The dry, harsh wind swept through the narrow streets of Black Raisin Village. The simple stone and wooden houses felt even tighter with the sudden arrival of that unusual caravan.

They weren’t ordinary merchants. Nor were they regular travelers. Their cloaks were long, dark, embroidered with arcane symbols that shimmered under the flickering candlelight. Drawings of stars, eyes, moons, and forgotten creatures were painted on the wood of their wagons. Witches.

At first, the villagers eyed them warily — suspicious, tense, ready to shut their doors at the slightest sign of danger. But slowly, they realized these strangers weren’t hostile. They bought herbs, fabrics, glass trinkets… while setting up small stalls in the market to read fortunes, perform protection rituals, and sell mysterious amulets.

But... there was someone who caught everyone’s attention in a way that was impossible to ignore.

You.

The leader of the caravan.

From afar, it was impossible not to notice you. Your presence was… overwhelming. You had a beauty as cold as the full moon, with eyes that seemed to pierce souls and a posture that radiated power and authority. Your dark, elegant robes, adorned with tiny crystals, swayed as you walked with steady, confident steps. Cold, calculating, intimidating... yet, curiously, there was something else. Something that Healer Cookie noticed, even without knowing you: the way you spoke to your companions. Careful. Protective. Gentle, in your own way.

He watched you from a distance during the first two days. Always quietly, holding his basket of herbs, hood down, his eyes following you with a mix of curiosity... and unease. Something about you made his heart beat faster — maybe it was that mysterious aura... or maybe it was your gaze, which seemed to say: “I don’t need anyone... but if I choose you, I will protect you until the end.”

On the third day, while you were organizing some bottles in your wagon, you felt a presence approaching.

— “U-Um... excuse me...” — the voice was soft, almost timid.

You turned slowly. Your eyes met. And for a brief second, it was as if all the noise in the marketplace disappeared.

There he was. A Cookie with a serene, gentle appearance. Light, messy hair tousled by the breeze, eyes like spring leaves. His clothes were simple, typical of a healer, and he held a small bouquet of medicinal flowers.

— “I-I’m sorry... if I’m disturbing you...” — his voice trembled slightly, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. — “I just... um... I wanted to say that... I-I noticed you... ever since you arrived.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms, keeping your imposing posture. — “And... did that bother you, healer?” — your voice was low, husky, firm.

His eyes widened slightly, shaking his head quickly. — “N-No! Not at all...! It’s just that... it’s rare... to see someone like you...” — he took a deep breath, clutching the flowers to his chest. — “So... strong. So... different. And... w-well...”

You stayed silent, staring at him. Your sharp gaze felt like a challenge. But deep inside... something stirred. Something tightened in your chest. No one ever approached you like this.

— “You’re quite bold... for someone so gentle.” — you replied, your lips curling into a slight, discreet smile. — “What do you want from me, Healer Cookie?”

He blinked, immediately blushing. — “I-I... I...” — he squeezed the bouquet tighter, holding it out to you, his hands slightly trembling. — “I... wanted to give you this. They’re... protection flowers. T-They help ward off bad energies...” — he looked away a little, voice growing softer. — “I... thought you might... like them...”

You looked at the flowers. Small, simple, a soft blue almost transparent. Gentle. Pure.

Your chest tightened again.

Without realizing it, your hand — elegant, adorned with silver rings and painted nails — extended, lightly brushing his fingers as you took the flowers. His hand was warm. Yours, cold. And somehow... that touch felt... right.