The room had grown quiet.
Outside the balcony.
Moonlight illuminated the sea.
The distant sound of waves drifted through the night air.
Ancient.
Gentle.
Endless.
The fireplace crackled softly.
Orange flames danced within polished stone.
Warmth filled the luxurious room.
For the first time in centuries.
Evelyne slept beneath a roof.
For the first time in centuries.
She rested upon a real bed.
And for the first time in centuries.
She felt safe.
The realization alone felt strange.
Very strange.
The woman lay beneath warm blankets.
Yet sleep refused to come.
Not because she wasn't tired.
Because her mind refused to quiet down.
Thoughts continued appearing.
Questions continued appearing.
Memories continued appearing.
And every single one somehow returned to the same person.
Aedon Flinth.
The strange silver-haired student currently sleeping on a couch.
Or at least pretending to sleep.
Knowing him.
He was probably reading documents with his eyes closed.
The thought almost made her smile.
The woman slowly turned her head.
Moonlight entered through the windows.
The silver-haired youth rested upon the couch.
One arm hanging casually.
His expression peaceful.
Calm.
The same expression he carried while discussing monster extermination.
The same expression he carried while calculating damages.
The same expression he carried while being mistaken for her husband.
The same expression he carried while carrying her through the city.
Nothing seemed capable of disturbing him.
The woman watched quietly.
Then a question appeared.
A simple question.
A dangerous question.
"Do heroes like this really exist?"
The whisper never left her lips.
It remained within her heart.
For centuries.
She had consumed stories.
Stories were one of the few things remaining from her human life.
Stories of knights.
Stories of heroes.
Stories of princes.
Stories of adventurers.
Stories where beautiful women were rescued.
Stories where monsters were defeated.
Stories where villains were punished.
Stories where heroes always knew what to say.
Stories where romance naturally followed salvation.
Simple stories.
Comforting stories.
Predictable stories.
Yet.
Nothing about Aedon Flinth resembled those stories.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
The heroes she remembered were bold.
Kel was calm.
The heroes she remembered sought glory.
Kel seemed to actively avoid it.
The heroes she remembered spoke beautifully.
Kel spoke honestly.
Sometimes painfully honestly.
The heroes she remembered rescued women and immediately became their protectors.
Kel rescued women and handed them accountability reports.
The memory nearly made her laugh.
A genuine laugh.
Very small.
But real.
The woman covered her mouth.
Because the image remained absurd.
A centuries-old monster finally purified.
A beautiful tragic woman restored.
And the hero's first response?
Environmental damage calculations.
Inside her heart.
The absurdity still hadn't faded.
Yet strangely.
The more she thought about it.
The more she appreciated it.
Because he never lied.
Not once.
Not even when lying would have been easier.
Not even when comforting words would have sounded better.
He never told her she wasn't responsible.
Because she was.
He never told her everything would magically become perfect.
Because it wouldn't.
He never told her the future would be easy.
Because it wouldn't.
Instead.
He simply helped.
Quietly.
Without demanding anything.
Without expecting anything.
The woman stared toward the ceiling.
Then remembered another thing.
Her cheeks immediately became warm.
"You are beautiful too."
The words returned again.
Again.
And again.
Like an annoying spell refusing to disappear.
The woman pulled the blanket over her face.
Trying to hide from her own thoughts.
Failing completely.
Because she remembered the way he said it.
Not flirtatious.
Not teasing.
Not manipulative.
Simply honest.
As though he genuinely believed it.
As though it was obvious.
As though she was the only person who couldn't see it.
The memory made her heart beat slightly faster.
The woman immediately buried herself deeper beneath the blanket.
Unfortunately.
That only made her think harder.
Which made everything worse.
Eventually.
Another question appeared.
A much more dangerous question.
A terrifying question.
"Can someone like him ever find a woman?"
The thought arrived unexpectedly.
Then refused to leave.
The woman slowly lowered the blanket.
Her gaze returned toward the sleeping youth.
Can he?
The question felt surprisingly difficult.
Because normal men were easy to understand.
She understood normal men.
Unfortunately.
Very well.
Her husband.
The noblemen she met.
The merchants.
The admirers.
The opportunists.
All of them followed familiar patterns.
Predictable desires.
Predictable ambitions.
Predictable weaknesses.
But Aedon?
The woman genuinely didn't know.
Suppose a beautiful woman approached him.
What then?
Would he notice?
The woman considered it carefully.
Then immediately shook her head.
No.
Probably not.
The image appeared inside her mind.
A beautiful woman gathering courage.
Confessing her feelings.
Pouring out her heart.
And Kel responding.
"That sounds difficult."
Evelyne nearly laughed.
Because she could actually imagine it happening.
The silver-haired youth was completely capable of such a response.
Another possibility appeared.
Perhaps a woman would try seduction.
The woman immediately dismissed the idea.
Impossible.
Not because it wouldn't work.
Because Kel probably wouldn't realize it was happening.
The thought felt increasingly realistic.
Very realistic.
Dangerously realistic.
The woman stared at him.
Then sighed.
A long sigh.
Part amusement.
Part disbelief.
Part confusion.
Because she genuinely couldn't imagine what type of woman could manage someone like him.
Someone stubborn enough to argue with him.
Patient enough to understand him.
Strong enough to stand beside him.
And perhaps most importantly.
Someone capable of explaining basic social situations.
The thought made her smile again.
Then another realization appeared.
The woman froze.
Because for some reason.
She had spent several minutes thinking about what kind of woman would suit him.
An activity she definitely should not be doing.
Especially at midnight.
Especially while sharing an inn room.
Especially while wrapped in blankets.
The woman immediately turned toward the opposite wall.
Trying to stop thinking.
Failing again.
Because another thought appeared.
A strange thought.
A quiet thought.
Perhaps.
Just perhaps.
The reason stories never described heroes like Aedon Flinth—
Was because heroes like him didn't fit stories.
Stories preferred simple heroes.
Heroes who slayed monsters.
Heroes who rescued princesses.
Heroes who kissed beautiful women.
Heroes who saved kingdoms.
Heroes who looked impressive.
Heroes who knew exactly what to say.
Aedon Flinth didn't fit those stories.
He purified monsters.
Offered employment opportunities.
Bought practical dresses.
Discussed accountability.
Created fake identities for centuries-old dark mages.
And slept on couches because someone might need protection.
The woman smiled softly.
A strange hero.
A very strange hero.
Yet perhaps.
The most genuine one she had ever met.
Outside.
The moon continued crossing the night sky.
The ocean continued singing its ancient song.
And eventually.
As her thoughts slowly faded.
Evelyne closed her eyes.
Her final thought before sleep claimed her was simple.
Perhaps the stories were wrong.
Perhaps real heroes were not the ones who appeared in legends.
Perhaps real heroes were simply strange students who helped people stand again.
Even when nobody asked them to.
And somewhere within the darkness.
A small smile remained upon her face as sleep finally came.