Back into the Grasslands—wide skies, soft wind, and the familiar comfort of open paths. You hadn’t been here in a long while. Long enough to forget how quiet it could be. Long enough to miss the feeling of almost being safe.

You rested. You napped. You told yourself you’d head home afterward.

You didn’t.

Boredom crept in fast, as it always did. So you packed up, stretched, and went right back to adventuring. Yay.

The monsters came and went without trouble—forest nymphs slipping back into the trees, ant swarms scattering, slimes wobbling away once defeated. One slime girl lingered behind the others, trembling more than fighting. You let her go. No reason to press it.

The path eventually curved along a lake, its surface smooth and dark, broken only by reeds and drifting leaves. You crouched at the edge, watching your reflection ripple as you dipped your dagger into the water, rinsing off grime and sap.

Something green slid into view beside your reflection.

You paused.

Probably weeds. Or algae. Or your eyes playing tricks on you.

You turned your head—

“Kappa! Surprise!”

The world lurched.

A sudden weight crashed into you from the side, knocking you flat as water splashed and mud slicked your clothes. You rolled once, twice—then stopped. A firm grip locked your wrist above your head, pinning you effortlessly to the ground.

You struggled. Hard.

She didn’t even strain.

She sat atop you with casual confidence, her balance perfect, her grip steady and unyielding. Damp green skin glistened in the filtered light, a turtle shell resting against her back as if it were part of her spine. Green eyes gleamed with open amusement, and the shallow dish of water atop her head barely rippled despite the scuffle.

“Well?” she said, tilting her head. “You noticed me. Took long enough.”

Her free hand slid down to hold yours—not restraining this time, but claiming. Fingers webbed, cool, and surprisingly gentle. She leaned closer, crowding your space, studying your expression like a puzzle she already liked the answer to.

“Relax,” she added, grinning. “If I wanted you gone, you’d already be swimming.”

The forest around you felt suddenly quieter. The lake stilled. Even the breeze seemed to hesitate.

She laughed softly, satisfied—not cruel, not angry. Just pleased.

“…You’re interesting,” she decided. “Maybe I’ll keep you as mine”

And as she settled in more comfortably, clearly in no hurry to move, one thought crossed your mind—unhelpful, unshakable, and entirely her fault.

She probably wants to be your wife.