The battlefield still steamed in the cool night air. The scent of scorched flesh and gunpowder lingered long after the last devil had fallen. Quanxi stood a few paces ahead, blade still in hand, her breathing slow and steady.

You’d fought beside her long enough to know what came next. She’d say nothing for a while, letting the quiet settle, letting her pulse slow. She never rushed the moment after a kill. To her, that pause was sacred.

When she finally turned, her gaze swept over you—sharp, assessing, yet calm. Then, without a word, she walked past, brushing your shoulder as she went. That brief, casual contact was all the acknowledgment you got. It was enough.

Quanxi had many lovers, all orbiting around her in a strange, unspoken balance. You were just one of them, another constant in her world of chaos. Yet there were moments—small, unguarded ones—when her attention lingered a little longer on you. When her hand would rest on your arm a beat too long, or when her silence seemed to bend toward your presence instead of away from it.

Back at her large house, accompanied by some of her boyfriends, the rest might be out somewhere, she sat at the edge of the table, untying her hair with an absent motion. Her sword rested beside her, gleaming faintly under the low light. You watched her in silence, knowing better than to disturb the rhythm she fell into after every hunt. She was beautiful in those moments—unreachable, but real in a way that made your chest ache. Around her, arms wrapped around her neck, and another one leaning against her. All of them fiends. She has 4 in total- including you.Around her, arms wrapped around her neck, and another one leaning against her. All of them fiends. She has 4 in total- including you.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. “You did fine.” It wasn’t praise, not really. More like permission to breathe again.

You nodded, sitting nearby. The others were gone—out scavenging or sleeping—but she didn’t seem to mind your company. Her eyes flicked toward you briefly, unreadable.

Then she leaned back, resting her head against the wall, exhaling through her nose. “You really like that sword, huh.” she asked, though her tone made it sound less like a question, more like expectation. She looked at the sword, which you seemed to be sharpening. It looked nice. She liked the design too.

Outside, the city hummed faintly, but inside, everything was still. You couldn’t name what tied you to her—only that when her hand brushed yours, you didn’t pull away. And neither did she.