I kept looking at myself in the mirror. The wound on my neck was completely gone. I was so sure there was bloodーthe blade had cut it! How could he possibly heal it with just a kiss—
A kiss?
I shook my head. Hell no, it wasn't just a kiss. I felt his tongue. He's a pervert. He really is. But… his voice was so manly. I hate to admit it, but my heart raced like crazy when I heard his voice. Ugh, this is really driving me insane!
A lot happened today. My heart melted when I saw Lawrence, Melissa told me she hated me, I remembered the past, I was exhausted, and now Gusion kissed my neck. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I checked the time—an hour had already passed. I hadn't had dinner yet. I usually skip dinner, but it's different now that there's someone else in the house.
I grabbed my things and stepped out of my room. He was probably sleeping, but it felt too lame not to feed a guest—an unexpected guest. I knocked on his door, and to my surprise, I immediately got a response. He opened the door.
"D-Do you want to come with me?" I asked, trying to avoid eye contact with him. I felt awkward about what he did.
"Where to?"
"There's a restaurant nearby. I was thinking of having dinner—"
"Very well." He didn't even let me finish. Jerk.
We made our way to the parking lot and got into the car. The awkward tension between us was undeniable.
"About what happened earlier," I cleared my throat, "why did you do that?"
"Didn't I make myself clear?" he replied.
I just nodded and focused on my driving. I took my bag with me when we arrived at the restaurant. The waiter led us to an empty seat and took our order.
"This world of yours is far too different from mine," he said while his eyes wandered around the entire place.
"Honestly, I didn't want to believe everything you said, but it made sense when I found out that you were a fictional hero." Mobile Legends, huh.
"I am not some creation of fictionーI exist."
"Yes, you do. But you are a part of a game. You are a fictional hero."
He was sitting formally, looking at me with those cold eyes. I felt like I would freeze in a minute.
"Talking to you is proving to be the most difficult task I've faced," he said, shaking his head—as if he was talking to himself.
"Let's just continue this later. You see, this isn't the right place to talk about it." I shrugged my shoulders. This really wasn't the right place. There were a lot of people here, and they might hear what we were talking about. They might think we were stupid.
The waiter arrived with our food. I thanked him after he put everything on the table.
"I had no idea about your favorite food, that's why I ordered the best-selling menu of the restaurant," I said.
"I don't mind. As long as it's edible," he answered as he grabbed a bite of his food.
"Right," I mumbled.
"It's too salty," he said while wiping the corner of his lips with the napkin. I raised my eyebrows and took one bite of the food.
"It isn't," I said, taking another bite. It wasn't even salty at all. The taste was perfect.
"It is," he insisted. "And what do you call this?"
"Oven-fried fish fillets."
"The cook must have overdone the salt, and the fish looks far from fresh. Why do they prepare food like this?" he said without any pause.
"Sshh," I hushed him. "You're insulting the chef. He might hear you!"
"Shouldn't you point out his mistake so he can fix it next time?" He raised his eyebrows. My throat dried up. This guy, really! How can he act like this at this moment?
"I never thought you could be this picky," I said, shaking my head. I can't really believe this guy.
"I'm not being picky. I'm simply stating the truth," he shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, Mr. Paxley, you weren't stating facts. What you did was just insulting the chef and the restaurant. Why would they mess with their menu when people are paying for it?" I raised my eyebrows. He looked calm, and that really annoyed me.
"Exactly. People are paying. Big tribute," he agreed, as if the last words I mentioned were the only things that mattered. He really wants to insult the chef. Like, hello, the food was perfect. It was delicious!
Or maybe he was just actually picky?
"Do you want me to order another dish for you? Although you can choose from the menu what you would like..." I said, then called the waiter to bring the menu again and handed it to Gusion. "So, what do you like?"
He looked at the menu, his eyebrows furrowing as if he didn't understand what he was looking at.
"How about a steak? Do you like steak?" I asked when he kept staring at the menu. Not to be rude, but I thought it was best to at least give some suggestions since he's not familiar with what we have in my world. Funny, because I just met him and I'm already believing everything he said—that he's not from here. Honestly, this is really confusing for me and kind of hilarious. I don't think I can get over the fact that he's from a game… or maybe I'm just dreaming. If so, this must be one long dream.
He agreed to my suggestion, so I ordered one for him. He didn't say anything, but I kept glancing at him while he was eating. He seemed to like the steak.
"So tell me about yourself," I said, breaking the silence. "How did you end up here?"
He just looked at me and continued eating as if he hadn't heard my question. My eyebrows furrowed.
"Now you're deaf?" I asked sarcastically.
We just finished the food quietly, and I paid before we walked outside the restaurant. We were about to enter the car when I saw someone very, very familiar to me.
"Noe?" I almost wanted to run away when I saw Lawrence. He walked toward me, looking between me and Gusion with a confused expression.
"Lawrence, what are you doing here?" Oh God, what should I do?
"I bought a snack and was planning to visit you at home." He glanced at the person beside me. "But you seem occupied. Maybe next time—"
"No, wait!" I grabbed his arm just as he was about to leave. "It's not what you think. I—"
"I wasn't thinking anything," he laughed. His laugh broke my heart. Why do I always assume he might like me back when he clearly doesn't?
"This is..." I looked at Gusion, who met my gaze. I gave him a go-with-the-flow look, silently begging him to play along. "...my cousin, Zen. He just came back from Europe." Gusion raised an eyebrow at me, but I ignored it. I had no choice!
"I'm Lawrence. Noevia's friend," Lawrence said, extending his hand for a handshake. Gusion stared at it for a few seconds before accepting.
"Zen," Gusion said, glancing in my direction. "Noevia's cousin." Thank you, Gusion!
"Noevia never mentioned anyone to me except her sister and brother," Lawrence added.
"She prefers not to discuss family matters with others. I trust you'll respect that."
"I am her friend, though."
What's with this atmosphere? They were staring intensely at each other. Lawrence had the ideal height, but Gusion was taller. Lawrence was smiling, and Gusion smiled back—though it looked forced. Whatever this atmosphere was, I had to stop it.
"Right, you said you wanted to visit me at home. Do you want to come with us?" I interrupted.
"No. Maybe next time. And please check your mail. I already sent you the replay," Lawrence said with a smile.
"Did you win?" I asked.
"Of course," he said, patting my head. "You showed up. Of course I'd win." My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. It raced like hell.
"You really know how to make me smile."
"I'll just see you tomorrow," he said before walking away.
Gusion crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me, raising an eyebrow.
"What?" I asked.
"Zen, huh?"
"I… I had no choice. Stop looking at me like that. Besides, the name I gave you was good—it's my favorite musician's name."
"Since when was I assigned the role of your cousin?" he asked, completely ignoring what I just said.
"Whatever." I got into the car, and he followed. I just wanted to go home as soon as possible—I didn't want him asking me any more random things.
""You have feelings for him," he said as soon as we entered the apartment.
"You really love stating things instead of asking, don't you?" I shot him a spiteful look.
"I don't waste words on answers I already have." he said, following me into the living room.
"Don't you have anything else to do with your life? Why are you doing this to me?"
"I do. Which is why you're supposed to help me get back."
"I can't help you!" I snapped. He was really annoying.
"I recall you making a promise," he said, arms once again crossed over his chest.
"Since when did I promise you?"
"It started the moment you decided to get involved."
"You are so annoying. Do you know that?"
"Nothing new there. It's what they always say," he shrugged.
This is so frustrating! Why am I even in this situation? Why am I arguing with this weird man?
"Okay, let's set some rules."
"Sure," he replied.
"First, you are not allowed to ask me about Lawrence or anyone I like. That's none of your business. Second, you will follow whatever I say. Third, while you're here, you're not allowed to go outside without me or my permission. Do you understand?"
"Is that the extent of your rules?" he asked calmly.
"Why? Do you want me to add more?"
"If it pleases you," he said.
"Okay. The fourth rule is: you're not allowed to talk to anyone—not until I give you permission." I don't want him going around telling everyone he's an assassin from another world. That would just give me a headache.
"I don't forget rules, especially when they're thrown at me."
"That's good, then."
"But I'll have mine, too—whether you like it or not."
"Are you crazy?"
"If we're setting rules, then it's only fair I state mine." He ran a hand through his tousled light brown hair, the strands falling slightly over his forehead, his tone calm yet firm. "In the morning, I prefer brewed coffee and freshly baked bread. Occasionally, carrot-tangelo soup or cauliflower chowder. Lunch? Meat or fish—roasted salmon with celery and bulgur salad, or veal schnitzels. Dinner should be simple—vegetable salad or raclette will do. And for the record, I despise pasta and anything drenched in garlic." He sounded less like a guest and more like a noble giving orders.
My jaw dropped at what I had just heard. Is he even serious?
"Are you making me your cook?" I asked, almost raising my voice. "Wait—let me rephrase that. Are you making me your servant?"
"What do you think?" he asked.
"You do realize that you're not a prince telling his servant to remember all the food he wants to eat, right?"
"I just told you my rules. What's the issue?"
"The problem is, I am not your servant, and I will never be!" I yelled, sounding like a child. "God, I wasn't raised just to be the servant of a weird man."
"I never asked you to be my servant. I was simply stating my rules."
"Well, your rules won't apply here. This isn't your home. I don't even know how to cook!"
"Why are you so angry over this?"
"Because you're demanding!"
"Am I?" he asked innocently. I rolled my eyes and ignored him. I knew I'd just waste a lot of energy if I continued talking to him. I turned my back on him, but he quickly grabbed my arm.
"What?" I looked at him.
"It was a joke," he said, trying not to laugh. "I didn't expect you to react like that. You're... interesting."
"Are you happy?" I asked sarcastically before I pulled my arm away from him.
"My rule is simple. Just listen to what I have to say."
"Okay," I crossed my arms across my chest and waited for his words.
"You're to tell me what you feel and what's on your mind. That's all I ask." I laughed when he said those words. There's no way I'm going to tell him anything about it.
"Like what?"
"Like why you cried earlier… and why someone who seems to have everything could still look so hollow." His tone was calm and soft at the same time. I couldn't feel any coldness.
"It's none of your business." But what he said had an impact on me. His words... I don't know how to explain it, but how could someone like him—someone I just met—notice that about me? I feel like I've been exposed.
"It's my rule. You're obliged to tell me."
"Why? We are strangers to one another. It's uncomfortable for me to open up to a stranger, you see."
"You know my name."
"It's not enough." Knowing someone's name doesn't mean you can already trust them. It's not enough yet.
He took one more step toward me, then took my hand and said, "My name is Gusion, fourth son of the Paxley household. What else do you want to know?" and he kissed my hand.
What?
I felt my cheeks heat up, and I immediately pulled my hand back. The tingling sensation in my chest was still there, and I could feel how his lips had pecked the back of my hand. He smirked.
"I—I asked you earlier to tell me about yourself, but you ignored me, so what's this nonsense?" I panicked and didn't know where to look. He stepped closer to me, and I stepped back.
"What do you want to know about me? What should I say to make you feel comfortable?"
"Forget it!" I said and ran towards my room, shutting the door behind me. What was with that look? His eyes shone because of the light... his gaze was fixed on me, deep and intense, as if he was analyzing me, knowing me.
What the hell was that?