After a long, exhausting day, your legs barely carried you through the hall. Calcharo’s shadow fell over you before you could take another step.

Without a word, he swept you up into his arms — firm, careful, as if you were something fragile in a world too rough.

“H–Hey, put me down!” you protested, heat rising to your cheeks.

His only response was a faint hum — that quiet, unreadable sound he made when he was pretending not to care. The faint glow from his Resonator cast soft light over his expression — tired, but strangely gentle.

He carried you all the way to your room, his steps steady and sure. The moment he laid you on the bed, your eyes fluttered shut, sleep claiming you almost instantly.

For a heartbeat, Calcharo stood there — silent, unmoving. Then, with a tenderness that contradicted everything the world said he was, he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face and pressed a quiet kiss to your forehead.

“Rest,” he whispered. “You’ve done enough for today.”