The sky hung heavy with gloom.
After dusk, thick clouds blanketed the heavens, like cotton stuffed against the firmament.
The distant roll of thunder like war drums, rumbled faintly behind those clouds.
The air was thick with moisture, and a torrential downpour was clearly brewing.
It would be mere minutes before the skies let loose.
The wind howled louder with each passing moment.
Loralin felt as though it were shrouded beneath a great black curtain.
Trees flanking the village roads trembled violently under the force of the gusts.
Rain shelters over the fields flapped wildly; those tied loosely were ripped free, spinning up into the sky like lost sails, tangling in rooftops and blocking windows.
The houses, dimly lit to begin with, now sank further into gloom—except for one small face, briefly illuminated in flickers of shifting light and shadow.
In that chiaroscuro glow, Enya looked like she was smiling… or maybe she wasn’t.
After two seconds of silence, she responded lightly: “Sure, Young Master.”
As always, Enya replied with her usual ease, taking the cup of black tea Kane handed her.
“Sorry,” Kane said with an apologetic smile. “It’s my first time making tea. It might not taste great.”
“As long as it’s from you, it’ll always be the best in the world,” Enya answered sweetly.
“You keep saying things like that, I’m gonna start getting a big head.”
Kane chuckled, rubbing his nose in mock embarrassment, and took a sip from his own cup.
“Ugh—so bitter. Definitely used too much.”
He stuck out his tongue, grimacing at the strong, sour astringency of over-steeped tea.
“Hey, why aren’t you drinking yours?”
He looked up and noticed Enya hadn’t touched her cup.
Scratching the back of his head, Kane said awkwardly, “Yeah, guess it really was too bitter. Hang on, I’ll make you a fresh one.”
“No need for the trouble. I’ll drink yours.”
“Huh?”
Kane froze, his mouth agape.
But Enya didn’t seem to notice—she was already reaching for the cup in his hands.
“I’ve already drunk from this one. Let me make you another—”
He quickly shielded his tea like a lover protecting his beloved from harm.
“That’s exactly why I want it—because you’ve had it,” she said, smiling with crescent-shaped eyes.
Kane didn’t expect her to be so blunt. Still, he tried reasoning with her:
“That’s not very sanitary. Really, I’ll make you a new one. I’ve figured out the technique now—this next one’ll be way better.”
He began to rise—
“I even know what your 🏵️ and 🐔 taste like, how could a teacup be unsanitary?”
“……”
Sincerity is the ultimate weapon—especially the kind that doesn’t hold back in the slightest.
A direct hit with no defense.
Even Kane couldn’t come up with a retort.
And Enya didn’t give him time to think.
She stepped closer, hands folded behind her back, and tilted her head up at him, her big, glimmering eyes gleaming mischievously.
Those eyes, full of bewitching charm, seemed capable of peering into one’s soul.
Once you met her gaze, all lies melted away. There was no hiding from her.
“Why are you dodging me, Young Master? Why won’t you let me drink your tea?” Enya asked, smiling.
“I—I’m not dodging. Who said I was dodging?”
Kane dared not meet her gaze head-on.
He didn’t need a mirror to know how drenched in sweat he was.
“Oh? Then why can’t I drink it?”
Enya pressed closer, step by step.
Kane could hear the sound of sweat dripping from his temple onto the floor.
“…Fine. If you want to drink it, go ahead.”
Kane let out several choking swallows, as if finally giving up.
Resigned, he handed the cup of black tea over to Enya.
“Thank you, Young Master,” Enya beamed, grinning from ear to ear like a child receiving a Children’s Day present.
“Then please, Young Master—have my cup instead.”
Before Kane could even breathe a sigh of relief, Enya was already placing her original cup into his hands.
Even in the dim light, it was visibly clear that the color was draining from Kane’s face.
“What’s wrong, Young Master? Don’t want to drink?” Enya tilted her head, speaking in an innocent, playful tone. “Go on then, drink up. Or… is there some special reason you can’t?”
Click, clack—her little leather boots tapped softly as she stepped forward.
She rose on her toes and leaned in close to Kane’s ear, her misty gaze whispering devilish words:
“Like… you put something in the tea, perhaps?”
“……”
“Haha! Enya, what are you even saying?” Kane laughed awkwardly. “I just thought it was a little too hot. I was waiting for it to cool down…”
Before he could even finish, Enya gently tapped the rim of his cup with her fingertip.
A glimmer of frost swept across the edge—instantly, the steam vanished.
The once piping hot black tea chilled in an instant, now at perfect drinking temperature.
“It’s cooled, Young Master.”
Her words carried more than one meaning, and her eyes twinkled with a quiet dare.
“……”
Silence. Each second ticked by like an eternity, though only a few had passed.
—— Gulp, gulp
“Bleh—so bitter! Ugh, it really is awful.”
Kane downed the whole cup in one go, then puffed out his cheeks and blew like a goldfish.
Seeing that he really had finished it, Enya finally turned to enjoy her own—his original cup.
“Mmm… so good. I wish I could drink it every day.”
“R-Really…?” Kane’s smile twitched slightly. “If you like it that much, I’ll make it for you every day.”
“Then thank you, Young Master.”
I’m fine. Young Master’s fine… It really was just ordinary black tea.
Though, yes, incredibly bitter. Young Master’s brewing still needs work.
No—no, this is fine. If he learns how to make roast chicken, it’d be a disaster.
All those saucy little tramps in those storybooks always fall for roast chicken. Just one bite, and poof—their clothes are gone.
Enya’s thoughts ran wild for a moment before she smiled again and gestured for Kane to sit.
“Come on, Young Master. The pineapple pizza’s getting cold—it’s not good that way.”
Red candles flickered. Wine was poured.
A simple candlelit dinner, warm and cozy from start to finish.
The two of them looked just like any ordinary loving couple in a small, quiet village—sharing stories, gossiping about local happenings.
Occasionally feeding each other, fingers brushing by chance.
A toe brushing another. A little… 🖊 bump. Every little touch stirred bashful laughter and teasing banter.
A moment of peaceful bliss.
As if all of Kane’s earlier unease had been a dream.
Maybe it really was just a misunderstanding…
Dinner wrapped up quickly.
Enya wiped her mouth and picked up the plates, getting ready to clean up—only to have her eyes suddenly covered by Kane’s hands.
“Y-Young Master, what are you…”
Her vision plunged into darkness.
Feeling his broad arms wrap gently around her, Enya’s breath caught, trembling slightly—not from fear, but from a hidden anticipation.
Could it be… the Young Master is introducing a new game tonight…?
Kane leaned in, lips brushing her ear, and gently nibbled her earlobe. In a hushed, teasing murmur, he said:
“Enya… have you ever heard of the Pure Sharon?”