Chapter 7 – Market Mishap

The sun was out, the air smelled like fresh bread and citrus, and colorful banners fluttered through the village square.

It was Festival Day.

Kaito had been expecting something low-key—maybe a few stalls and some string lights. Instead, the entire village had transformed. Stands lined the cobblestones with woven baskets, magical trinkets, glowing lanterns, and—his personal favorite—too many pastries for one man to reasonably eat.

Lyria walked beside him, carrying a woven basket and doing her best to look composed… despite the warm breeze catching the hem of her light blue festival dress—a simple but flowing thing that made her look almost otherworldly.

Not that she wasn’t already.

“You’re staring,” she said, not looking at him.

Kaito snapped his head forward. “W-what? I wasn’t—!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“You look nice! That’s all!” he said, then winced at his own volume.

Lyria smirked. “You’re about as subtle as a runaway cart.”

“Maybe I’m just overwhelmed by the dazzling aura of your… basket-handling skills.”

She blinked.

Then—laughed.

It wasn’t loud or musical like before, but it was real. And teasing. And somehow… kind.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said.

Kaito grinned. “You say that like it’s new information.”

They wandered past booths, sampling food and listening to musicians play reed flutes and stringed instruments near the fountain. Kaito was halfway through a fruit tart when they stopped at a stand selling carved wind chimes.

A plump, elderly vendor beamed at them.

“My, my—what a lovely young couple!”

Lyria froze.

Kaito nearly choked.

“We’re not—” she started, hand twitching.

“I mean—” he added helpfully.

But the woman continued, unbothered. “You’re lucky to have him, dear. Most boys would’ve run off to the games by now. But this one stays close. That means he’s smitten.”

Kaito turned the color of the cherry glaze he was eating.

Lyria opened her mouth, closed it, then said:

“W-we’re not… I mean—he’s not that bad.”

“Hey!” Kaito said, mock-offended.

She gave him a side glance. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

The vendor just laughed and waved them off. “Young love always denies itself first. Come back if you two want a wind chime for your home!”

As they walked away, Lyria kept her eyes on the ground. But the tips of her ears were bright red.

They found a quiet bench near the edge of the square, where the noise dulled to a soft hum and the breeze carried the smell of sweet grass.

Kaito took a sip of his lemonade. “So… ‘he’s not that bad,’ huh?”

“I panicked,” Lyria said, crossing her arms.

He leaned back with a grin. “You could’ve at least said something flattering.”

She looked at him flatly. “Fine. You didn’t trip on anything today. That’s a big step.”

“Oh wow. So generous.”

She smirked. “You’re welcome.”

Kaito chuckled, then glanced sideways at her. Her eyes were still distant—like she was thinking about something heavier than teasing.

“…Did it bother you?” he asked. “What she said? About us being a couple?”

Lyria was quiet for a moment.

Then she shook her head slowly. “Not… bother, exactly.”

Her voice was softer now, less playful.

“I just… I’ve never been seen that way before. Not by people. Not even by myself.”

Kaito blinked. “What way?”

She looked at him—and for once, didn’t look away.

“Like I could be part of something warm.”

The words hung between them, delicate as the wind chimes they’d walked past earlier.

Kaito swallowed.

“I think you already are,” he said quietly.

Lyria’s eyes widened—just for a second.

Then she looked away, hair falling like a curtain between them.

“…You’re not so bad either,” she whispered.