Chapter 2 – The Angel Next Door… in Another World

The cottage smelled like cinnamon and pine.

Sunlight filtered in through the round windows, casting soft yellow beams across the wooden floor. The hearth crackled gently, filling the small home with a cozy warmth that Kaito hadn’t realized he’d missed until now.

He sat on a padded bench by the fire, wrapped in a thick woven blanket. His limbs still ached, but less than before. His mind, however, was still playing catch-up.

A new world.
Magic.
A girl with glowing hands who had saved him.

He shifted slightly as the kitchen curtain swayed open. Lyria emerged, sleeves rolled up, carrying a wooden tray with a bowl of soup, a slice of bread, and a small ceramic cup of tea that smelled faintly floral.

“You should eat while it’s hot,” she said gently, setting it down on the small table beside him.

“Thank you,” Kaito said, sitting up straighter.

She didn’t respond—just offered a polite nod before returning to the kitchen. Her movements were graceful but… careful. As if trying not to leave a trace. No unnecessary words. No closeness.

He watched her quietly as he dipped the bread into the soup. It was good. Simple, but comforting. The kind of food someone made when they didn’t have much—but still wanted to take care of someone else.

“You’re a really good cook,” he said, testing the waters.

“...Thank you,” she replied without turning around.

There it was again. Distance.

She wasn’t cold. She was kind. Gentle, even. But it felt like she was always standing just beyond some invisible line—never too far, never too close.

He looked around the cottage. It was small, but lived-in. Shelves lined with books and dried herbs. A single teacup by the window. A pair of shoes by the door—just one pair.

“You live here alone?” he asked softly.

She hesitated. Then nodded. “I have for a long time.”

“No family?”

A pause.

“Not anymore.”

The way she said it made Kaito regret asking.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

Lyria finally turned to face him, a faint smile on her lips. “You ask a lot of questions for someone who just woke up in another world.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Fair point. I guess I just… don’t know what to do. Or how I even got here.”

Her gaze softened slightly. “You were on the edge of death. Something pulled you here—maybe fate, maybe something else. But you were fading fast. I only did what I could.”

Only did what she could? She had saved him. He would’ve been dead if not for her.

“Still,” he said, looking at his soup, “I’m grateful. I owe you a lot.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said quietly.

Silence settled between them again, like snowfall. She returned to her side of the cottage and busied herself arranging books on a shelf, even though they were already neatly aligned.

Kaito finished the soup slowly. His body warmed from the inside out.

That evening, the sky outside turned lavender, then deep blue. Lyria lit a few small lanterns and offered him the bed while she insisted on taking the chair by the fire.

He didn’t argue. Something told him she wouldn’t budge.

As he lay beneath the heavy blanket, eyelids growing heavy, he heard the soft clink of a cup being set down. The fire crackled gently. The wind rustled the trees outside.

And then—so faintly he almost missed it—he heard a small, stifled sound.

A breath caught in a throat.
A sniffle.
A trembling exhale.

He opened his eyes, turning his head ever so slightly toward the hearth.

Lyria sat with her back to him, knees drawn to her chest, chin resting on them. One hand covered her face. Her shoulders trembled just once before she stilled again.

Kaito didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.

He just listened to the quiet ache in her breath and felt a tightness grow in his chest.
She was always so calm, so composed.

But in that moment, she looked… heartbreakingly alone.

He turned back toward the wall and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.
But even as sleep claimed him, her quiet sobs echoed softly in his mind.