Luca didn't even have to turn to know who it was.

He leaned lazily against the wooden railing, smirking slightly as asked,

"Why do you say that I'm a masochist, Nyx?"

Nyx approached, her usual sly smile playing at her lips as she folded her arms.

"Because no sane man would let twenty girls poke holes into his hand—willingly, at that. Not to mention that you're smart enough to have found an alternative, some dummy or object to practice on. And yet…"

She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You chose your own hand."

"So I can only conclude you were...enjoying it. Getting a little thrill every time those girls pierced you."

Her voice dropped playfully.

"And if that's true, I have to say—you're very clever. Turning a lesson into personal pleasure right under everyone's noses. They all think you're a saint, but really you're just a sneaky pervert."

Luca let out a low, genuine chuckle, shaking his head.

"I wish. My life would be a lot simpler if pain actually turned me on."

He glanced at the setting sun with a weary look in his eyes.

"But unfortunately, no. I'm not wired that way."

The smile faded slightly from Nyx's face replaced by a more contemplative expression, as she wondered why he looked so lonely when he said that.

But before she could speak, he looked up again, smirking.

"That said. I do have a few masochistic tendencies like how I wouldn't mind if a woman like you stepped on me and called me all sorts of dirty names."

Nyx raised an eyebrow, surprised but amused.

"Oh? And why me, specifically?"

He leaned against the railing, his tone low and teasing.

"It's your eyes."

"My eyes?" She repeated, blinking.

He nodded.

"They're dangerous. One moment they're playful and soft and the next, sharp enough to cut through steel. Even when you're hurting someone, you can't tell whether you're enjoying it or pitying them. That mix of emotion…"

He smiled faintly, his voice dipping lower.

"It's intoxicating."

For once, Nyx was caught off guard. But she still managed a smirk.

"Careful, Hero. With the way you're talking, I might be tempted to poke a few holes in your arm myself—just to see whether you'd smile in pleasure or wink in pain."

Luca chuckled under his breath and extended his arm toward her, showing the part of his hand that was still untouched and clean.

"Right here." He said playfully. "This patch hasn't been poked yet. It's waiting for you."

Nyx opened her mouth, a daring, teasing retort already forming on her lips—

—when firm footsteps approached from behind.

Leona appeared at Luca's side, posture straight, expression carefully neutral.

Before she could say a word, he smiled wryly and asked,

"Don't tell me...after watching everyone stab my hand, you've come for your turn as well?"

He held up his bandaged fingers and frowned.

"Though I'll admit, I'm a little scared that you might take this opportunity to poke me so much that I faint of blood loss."

Leona paused mid-step and blinked, almost offended.

"Excuse me?" She said, her tone cool and faintly indignant.

But then she sighed softly, deciding not to waste her composure on teasing. She instead before she handed him a small, carved wooden box.

Luca blinked. "What's this?"

"Open it." Leona replied curtly.

He did and found inside a small jar filled with a green, smooth paste that gave off a faint herbal scent.

"This is a salve made by our clan that's been passed on from generation to generation." Leona began, her tone soft but formal. "It's made from grounded medicinal leaves, mixed with nectar from the dawn lotus."

"If you rub it on your wounds and it'll heal faster. It also cools the skin, eases the sting, and reduces scarring."

"I...just thought you would need it after how much the girls poked you."

And then noticing Nyx's gaze knowing gaze she quickly added,

"And don't misunderstand. I'm simply fulfilling my duty as the village matriarch—taking care of a guest under my protection. That's all."

Before he could even respond, she turned on her heel and walked away, her hair swaying behind her like a banner of pride and restraint.

Luca blinked after her, utterly confused. Then he slowly turned to Nyx.

"I don't get her." He muttered. "Does she like me or not?"

Nyx let out a soft, knowing laugh.

"Who knows? Sometimes I wonder if she even likes me—her own sister."

She tilted her head, eyes distant for a moment.

"In fact, I've been trying to unravel that particular mystery for decades."

Luca opened his mouth to ask more about that topic—

—when quick, light footsteps pattered up.

Luna appeared, cheeks pink, holding an identical small wooden box.

"Luca! Use this—please!"

She thrust it toward him eagerly.

"It's our village medicine. Even though all the amazing stuff you brought is incredible...this is really good too! It'll help your wounds heal faster."

Luca and Nyx glanced at the box.

Identical carvings. Same green paste inside.

Then they looked at each other.

A beat of silence.

Then both burst into warm, helpless laughter.

"Hahaha!"

And seeing them laugh at her efforts, Luna's face flushed bright red.

"Wh-What?! I'm trying to help! There's no need to laugh at me!"

Luca raised his hands placatingly, still chuckling.

"We're not laughing at you, I swear—"

But before he could explain, a sudden, sharp cry echoed from inside the ward.

"My baby! My baby!"

Every head snapped toward the sound.

Alarm rippled through the platform.

Luca, Nyx, Luna, and dozens of others surged inside, hearts pounding—fearing the worst.

But what they found was the exact opposite.

A woman was sitting on her bed, tears streaming down her face, her arms wrapped tightly around a little girl who was laughing through her own tears.

"You can move." The mother cried joyfully, kissing her daughter's forehead. "You can finally move again, my baby girl!"

The girl giggled, stretching her tiny arms out and flexing her fingers.

"I-It doesn't hurt anymore, Mam! I can really move!"

Across the room, another shout came.

"Grandma—look! Your face! It's full of color again!"

An elderly elf woman sat blinking as her grandchild pointed at her. The woman's once pale, lifeless cheeks were now warm and flushed. Her eyes had regained their sparkle.

And then another voice rang out.

"Auntie! You're moving your toes! Look, look!"

All around the room, the same scene repeated—families discovering signs of recovery.

The sick were waking, smiling, speaking again.

Their skin had gained color, their breathing was stronger, and even the weakest could move their fingers, their toes, or lift their heads.

Because of this change, the air filled with cries of joy, laughter, and disbelief.

Tears streamed down faces that hadn't smiled in weeks. Some hugged each other, others simply fell to their knees in gratitude.

For an entire month, the village had known nothing but sorrow—the sickness, the raids from humans, the death of the Grand Matriarch.

But now, for the first time in so long, the air was full of hope.

And then they remembered that one person was the one who brought so much relief to them.

Luca.

He stood near the entrance, watching the scene with quiet warmth.

And seeing him, they couldn't help but think about how they had doubted him. Feared him. Distrusted the human Hero on instinct.

But now—now they looked at him with shining gratitude, hearts open.

And before anyone could speak and thank him, one loud, cheerful voice broke through all the emotion.

"You did it, Luca! You did it!"

Lulu came charging from the crowd, her twin-tails bouncing wildly behind her.

And before he could react, she leapt into his arms—nearly knocking him off balance—and began showering his face with kisses.

"Kiss!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Mwah!♡~ Kiss!♡~ Nibble!♡~"

"L-Lulu!" Luna gasped, unable to believe her sister's brazen behaviour.

Several elves alos blushed furiously; others covered their mouths, giggling in disbelief.

When Lulu finally pulled back, Luca wiped his face, blinking.

"What was that for?" He asked, half amused, half bewildered. "There's no groom watching you here, you know. You didn't have to kiss me like that."

"No, silly! It's not like that!" Lulu shook her head rapidly, still smiling. "It's a reward! I can't bring out cool stuff from magic bags like you do, or heal people with science-y things, but I can give you kisses!"

And Luna, watching from a few steps away, felt a sudden spark of competitive jealousy flare in her chest.

She stepped forward quickly.

"I...I can give kisses too! To show my gratitude!"

Before Luca could protest, she grabbed his collar, tugged him down to her height, and planted a flurry of soft, determined kisses right on his cheek—face flaming red the entire time, but refusing to be outdone.

"There! Now we're even." Luna, red-faced finally pulled back.

But the mayhem didn't stop there.

The girls around them stared in awe for a moment, then wanting to show their gratitude as well—they surged forward.

"My turn!" One of Luna's friends cried.

"No, mine first!" Another said, laughing as she pushed her way forward.

Within seconds, Luca was surrounded by a circle of young elves—all of them giggling and blushing as they took turns planting quick kisses on his face, his cheeks, his forehead, even his nose.

"Stop—wait—hey, one at a time!" He tried to say, but it was no use. The crowd only laughed harder.

Normally, the elder elves would have stepped in—gently scolding their daughters and nieces for such unladylike behavior.

But right now, not a single one scolded them.

They simply watched with knowing smiles—because after everything he'd done for them, Luca deserved every bit of that affection.

And some of the older women, watching from afar, couldn't help but whisper to each other with a grin.

"If I were their age." One murmured. "I'd be up there too."

"Mm." Another agreed, chuckling softly. "Maybe we should form a line for us older ones next."

Meanwhile, Nyx who was standing with Leona in the back couldn't help but watch the chaos unfolding in front of her with a quiet, amused smile.

Elves laughing, cheering, girls showering Luca with kisses—it was a scene straight out of some fairy tale.

She folded her arms, leaning slightly toward her sister.

"You know." She began, her voice dripping with dry humor. "I was just joking earlier when I said the hero was quite the womanizer. But at this rate—"

She tilted her head toward the crowd of giggling girls around Luca

"—I think he's going to steal the heart of every woman in this village before the day is over."

She turned her head, fully expecting Leona to roll her eyes, huff in disapproval, or simply ignore the comment altogether.

But what she saw made her stiffen mid-breath.

Leona wasn't scowling.

She wasn't even frowning.

She was...smiling.

A gentle, warm, utterly genuine smile—the kind of expression Nyx hadn't seen on her sister's face in years.

Gone was the cold, stern matriarch; gone was the iron mask that had ruled the village since their mother's death.

In its place was the woman Nyx remembered from childhood—the sister who used to sneak her treats, who used to brush her hair by the fire, whose laughter could light up their home.

Nyx's breath caught.

For a moment, she wondered if she was dreaming—if the dim evening light was playing tricks.

She also didn't dare speak.

Didn't dare move.

She was scared that if she said a word, that smile might vanish like morning mist. So instead, she just stood there, silently, memorizing it.

That warmth, that softness—that humanity.

She really wanted to reach out, to tell her sister how beautiful she looked like this.

But she didn't.

She just let the moment exist.

But then a voice cut through the happy noise—cold, clipped, and utterly unwelcome.

"Leona...Can we talk for a moment?"

Both sisters turned.

Julius stood just inside the entrance, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid. His face was a careful mask of neutrality, but his eyes carried that familiar, unamused chill.

And seeing that it was Julius, the warmth immediately vanished from Leona's expression as if a cloud had passed over the sun.

And all that remained was the cold, distant matriarch once again almost as if she didn't even dare to smile in his presence.

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