The scent of cooked meat slowly filled the room, pushing back the stagnant humidity clinging to the walls and their clothes. That soft, almost comforting aroma stood in stark contrast to the cold, mineral stillness of the dungeon. For a brief moment, this meal—however small—offered them a fragile reprieve. A fleeting illusion of normalcy in the depths of this underground hell.

  Alynia took a bite, slowly, then raised her eyes to Veil.

  “The worst is probably still ahead of us…” she said, her voice low and grim.

  She paused, letting her gaze drift along the walls, alert for any sound, movement, or lurking shadow.

  “I doubt it’s over,” she added, darker now.

  But Veil, still seated across from her, frowned. His eyes fixed on her with an intensity that caught her off guard.

  “What matters now is you. In your condition, that’s the real emergency,” he said sharply, his voice tense with worry.

  Alynia looked away, as if his words had stung. A faint blush rose to her cheeks—subtle, but unmistakable. Her lips tightened slightly, and for a moment, she couldn’t hide the emotion that flickered across her face.

  He always has this annoying habit… saying exactly the thing he shouldn’t. And yet… she thought, tense.

  As much as she hated to admit it… it hit her. Too deeply.

  She looked back at him, her eyes regaining their edge, though her voice softened into a near whisper.

  “I’m not made of glass. I can still stand,” she said, calm but firm.

  The moment the words left her lips, Veil rose abruptly. Her eyes followed him, a hint of uncertainty flickering behind them. He stepped toward her.

  Then, without warning, he grabbed her injured arm.

  “Gh—!” she cried out in pain.

  Her face twisted in a violent grimace. Veil’s other hand pressed firmly against her bruised ribs, sending a jolt of agony through her so sharp it nearly stole her breath.

  He dropped to his knees beside her, his expression cold and stern, jaw clenched tight.

  “Swallow your pride. You’re in no shape to argue, and the pain written all over your face proves it,” he said flatly.

  Alynia froze for a moment. Her breathing had quickened from the shock. She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to regain composure.

  “What do you want us to do? Wait around? There’s no going back,” she replied, voice taut.

  She raised a trembling hand, gesturing toward the doorway behind them.

  “The paths we came from are sealed. We don’t have a choice—we have to move forward,” she added, firmer now.

  Veil nodded without resistance.

  “I know,” he muttered.

  He looked at her for a moment longer before continuing, his tone softer now, though still strained beneath the surface.

  “Whether you like it or not… I’ll be the one fighting from here on out,” he said, tense but resolute.

  The words landed heavier than he expected. Even he could taste the bitterness in them.

  Am I even capable of that…? Without that thing… I wouldn’t even be alive, he thought, bitter.

  Alynia clenched her right hand, gaze lowered. He was right. She knew it.

  But accepting that truth gnawed at her.

  She didn’t want to rely on him. On anyone.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Veil stepped closer, slowly. His expression softened as he placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

  “No matter what happens, I’ll do everything I can to get us through this,” he said, his voice calm, reassuring.

  He held her gaze for a moment before adding, even more softly:

  “But first… we need to take care of your injuries. Assess the damage after the fall,” he added, worry creeping into his voice despite his calm tone.

  Alynia finally relented, her shoulders sinking slightly. She didn’t argue anymore.

  It was the first time Veil had spoken to her like that—with such firmness. No shouting, just cold honesty… but justified.

  She slowly lowered her hand to his, still resting on her shoulder, and gently pushed it away.

  Veil watched her silently as she spoke again, her voice soft—tinged with unease.

  “Could you… loosen my corset? I won’t be able to take off my dress otherwise,” she asked, awkwardly.

  It was only then that Veil realized. With the extent of her injuries, there was no way to treat them through her clothing. He hesitated, his gaze drifting for a moment before he nodded.

  “Alright,” he replied quietly.

  His hands—slightly shaky—reached for the leather laces securing the stiff corset. The tension between them was thick, but there was no room for modesty now. One by one, he loosened the ties, slowly relieving the pressure around her torso. Her dress relaxed around her frame, settling more loosely on her hips.

  Alynia turned, showing him her back.

  “There’s a lace. Untie the knot at the top, then loosen it gradually downwards,” she instructed calmly.

  Veil stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against the nape of her neck. But he paused, hesitating.

  “Do you… do you have something underneath? If not, I can give you my shirt,” he asked, unsure.

  Alynia nodded without turning.

  “I’m wearing a brassiere. But thank you… keep your shirt,” she said, steady.

  Reassured, Veil carefully undid the knot at the top of the lace, freeing the ends. Then, with slow, deliberate motions, he loosened the crisscrossing ties, one by one, easing the fabric along her back. The tension in the dress gave way, settling softly at her hips. He helped ease the sleeves down her arms, taking care not to worsen her injuries.

  But once the fabric was finally off her back… his eyes widened.

  Alynia’s skin was covered in bruises.

  Bluish-purple blotches stained her back from shoulder blades to hips, blooming like dark shadows along her ribs.

  He swallowed his reaction and cleared his throat quietly before speaking—cautious, controlled.

  “Turn around. I need to see how far it goes,” he murmured.

  Alynia obeyed, slowly. When she turned, the firelight revealed the rest of the damage. Bruises covered her stomach, her sides… disappearing beneath the edge of her brassiere.

  Without a word, she held out the small jar of salve she’d given him earlier.

  “Put it on. I’d rather… not look,” she said calmly.

  She turned her head away, her face unreadable—but Veil knew. She could feel every bruise under her skin. She knew exactly where it hurt.

  He slowly unscrewed the lid, dipped two fingers into the viscous salve, and set the jar beside him.

  With utmost care, he began applying it to her stomach, gently massaging it into her skin.

  Alynia flinched, a short breath escaping her lips. The cold of the ointment made her shiver, followed by a sharp sting of pain when he accidentally pressed a more tender spot.

  But little by little, the chill faded, replaced by the slow, spreading warmth of his touch.

  Veil continued, reapplying the salve several times to cover every visible bruise. His movements grew steadier, more focused, as he worked across her back, her sides, and the upper part of her torso.

  When he was finished, he handed her the small jar, turning his gaze slightly away.

  “Here. There’s still some left. You should put some on your chest. Under the brassiere too,” he said in a neutral tone.

  Alynia looked at him silently… then gave a small shake of her head.

  “No. You do it,” she replied, her voice tired.

  Veil stiffened slightly, taken aback. He opened his mouth, but no words came—clearly uneasy. He truly wanted to help… but this was different.

  Noticing his hesitation, Alynia placed a hand over her brassiere, holding it in place, and spoke more gently.

  “I’ll keep it covered. But… I can’t reach there on my own,” she said honestly.

  Silence settled between them.

  Veil studied her face. She was exhausted, in pain… but still composed.

  Finally, he nodded without a word and stepped closer. He loosened the brassiere slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, then took another bit of ointment.

  As he resumed applying the salve, focused on the task, Alynia gave him a sly, teasing smirk.

  “So? Not too distracted by the view?” she asked playfully.

  Veil let out a small laugh, without stopping.

  “Trust me… after what you said last time, I’m being very careful where I look,” he replied with a half-smile, still a bit tense.

  He finished applying the balm, his touch now slower, more discreet. Alynia remained quiet—worn out, but at ease. The cold sensation on her skin had faded, leaving behind a soft warmth… almost pleasant.

  “Could you… help me get dressed again?” she asked in a low voice.

  Veil nodded once.

  He gently adjusted her brassiere, then helped her slide her arms through the sleeves of her dress. He redid the lacing along her back, pulling each crisscrossed tie just enough to hold, without causing her pain. Finally, he tightened the corset, just enough to support her… without pressing too hard.

  Alynia let out a long sigh and leaned her head back against the cold stone of the pillar behind her.

  “This is going to get complicated…” she murmured wearily.

  Her eyes drifted up toward the dark ceiling.

  “Even if we make it out alive, the closest town is six days away… and the only healers who can handle wounds like this are in the big cities,” she said gravely.

  She didn’t have time to say anything more.

  Veil moved closer—slowly—and leaned into her. His arm slipped gently around her shoulders, his forehead resting against her neck, his warm breath brushing softly against her skin.

  The unexpected contact made her freeze.

  It was a weight—painful, and yet… comforting. A strange blend of discomfort and solace washed over her, one she couldn’t quite name.

  “I’m sorry… I couldn’t do anything,” he whispered, his voice muffled, heavy with guilt.

  A warm tear slid down her skin, trailing along the curve of her neck.

  “I thought I’d lost you, Alynia… When I saw you lying there… I couldn’t— I didn’t want to be alone. You’re the only thing grounding me here,” he added, voice breaking.

  A long silence followed.

  Then, in a voice softer than she thought herself capable of, Alynia whispered:

  “Little Wolf… you’re too close,” she murmured, flustered.

  She turned her head slightly, unable to hide her unease.

  “I’m not used to… this kind of thing,” she admitted, hesitant.

  Veil pulled away immediately, his hands lifting from her shoulders.

  “Sorry… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said quietly.

  He backed off, giving her space. Alynia turned to face him, her eyes locking onto his.

  And what she saw there… moved her more than she wanted to admit.

  Since waking up, Veil had held it all in. But now, in his reddened eyes, everything spilled out—fear, exhaustion, and something deeper.

  She gently took his hands in hers.

  “I’m tougher than your average human, Little Wolf,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

  She paused, raising her injured arm slightly, a grimace flickering across her lips.

  “But pain… doesn’t really care about that,” she added with a dry, ironic tone.

  She let go of his hands and leaned back more comfortably against the nearby pillar. Her voice dropped to a near whisper.

  “Get some rest. Once the salve starts working, we’ll move on,” she said calmly.

  Veil nodded silently, wiping his cheeks with a sleeve. He settled beside her, his back against the cold stone.

  The fire still crackled softly, its wavering warmth barely enough to hold the room’s chill at bay.

  Silence returned.

  Their breathing slowed, their heads eventually leaning closer—nearly touching.

  Their breaths, peaceful and measured, fell into rhythm.

  A brief moment of peace… far too rare in this place.

  And what came next, wouldn’t wait.