Ayamani brought the three of them back to the real world, and as Nia'le regained consciousness, he was pleasantly surprised to find that his body was no longer aching. Glancing at Ayamani, he felt a sense of gratitude, but Ayamani dismissed any thanks.
"What happened, happened. I just don't want Tassa to beg me to heal you when she wakes up," Ayamani said, adopting a nonchalant tone. He extended his hand, gesturing for Nia'le to hand over the stone he had used to deactivate the spell.
Nia'le, however, eyed Ayamani suspiciously. Despite his apprehension, he approached Ayamani and handed over the stone. Ayamani deftly attached it to his necklace before stepping outside the room. Turning back to Nia'le, he playfully remarked, "You're such a croach."
Nia'le responded with an annoyed laugh and followed Ayamani, grabbing his rugged clothes as if to emphasize his point. "You gave me that stone because you actually wanted to kill me back then, didn't you? You're a misbegotten son of a lepresh donkey! If you truly wanted to kill me, why didn't you finish the job back then?" Ayamani gently disentangled Nia'le's hands from him, turning his back and casting a contemplative glance at him. "Nia'le, I did harbor the desire to end you back then. But, as I mentioned, I didn't want Tassa to beseech me to heal you in front of her. My affection for her is genuine, though she can be exasperating at times. You've observed that as well."
"Why not end me now then? She's asleep," Nia'le challenged.
"I would if I could, believe me, Nia'le. Believe me," Ayamani responded enigmatically.
Meanwhile, Tassa awoke and frantically sought Nia'le beside her. Instead, she discovered the little girl they had rescued from the clutches of the Wring Righ. While relieved for the child, her worry for Nia'le led her outside. There, she found Nia'le and Ayamani engaged in a profound conversation.
Unable to contain her emotions, Tassa interjected, rushing to embrace Nia'le and almost shedding tears in his presence once again. She then turned to Ayamani, expressing her heartfelt gratitude for saving Nia'le's life. However, Ayamani, seemingly indifferent, left them with a cryptic remark, "It's not my intention, Tassa. Actually, it didn't unfold according to my plan."
Tassa halted Ayamani, curiosity etched across her face as she inquired about the mysterious plan he mentioned. However, Ayamani skillfully evaded the question, urging them to wait inside the room to avoid disturbing the still-unconscious girl.
The trio returned to the room, their anticipation building as they patiently waited for the girl to awaken. Three hours passed, and the girl remained in a deep slumber. Nia'le, sensing Tassa's distress, reached out to hold her hand in a gesture of comfort. Yet, he abruptly released it when he felt Ayamani's scrutinizing gaze upon him.
Frustration mounting, Nia'le questioned the validity of their efforts, wondering aloud if the girl was truly alive or if they were merely wasting their time. Tassa, exasperated, reassured him, "Of course, she's alive. Can't you see she's breathing?" Her words resonated with certainty.
After what felt like an eternity, the girl finally stirred. Her gaze focused on Nia'le, and she asked if he had saved her. Quick to share credit, Nia'le corrected her, emphasizing that it was a collective effort. Placing his hands on Tassa's shoulders, he joyfully informed the girl that Tassa had played a pivotal role in their rescue mission. Tassa, appreciative of Nia'le's efforts, also acknowledged Ayamani's vital role in their search for the girl. Before she could finish expressing her gratitude, Céline, the rescued girl, interrupted by hugging Nia'le and offering a sweet introduction. She eagerly shared her age (12) and expressed joy in meeting everyone, particularly singling out Nia'le for special attention.
However, Nia'le, uncomfortable with the display of affection, pushed Céline away, playfully labeling her a coquette. Tassa, disapproving of his remark, scolded Nia'le, reminding him that Céline is just a young girl who may not understand such words. Undeterred, Nia'le defended his perspective, asserting that anyone, regardless of age or gender, could act coquettishly if they wished.
Tassa dismissed Nia'le's interpretation, attributing Céline's hug to her naturally affectionate nature. Despite the exchange, Nia'le rolled his eyes at Tassa's explanation and left the room, leaving Ayamani with a watchful gaze on him.
Breaking the silence, Céline introduced herself as Céline, but insisted that Tassa simply call her just Céline. Grateful for her rescue, Céline expressed her heartfelt thanks to Tassa. A smile spread across Tassa's face as she returned the embrace, feeling a connection forming between them.
"You really are huggable, aren't you?" Tassa chuckled, her voice filled with genuine affection. The two of them shared a lighthearted moment, their laughter echoing through the room. In that instant, Tassa realized that despite the unexpected turn of events, a bond was forming between her and Céline, one that would shape their journey together.
Meanwhile, in a different part of the story, Suman abruptly intruded into Ixartxist's room, catching him off guard while he was in the midst of a shower. Suman's voice carried a hint of distress as he complained about his dinner being snatched away. Ixartxist, unimpressed by Suman's predicament, met his gaze with a cool indifference.
With a nonchalant expression, Ixartxist calmly reached for his towel and stepped out of the shower room, water droplets cascading down his body. His voice dripped with apathy as he dismissed Suman's concerns, making it clear that he held no interest in the trivial matters of others.
Ixartxist nonchalantly grabbed an orange from the table while Suman lounged on his bed. Suman, with a mischievous tone, revealed that his dinner had been set free by a mysterious person – the once little girl, now grown up, whom he no longer referred to as little Quart.
Xart, puzzled by this revelation, questioned why Tassa would do such a thing. Suman, indifferent, simply shrugged and continued lounging on Ixartxist's bed.
Ixartxist's fingers pierced the orange, releasing a burst of citrusy juice that stained his hand. The room fell silent, the tension thickening as his gaze locked with Suman's.
Suman, lounging on Ixartxist's bed, wore a mischievous smirk, his words dripping with provocation. "Why don't you take grownup Quart and marry her, instead? You love her, right? Besides, she's at the right age and..."
Ixartxist's eyes narrowed, his patience waning. He interrupted Suman's audacious suggestion, his voice laced with anger. "Because she was still too young. She can't handle it. That's why I need to wait for her, till she gets older."
Suman's smirk widened, his tone mocking. "So what if she can't? Of course, it will hurt for the first time. But she'll get used to it. Do it every day and every night, that should work."
Ixartxist's glare intensified, his frustration boiling over. He couldn't fathom Suman's callousness, his disregard for Quart's emotional well-being. With a forceful grip, he squeezed the orange, its juice trickling down his hand, mirroring the intensity of his emotions. His intimidating glare did little to deter Suman's audacity. Undeterred, Suman stood up, his voice laced with mischief. "The relationship, I mean. She'll get used to that," he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips.
Ixartxist chose to ignore Suman's provocative remarks, his focus shifting to cleaning the sticky residue from his hand. He walked purposefully to the sink, the sound of running water filling the room. With meticulous care, he washed his hand, the coolness of the water soothing his frayed nerves. He reached for a towel, wiping his hand clean before tossing it in Suman's direction.
To Ixartxist's surprise, Suman, seemingly distracted, caught the towel effortlessly. The smirk on Suman's face only grew wider, a silent challenge in his eyes. Ixartxist, undeterred by Suman's antics, calmly donned his night clothes, his mind focused on a different path.
"Remember, there's this spell, Suman," Ixartxist began, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery. "That's why there is always a right time. So, I'm just going to wait for her. She's my beautiful rose, still taking her time to bloom."
Suman's response was swift, his words laced with a dark undertone. "She is beautiful, but that doesn't mean it's free. Pay for my soul, Ixartxist."
Ixartxist's generous gesture of handing over contracts to Suman marked a pivotal moment in their tangled relationship. The air hung heavy with unspoken agreements and hidden intentions as Suman accepted the responsibility, assuring Ixartxist that Tassa, formerly known as Quart, would remain unharmed.
Suman's words carried a subtle threat as he acknowledged Tassa's continued connection to Ixartxist, regardless of any name change. "Tassa is still our Quart, even if you rename her. How can I hurt her?" he mused, leaving a lingering sense of unease in the room.
As Suman left with the contracts, Ixartxist, now alone, closed his eyes and took a moment to center himself. Sitting down, he rested his arms, contemplating the true nature of the situation. "What the hell are you up to, Tassa? Do you really want me to kill everyone that could hurt you?" Ixartxist questioned, his frustration and concern evident.
The room became a haven for Ixartxist's inner turmoil, a battleground of conflicting emotions. In a moment of vulnerability, he reached for Tassa's clothes hidden under his chair. Clutching them with a mixture of desperation and longing, he brought them to his face, inhaling her scent like a man possessed.
"You are now 19, only 1 year, and I'll gonna have you, my beloved," Ixartxist muttered, his words echoing in the empty space. A disturbing laughter escaped him, resonating like a discordant melody that would send shivers down anyone's spine, even to those outside his room.
Within the intricate tapestry of their intertwined lives, a new thread emerged, weaving a tale of unexpected emotions. Céline found herself consumed by a sudden and intense love for Nia'le, a love that had been sparked by Ayamani's influence. She became a constant presence, following him closely and fixating her gaze upon him. However, Céline, being only 12 years old, that made Nia'le felt a deep discomfort with this newfound attention.
As night fell, the trio found themselves sharing a sleeping arrangement. Tassa and Céline nestled together in the bed, while Nia'le was designated to sleep on the floor. Tassa excused herself to the bathroom to change her clothes, leaving Nia'le and Céline alone in the room. Céline, unable to contain her affection, sat on the bed, her legs playfully tapping against the lower part of the mattress, her eyes fixed on Nia'le. Yet, Nia'le, feeling increasingly uneasy, halted her advances, finding her actions more bothersome than endearing.
Resolute in his discomfort, Nia'le prepared his makeshift bed on the floor. He carefully laid a cover and placed his pillow, pushing it into position as he had done countless times before. Kneeling down, he offered his prayers before surrendering to sleep's embrace. As his eyes fluttered open, he was taken aback to find Céline standing before him. Surprise coursed through his veins, but her sweet smile greeted him. Céline's words hung in the air, her voice filled with a mixture of longing and desire. Nia'le, however, remained silent, his thoughts swirling within him. He attempted to retreat to their shared bed, but Céline, determined to keep him by her side, gently placed her hand on his face, preventing him from slipping away. Their eyes locked, and she pleaded with him to stay, suggesting that the three of them could sleep together without Tassa suspecting a thing.
Nia'le's eye twitched, a sign of his inner turmoil, but he chose not to act upon it. Annoyed, he gathered his belongings just as Tassa emerged from the bathroom. Seizing the opportunity, he informed her that he would be sleeping downstairs on the couch. Tassa, puzzled by his sudden decision, awkwardly waved and bid him goodnight, unaware of the underlying tension that had unfolded.
Meanwhile, Ayamani, the mastermind behind this intricate web of emotions, reveled in the success of his plan. With cunning intent, he sought to claim Nia'le's soul and transport him into the realm of the Infinite Night. As Tassa lay awake, her mind still restless, she suddenly caught sight of Nia'le's presence and questioned why he was there.
But Nia'le was, bewildered and unaware of how he had arrived there.
"I brought you here," Ayamani declared, his intentions shrouded in secrecy.
Perplexed, Nia'le questioned Ayamani's motives. "What do you want from me?" he inquired, his gaze unwavering.
Ayamani, however, had other plans. He gestured to Tassa, urging her to sleep and allow them a moment to converse. Tassa, oblivious to the unfolding drama, yawned and bid them goodnight before closing her eyes.
Alone in the Infinite Night, Nia'le and Ayamani exchanged words. The question lingered in the air: Did Nia'le enjoy being pursued by Céline?
The revelation struck Nia'le like a thunderbolt. "Are you the one who manipulated her feelings? Made her fall in love with me just to torment and shatter me into pieces?"
Ayamani, with a sly grin, acknowledged his influence. "I have the power to control her, and you know it. So, shall we make a deal?"
An unsettling proposition hung in the air as Ayamani extended his withered hand toward Nia'le. Nia'le confronting Ayamani in the mysterious realm of the Infinite Night. Their exchange revealed a complex relationship filled with mutual hatred. Nia'le accused Ayamani of being the type of person who creates poison and sells the antidote to their victim, expressing a deep loathing for Ayamani's existence.
Ayamani, in turn, acknowledged the shared animosity between them but proposed a deal: Nia'le must keep his hands off Tassa, and in return, Ayamani would refrain from manipulating Céline. Despite their mutual disdain, Nia'le agreed to the deal, shaking Ayamani's emaciated hand.
As the story unfolded, Nia'le found himself back in a semblance of peace, but the tranquility was deceptive. Céline, harboring a deep hatred for Nia'le, refused to engage with him. In the midst of the intricate narrative, Céline's tumultuous past unfolds, revealing a history of struggle and survival. Suman's intervention saved her from the ominous "Wring Righ," a place she reluctantly accepted help from. Her resentment towards Nia'le stemmed from being saved against her will, yet her connection with Tassa remained a source of solace, reminiscent of the care she received from her mother.
Nia'le, adorned in a dark grey cloak, ventures into the forest to hunt. Tassa, with her characteristic sweetness, suggests bringing Céline along. Despite initial resistance, they succumb to Tassa's insistence.
As Nia'le and Céline found themselves in this forest of quietude, their uneasy alliance played out against the backdrop of nature's serenity. The hushed atmosphere seemed to amplify the unresolved tension between them.
Nia'le, attempting to break the palpable silence, threw a small rock at a tree, disturbing the tranquil peace and startling a bird into flight. He expressed a sense of relief, only to be abruptly silenced by Céline's sharp retort. Her pernicious glare hinted at the underlying animosity that simmered beneath the surface.
Unfazed, Nia'le, ever the mediator, attempted to whistle, seeking to dissolve the awkwardness that hung in the air. However, Céline, unwilling to relent, swiftly kicked the back of his knee, causing him to stumble and fall. Her smirk conveyed a sense of satisfaction as she nonchalantly walked over him, leaving Nia'le seething on the forest floor.
As Nia'le gathered himself, frustration etched across his face, he seized Céline's foot, his gaze baleful. The air crackled with animosity as he accused her of stepping on him intentionally. Céline, maintaining her cool demeanor, retorted that it was his decision to be her makeshift mat. Nia'le, consumed by anger, his voice dripping with venom, threatened, "I'll gonna kill you, you little—"
Reacting swiftly, Céline seized a handful of soil from the ground and flung it at Nia'le's face. The unexpected assault caught him off guard, causing him to release his grip on her. Seizing the opportunity, Nia'le reached for his water bottle and hastily rinsed his stinging eyes.
Taking advantage of Nia'le's momentary vulnerability, Céline swiftly retrieved his gun and aimed it at his leg. Her voice laced with determination, she warned, "One wrong move, and I'll shoot you like a moose."
Nia'le, seemingly unfazed, let out a mocking laugh, placing his hand on his waist as he looked down at her. "You can't even pull the trigger without hurting yourself. Don't talk big—"
Without hesitation, Céline fired a shot, grazing Nia'le's cheek. The close call left him visibly shaken, his gulp betraying his shock. Reacting instinctively, he swiftly moved, placing his hands on the ground, and delivered a swift kick to Céline's leg, causing her to trip and release the gun.
In a swift motion, Nia'le caught the gun and pointed it back at Céline. Her voice filled with anger as she spat, "I should have crippled you when I had the chance, you dimwit!"
"You're such a menace, even for a 12-year-old. If Tassa were to discover that her little baby was nothing but a disappointment, she would surely weep."
Céline rose to her feet, tapping her dress with a sense of determination as she cast a baleful gaze at Nia'le. With a swift motion, she retrieved a knife hidden behind her nape, a wicked smile playing on her lips, and charged towards him.
In response, Nia'le reached into the depths of his being and summoned something extraordinary. From seemingly nowhere, a massive glowing sword materialized in the palm of his hand. Known as the Death Sword, its presence alone caused Céline to lose consciousness, collapsing onto the ground. However, Nia'le released his grip on the sword, catching her before she hit the ground. As suddenly as it appeared, the sword dissipated into thin air, leaving Nia'le staring at it in contemplation.
"Did it protect me, or did I summon it? I despise that cursed thing," Nia'le muttered to himself.
Nia'le held Céline gently in his arms as he carried her to the riverbank. Then, he started digging and threw the dirt onto her body. Gradually, Céline regained consciousness, her gaze fixated on the sky as she struggled to piece together the events that had transpired. The only recollection she had was running towards Nia'le and suddenly losing consciousness. After that, everything became a blur. While digging, Nia'le accidentally threw dirt on her face, causing her to spit it out. As she observed Nia'le digging beside her, she decided to playfully hit his head, letting him know she was still alive. In response, Nia'le angrily reciprocated by hitting her on the head.
"I know that, you brat!" he retorted.
Undeterred, Céline stood up and unbuttoned her clothes. "Then why are you digging? What was that for?" she questioned.
Rolling his eyes, Nia'le continued digging. "It's none of your business," he replied curtly.
"Jerk!" Céline exclaimed. She laid her clothes on the ground, catching Nia'le's attempt to see what she was doing. Swiftly, she kicked his face and asserted, "I'm sorry, but with or without body changes, I will not let you see my body."
As Céline kicked Nia'le, he lost his balance and tumbled into the hole he had been digging. Before he could climb out, she swiftly ran to the river, shouting, "Keep an eye on my clothes, okay? And hey, big jerk, don't forget to hunt for our food. That's the main reason we're here, remember?"
Céline joyfully swam in the river, while Nia'le glared at her, feeling increasingly annoyed. "How dare that brat violate me six times in a row," he muttered.
Afterward, Nia'le summoned the Death Sword into the palm of his hand. He placed it in the hole and buried it, leaving Céline behind as he continued to hunt for their food.
It was a beautiful summer day, and hunting for food proved to be quick and successful. Within just one or two hours, Nia'le managed to catch a large, lovely deer. However, as he prepared to shoot it, he felt a pang of sadness for the deer's baby. With a change of heart, he released the deer, deciding to return to Céline instead.
But Céline was still occupied; she was vigorously washing her body using a rock.
Nia'le couldn't help but feel a growing unease as he observed Céline's prolonged bathing. An hour had passed since she had immersed herself in the river, and she showed no signs of stopping. Her relentless scrubbing with a small rock, accompanied by tears streaming down her face, painted a picture of distress and self-disgust.
In the golden sunlight, Céline's pupils appeared unnaturally small, reflecting her deep-seated fear. It was as if she sought to cleanse not just her body, but her very essence. Her voice shook with distress as she kept repeating, "Wash it, wash it, I need to get clean. I need to..."
Nia'le's heart ached as he witnessed her torment. He longed to understand the source of her anguish, to offer solace and reassurance. Yet, he remained rooted in silence, grappling with the weight of his own confusion and concern.