Do You Want to Save Her?

Esper stopped near the edge of a less crowded section of the district, just before a junction where the street split into several paths.

She turned slightly towards him, posture still composed, and for once her smile didn’t look like it was meant for an audience.

“I did have fun today,” she said, and the words were simple, but they sounded sincere. “So… thanks.”

Soren’s first instinct was to wave it off, and he did, because that was what he always did when something felt too real.

“It’s fine.”

Esper’s eyes narrowed, unimpressed.

“Don’t do that.”

Soren blinked.

“Do what?”

“The thing where you pretend you didn’t do anything,” she said, and the faint irritation in her tone sounded more like frustration at habit than anger. “You spent the whole day with me. You didn’t complain too much. You didn’t make it weird. You always do things like that. So, thank you.”

Soren stared at her, then looked away, ruffling the back of his hair once with his hand as if that could shake the awkwardness off.

“You’re the one making it weird now.”

Esper’s mouth curved, amused.

“Am I?”

Soren didn’t answer, because he didn’t want to.

Soren sighed.

“I take it you’re leaving now?”

Esper blinked, then smiled sweetly, and this time the sweetness looked like she was hiding something softer behind it.

“Yeah. I’m leaving.”

Soren nodded once, relieved and oddly not relieved at the same time.

His body was tired, his head was tired, and the thought of going back to the academy and sitting in silence sounded like heaven.

At the same time, letting Esper walk away after she had finally sounded honest felt… unfinished.

He didn’t know how to name that feeling, so he didn’t.

Instead, he reached into his pocket.

The small box was there, heavier than it had any right to be for something that weighed almost nothing, and his fingers closed around it with a hesitation that made his stomach tighten.

Soren pulled it out, held it at his side for a second, then let out a quiet sigh as if he were bracing for impact.

Esper’s gaze dropped to his hand immediately, her expression shifting into suspicion.

“What’s that?”

Soren’s cheeks warmed, and he hated that they did, because he wasn’t embarrassed about the concept, he was embarrassed about the inevitable reaction.

“It’s…”

His voice came out too low, and he cleared his throat once, annoyed at himself.

“I got you a gift.”

Esper stared at him.

Soren stared at the street over her shoulder, as if looking at her directly would make it worse.

Esper blinked once, then leaned closer, eyes narrowing.

“What?”

Soren’s brow creased.

“I said I got you a gift.”

“You’re mumbling,” Esper complained, and there was something strange in her tone now, sharpness that didn’t sound like teasing. “Say it again.”

Soren exhaled, then forced the words out properly, loud enough to carry.

“I got you a gift.”

For a moment, Esper looked stunned.

It wasn’t dramatic, just a pause, her lips parting slightly as if she had forgotten what she was about to say next.

Then, almost immediately, the familiar grin crept onto her face, sharp and delighted, the mask returning because the mask was always her first defence.

“Oho,” she purred. “A gift? For little old me? How romantic.”

Soren ruffled his hair again, irritation creeping in to cover embarrassment.

“I knew you were going to do this. That’s why I didn’t want to.”

Esper’s grin widened.

“You didn’t want to give me a gift because I would tease you. That’s so considerate.”

Soren held out his hand anyway, pushing the box towards her with a resigned expression.

“Just take it.”

Esper accepted it with a grin, fingers curling around the box as if she had been handed a trophy.

Soren immediately turned, because he wasn’t interested in standing here and watching her reaction like some nervous husband in a romance novel.

He took one step away, then another, already aiming for the simplest escape route.

His sleeve tightened.

Esper had caught his arm.

The grip wasn’t hard, but it was sudden enough to stop him completely, and when he looked back, he saw that her grin had slipped.

Not fully gone.

Just… shaken.

Esper’s words tripped over each other, fast and unpolished.

“Wait, no, stop, what are you doing?”

Soren blinked, caught off guard by the tone more than the words.

“Leaving?”

Esper’s eyes narrowed, and she snapped the box back shut with a quick motion that looked almost frantic, then shoved it back into his hand as if it was dangerous.

“Why would you buy something like that?” she demanded.

Soren stared at the box in his palm, then back at her face.

Esper was flustered.

Not playfully.

But genuinely.

Her cheeks looked faintly flushed under layers of makeup, and her smile was gone, replaced by an expression that looked bitter and embarrassed at the same time, as if she didn’t know where to put the emotion and was annoyed that it existed at all.

Soren’s brows pulled together.

“What are you talking about. You haven’t even opened it.”

Esper’s jaw tightened.

“I did! But even if I didn’t I don’t need to open it to know what it is.”

Soren blinked once, then twice, mind catching up slowly.

“So you saw?”

Esper scoffed, but the sound came out strained.

Soren’s mouth opened, then closed again, because he hadn’t expected her to react like this.

Teasing, yes.

Smugness, yes.

Her turning it into a joke, definitely.

Not this.

He held the box out again, slower this time.

“Essy, it’s not a big deal. It’s just…”

He paused, searching for the cleanest way to explain it without making it sound like romance, because it wasn’t.

“It’s just,” he tried again, then sighed, and his gaze dropped to the ring on his own finger, black band, ruby centre, the one she had put on him months ago as if it were nothing.

Esper’s eyes followed his glance automatically, then flicked back up to his face, sharp and wary.

Soren inhaled, then started speaking, voice calm, practical, even though the situation was anything but.

“When you went to the bathroom,” he said, “I was sitting on the bench and thinking.”

Esper’s brows knit slightly, still tense, still flustered.

“That’s always a bad sign,” she said, desperately trying to break the atmosphere that was steadily building.

Soren ignored her.

“I was thinking about what you’ve done for me since the first day we met.”

Esper’s expression tightened.

“Please don’t do this.”

Soren continued anyway, because he needed to get it out or she was going to spiral into irritation and pretend she didn’t care.

“And I realised you bought me this ring on day one.”

Esper’s eyes narrowed, and her voice came out sharper than the moment needed.

“Because you looked like you were about to have a breakdown over the price tag.”

Soren huffed a quiet breath, not quite a laugh.

“Yeah. You did it on a whim.”

Her expression tightened, like she didn’t like how accurate that sounded.

“And,” Soren continued, steadier now, “it’s still been… important. Socially. Even if the relationship is fake.”

Esper’s jaw clenched.

“Soren.”

He held her gaze, refusing to let her cut him off, because this mattered, and because her reaction had made it matter more.

“If I never got you anything in return, then it looks one-sided.”

Esper’s eyes flickered.

Soren went on, the words coming more smoothly now that he had committed.

“You ‘proposed’ to me. You gave me a ring while you don’t have one. Nobles aren’t stupid. They’d assume there’s a gap.”

Esper’s lips parted slightly, and for once she didn’t have an immediate joke ready.

Soren’s voice stayed practical, because practicality was safer than sincerity, and he needed her to hear the intent the right way.

“So this is repayment, and it’s also… support. For the lie. It makes it look more balanced.”

Esper stared at him for a long second, and the fluster on her face shifted, the sharpness dulling as if she were forcing herself to breathe.

Soren didn’t stop.

“That’s all. It’s not romantic. I’m not suddenly confessing feelings. It’s just sensible.”

Esper’s eyes narrowed again, and the corner of her mouth twitched, almost a smile, but it didn’t look amused.

Soren held out the box one more time, quieter now.

“Just take it.”

Esper’s fingers hovered, then stopped, as if she couldn’t decide whether touching it would make something worse.

Then she swallowed once and, out of nowhere, blurted something insane.

“Put it on me.”

Soren froze.

“…What?”

Esper’s cheeks looked even warmer now, betraying her despite the makeup, and she lifted her chin as if she could force dignity back into the moment by sheer will.

“Put it on me.”

Soren stared at her, genuinely thrown.

“Why?”

Esper’s eyes flicked away for half a heartbeat, then back, expression stubborn and irritated, as if she was angry that she had to explain something emotional at all.

“Because,” she said, voice tight, “I put yours on you.”

Soren’s brows drew together.

“That was different. You just… did it. You bought it, shoved it at me, and decided it belonged there.”

Esper’s mouth tightened.

“That doesn’t matter. Return the favour.”

Her words were clear, and yet she looked like she was bracing for something, breath shallow, shoulders held too carefully.

Soren hesitated, then sighed, long and resigned, because he could already see how this was going to go, and because refusing would only turn it into an argument she would win out of spite.

“Fine,” he muttered.

Esper’s eyes sharpened, but she didn’t tease.

Not this time.

She simply held out her left hand, fingers slightly curled, palm facing down, the gesture too deliberate to be casual.

Soren opened the box.

Nestled inside was a golden ring, simple in design, clean band, with an emerald set neatly in the centre, not gaudy, not oversized, just bright enough to catch light when it moved.

The emerald matched Esper’s eyes so closely that it looked intentional in a way that made Soren’s throat feel tight again.

Esper stared at it, lips parting slightly, then snapped her mouth shut as if she had caught herself.

Soren lifted the ring out carefully, holding it between two fingers, and the gold felt cool against his skin.

He reached for Esper’s hand.

The moment his fingers touched her, lightly, guiding her hand steady, Esper flinched.

It was small, almost invisible, a twitch that most people would miss, but Soren felt it immediately, felt the tension in her fingers, felt the way she had to force herself not to pull back.

He paused for half a second, eyes flicking up to her face.

Esper’s expression was stubborn, jaw set, eyes bright in a way that didn’t look teasing at all, and her flushed cheeks betrayed her more than she would ever admit.

Soren didn’t comment.

He simply brought the ring to her finger and slid it on, slowly, carefully, the gold passing over the knuckle with a soft, smooth resistance until it settled into place on her left ring finger.

Only when it was fully seated, and only when Soren let go of her hand, did Esper finally exhale.

It was one steady breath, as if she hadn’t realised she had been holding it at all.

For a moment she didn’t move.

She just stared at her own left hand, fingers slightly spread, watching the emerald catch the light when she shifted by half a degree.

It wasn’t gaudy.

It wasn’t screaming for attention.

It simply sat there, neat and deliberate, the kind of thing that looked like it belonged, which was exactly the problem.

Esper’s mouth tightened, then she let out a small, irritated huff that sounded like she was annoyed at the concept of having emotions in public.

“This is… so annoying,” she muttered.

Soren blinked.

“You told me to.”

“I know what I told you,” Esper snapped, then immediately softened her tone by a fraction, as if she didn’t want to turn it into a fight when he had done the thing she asked. “I’m allowed to be annoyed anyway.”

Soren’s gaze stayed on her face, not prying, but not letting her pretend she was fine either.

He could see her trying to shuffle the moment back into something manageable, something she could joke about.

It didn’t fit neatly.

Esper flexed her fingers once, then curled them into a loose fist, like she was grounding herself.

“…Thank you,” she said, quick and quiet.

Soren’s brow lifted slightly.

“You’re welcome.”

The words sat there for half a second too long.

Esper’s eyes narrowed, not at him exactly, more at the air itself, like she had just realised she had dropped her guard and everyone had seen it.

Then she snapped her head up, smile returning so abruptly it almost looked painful.

“Anyway!” Esper declared, clapping her hands together once, loud enough to startle a nearby passer-by into looking over. “That’s enough sincerity for one day. I’m going to start rotting if we keep this up.”

Soren stared at her, then let out a quiet exhale through his nose.

“That was fast.”

Esper’s grin sharpened immediately, grateful for something she could bite.

“Fast? Please. I’m being generous. Most people don’t even get one ‘thank you’ before I bully them again.”

Soren’s gaze flicked to her ring, then back up to her face.

“You’re not taking it off?”

Esper’s smile twitched.

For a fraction of a heartbeat she looked like she was going to flinch, then she recovered, lifting her hand as if inspecting her nails.

“Why would I? It matches my eyes.”

“That’s not why,” Soren said with a grin.

Esper’s eyes narrowed, warning.

“Shut up.”

He didn’t push it further, mostly because he didn’t need to.

He could see how hard she was working to turn the moment into something she could breathe around again.

So, for once, he gave her an escape.

“You know, if you’re going to keep dragging me around like a trophy fiancé, you should at least practise your lies.”

Esper blinked.

“My lies are flawless.”

“You told three shopkeepers we were ‘having a romantic day out,’” Soren replied. “Then you immediately insulted my wardrobe every opportunity you got.”

Esper scoffed, chin lifting.

“That’s romance. You wouldn’t understand.”

Soren’s mouth curved, small but real.

“Sure thing, Essy.”

Esper’s eyes narrowed like she didn’t like that he had managed to tease her without getting flustered.

“Don’t get cocky, Cutie.”

“Too late,” he said, and the calmness of it made her stare at him like he had committed a crime.

Esper opened her mouth, probably to launch into something dramatic, then stopped, because the truth was sitting right there between them, the day was over, and she had already slipped more than she liked.

She inhaled once, then exhaled through her nose, posture straightening back into that familiar, polished shape.

“Right,” she said, tone lighter again. “I’m really leaving now.”

Soren nodded.

“Good. I’m going to go collapse in the clubroom.”

Esper’s grin turned wicked.

“Aw, poor thing. Exhausted after spending a day with me.”

Soren’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, you’re an exhausting woman.”

Esper gasped, a hand flying to her chest like she had been stabbed.

“How dare you?”

He didn’t take it back; he only looked at her with the same flat expression he used when people tried to guilt him into apologising.

Esper stared him down, then smiled slowly, like something in her had decided she didn’t like losing the last point.

“Okay,” she said, too brightly. “Payback.”

Soren’s brow creased.

“For what.”

Esper’s eyes flicked to her left hand, the emerald catching light, then back to his face, smugness sharpening.

“For embarrassing me.”

Soren’s eyes narrowed.

“You told me—”

“I may have, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to get away with it.”

Before he could step back, she moved.

Fast.

She stepped in before he could decide whether to retreat or argue, closing the last sliver of space between them with a smug little tilt of her chin.

Then she kissed his cheek.

It was fast, but not careless, a soft press of warm lips that landed just under his cheekbone like a stamp, and the shock of it was worse than the kiss itself, because his body registered it a half-second before his brain did.

The scent of her perfume hit him at the same time, sweet and sharp, and the edge of her ginger hair brushed his jaw as she pulled back.

Heat bloomed across the spot she had touched, lingering like an afterimage, and Soren went completely still, eyes wide for a beat, his mouth parting as if words were supposed to appear and had simply failed to load.

Esper pulled back immediately, smug and entirely pleased with herself.

A bright smear of lipstick remained on his cheek.

Soren’s hand lifted halfway, hovering near his cheek as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch the spot, then his fingers brushed it anyway, catching a faint tackiness that hadn’t been there a second ago.

Esper stuck her tongue out at him, eyes sparkling with malicious joy.

“Revenge.”

Soren stared at her.

“You’re insane.”

Esper grinned wider.

“I know.”

Then she turned on her heel and started walking away at a brisk pace that quickly became a near-run, her boots clicking against the stone, her bright outfit making it impossible for her to blend in even if she wanted to.

Soren remained where he was for a second, still processing, still mildly offended, then finally moved his hand to wipe at his cheek.

He looked at the lipstick on his fingers.

His expression went flat again.

“…What is wrong with you?” he muttered.

Esper didn’t hear him.

Or she pretended she didn’t.

She made it several metres, then suddenly stopped.

Her shoulders lifted slightly, a small hitch of tension, and Soren watched her as she turned back around.

The grin was still there.

Her cheeks, however, were noticeably more flushed than they had been a moment ago, even under all that makeup, and the sight of it made Soren pause.

Esper looked like she had remembered she was capable of embarrassment only after committing to the act.

She held his gaze, and for a heartbeat the performance slipped again, not fully, but enough that her voice came out sharper and more honest than it should have.

“Also,” she called, too quickly, like she was throwing the words at him so she wouldn’t have to carry them. “My father’s coming to the festival.”

Soren’s brain stopped.

He stared at her.

Esper stared back, cheeks still warm, eyes bright and irritated, as if she hated the fact she had to say it at all.

Then, before he could respond, she turned and bolted again, almost tripping over the edge of a paving stone, catching herself at the last second, and continuing as if nothing had happened.

Soren remained standing in the middle of the street.

People moved around him.

A cart rattled past.

Someone laughed nearby.

He didn’t hear any of it.

His mind was completely blank, the kind of blank that only happened when a new problem landed so heavily it erased everything else.

His hand lifted again, wiping at the last trace of lipstick like that would fix anything.

It didn’t.

He stared ahead at the spot Esper had disappeared into, then let out a slow breath.

“…I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

————「❤︎」————