Solomon and the witch continued their usual playful banter. At this point, he wasn't about to take things further with Bayonetta, especially considering that he lacked any potion to help him grow taller. To match the witch's height, he'd been eating and training relentlessly, unwilling to squander his efforts now.
Though Bayonetta usually took the lead, Athena seemed to have said something to her that made the witch even more assertive than usual.
"Why waste it while you sleep when you could just give it to me?" Bayonetta raised an eyebrow, licking her lips boldly and ignoring Solomon's odd look. Today, she wore only a gray off-the-shoulder sweater that showed her graceful shoulders. As soon as she got back to the apartment, she'd shed her tight jeans and high heels, leaving her long legs hugged by black fishnet stockings.
Her attire drew Solomon's attention; he could tell she'd dressed that way deliberately. Each time she walked by, his gaze inevitably followed.
Yet despite her efforts, Bayonetta's plan didn't quite succeed. Jeanne clung tightly to Bayonetta, preventing her from getting too close to Solomon. She also dismissed Bayonetta's suggestion that she share Solomon's bed that night, watching Solomon with a wary eye, ready to act if he got too close.
"Relax. I'm spending the night on the couch. Wait…" Solomon gave the chubby cat on his lap a pat. Ever since Stark had left, one question had haunted him, circling in his mind like a vulture awaiting prey. Hours had passed, yet the answer still eluded him.
"I might need to go back to Kamar-Taj," he said. "I have a question I've been unable to resolve."
"You could always share it with me," Bayonetta said, reclining against Jeanne as they squeezed onto the couch. She tapped Solomon's leg with her toe. "You never tell me what's bothering you, Solomon. That's not how this is supposed to work. We're in this together."
"It's academic, Bayonetta. Do you think I'd have doubts about my life with you? I live with you every day." Solomon sighed softly. "Still, I suppose it's worth talking about. My question is—am I really not in the Akashic Records? Although I told Stark that, I actually don't know for sure. I use the Cauldron of the Cosmos to view the universe, but I can't see my own reflection there, which makes me believe my fate isn't predetermined. But after the incident in Salem and the silver key at my neck, I've started to doubt. I suspect someone may have already written my fate, and the only path I see to escape it is filled with risk and could lead to madness, merging with the chaotic cosmos itself."
"Do you really think fate brought us together, little one?" Bayonetta mused after a pause, seemingly struggling to express her true thoughts and carefully choosing her words. Fortunately, both Jeanne and Solomon were patient enough to wait.
"Boya, I don't believe fate is what brought me to you. That was my choice alone." She nudged Solomon's cheek with her toe. "I chose you, nothing else."
Bayonetta didn't elaborate, nor did she seem inclined to explain further.
Her decision to accept Solomon's supervision wasn't only due to Kamar-Taj's mandate; it stemmed largely from Solomon's doting on her familiar, Cereza. Bayonetta knew the importance of familiars to spellcasters, yet Solomon had summoned a plump cat that was entirely useless, dutifully caring for it every day. She also knew Solomon disliked interdimensional entities and avoided his title of King Solomon, summoning demons only sparingly despite his abilities. Yet he'd summoned Phoenix, one of the seventy-two great demons, as Cereza's protector. Luckily, Phoenix was amicable, and Solomon hadn't needed to send it back. And though Solomon respected the Sorcerer Supreme deeply, he'd even protested to her on Cereza's behalf.
As a result, Bayonetta's subconscious attachment to Solomon had magnified after Cereza's return from the past, though her pride prevented her from showing it. Her usual approach was to give him small rewards when Jeanne wasn't around, a strategy she'd picked up from her mother, who was once the most beautiful among their coven. Behind prison bars, her mother had shared stories with her about the type of partner she should look for in the future.
These little tactics were all lessons from her mother.
"No need to worry about that, Boya," Bayonetta said with a tilt of her head. "Whether our fates are set or not, we're together—that's what matters. If fate tries to keep us apart, then we'll defy it. It's that simple. We're a family."
"I... I didn't know you could be so poetic, Bayonetta," Solomon said, glancing sideways at her. "And heartfelt, too." Jeanne looked at Solomon with clear distaste, but he ignored her—there was no way she was part of this family!
"Your turn," Bayonetta nodded at him, a teasing look in her eyes. "I'm waiting to hear what you have to say."
Solomon turned toward her, intrigued. "Say what?" he asked.
"Why you're with me, of course. I told you my reason, now it's your turn."
"You did?" Solomon asked, bewildered. He hadn't heard her say any such thing. Now she wanted him to answer? He couldn't just say it was because of her long legs, her toned abs, her striking hair, or that unique blend of independence and occasional clumsiness that made her so endearing.
This woman was both sexy and adorable; how could he not like her?
"Don't argue over details with a beautiful woman," Bayonetta said, sticking out her tongue playfully, a rare gesture that made her look like a teenager. "I'm beautiful, so what I say goes. I said it, so I said it. Boya, never argue with a woman—you'll never win."
"I'm very curious about what Athena told you to make you act like this."
"Your adoptive mother already told me to keep it a secret," Bayonetta adjusted her glasses. "It's a women's secret; you'll never find out. All you need to know is that she told me a story—Hera's story, one you'd rather not hear. Now, tell me: why do you like me?"
Solomon opened his mouth, summoning his courage to face one of the most challenging questions he'd ever encountered. Answering this required more than flattery; he'd need to recount every detail of what had made him fall for her, step by step, with nothing left out to show that each moment had been indelibly etched in his heart. (Are you taking notes?)
The more details, the better. The more specific, the happier the questioner, and adding in dates and weather would be the icing on the cake. As cheesy as it might sound, Solomon found the words came naturally as he spoke, gradually leaning closer to Bayonetta.
Jeanne, unnoticed, was left to her own devices as Bayonetta and Solomon inched closer, oblivious to her presence.
She let out a quiet burp.
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