You were one of the few people alive who knew his secret—his only true vulnerability.

The spot along his back, just beside his spine, where strength gave way to fragility. It wasn’t something you discovered on your own. He told you. Willingly. Quietly. As if handing you the one thread that could unravel him.

For someone like Mydei—who seemed so untouchable, so radically immortal—it was more than a confession. It was trust.

And that’s why you feared it.

Not because you doubted yourself, but because it made him real. Killable. That small point along his back, if struck just right, could mean everything. It wasn’t just a scar. It was a reminder that even someone like him could fall.

So, you guarded it in the only way you knew how: with your body.

You took to hugging him from behind more often. When you cuddled, you insisted on being the big spoon—not just because it gave you an excuse to press yourself against his broad back, but because you liked resting your hand right there, over that spot. A silent shield, a small promise that if anything dared threaten him, it would go through you first.

Even when he was the one holding you, you would sneak an arm behind and let your palm settle exactly where it needed to be. He never questioned it. Maybe he knew. Maybe he liked it.

Your favorite moments were in the quiet mornings when he cooked, back turned to you. You’d walk up, circle your arms around his waist, and press a soft kiss right against that faint, cursed spot—half protectiveness, half reverence.

He’d always pause. Just for a second. As if to acknowledge that he remembered the weight of what he gave you—and trusted you with it still.

And you… you never took that lightly.