He loosely gripped her neck, accurately pressing above her vulnerable carotid artery, tightening bit by bit.
Naily’s pulse beat faster and faster.
If he wanted, this hand could end her life at any moment.
For an instant, Naily’s mind went blank with despair and fear, as if truly suffocating from lack of oxygen. What made her think he wouldn’t kill her here? Because of some vague love?
The eyes close at hand were like carefully carved rubies, flickering with an almost evil brilliance. Naily tried to take a deep breath, but he took the opportunity to kiss her, driving straight in, stirring up waves.
Before Naily could resist, Kalsas suddenly withdrew, releasing his grip on her. He exhaled: “But I don’t have such plans yet.”
“If so, what’s the point of telling me this?” Naily wanted to slap away his hand but was afraid of completely enraging him, so she could only turn her face away. She tried to calm her breathing, giving a bitter smile, her gaze slightly lowered: “Did you come today just to provoke my anger, to make me work harder, and then personally destroy my hopes in front of me, telling me such expectations are foolish?”
Though they were just a moment away from kissing again, their gazes met evasively, like two facing mirrors, sharing similar passionate light and coldness, reflecting each other, shining brightly while facing each other, yet ultimately separated by an unbridgeable distance.
Kalsas stared at her indifferently for a moment, as if squeezing out words from deep in his throat: “You really do understand me.” He lightly coughed, a deliberately affected laugh in his voice, “Should I be elated about this?”
“Whatever, I don’t care,” Naily turned away.
“But I do,” Kalsas lowered his head to kiss her forehead, his voice icy, “I hope you remember, before you reach Shloss, it’s best not to joke with your own life again.”
He showed a lingering smile, yet his words were cruel and chilling: “The only one who can kill you and destroy your hopes is me.”
Naily closed her eyes wearily, a cool breeze passing before her. When she opened her eyes again, only the curtains were high up, blown by the night wind, with no trace of a second person.
When Naily came downstairs for breakfast, she was startled by the crowd gathered outside the inn.
The innkeeper spread her hands, helpless yet not without pride: “The news of you saving the Rolan family has spread. Everyone wants to see you. I can only block them at the door at most.”
The feeling of being stared at by dozens of eager eyes was truly unbearable.
Naily felt embarrassed, quickly finishing the hearty breakfast the innkeeper served, unsure of her next move. She had just stiffly sat down when a familiar shout came from outside: “Everyone make way for me!”
The crowd grumbled but still cleared a path.
Rolan strode in, pushing his brother Xis in front of Naily, deliberately speaking gruffly: “This kid woke up before dawn, insisting on coming to find you.”
Naily smiled at the two brothers: “Good morning.”
“Hello, brave sister!” Xis responded in a crisp voice, curiously looking at the sword and shield behind Naily.
Naily reached out and patted the little boy’s head, pulling out an apple for him.
Xis held the apple with both hands and giggled for a while before solemnly declaring: “I want to become a hero just like my sister!”
Roland seemed embarrassed by his brother’s words, his freckled cheeks slightly flushed, and his voice much softer than usual: “Don’t listen to this little guy talking nonsense…”
Naily curved her eyes: “Having ambition is good, but what kind of person you’ll become is something to decide when you’re older.” She looked up at Roland: “How are the people in White Sail Village?”
Roland turned away awkwardly and softly answered with some gravity: “Almost every family lost someone. Although the demon army has temporarily retreated, Nafale won’t be able to hold out much longer…”
Xis sensed the heavy atmosphere and tugged at his brother’s sleeve, looking back and forth between the two. Nali forced a smile and patted her shield: “Isn’t this exactly why I’m here?”
This statement was quite different from her calm demeanor of yesterday. Roland looked at Nali in surprise. She stood up: “I should get going.”
“Is the brave sister leaving already?” Xis whimpered, clinging to the table edge with a pitiful expression.
Roland pushed his brother behind him and scolded: “Don’t interfere with important matters!”
Nali glanced at him, shouldered her shield, walked around Roland, and winked at Xis: “I must go, sorry.” She bowed slightly to the innkeeper: “Thank you for your care these past few days.”
She turned back to Roland, paused briefly, and then said: “Then I’ll take my leave.”
In an instant, she was again the calm hero from yesterday.
Roland was stunned, subconsciously mumbling a response, watching Nali walk past him.
Before Nali could reach the door, a panicked call suddenly came from behind: “Wait!”
The brown-haired girl turned back, looking questioningly at Roland.
Under her gaze, Roland’s face reddened. He muttered a few curses, took two steps forward, and stammered: “Tha-thank you.”
Nali chuckled, waving her hand: “Don’t mention it.” She paused, her silence seeming particularly meaningful. For a moment, Roland even thought he caught a glimpse of guilt in her azure eyes. She deepened her smile and teased: “One last piece of advice – definitely don’t get a mohawk, it’ll look terrible.”
“What?!” Roland’s eyes widened in disbelief, but Nali had already passed through the crowd that had spontaneously made way, gradually disappearing.
She left her luggage in the castle room and strolled again on the streets of Nafale. After wandering through the winding alleys, Nali suddenly turned and slipped into a dark lane. She pulled her cloak hood low and entered an unremarkable doorway.
Behind the plain linen curtain was a circular hall emitting a strange fragrance.
Under the dim purple-red light, the figures leaning against the walls and sitting at tables appeared ambiguous and mysterious. Most people entering and leaving wore cloaks similar to Nali’s, hiding their faces in the shadows of their hoods. From their slender physiques, it was easy to determine that most were mages.
Nali paused at the door, subtly surveying the people in the hall, her brow slightly furrowed.
Mages gathered in small groups, whispering.
Fragments of words drifting to her ears were all about “crucibles,” “potions,” “gems,” and “dragon skin.” This place was called the Linen Tavern, the mages’ guild headquarters in Nafale, and also an important trading place for magical materials. However, many had already begun making alternative plans:
“Where can one still get a ship heading south? Even offering the best gems, no boatman is willing to set sail, how cowardly!” a female mage complained irritably.
A lazy voice laughed softly, “Hmm? Is that so?”
Naily walked a few steps toward the source of the conversation, and after passing a pillar carved with runic patterns, a mage in a white robe and white cloak came into view. His hood was worn carelessly, revealing most of his delicate face. A few strands of green hair escaped from his cheeks, falling in front of him.
“You have a way?” the female mage suddenly became excited.
The green-haired mage responded with an ambiguous light laugh, running a finger along his lower lip: “Well…”
He stopped, looking at the figure standing before him, tightening his jaw: “Hm? Looking for me?”
Naily didn’t respond, silently nodding, indicating he should follow her to speak elsewhere.
