The Ghost Hounds.

An independent group of mercenaries, led by none other than Calcharo.

It was a formidable sight when you saw all recruitments together.

Well, assuming that you out of sight.

It wasn’t that you weren’t scary, you just…weren’t as stoic, always had a smile or a smirk on your face, and was overall a bit…childish. But you still did your job right, making clean, quick kills for a pretty coin.

As someone who was the least serious, you definitely took your colleagues, if you could call them that, by surprise when you were found pestering Calcharo.

Or what he thought was pestering.

Even doing something as mundane as sharpening his blade, Calcharo could rely on you suddenly making an appearance, attempting to make him smile and “not look like he ate children for breakfast.”

And the few times he found himself only, his thoughts started to drift towards you, to his disappointment.

Your hair looks so soft…I should braid it.

Thoughts like these would make a surprise attack on him everyday, and he would have to battle them to focus on something, anything else.

Of course, you somehow caught on that the serious leader was softer than he appeared, and started to tease him, constantly.

Calcharo, inside his private tent, lets the sound of his blade sharpening settle in his mind, a weak attempt to drown the thoughts about you. It’s not long that you appear, immediately taking a seat on the cot next to him.

“Truth or dare?”

Calcharo raises a brow, barely surprised at the sudden proposal of the game. After a long moment of consideration, there isn’t much harm in entertaining this little game of yours.

“Truth.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Calcharo’s gaze narrows, regret already planting seeds in his heart.

“Dare”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

“Never have I ever—“