“You’re not seriously going to toss that out, are you? Drink it already!”
Noi’s small hands flailed at the air, as if she could physically stop Lyte from marching toward the trash can.
“You’re the one who insisted on buying it for me,” Lyte shot back, his tone teasing.
“Why don’t you finish it?”
He held out the plastic cup, its straw bent in lazy curls, to the white-haired girl with ruby eyes.
Inside, a jumble of coconut jellies, lemon slices, and exotic oilfruit bobbed in the dwindling pool of mixed tea.
Noi’s cheeks flushed.
“I’m not drinking from a straw you’ve already used!”
“What if I pop the lid off? No spoon, though—guess I’d have to pour it straight into my mouth.” Lyte’s grin widened, mischief dancing in his amber eyes.
“That’s hardly ladylike!” Noi sputtered, then caught herself.
“Wait, why do I even care about that? Ugh, never mind! Just drink it all, okay?”
Her thoughts scrambled, Noi shoved the fruit tea back at Lyte, her words a flustered jumble.
Seeing her genuine embarrassment, Lyte decided he’d teased her enough.
With a single, exaggerated gulp, he drained the tea and tossed the cup into the trash with a flourish.
The playful exchange had sparked earlier, on their bumpy ride across the dunes in a Buggy.
Noi, ever the glutton for new flavors, had been swayed by a vendor’s catchy slogan and insisted on trying the fruit tea.
Determined to avoid the awkwardness of their last shared dessert—a single ice cream bowl they’d both eaten from—she vowed to buy two cups this time.
But when she saw the “lovers’ special” deal, a pair of drinks for just a few star-coins more than a single, her empty wallet made the choice for her.
They’d shared food before, after all.
It wasn’t like she’d lose a piece of herself over it.
Two straws—one blue, one red.
Noi claimed the blue one, sipping eagerly before passing the cup to Lyte, who was steering the dune buggy.
He’d started with the red straw, but with his focus on the road, Noi hadn’t noticed when he absentmindedly switched to her blue one.
Now both straws bore his mark, leaving Noi with no way to drink without a flush of self-consciousness.
She shot down his teasing offer to share the drink with a glare, instead hovering like a begrudging nanny as Lyte savored the tea she’d paid for, sip by sip.
The buggy sat abandoned on the beach, unlocked.
Neither saw the point in securing it—who would dare steal from one of the great noble’s underlings?
It was practically begging for trouble.
Before they reached the obstacle course, a wiry, pale-skinned man caught their eye.
Short and lean, he stood rigid as a statue, clutching a tennis racket like a cane, unmoved by the wind or the shifting sands beneath him.
The man’s drooping eyelids flicked up as he registered their approach, his brows arching in recognition.
“Well, well! I’ve been waiting ages for you two. Name’s Abai, pleasure to meet you. I’m the head honcho of this beach—and just an ordinary lackey for the boss.”
Abai’s greeting was warm, almost too familiar, paired with a quick rundown of his role.
He shifted, trying to straighten, but his legs, stiff from holding the same pose too long, betrayed him.
He wobbled, gripping the racket for balance.
“Oof… these old bones are getting brittle,” he chuckled.
“Should’ve followed Ahei and Hui’s lead and kept up with training. Hey, brave sir, mind lending me a shoulder?”
Abai’s plea seemed genuine, his legs trembling as if numb.
Lyte, unfazed, stepped forward to help, intending to pull the man up.
But the sand beneath Lyte’s feet hid a trap.
A concealed steel plate, manipulated by Abai’s subtle ability, shifted the moment Lyte stepped on it.
The ground gave way, forcing him to stumble forward to catch his balance.
Abai seized the moment, clapping a hand on Lyte’s shoulder.
A faint, ghostly floral scent wafted into Lyte’s nose, sinking deep into his senses.
If Andy were here, he’d have recognized it instantly—the same fragrance that had once unraveled him.
“Ugh…” Lyte’s face twisted, pain flashing across his face.
Abai, playing the concerned host, steadied him with feigned kindness, muttering empty reassurances.
The scent triggered something primal.
Buried emotions surged to the surface—helplessness, rage, despair, guilt for his comrades, regret for past defeats, uncertainty about the future, and a fleeting longing for a simpler life.
Most of all, the crushing weight of his torment at the hands of the Blood Witch from a past life clawed its way free.
Noi, the witch at his side, was the first to sense the shift.
The warmth she’d once felt in Lyte’s gaze, a comfort that had softened her guarded heart, was gone.
In its place was the same veiled killing intent she’d glimpsed when they first met, hidden behind a strained smile.
“Mr. Lyte? Are you listening? We need you to take a little trip for us,” Abai said, his tone saccharine as he nudged Lyte toward Noi.
Noi caught him instinctively, but Lyte shoved her away with unexpected force.
“…Lyte? What’s wrong?” Her voice trembled, laced with hurt.
She reached out, tentative, only to shrink back under the weight of his bloodshot glare.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice quivering, forced through clenched teeth.
“Just… need a moment. Don’t touch me.”
Noi’s heart sank, confusion and rejection pooling in her eyes like unshed tears.
While Lyte wrestled with his inner turmoil, Noi fell back into the self-reliance of her early days in this world.
She turned to Abai, who explained he knew their purpose here but had no desire for conflict.
He claimed ignorance about Andy and the young noble Sato, even joking they might’ve been ambushed by some alien beast.
The obstacle course’s surveillance data, Abai said with a shrug, had been “carelessly” left at the finish line.
He proposed they run the course to retrieve it.
With a grin, he summoned staff to guide them, tossing a final comment to Noi:
“Mr. Lyte’s probably not feeling well . You’ll have to take charge and get to the finish line.”
“Okay…” Noi murmured, her voice small.
She reached for Lyte’s arm, but he staggered forward, each step deliberate, as if her touch was poison.
Why… why was he suddenly like this?
Her brow furrowed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, like a wounded deer caught in a frost of confusion.
Lyte’s coldness had turned her bewilderment to ice.
Led by the staff, Noi and Lyte reached the course, keeping a painful distance—one trailing the other.
Abai had claimed the course’s traps were on a timer, impossible to shut off manually, forcing them to run it.
Neither Lyte, who was lost in his pain, nor Noi, consumed by worry for Lyte , questioned why a public facility lacked an emergency stop.
“Ready? Hit this button to start the timer,” a staff member said, unaware of Abai’s scheme.
Abai, clutching his boss’s orders, knew his caution was justified.
[Use any means necessary to expose Lyte Montis to the blue petal given by Nightmare. Success is only achieved once he inhales its scent.]
“Yo! Give it your all, you two!” Abai called, his voice dripping with false cheer.
“I’ll be waiting for your victory!”
But he knew better than anyone—they weren’t coming back anytime soon.
‘Brute strength won’t solve this one, kiddos. Time to use those brains. When will my brothers learn that there’s more to life than muscle?’
From a distance, Abai watched Lyte brush past Noi without a word, stepping into the course where metal contraptions, controlled by Abai’s ability, awaited.
Lyte, fighting to suppress the torrent of emotions, had no strength to spare for explanations.
Noi followed, her posture meek, like a scolded child.
Her eyes, clouded with confusion and hurt, only fueled Abai’s certainty: a spectacular clash between them was brewing.
‘Heh. The show’s about to begin.’