Wherever chance takes him

At one of these tables, Kyle and Felix faced each other. Before them, two steaming plates laden with a simple but generous meal: a thick stew combining chunks of meat and garden vegetables, accompanied by still-warm rustic bread. Nothing extraordinary, but one could sense the two sisters' desire to honor their guests with what they had.

Suddenly, light footsteps sounded. Elma, the older sister, entered the room with a sparkling smile. Her wavy hair swayed as she walked around the table. With a natural, almost insolent gesture, she dropped onto Felix's lap. He tensed briefly—a dull ache surely shot through his body—but the next moment, his expression changed. Elma's touch, her proximity, the warmth of her body against his: all of this brought a satisfied smile to his lips, a pleasure he didn't even try to hide.

                                                                      Curiosity shone in her eyes, but it was above all the desire to hear a thrilling tale that drove her. She leaned her head against Felix's shoulder, like a child trying to curl up in a storyteller's tale.

A few feet away, Jane hesitated. The younger sister, more reserved, stood aside behind the counter. She watched the scene, arms crossed, her eyes betraying a mixture of embarrassment and tenderness. Elma had always been too bold for her liking, but she knew there was no point in reprimanding her. Finally, she sighed softly, pulled up a chair, and approached.

Despite her calm demeanor, her eyes sparkled with interest. As the guild's receptionist, she had always loved listening to adventurers' tales, those fragments of bravery and danger that she herself would never experience. She felt herself blush slightly as she met Kyle's gaze, then quickly looked away from him, as if trying to hide her confusion.

Silence returned for a moment, but this time, it had changed in nature. It was no longer the silent duel between Kyle and Felix, but a collective wait. You could feel the story about to begin, the words about to revive the still-burning memory of the battle.

Kyle, uncomfortable under this attention, put a hand behind his neck and gave an embarrassed smile.

"Honestly... there's nothing incredible to tell. It was just... a few undead," he said, waving his hand vaguely, as if to dismiss the subject.

He gestured discreetly toward Felix, trying to relieve himself of the story.

 Felix crossed his arms, sighed, and spoke, his tone deliberately nonchalant. "Nothing extraordinary... Well... there was the Dullahan. Then the High Lich... the Zombie Dragon... and then the Crowned Monster. All the undead were higher-ranking and then some."

His voice trailed off. He broke off, as if his own words seemed hollow. A silence fell. Elma and Jane exchanged a glance, their lips parted in curiosity, their pupils shining like two children watching a story they refuse to finish.

"And...?" Jane asked, her voice slightly urgent.

But Felix simply shrugged, unable to find the strength to boast as usual. A strange weariness weighed down his features. He, who ordinarily would have embellished every detail to show himself off, felt no desire to do so. Not this time.

He himself didn't understand this lack. Why? Why didn't this victory, so immense, inspire any triumph in him? A silent question was reflected in his darkened eyes.

The silence grew even heavier. The girls began to stir, gently tapping their feet under the table, waiting for something to happen that never came.

It was then that a discreet creak distracted everyone. The tavern door slowly opened, pushed open with an almost ceremonial gentleness. The golden torchlight revealed a figure advancing into the frame: Marx.

 "For once... I'm glad to see him," Felix murmured, so quietly he was barely audible.

Marx approached with measured steps. Elma, already standing, made a move to run towards him, but he stopped her with a single, calm look. His voice, calm, almost neutral, cut through the air:

"I finally found you."

Elma turned to Felix, a slight frown betraying her curiosity.

"Do you know him?" she asked in a lively, almost impatient voice.

Felix seized this opening as a lifeline. His face relaxed, a more assured smile playing on his lips.

"Yes," he said, nodding.

He stood up immediately, forcing Elma to slide off his lap in one fluid movement. She straightened gracefully, her eyes flickering between Felix and the newcomer. Felix took a few steps toward Marx, his step firm but a little theatrical, and said in a clear voice:

"He too is one of the city's saviors."

Jane, intrigued, instinctively sought Kyle's gaze. Her eyes sparkled with a silent, almost incredulous question. Kyle, who until then had been observing the scene without losing his composure, simply nodded. His voice, brief and measured, fell like a military confirmation:

"Affirmative."

This simple but weighty statement was enough for Jane, who gave a small smile.

Felix, delighted by the effect, immediately turned to Marx.

"What if you joined us?" he asked, his tone oscillating between sincerity and relief.

Marx stood frozen for a brief moment, surprised by this change of heart. Felix's usually flamboyant and selfish demeanor seemed almost... welcoming. A slight doubt crossed his gaze, but it immediately faded as a genuine warmth rose within him.

"With great pleasure," he replied, a genuine smile stretching his tired features.

Elma, eager, rushed to find a chair. Her slender hands slid over the worn wood, which she pulled with a small creak against the tavern floor. She placed the chair right next to them, her movements animated by a lively energy, as if she were afraid Marx would disappear if he didn't sit down quickly.

The three heroes found themselves gathered at the same table. Their presence, so different, formed a strange balance: Kyle, impassive like a frozen enigma; Felix, agitated by a fire he no longer really knew how to feed; Marx, still hesitant, but ready to bond with this unexpected trio.

Kyle, taking advantage of the moment of calm that was setting in, broke the silence with his low but clear voice:

"Tell me, Marx. What happened with the mayor after I left?"

After Kyle spoke, a slight silence fell over the table. In the distance, the crackling of wood in the fireplace and the lazy clinking of some cutlery in the back room could be heard.

Elma placed her hands on her hips, a teasing smile on her lips. 

"Looks like things are about to get serious," she said cheerfully.

Then, leaning slightly toward Jane, she added in a low voice, "Come on, it's best to let these gentlemen discuss things in peace."

Jane tensed. Her fingers gripped the back of her chair for a moment, and her gaze flicked toward Kyle, as if she didn't want to leave him alone in this weighty conversation. But under Elma's firm gaze, she finally relented. Her annoyed expression spoke volumes: she didn't like the idea of leaving at all. Yet, she stood up slowly, resigned, and the two sisters moved toward the counter.

Marx, now the center of attention, ran a nervous hand through his tousled hair. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he finally said in a low voice,

"Surprisingly, the mayor was... oddly, even pleasantly surprised by your departure."

Kyle barely frowned, his eyes narrowing behind their usual calm.

"And why is that?" he asked, his voice resonating calmly.

"Because... he concluded that you acted to save the city out of pure altruism and the goodness of your heart," Marx replied, sounding a little weary.

Felix clicked his tongue softly, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"Yes, yes... if that's what he thinks, so much the better. And even... it's the truth, isn't it?"

He shrugged slightly, as if the evidence were self-evident.

Marx looked down at the table. His gaze became unfocused, almost shifty, as he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve.

"You're right..." he murmured.

But his expression betrayed a shadow. Kyle noticed it immediately.

 "Then why this tone?" he asked, his calm almost disturbing.

Marx took a slow breath, his fingers pressed tightly against his temple as if to push away an invisible weight.

"Because... I... I don't know about you, but actually... I got into this fight for purely selfish desires. Not out of nobility. Just... for me."

He didn't have time to finish before Kyle interrupted him, his voice firm but strangely soothing.

"I don't see what the problem is."

Marx looked up abruptly, surprised by Kyle's quiet assurance. Kyle met his gaze with disarming sincerity.

"I'm in the same situation as you. And so is the other one," he said, pointing subtly at Felix.

A brief silence, tense as a rope, followed Kyle's remark. Then Felix let out a small, amused, almost flirtatious smile. His fingers tapped absently on the table while his eyes sparkled with a playful gleam.

"I like you more and more," he drawled.

Kyle turned his gaze to him, one eyebrow raised, and replied sharply, with icy irony:

"Sorry, but I don't eat that kind of food."

A slight chuckle crept through Felix's throat.

"Don't get carried away, I wasn't talking about that. And besides, I'm not into that," he added, his tone more serious.

The answer hung in the air for a moment, but Kyle suddenly pushed back his chair. The creaking of wood on the floorboards made Marx jump. Kyle straightened up in one swift motion and said, in a calm but sharp voice,

"Who knows."

He made as if to walk away, but Marx reacted immediately.

"Wait!" he snapped, leaning toward him, his hands clenched on the table. "Where are you going? We're not done talking yet."

Kyle turned his head slightly, his eyes fixing Marx with a strange gentleness mixed with distance.

"I have nothing more to say."

His voice was calm, almost peaceful, but his gaze held a heavy weariness. Before Marx could find the words, Kyle continued, his tone becoming more frank, more luminous:

"But... it's really a good thing we found each other here."

Marx remained silent, taken aback. Kyle gave a small, rare and genuine smile.

"It was a true pleasure fighting alongside you."

He bowed slightly, a simple but respectful gesture.

Felix looked up at the ceiling, as if to hold back a sigh, then shrugged nonchalantly.

"Even if that's not what I think, politeness demands that we say the pleasure was mutual."

Then, in an almost solemn tone despite his smirk, he said, "Good luck."

Kyle nodded in response, ready to turn away. But as he took a step, Marx abruptly straightened, his voice more urgent, a little shaky:

"Wait!"

The word smacked in the air, charged with emotion. Marx looked away for a moment, searching for the right words, then added more quietly, almost timidly:

"...It can't end like this... can it?"

Kyle, motionless in front of Marx, let a short silence hang before replying in a neutral, almost detached tone:

"Maybe."

Marx frowned slightly. His face betrayed a lingering dissatisfaction, as if he were hoping to extract a firmer promise from Kyle.

"What do you want to do next?" he asked, his voice lower, almost worried. "You have a goal, right?"

Kyle looked away, his eyes falling on the dark wood of the table, then on the flickering candlelight. He replied with a tired breath:

"No idea."

He raised his head and added, his tone sharper again:

"I'll just... go wherever chance takes me." 

He didn't let the silence deepen any further. His heavy footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he left the table and headed towards the counter. There, he found Jane and Elma, who had been watching him for some time.

Jane, slightly clenching her fingers against her apron, stepped forward with an expectant look.

"Are you... finished talking?"

Kyle inclined his head slightly.

"Yes."

Then, in an almost visible effort to soften his voice, he added,

"Thank you, for all your help."

Elma, leaning casually against the wooden counter, raised an eyebrow.

"Why does this sound like goodbye?"

Kyle gave a small smile that didn't touch his eyes.

"Because it is."

Jane's eyes widened, taken aback. Her voice, shaky but urgent, burst out immediately:

"Wait! You can't just leave like that... you haven't even met the guild master yet! Besides... I'd like to spend more time with..."

But before she could finish, Kyle cut her off in a soft but firm, almost icy voice:

"That's not necessary."

He didn't even look at her as he finished his sentence, already facing the exit. His footsteps echoed heavily all the way to the door, which he pushed open without another word.

 Jane gestured toward him, ready to call out to him, her throat tight, but Elma placed a firm hand on his arm. Her dark eyes fixed her sister, serious.

"Leave him."

The door slammed softly behind Kyle.

Outside, the cool evening air greeted him like a slap. The street was quiet, almost deserted, lit by a few lanterns whose light flickered in the wind. Kyle walked a few steps, then stopped abruptly in the middle of the alley. He inhaled deeply, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and let out a long, heavy sigh.

His shoulders slumped.

"I came out with lines worthy of an automaton..."

He ran a hand over his face wearily, then looked down at his own distorted reflection in a puddle.

 "Honestly... this little moment of relaxation in the tavern helped ease the pain a little..."

His fingers tightened in spite of himself against his side, where a dull, almost burning heat reminded him of the aftereffects of his magic. His legs trembled slightly, but he forced himself to resume walking.

Looking up at the dark sky, where the stars were tentatively beginning to break through, he murmured,

"Let's go."

A brief, bitter smile touched his lips.

"I'll have to wait a few more hours before I can fly."

The tavern, suddenly less lively since Kyle's departure, seemed to vibrate with an eerie, almost oppressive silence. The candles on the tables diffused an unstable golden light, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Jane and Elma joined Felix and Marx, their footsteps echoing lightly on the worn floorboards.

 Elma, her tone curious but softened by palpable concern, asked:

"Tell me, Felix, why did Kyle leave so abruptly?"

Felix shrugged slowly, his eyes clouding for a moment with weariness.

"Honestly... I have no idea."

Marx, nervously picking at the rim of his still-full mug, added in a low voice:

"Maybe... it's my fault."

Felix turned his head towards him, his lips curling into a wry grin.

"Hm... maybe. But never mind. I'm far too tired to analyze the behavior of someone I barely know."

Marx clenched his fists for a brief moment, as if to hold back a response, then finally asked:

"Now what? What do we do?"

Felix straightened slightly, an ambiguous glint in his eyes.

"You, I don't know. But me... I'm going to stay in town a little longer. I have a little business to attend to."

Elma, intrigued, leaned toward him, her hair almost brushing the fallen priest's shoulder.

"A business? May I ask what it is?"

Felix smiled mysteriously, a sensual twinkle flashing in his eyes.

"Of course. Besides... you're the heart of this business."

His tone, deliberately low, slid like a caress. Elma blinked in surprise, then looked away slightly, an embarrassed smile on her lips. The tension rose a notch, invisible but almost palpable, as if the air around them had grown heavier.

Jane, who was watching the scene, pressed her lips together. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the table. In a dry voice, she said,

"That's enough."

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping the floor with a loud creak.

"I'm going back to the guild."

Elma followed her with her eyes, undecided between holding her back or letting her go.

"Already? ... Okay. Work hard."

Jane didn't reply. She walked through the door without a word, the bell above it ringing briefly before the door slammed shut.

Silence returned, but this time it was filled with a strange tension. There were only three people left at the table, and Marx immediately felt the weight of his presence becoming cumbersome. Felix watched her, his elbow resting on the table, his eyes fixed on him with a hint of impatience.

"Tell me... are you planning on standing there much longer?" 

The voice wasn't aggressive, but its implication was clear. Marx lowered his head, embarrassed, and stood up with an awkward smile.

"Sorry for the inconvenience... I'll leave you."

His footsteps echoed all the way to the exit, and he too disappeared into the town.

The tavern seemed to shrink further. Elma and Felix found themselves alone, their gazes locked, their faces lit by the flickering flame of a candle.

Elma, in a soft voice, but one that vibrated with slight anticipation, murmured:

"What if we pick up... where we left off?"

Felix gave a slow, approving smile, his eyes shining with a light that mixed fatigue, desire, and amusement.

Night was slowly settling over the small town. The oil lanterns hanging from the facades of the houses cast a flickering light that mingled with the last glimmers of twilight. Calm had finally returned, contrasting with the chaos that had shaken the city a few hours earlier.

In the Adventurers' Guild, Jane was closing the last of the ledgers. Her fingers, numb from writing, stretched for a moment, and she let out a weary sigh. It had been a long day... too many missing persons reports, too many figures detailing the victims, too much paperwork to sort. Nothing dangerous, but an exhausting monotony. As she left the guild, she welcomed the cooler night air, which caressed her skin and soothed her temples.

On the way back, her tired eyes caught a figure she recognized almost immediately. His gait, heavy but steady, and his dark coat... Jane squinted, quickening her pace to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

"...Kyle?"

The figure stopped. Then he turned slightly, his profile silhouetted by the flickering light of a lantern. It was definitely him. Jane quickened her pace until she reached him. 

"I thought you'd already left town," she said, slightly out of breath.

Kyle turned his head toward her. His face showed fatigue, but his gaze remained surprisingly calm.

"I stopped by the blacksmith's. My equipment needed repairs... it took longer than expected."

Jane nodded.

"I see... now what? What do you plan to do?"

"I'm getting back on the road," he replied simply, his words falling flat.

Jane stared at him, stunned.

"At this hour? But it's way too dangerous."

Kyle shrugged slightly, as if the remark had slipped past him.

"No problem. For me, it's not that risky."

A worried crease creased Jane's brow.

"I know you're strong... but it shows, you're exhausted." It would be foolish to continue now. Wait until tomorrow.”

A slight silence followed, broken only by the breeze blowing through the deserted streets. Kyle finally replied, in a low voice:

“You’re right…”

But instead of staying, he started walking again, his steady footsteps echoing on the cobblestones.

“Wait!”

Jane hurried after him and managed to catch up. She frowned, her tone oscillating between concern and annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Kyle stopped and looked her straight in the eyes. His expression betrayed neither anger nor weariness, just a kind of calm detachment.

“I’m looking for a place to rest.”

Jane blinked, surprised by the simplicity of his answer.

“You won’t find anything…” she breathed. "With the undead attack, the inns and guest houses are full to bursting. The refugees have taken the rooms."

"Makes sense," Kyle murmured.

Then he looked down for a moment, as if to think, before adding,

"Then... I have no choice. I have to leave now."

And, once again, he started walking.

Jane gritted her teeth. Her heart was beating faster than she'd intended. She took a step forward, then, almost instinctively, grabbed his arm. Her hand trembled slightly against his rough coat.

"Wait."

Kyle turned his head toward her, surprised by her persistence. His eyes, dark and tired, met hers.

Jane swallowed, searching for the right words. His voice, however, came out softer than she'd intended.

"What if... you came to my place?"

Kyle didn't wait even a second.

"No, thank you."

His answer, cold and direct, made Jane's gaze waver for a moment. She looked away slightly, and in the flickering light of the street lanterns, he thought he saw a shadow of sadness darken her features. Taken aback, Kyle took a deep breath, as if to catch himself.

"It's not that..." he said in a more measured tone. "It's just... I don't want to bother you. You've already helped me enough."

Jane shook her head, her brown hair brushing her cheeks.

"Don't worry. It doesn't bother me... quite the opposite."

Her last word had been more timid, almost a whisper, but Kyle heard it clearly. He immediately looked away, feigning indifference.

"I see," he replied simply, as if he hadn't noticed. But deep down, he sighed. "I see where this is going..."

"I insist," Jane continued, more determined, "you are the savior of the city. It's only right to treat you with a minimum of gratitude." 

Kyle gave a hint of a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Maybe... but it makes me uncomfortable, going to someone's house... (especially a girl, he thought to himself) that I've only just met."

Jane lowered her head slightly.

"I understand..."

A tense silence fell. Then, unexpectedly, Kyle sighed and said,

"...Okay. I accept."

Jane looked up, incredulous.

"Really?"

"Yes, yes. Let's go."

And without waiting, he took a few steps, walking straight ahead. Jane gave a small, nervous smile.

"...It's not that way."

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks.

"Ah. Very well, lead me."

They walked side by side through the darkened streets. Jane, filled with a mixture of joy and nervousness, desperately searched for topics of conversation: the rebuilding of the city, the hustle and bustle at the guild, work anecdotes... But Kyle responded with short, polite sentences, never prompting. His mind already seemed elsewhere.

Finally, they arrived in front of a simple but sturdy house, lit by the pale light of a lantern mounted on the wall.

"This is it," Jane said softly. "I live with my sister."

Kyle looked at the house, then asked,

"And your parents?"

Jane smiled sadly.

"They died... some time ago."

For a moment, silence fell like a leaden blanket. Kyle frowned, searching for an answer, but ultimately chose to cut it short.

"... Shall we go back?"

Jane nodded, taking out the key. The click of the lock echoed in the still night.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of polished wood and dried herbs. The tidy main room was bathed in a discreet warmth. Kyle glanced around.

"It's spacious," he said simply.

Jane nodded, closing the door behind him.

"With two incomes... my sister and I manage very well. But by this time, she's probably already asleep."

"I see."

Jane then invited him to follow her. She led him to a small bedroom, plain but clean: a neatly made bed, a simple wardrobe, a small, half-open window through which a wisp of night air drifted.

"It's still unoccupied," Jane explained, a little nervously. "You can spend the night."

Kyle stepped forward, placing his hand on the doorframe.

"Thank you." 

Then, without another word, he entered. Jane stood motionless for a moment, her fingers clenched against her dress, fighting the urge to say anything else. But no words came.

Kyle gently closed the door behind him. The small, dimly lit room smelled faintly of dry wood and fresh straw. A single lantern on a shelf diffused a flickering light, casting jagged shadows on the bare walls.

He sank heavily onto the bed. The creaking springs protested under his weight.

"This whole protagonist-is-hot-with-the-girls thing... it's really starting to get tiresome," he breathed, draping his arm over his eyes.

For a moment, he stood still, but the tension in his muscles refused to disappear. He straightened, then began pacing the narrow room, his footsteps echoing heavily on the wooden floor.

 "And yet... that's not realistic at all," he grumbled. "We've barely met, and she's already inviting me over?"

Suddenly, he stopped. His legs trembled and he fell to his knees, head bowed, fists clenched on the wood.

"Why has this kind of thing never happened to me before... Why?"

A heavy silence. Then he slowly raised his head, his face suddenly more closed.

"No... I'm imagining things. I'm the town's 'hero'. It's normal for people to get this kind of special treatment... Nothing more."

He stood up, shaking off the stray thoughts with a sharp gesture, and slumped back onto the bed. His eyes were lost in the dark ceiling.

"It doesn't matter... I'm here to make the most of this fantastical world. Nothing else."

Time stretched. His eyelids grew heavy, his breathing steadier. Sleep, at last, was beginning to envelop him. But as silence fell... strange, muffled noises drifted through the walls.

Hit, broken voices, sighs... then more intimate, heavy, undeniably sensual sounds. Kyle half-opened an eye, tense.

"...Maybe this is what medieval fantasy houses are like... walls too thin," he thought, his cheeks slightly heated, before turning over in bed, trying to tune them out."

A long moment passed. But in the dead of night, a sensation made his muscles tense. Someone was approaching. The footsteps were discreet, hesitant, almost timid.

Kyle sat up, alert, and gently opened the door. There, in the shadows of the hallway, stood Jane. She played nervously with her fingers, her eyes avoiding his, her cheeks slightly pink.

 "It's just... I..." she began, her voice trembling.

Kyle raised a hand, interrupting her gently.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm just going to... pretend none of this ever happened. So go back to sleep."

Her tone wasn't cold or harsh, but firm and filled with a strange gentleness. Jane stared at him for a moment, her lips parted, as if she wanted to protest... but no words came out. Finally, she nodded weakly and stepped back into the hallway before disappearing behind her own door.

Kyle closed his, sighed deeply, then lay back down. His eyes stayed open longer this time, listening for every sound, every creak of wood, every moving shadow.

But the night remained quiet. No other disturbances. Gradually, fatigue finally overcame him, and he found some well-deserved rest.

 The sky was still thick black, pierced only by a few flickering stars. Dawn had not yet touched the horizon when Kyle opened his eyes. He had barely rested, the night scene still turning in his head like a dull weight. It wasn't anger at Jane... just an embarrassment too heavy to bear. Just imagining an early morning exchange made his chest tighten.

So, silently, he picked up a coarse sheet of paper and scribbled a short thank-you note. His fingers trembled slightly, not from fear, but from a mixture of fatigue and unease. As he placed the letter prominently on the small wooden table, he allowed himself one last sigh before crossing the threshold of the bedroom.

That's when a shadow surprised him. In the dark hallway, a figure was advancing with soft steps, almost like a thief. The faint glow of a half-burned lantern illuminated his face: Felix.

"Hello..." Felix whispered neutrally, without stopping.

He immediately headed for the exit. Kyle frowned, about to call out to him, but Felix simply raised his hand in silence. They left together, without another word, the biting coolness of the morning immediately enveloping them.

Outside, the small town, still asleep, was bathed in an almost unreal calm. A light fog crept along the ground, and only the crunch of their footsteps on the damp earth broke the silence.

Kyle, unable to restrain himself any longer, asked in a low voice,

"What were you doing... in this house?"

Felix barely turned his head, a thin, ironic smile playing on his tired face.

"What do you think?"

Kyle froze for a moment, and the memory of the strange noises of the night suddenly came back to him. A grimace escaped him. 

"That's... really disgusting," he said sarcastically.

Felix gave a cold, almost satisfied chuckle before turning on his heel.

"Hmph."

"Wait," Kyle said, striding forward. "You're really going to leave like that, and Elma?"

Felix stopped, his profile lit by the pale starlight.

"I did what I had to do," he said simply, his voice emotionless.

Kyle gritted his teeth, a dull irritation rising within him.

"You're really disgusting."

Felix looked at him then, and a hard glint flashed in his eyes.

"It's better to be disgusting... than to be a stupid little virgin."

Kyle barely raised his eyebrows, but his voice remained calm.

"Why do you say that?" 

Felix gave a predatory, almost mocking smile.

"Because you'd have to be a complete idiot to turn down a girl who clearly wanted to sleep with you."

Kyle took a deep breath.

"Maybe," he admitted simply.

Felix burst into a short, dry laugh.

"Oh, sorry... I'm mistaken. You're not a virgin."

Kyle stared at him, surprised by the precision of his tone.

"How could you know that?"

Felix shrugged casually.

"With a reaction like that. It's just obvious. But still... virgin or not, you're still an idiot."

Kyle clenched his fists, ready to retort, when suddenly his body froze. A cold sensation bit at the back of his neck. His instincts went on alert: a barely veiled murderous intent was emerging a few meters away. 

Wordlessly, he turned his head toward the source of this presence. His eyes darkened, and he darted forward without hesitation, his footsteps breaking through the fog.

Felix, surprised but intrigued, frowned.

"...Tch, not done with you yet."

And he followed.

Kyle and Felix plunged into a narrow alley, half-shrouded in shadow. The air was heavier, saturated with humidity and a pungent metallic smell that left no doubt: blood.

And indeed, a few steps further, figures lay on the ground. Men, their clothes in tatters, their bodies marked with deep gashes. Their faces, frozen in grimaces of pain, already looked like they belonged to corpses.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, a chill running down his spine.

"Maybe they're dead..." he whispered.

Felix immediately crouched down next to one of them, placing two fingers on his throat. Then he sighed, shaking his head.

"No, not yet. But if no one treats them, they won't be long."

Kyle turned to him gravely.

"So what are you waiting for?"

A wry smile crossed Felix's face.

"Hmph... like you're ordering me around. But okay."

He raised his hands, and a golden glow emanated from his palms. The alley filled with a faint warmth, contrasting with the cold morning air, as his healing spells enveloped the wounded. The men's breathing became a little more regular, but they remained unconscious.

It was at that moment that a shadow detached itself at the end of the alley. Footsteps echoed, slow, almost tranquil.

Marx appeared.

His face was spattered with dried blood, his hands still sticky. But despite the horror he represented, he still wore that sickly smile, almost too sweet.

"Oh... but it's definitely you. What a coincidence to run into you here," he said in his usual polite voice.

Kyle remained frozen. The image of this harmless-looking comrade, walking among the bloody corpses, caused him a deep unease.

Felix, who was finishing one last spell, cast a dark look in Marx's direction.

But Marx, ignoring the heavy silence, fixed his eyes on him. 

"Oh, you're treating them? Go ahead. They're just bandits. They attacked me first."

Kyle caught his breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"That's no reason to... reduce them to this state."

Marx inclined his head slightly, as if receiving a trivial criticism.

"You're probably right."

His gentle tone, his courteous expression, everything about him seemed normal... except for the contrast between his blood-stained appearance and his almost candid words.

Felix finally straightened, crossing his arms.

"I don't know about you, Kyle, but I... I don't trust this guy at all."

Kyle looked away, his unease growing.

"We'd better leave before they wake up."

Marx shrugged obediently.

 "As you wish."

As they walked away, Felix raised another hand. A wave of pure light spread throughout the alley, dissipating the sticky blood on the cobblestones, washing away the soiled walls, and even erasing the stains on Marx's clothes.

Marx looked down at his now-clean clothes, then raised his head with a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

So the three men resumed their walk in silence. But this silence, far from peaceful, was charged. Each of them carried within them a truth they did not yet dare to articulate: their steps followed the same path, but their hearts were already heading in opposite directions.

The small town was bathed in the diffuse light of a dawning morning. The cobblestones, still damp with dew, reflected the orange hues of the sun barely breaking through the rooftops. A heavy silence enveloped the three young men, a silence that seemed to stretch out each of their steps on the uneven ground.

Marx, the first to break the silence, mechanically scratched the back of his head.

"Actually... I was looking for you," he whispered, almost as if confessing.

Felix frowned, his gaze scanning the shadows of the buildings around them.

"Why is that?"

"I spent the night at the mayor's. He said he had something to tell us... maybe a mission," Marx added with a shrug, letting out a small smile.

Kyle, still scarred by recent events, looked down at the uneven cobblestones. A cold breath slid through the alleys and made his shoulders shiver.

 "Why not... it could be the source of new adventures," he said with a mixture of curiosity and reserve.

Marx nodded slightly, satisfied with his answer, and replied enthusiastically,

"That's true. Then I accept."

Felix let out a small laugh, patting Marx on the shoulders.

"Okay. I'll come too. I've already achieved my goal... and besides, there are some pretty maids at the mayor's," he added in his casual tone that didn't fail to make Kyle roll his eyes.

"You're really hopeless," Kyle breathed through his teeth, his voice tight with suppressed irritation.

"And I'm really happy we're teaming up again!" Marx said with an almost childlike joy, "which contrasted with the tension still palpable in the air."

Kyle shook his head slightly, regaining a little seriousness.

"Nothing's decided yet." "I just want to know what the mayor has to say," he said, looking straight ahead.

Marx nodded respectfully.

"Okay."

A light breeze picked up, carrying with it the scent of flowers from the gardens and the aroma of the first kitchens coming to life in the city. The rustling of leaves and the clatter of iron on the cobblestones accompanied their footsteps. The silence was no longer oppressive, but tense, like a bowstring about to be tightened.

So, without another word, the three young men headed towards the mayor's residence, their silhouettes elongated by the morning light against the stone walls. Each of them carried their own thoughts and worries, but all of them moved forward together, towards what might well be the beginning of a new adventure.