years. What were you doing in a place like that? Your wings are gone, did the monster tear them off?”

Kyle shook his head.

“I saw a soul rising into the sky today in town. A soul with a gentle color, floating higher and higher on pure white wings. Were those wings… yours?”

He nodded slowly.

“You gave them up, didn’t you?”

Another nod.

“You know what happens to an angel without wings. The monsters will eat you.”

Kyle nodded again.

“Is that why you came to me? Because you gave your wings away, and you knew the monsters would come for you?”

Kyle thought for a moment, then shook his head. It wasn’t that he wanted to be saved. He had simply wanted to talk to Warren.

Warren’s lips twisted into something like pain.

“…So there was someone you were willing to give everything for. Someone worth risking your life for. Was I right to save you?”

Kyle nodded quickly. A look of relief softened Warren’s face.

“…Then I’m glad.”

Warren’s fingers reached into Kyle’s hair, gently plucking out pieces of tangled dead grass, one by one. Their eyes met and then suddenly, Kyle was in his arms. The embrace was tight. His whole body ached from the monster’s attack, but he didn’t care. He was happy. So happy that his arms moved on their own to wrap around Warren’s back. That warmth seeping into him was that love, the love he’d been told had been lost? He could feel it, unmistakably. It poured into him.

He was still dazed with the sensation when, all at once, Warren pulled away.

Looking down, Warren muttered, “…Sorry.”

Kyle didn’t understand why he was apologizing. He hadn’t hated it. He’d been happy. So happy. He grabbed the hem of Warren’s shirt, tugging at it. He wanted to say it was okay, that there was no need to apologize. But his voice wouldn’t come, and though he moved his lips with all his strength, Warren wouldn’t read them. He wouldn’t even look at Kyle’s face.

Still staring at the floor, Warren spoke again.

“…You may hate me for this, but I’m going to sleep with you. I don’t know any other way to protect you now that you have no wings…”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kyle awoke in the gentle light of morning. Warren was no longer beside him in the bed; he had already left the bedroom. Pressing his face softly into the pillow that still carried Warren’s scent, Kyle closed his eyes for a moment. His body still throbbed from the monster’s attack, but the warmth he had longed for had wrapped around him all night, it had been a blissful night.

Yesterday had passed like a storm. Claudia was gone. In his grief, he had torn off his own wings to accompany her soul. He had been caught by a monster, nearly devoured only to be saved by Warren. And now, he was here.

Peeking out through the bedroom window, he saw Warren in the garden, watering the roses. Kyle tried to call out to him, but his voice wouldn't come. Only hollow breaths escaped in strained wheezes. He put on his shoes and stepped into the garden. Grabbing the arm of the man holding the watering can, Kyle startled him Warren jolted with an exaggerated twitch and turned around.

“So, you’re awake,” he said.

Kyle nodded.

“There aren’t many left, but the flowers are still blooming. Do you think it’s enough for a meal?”

Kyle nodded again, then spread his arms wide. Just a little of your strength, please… he whispered silently to the roses as he slowly made his way through the garden, receiving small sips of life from his beloved flowers. When he reached the north end of the garden, his eyes drifted to the distant mountains visible beyond the crumbled wall. When will Claudia’s body return to the earth? He had left it all in their hands. Is Tosha all right…?

It took about three hours on foot to reach Torney Village from town, just far enough to make a round trip in daylight, though Kyle wasn’t sure if he could manage the walk. Ever since he had severed his wings, his body remained heavy. He was getting used to it, but now he was wounded, and it was impossible to know how long the journey would take if he had to rest along the way. A carriage would be easier, faster, but Warren didn’t seem to own one. And after what happened yesterday with the man who got caught in the middle of it all, Kyle hesitated to ask someone else for a ride.

When Warren was no longer in sight, Kyle returned inside. He found him in a corner of the living room, carving into wood with a small blade. With no chair available, Kyle knelt beside the table and watched his hands silently.

“Do you need something from me?” Warren asked.

Kyle shook his head.

“It’s daytime… the monsters won’t come. You don’t have to stay close.”

There was something in Warren’s tone, subtle, but unmistakable, that made it sound like he didn’t want Kyle nearby. The implication stung. Kyle knew monsters didn’t attack during the day. He wasn’t staying close for safety. He just… wanted to be near him.

Last night, he had believed he was loved. But as soon as morning came, he felt himself being pushed away. Never had his inability to speak felt more cruel. He wanted to ask Warren what he truly felt. He wanted to know.

Kyle tapped Warren’s shoulder and pointed to his own lips, trying to gesture read them, please. But Warren wouldn’t meet his eyes, let alone read his lips. Kyle tried again, this time miming writing in the air. If he couldn’t speak, he’d write. He just needed something, anything to get his feelings across.

That gesture Warren seemed to understand.

“You want paper and a pen?” he asked.

Kyle nodded, again and again.

But Warren averted his gaze and looked down.

“There’s no paper or pen in this house. There’s never been a need to write anything down. Once I’ve collected enough brooches, I’ll take them to the shop. If it’s that important to you, I’ll buy some then.”

Not “someday”, now, Kyle wanted to scream. I want to talk to you now. In frustration, he tugged at Warren’s shirt. But Warren only muttered with a pained expression, “Don’t be selfish.”

That was the final crack.

Kyle fled outside. He wanted to cry to the roses, to let them hear the aching frustration in his heart but he couldn’t get too close. If he did, he’d start drawing energy from them. So he crouched in the grass at a short distance, silent.

Pressing both hands to his throat, Kyle tried to force out a sound. If he pushed himself hard enough, a rasp barely more than a whisper came out. But it wasn’t a voice, not yet. It would still take time.

Kyle had wanted to tell Warren everything, the reason he had fallen from the heavens, the innocent and kind woman he had met in the brothel who had loved him, and all of his feelings. He wanted to tell him everything.

He looked around the house. The rose garden outside had many patches where the earth was exposed. Without hesitation, he went to the backyard and gathered some sticks, writing words on the soil. There was so much he wanted to say. He continued to write quietly, and in the dirt, several "letters" were formed. Kyle eagerly returned inside, eager to have Warren read them. He grabbed Warren's hand, pulling him outside into the garden.

But the moment he pointed at the letters on the ground, a fierce wind suddenly blew. It was so strong that he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. When the wind subsided, Kyle looked down at the soil, only to find that the words had completely disappeared. Stunned, Kyle stood motionless. In a place where the wind was strong, it could have just been bad luck.

During the day, Warren had been distant, unwilling to talk, but at night after the lights were out he was a completely different person. His actions were persistent, almost to the point of obsession, to keep the monsters away. It felt like love, and yet, Kyle couldn’t bring himself to ask Warren outright.

The next morning, when Kyle woke up, Warren was not beside him. Slowly rubbing his eyes, Kyle sat up. Glancing casually at the bedside table, he was surprised to see paper and a pen placed there. Warren hadn’t seemed to go out the day before, and if he had gone out this morning, the store wouldn’t have been open yet.

He grabbed the paper and pen, and searched the house, but there was no sign of Warren. Just as he began to think maybe Warren had gone outside, he spotted him, standing quietly in the garden among the blooming roses. Perhaps it was the sound of the door opening that alerted Warren, for he slowly turned to look at Kyle.

Confused, Kyle held the paper and pen out to Warren. But instead of answering, Warren lowered his gaze, dejected.

“The fact that there was no paper or pen… was a lie,” Warren murmured, and Kyle’s eyes widened in shock.

“I also used magic to erase the letter you wrote in the soil yesterday, the one you worked so hard on,” Warren confessed.

Kyle grabbed his arm, shaking it with urgency. He wanted to know why Warren had done that.

“I knew you wanted to talk,” Warren continued. “But… I didn’t want to talk.”

A gust of wind blew, the harsh winds of the land. Warren gently removed Kyle’s hand from his arm, trembling slightly.

“…I feel like I’m loved by you,” Warren said, his voice trembling.

Though Warren said he might be loved, his face was on the verge of tears.

“You gave me the rose garden back. Even though the roses had said they didn’t want it, you still returned it to me. It must’ve been for my sake. Because I loved these flowers, because you knew I would miss them you returned them to me, didn’t you?”

Without giving Kyle a chance to respond, Warren continued speaking rapidly.

“When I heard from Evan, that a beautiful man with honey-colored hair and emerald eyes like an angel came every day to look at the brooches I made, I thought, Could that be you? No, I was certain it was you. But why was an angel, someone who should have been in heaven, was here on earth, looking at my brooches?”

Warren pressed his hand to his forehead and shook his head.

“When you told me you loved me in the spring, I couldn’t believe it. If that were true… then I would have told an unforgivable lie, claiming that I loved Eugene and had no love left for you.”

Warren shook his head harder, as if trying to rid himself of the thoughts.

“I was afraid to say I loved you. I was afraid of being betrayed after believing. I thought about going to Evan’s shop many times to confirm. If it truly was you, I just wanted to see you just once.”

After pouring out his emotions in a torrent of words, Warren fell silent. Kyle felt a tangled mix of relief and heartache, relief that Warren’s love for the human woman, for Eugene, had been a lie, and that his love for Kyle had never truly vanished. But the memory of those days, the hopeless days when he believed he had lost that love forever, came rushing back and filled him with quiet sorrow. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to blame Warren for lying out of fear of betrayal. That fear was all too familiar now, painfully so.

“You must have loved someone so deeply,” Warren said, “so deeply that you would have given your life for them. But it wasn’t me, was it? So then, why did you keep coming to the shop? Was I foolish to think you came to see what I’d made? Was there another reason?”

Kyle couldn’t answer not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t speak. Instead, he picked up the pen. But as he stared at the paper, he hesitated. Where should he begin? With Claudia? With the brooch? Or…

The pen was taken from his hand. Warren clutched it tightly, trembling.

“I’m scared, Kyle. I’m terrified of hearing that you don’t love me. I’m scared of hearing about the one you loved. I think… I think jealousy would tear me apart.”

A tear slipped from Warren’s dark, shadowed eyes.

“Kyle, I’m weak… I’m a weak man.”

He repeated it again and again, then handed the pen back. It was his silent way of saying he was ready to accept whatever came.

Kyle set the pen and paper down on the grass and threw his arms around Warren, holding him tightly. He cupped Warren’s tear-streaked cheeks and pressed a kiss to his thin lips. Then another, and another, kissing him again and again until Warren suddenly collapsed backward with a thud. Still straddling him, Kyle continued kissing him, over and over, as if to banish all doubt with each touch.

Warren stared up at Kyle in astonishment. Slowly, he reached up and touched Kyle’s honey-colored hair, then gently stroked his cheek soft and pale as fresh milk. At the warmth of that touch, Kyle closed his eyes.

“Do you love me, Kyle?”

He finally asked. Kyle brought his hand to his throat and pushed, forcing strength into his voice. Faint and raspy though it was, he managed to speak just a little.

“I… love you.”

He tried to say it again, but the second time, no voice came. As he grasped his neck, trying to summon the words once more, Warren gently placed a hand over his lips.

“That’s enough.”

Then, pressing his face into Kyle’s shoulder, Warren whispered in a muffled voice, “Thank you.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

The true grip of winter had nearly reached their doorstep.

Two months had passed since the wedding. Eugene, now a new bride, was washing dishes in the kitchen when a loud knock came at the back door.

“Coming!”

She wiped her hands on her apron and stepped outside, only to find Warren standing there, neatly dressed and tidy.

“Oh! What brings you here?”

He was the demon friend who had lived deep in the forest under protective spells to keep others out, and rarely showed his face in public. He had spoken at her wedding of appearing before others for the first time in ten years. She never imagined he’d suddenly show up at her house in the middle of town without any warning.

“I’m going on a journey,” Warren said.

Just when she’d thought he was finally becoming more social, he suddenly announced he was going traveling. It was as surprising as hearing that a dog had given birth to kittens.

“A journey?”

Behind Warren stood a small covered wagon. Even from a distance, she could see the sunlight glinting off the golden hair of someone sitting at the driver’s seat.

“You’re not going alone, are you?”

Warren nodded broadly.

“There’s a village called Asled, where it’s warm even in winter, and spring flowers bloom all year. I thought we’d go there.”

“Yes,” Eugene replied with a small nod.

She had loved Warren, the ageless demon, ever since she was a little girl. No matter how many times she confessed her feelings, Warren always smiled gently and told her she was “like a little sister.” He never returned her affection not truly. His heart had always belonged to someone else. Someone who lived inside him even when unspoken. The golden-haired angel.

“I won’t be around for a while,” Warren said softly, brushing a gentle kiss against Eugene’s cheek. “But I’ll come back.”

“Make sure you show me your face while I’m still alive,” she said with a teasing smile.

“Of course,” he laughed.

“I’ve stayed in the same place for so long. Now… I want to see what’s out there. I want to hear new things. To experience the world.”

There was a glow in his expression Eugene had never seen before so full of life. He was no longer the man who always looked down with a lonely smile. That man was gone.

She had once dreamed of being the one beside him, to be the reason he smiled. But that wish had not come true. Still, she was glad, truly glad that he was no longer alone. Even her beloved grandfather, before he passed, had worried about that.

“Which way are you headed?” Eugene asked.

Warren turned, eyes narrowing in the bright light.

“...South.”

And the road to the south was bathed in dazzling sunlight.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Tosha was raising her hoe high over the field behind the house when she noticed her younger brother seven years her junior running toward her. She stopped her work and wiped the sweat from her brow with the scarf tied around her head. The air was dry, and the wind blew freely, but the fields were always hot, no matter the season. Still, that heat was what allowed the crops to grow, so there was little to complain about. If she let herself grumble over something so minor, she’d be punished by the gods.

It was a warm and fertile land, but now and then, violent storms would sweep through. When they were bad, they flattened everything, house and fields alike. Naturally, nothing could be harvested in those years. It was after two such storms had struck their village in a row that she had been sold to a brothel.

“Tosha! There’s someone here to see you!” her little brother called out as he ran closer.

Someone to see me? Tosha frowned.

“There are two of them. A pretty lady, and a big guy with black hair!”

Her heart gave a start. Could it be something about the brothel’s deed? Not long ago, Leda the woman who had managed the brothel where Tosha had worked had died. A woman possessed, it seemed, by some demon; Leda had poisoned girls she deemed useless and tossed their bodies like trash.

With no relatives to claim her things, it had fallen to Tosha to clean out Leda’s room. That was when she found it, a trove of jewelry and gold hidden within. The sheer scale of the treasure had made her tremble. Among the valuables was the deed to the brothel itself.

Tosha had sold everything, the brothel and the jewelry and split the money evenly among the five women who had worked there. All of them, clutching their share, had wept tears of joy and gone back to their home villages.

With her own portion, Tosha bought a grave. She had desperately wanted a proper resting place for her friend. Before returning to the countryside, she gave some money to the caretaker and asked him to make sure the roses she’d replanted around the grave would never wither. That girl had been her dearest friend like an angel, truly. She had wanted happiness for her, if it were in any way possible.

“Tosha!”

Her brother tugged on her arm, shaking her from her thoughts. Even if there’s trouble over selling the brothel without permission, what can I do now? The money had already been divided. As soon as she got back home, she’d used her share to build a strong house, one that could withstand the storms. There was almost nothing left.

“All right, I’m coming,” she said, setting the hoe down and steeling herself as she walked back to the house.

In the yard stood a worn-out wagon far from impressive hitched beside the horse she kept, the two animals drinking water together.

“There’s nobody here…”

She murmured the words to herself. Then, behind her, a voice called out: “Tosha.”

That voice so familiar, so nostalgic.

She turned around. Running toward her from the front steps of the house was a figure with honey-colored hair and emerald eyes.

It was him. Claudia’s “prince.”

“Kyle! Kyle, it’s really you!”

Tosha broke into a run too, and they embraced tightly in the garden.

“You’re alive… thank the gods.”

She buried her hands in his impossibly golden hair, tousling it without mercy.

“After I put you on that wagon, I regretted it so much. You were in such bad shape, I thought for sure you’d die. And then just like I feared, that man, Füsli, the one who took you, came back and told me you had been eaten by a monster and died. I cried so hard I thought my eyes would melt. But you’re okay. You made it.”

Tears welled up in Tosha’s eyes, and then something warm touched the corners of them. Kyle’s emerald gaze watched her intently as his pale fingers reached up and gently wiped away her tears of relief.

"I've been worried about you all this time. About Claudia, about the brothel, I left everything in your hands. I'm sorry."

Being comforted only made her tears come more easily. Tosha let them fall, one after another.

"I asked around the town and visited Claudia’s grave too. My roses were blooming beautifully there. You asked the caretaker to look after them, didn’t you?"

"That’s about all I could do for that girl…"

Then Tosha noticed the man standing behind Kyle. Jet-black hair, dark eyes, a black eyepatch over his left eye. Unlike Kyle, who was like a ray of sunshine, this man exuded the air of night but strangely, she didn’t find him frightening. The gaze he turned toward her was impossibly gentle.

"Who’s that, Kyle?"

Kyle smiled, like a child about to share a secret prank.

"His name is Warren. …Actually, he’s a demon."

Tosha frowned.

"Right, you were an angel, weren’t you, Kyle? You're pretty, but you don’t feel like one at all, so I keep forgetting."

"You're not afraid of him?"

"Why would I be, when he’s with you? He can't be all bad. Besides, do you know who I am? I’m the only woman in the world who ever got a favor asked from an angel."

Kyle smiled with the brilliance of a blooming rose and pressed a light kiss to Tosha’s cheek.

"Now stop that. It’s embarrassing. Anyway, come on in, Kyle. Bring that demon fellow too. My place is a bit cramped, but you’ll have to forgive that. …I’ve got so, so many things I want to tell you."

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