Love Lessons

“I don’t know if this will fit me or not.”

Ylfa held up a beige knitted crop top, turning it this way and that. Jere, standing opposite her, studied it only briefly before shrugging. He already knew the answer - it would fit perfectly - but the last time he had said so outright, she had scowled and turned away. So this time, he played it safe.

They were in another clothing shop, its aisles silent and abandoned like every other place they had visited. It had been a few days since their return, and nothing had happened - no word from the priest, no sign of the Demon Lord’s defeat reaching the capital. The earliest a rider could make that journey was nearly three weeks, so until then they had little to do but wait. And so, they filled the days together. Empty restaurants, vacant parks, lifeless stores - all fell silent within moments of their arrival.

Jere never minded. Ylfa did - except it meant she had more time alone with him.

Now she frowned at him over the top.
“Come on. You can do better than that.”

He searched for what she wanted to hear.
“I… I think it’ll fit well?”

Her frown deepened.
“One more try. I’m not giving up on you yet.”

Jere took a moment, processors combing through every possible phrasing.
“It will look good on you?”

Ylfa’s smile bloomed.
“There we go. You’re improving.”

He didn’t know what she meant, exactly, but nodded anyway. She tucked the top under her arm and sifted through another rack, pulling out a white milkmaid blouse with ruffled sleeves and blue polka dots. She held it up, eyes glinting.
“What about this one? Do you think it suits me?”

The image formed clearly in his mind, and he nodded.
“Yes. I would like to see you wearing that one.”

Her tail swept the air as her ears twitched, a sly grin tugging at her lips.
“I’m sure you’d much rather see me without it.”

Jere tilted his head, unsure. He still didn’t fully grasp the appeal of a woman’s body.
“Why?”

Ylfa let out a breath, lowering the blouse.
“Jere… be honest with me. Do you even know what sex is?”

He nodded. Of course he did - it was a basic biological function, necessary for reproduction.

She frowned.
“Then why don’t you want to see me with nothing on?”

He considered.
“Because it isn’t necessary?”

Her scowl returned full force.
“Jere. If a woman ever offers to show you herself naked, you accept. Got it?”

He nodded, still confused.

She sighed, rubbing her temple.
“Do you even understand attraction? Affection?” Her eyes sharpened, a spark of annoyance rising. “Do you even have the capability to think of someone as pretty?”

“Yes.” His answer was simple, automatic. “I thought you were cute when you were cooking the other day.”

Ylfa froze, her face blooming faintly red. She fought the smile tugging at her lips, but it escaped anyway.
“Well… that’s good to know. But normally, you don’t just announce things like that unless you’re dating someone.”

He filed the information neatly away and nodded.
“Okay. What’s dating?”

Ylfa’s palm nearly connected with his face, missing by millimeters as he dodged be leaning back. She fumed.
“Idiot! How do you not know what dating is?! Am I really falling for the densest person in the world?”

Something tugged at him - guilt, his systems told him. He had disappointed her. He bowed his head slightly.
“I’m sorry.”

Her anger melted almost instantly. She let out a long sigh.
“It’s okay. You were never shown. It’s not your fault. Sorry - I acted without thinking.”

Jere nodded. She gave him a faint smile, then glanced past him. Mischief flickered in her eyes as she pointed toward a rack of women’s swimsuits, all two-piece.

“So,” she said, tail flicking with a grin, “do you want to see me wearing one of those or not?”

Word of the victory eventually reached the capital via a horseback rider who had ridden almost without rest for three weeks. With the Demon Lord gone, the remaining demon forces quickly surrendered. The city erupted in celebration, the long war finally over.

For Jere and Ylfa, though, little changed. The parades and cheers faded the moment they stepped out of the inn. They didn’t mind.

As evening fell, they were back in their room, cooking. The aroma of frying meat filled the space, the pan sizzling under Ylfa’s careful stirring. Her ears twitched with every pop and hiss as she guided the wooden spoon, flames from her fire magic dancing beneath the pan. She gave Jere a nod.

“Okay, put them in.”

He tipped a cutting board of vegetables into the pan, the sizzle softening as they met the sauce. Ylfa mixed, shaking the pan with practiced little jerks, layering the food evenly. Tonight’s dish: stir-fry. Another in her growing list of things she insisted Jere should try.

“Can you pour in a little more soy sauce?” she asked.

Jere obeyed, stopping only when she told him to. He set the bottle down and watched her work.

Then Ylfa paused, a thought striking her.
“Jere, can you smell?”

“I can.”

“Do you know if something smells good or bad?”

“Yes. This smells good.”

Her lips curved into a warm smile.
“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She blinked at him.
“You’ve never said that before.”

“I learned.”

Her smile widened.
“I’m glad. Keep learning things - it makes me like you more.”

Jere nodded.

“You’ve still got a long way to go though,” she added with a huff.

“Sorry.”

She didn’t reply, just kept stirring, the pan crackling. The apron tied snug around her waist pulled his attention in ways he hadn’t noticed before, accentuating her figure. He lingered a second too long.

Ylfa’s cheeks pinked. Her voice dropped.
“Jere… you know it isn’t nice to stare at a woman’s breasts, right?”

He stiffened, caught, but her embarrassment wasn’t anger. Heat rose to his own cheeks as he quickly averted his gaze.
“Sorry. I didn’t.”

“That’s okay. I… nevermind. Not yet.”

Confusion rippled through him. He hated not understanding these things - it left her disappointed, and the thought of disappointing Ylfa gnawed at him. He wanted her happy, not frustrated. After a beat, he asked,
“Is there anything else I can do?”

She smiled warmly at him.
“No. Just keep standing there. And I’m going to tell you things.”

“Okay. What is it?”

Her spoon flipped the food, the fire crackling steady beneath the pan.
“I’m going to give you a quick lesson on girls, because clearly you know next to nothing.”

His chest thumped oddly - faster, heavier. He nodded.

“First, ground rules. If a girl ever says no, it means no. Got that?”

“Yes.”

“Second, when a girl asks you to do something - unless you truly hate it or can’t do it - say yes. Got that?”

He logged it instantly, processors storing the rules for later use.

When nothing more came, he tilted his head.
“Is that all?”

“For now,” Ylfa said, smiling faintly. “But now that you’ve got those down, I can tell you more another time.”

A quiet moment stretched between them. Then Jere spoke, his tone as direct as ever.
“Tell me about dating.”

She glanced at him - too quickly.
“Pardon?”

“Tell me about dating,” he repeated.

She forced herself to calm down, then nodded slowly.
“Sorry. Okay. Uh… dating. Do you know… anything?”

He shook his head. She exhaled in resignation.
“Alright. Dating is what you do when you love someone, and they love you back. You spend a lot of time with them, and, depending on how it goes, you eventually marry.”

He didn’t know what marriage was either, but he simply nodded, as if storing the term away for later.
“What do you do with them?”

Her cheeks warmed.
“Um… lots of things. You go on dates, you talk, you touch, you… do stuff.”

Her voice faltered, and she searched his expression. Nothing. Not even the faintest twitch of recognition crossed his face.

“What’s a date?” he asked.

She managed a faint smile, her ears twitching.
“It’s… like what we’ve been doing recently. Going shopping, eating together at restaurants, that sort of thing.”

He tilted his head, thoughtful.
“Does that mean we’re dating?”

Her heart skipped, but she kept her expression neutral.
“Unfortunately, no. You have to ask the other person out on a date. What we’ve been doing were just outings. At least in my book. Other people have different opinions on what qualifies.”

He nodded slowly.
“That makes sense.”

Her tail swayed behind her as she smiled.
“Really? That’s good. That’ll save me from a lot of trouble later on.”

He only nodded again, still unreadable. Her smile faded into a frown.
“You don’t understand something. I can tell.”

“You’re right,” he said evenly. “I don’t understand how you’re supposed to know if someone loves you back.”

Her lips curved into a gentler smile.
“That’s simple. Often, you don’t. It’s a risk. You might get turned down. But generally, people drop hints, little signs that they like you.”

“What does that look like?”

She gave a helpless shrug, trying to keep frustration from showing.
“Oh, they might brush their hair behind their ear, laugh at all your jokes, tease you in a playful way. Lots of things.”

He nodded again, but his eyes seemed distant, processing something she couldn’t quite follow. She turned back to the pot, stirring the last few times before letting the fire magic gutter out.

“How do I know if I love someone?” he asked at last.

She glanced at him.
“Didn’t we talk about this on the way to the Demon Lord?”

“Yes. You said it was a slow thing, and that my heart rate and blushing were caused by it. But I don’t understand it at all. How do I know if it’s really for someone?”

Her smile softened.
“Do you ever feel the same things when you talk to the same person?”

He nodded.
“But I only ever talk to you. So I have no data to base it on.”

She sighed, shaking her head.
“Love doesn’t need whatever ‘data’ you think it does.” She set down the ladle and smiled at him.
“There. Dinner’s ready.”

He nodded.
“I’m sure it’ll be just as good as the others.”

Her cheeks flushed faintly, but she smiled back.
“Here’s another tip for you - compliments. If you like someone, compliments are one of your best weapons.”

He looked puzzled.
“Weapons?”

“Not real weapons,” she said with another sigh. “When you’re in a relationship, you have to show them that you love them, just as you want them to love you.”

He tilted his head.
“How do you show that you love someone?”

She sighed again.

Ylfa awoke to the sound of a wet gurgle - a horrible, choking cough that rattled through the stillness. The room was dim, caught in that gray hour before dawn when the sun had yet to rise. She groaned, sat up in bed, and rubbed at her eyes. A yawn escaped her lips.

“Jere? What time is it-”

Her words froze in her throat.

In the gloom, two silhouettes stood out. Jere, upright, his wings spread wide, one twisted forward and angled toward the ceiling. At the tip of that wing another figure dangled, impaled through the chest. The stranger writhed, issuing strangled, wet gasps, while something thick and dark dripped from the blade of Jere’s wing and splattered onto the floorboards.

Ylfa’s heart thundered.
“Jere? What’s going on?”

His eyes glimmered in the darkness as his head turned toward her.
“We’re being targeted.”

Her voice wavered with sudden fear.
“W-what do you mean?”

He exhaled, calm and steady, though the weight in his tone chilled her.
“We’ve been declared enemies of the Kingdom. The King has ordered our capture - or better yet, our death.”

Her breath caught.
“H-how do you know?”

Jere gestured with his wing toward the impaled man, whose body still twitched weakly. The tip protruded clean through his back.
“This one told me.”

The man gave one last shuddering gurgle, then went still. Jere flexed his wing, sliding the corpse free. It crumpled onto the floor with a heavy thud, blood pooling quickly across the boards.

“I’m going to kill them all.”