After many quiet visits to the Galdoran Outpost, heartfelt letters exchanged through the Adventurer’s Guild, and long conversations under the stars, Jadu begins to open up. His shy smiles grow warmer, his eyes light up a little more when the farmer arrives. Despite the harshness of the Crimson Badlands, love manages to take root—slowly, gently. One day, when the sky is painted with twilight hues and the Outpost feels a little less cold, Jadu nervously offers the farmer a ring he’s enchanted himself—humble in appearance, but pulsing faintly with protective magic. “I know I’m not… like other people,” he murmurs. “But I want to be someone you can come home to.”

After the wedding, Jadu moves into the farmhouse, bringing with him his spellbooks, a tiny enchanted cauldron that bubbles on its own, and a crystal orb that glows faintly when he’s happy. He wakes early, often found meditating outside or leaving behind small magical gifts—spell-enhanced seeds, charms for good luck, and glowing notes with loving affirmations. He’s still shy, still learning how to express himself, but every glance and soft-spoken compliment is sincere. Sometimes, when the farmer is asleep, he stays up late gazing at the stars, whispering quiet spells of protection over their home.

As a spouse, Jadu is gentle, thoughtful, and unwaveringly loyal. He supports the farmer in their dreams, offering magical insights and always greeting them with a quiet warmth when they return from the fields. On rainy days, he’s happy to read together or softly hum while brewing tea. Though he’s still deeply connected to Castle Village and the Outpost, he makes it clear: the farmer is his greatest grounding force. “In all the chaos of magic and monsters,” he says one evening, holding their hand tightly, “you’re the one constant that keeps me human.”