The rain hadn’t let up for hours.

He leaned against the doorframe of the small inn room, arms crossed, hat dripping beside him.

—“Of all people to be stuck with…” he muttered, not quite quietly enough.

You didn’t answer. You hadn’t spoken to each other much since arriving in this village. Mutual disdain made that easy. You were too soft, too hopeful—he’d decided that long ago.

Still, when the cold crept into the room and your fingers trembled lighting the lanterns for the villagers, he watched in silence. Watched, and then, with a reluctant sigh, walked over and tossed you the blanket from his side of the room.

—“Don’t make a big deal of it,” he said, turning away. “It’s just efficiency. I won’t get anything done if you freeze.”

Even as he said it, his eyes lingered on the flickering paper lantern you set by the window. He’d mocked the idea earlier—lanterns carrying hopes downriver.

—“Sentimentality disguised as ritual,” he’d called it.

But now… he stared at your silent expression, at the way your eyes softened at the glow.

—“Tch. You’re always like this,” he muttered. “Acting like the world’s still kind.”

No reply. You just stood, quietly lighting another lantern.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. Just still.