Chapter 3 – Embers and Elbows

The smell of roasted root vegetables and herbs filled the cottage.

Kaito stood awkwardly near the kitchen counter, watching as Lyria stirred something in a cast iron pot suspended over the fire. Her long white hair was tied back with a ribbon today, but a few strands had slipped loose, framing her face in soft waves. She worked quietly, focused—measuring pinches of herbs with precise fingers and humming under her breath, just barely.

Kaito fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve.

He couldn’t just sit around while she did everything. He wasn’t a guest anymore, was he?

“Hey,” he said, stepping forward, “let me help. You’ve done enough already.”

Lyria paused. “You’re still recovering.”

“Sure, but I can chop vegetables. I’m not made of glass.” He gave a weak grin.

She glanced at him, expression unreadable, then nodded slightly. “Fine. But only light tasks.”

He joined her at the counter where a small pile of carrots, onions, and something purple and knobby waited.

He picked up a knife. “Alright, what’s this one?”

“Moonroot,” she said. “It’s like a turnip. Sweeter. Don’t cut it too thick.”

He nodded, gripping the root and setting the blade against it—only for it to roll off the cutting board like a mischievous potato.

“Ah—hang on—!”

He reached for it just as Lyria did. Their hands bumped. Then their elbows knocked, hard enough to jolt her off balance.

“Ack—!”

She stumbled sideways, foot catching on the edge of the rug. Her heel slipped, and her hand flailed for support—finding none.

Kaito moved on instinct.

He dropped the knife, stepped into her fall, and caught her around the waist just before she hit the floor.

But momentum was not his friend.

They both tumbled backwards in a tangled mess of limbs, landing with a heavy thud against the wooden floorboards. His back hit first, a dull ache blooming across his spine.

And then—her.

Lyria landed squarely on top of him, palms braced against his chest, her hair falling like silk curtains around their faces.

Time stopped.

Their noses were inches apart. Her eyes, wide with shock, flicked between his and then quickly away. Her cheeks flushed a deep, unmistakable pink.

“I—I’m so sorry,” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

“It’s okay,” Kaito managed, suddenly very aware of the warmth of her hands through his shirt. “No injuries this time.”

She blinked once, then scrambled off of him as fast as possible, retreating to the counter like the floor had burned her.

Kaito sat up slowly, heart thudding like a war drum.

Lyria stood with her back to him, both hands gripping the edge of the counter. Her shoulders were stiff. The tips of her ears glowed red.

“I… I’ll finish it myself,” she said quickly, her voice soft but flustered.

Kaito opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet and dusted off his pants with exaggerated focus.

“Right. Moonroot’s dangerous stuff. Got it.”

He thought he saw the corners of her lips twitch—almost a smile—but she didn’t turn around.

The rest of the meal was prepared in near silence. The tension in the air wasn’t heavy, exactly… just charged. Like a single spark might set something glowing.

And when they sat down to eat, Kaito noticed that her cheeks were still pink.