Past—

The morning of the hunt dawned with a beautiful sunrise. Great swaths of gold, ruby, and orange blanketed the sky, sending rays down to coat Rasheia in brilliant color. Qian Meng admired it from the top of the hill beside his trusted willow tree. He'd awoken from a nightmare when it was still dark and had been here meditating ever since. His qi was growing stronger each passing day. An intense, white light within his chest. Blinding him every time he closed his eyes.

It didn't scare him as it once did. Now, it felt welcoming, probing his shivering soul each time he allowed it close enough. Yet he could not use it no matter how many techniques Lei Hua taught him for pulling it out. It sat stubbornly within the confines of his dantian, doing nothing more than fueling his body with further strength and stamina. He was grateful for the lessons all the same, though. No one had ever been so kind before his zhiyin had come along.

Qian Meng was startled at his casual use of the sacred name, cheeks flushing in embarrassment despite there being no one to witness it. Even admitting it to himself felt like too much and sent his mind back to the promises they'd made last night.

I will, because the Winds and the Waves all led me to you, and I will not ignore the will of the Heavens. Only when their guidance fails will I lose faith in the Divine.

A Thousand-mile Journey begins with the First Step, and we will take it together.

He dropped his face into his hands, feeling the burn of blazing skin against his calluses. What had he been thinking when he spouted such utter nonsense?! The answer was that he had not been thinking at all. At least, not logically. But the idea of getting out of this horrible place, of starting a new life beside people who enjoyed his presence, appreciated it, even, was enchanting. He felt himself get drunk on it last night, and after that, he might as well hold no responsibility for what left his mouth.

Not that he could take the words back.

"Damn," he groaned.

"What are you wallowing about so early in the morning?"

Qian Meng startled, whipping his head up to find Lei Hua standing beside him. And he didn't miss the fact that every soiled feeling festering at the bottom of his stomach fled at the sight of the gilded man. He had his arms tucked behind his back and a familiar grin dancing on his lips. Qian Meng had to admit that, bathed in the light of dawn, he was radiant. A God walking among men. Ebony hair tied up and away from his face with a simple golden ribbon in preparation for the hunt, and matching robes cinched tightly around his waist with a white leather belt, his sword hanging off of it.

"Nothing," the prince muttered, shifting his gaze back to the view.

The cultivator sat down beside him, tucking his legs beneath him with calm poise. "You are a terrible liar."

Qian Meng couldn't help the twitch of his lips. "So I've been told."

Lei Hua leaned into him, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth as he reached into the sleeve of his robe to pull out a carved, wooden box. The prince eyed it warily even when the man held it out, intending for him to take it. It was carved with delicate orchids and looked to be hand-painted, the plum dye a bright shock of color. One finger reached out on its own accord to run along the carvings, touch soft as a feather.

"It's for you," Lei Hua pressed, voice wavering.

Qian Meng looked up at him, taking in the worried set of his lips and the furrow of his brow. He was surprised to see the man had some sense of humility; because giving another man a gift was definitely cause for humiliation. On both sides. The prince felt a blush rising on his neck, crawling all the way to the tips of his ears as he snatched the box away, placing it in his lap to stare at it. An incense time passed as he did, fingers tracing the orchid blossoms repeatedly. Lei Hua shifted closer, tilting his head so he could see past the curtain of hair the prince had been using to cover up his face.

"Are you going to open it or?"

Qian Meng scowled, lashing out at the other man without looking and slapping his chest weakly. "Shut up!"

The cultivator laughed softly, tapping two fingers against Qian Meng's knee. "Go on. You don't have to be so scared. I promise you'll like it."

He grimaced, flipping the lid on the box if only to save himself from hearing that soft, coaxing tone again. Inside, nestled between folds of ruby velvet, was a set of silver vambraces. His eyes widened at the same moment his stomach swooped low, chasing the butterflies flapping there. The prince lifted one shaking hand to run it along the artistry of the design, marveling at it. What looked like vines were carved into the precious metal, and small blooming plum flowers were painstakingly etched at each juncture.

His eyes prickled and burned, aching to shed tears he hadn't entertained in years. Not even when his father whipped him. But this wasn't sadness, no, Qian Meng couldn't quite place the overwhelming emotion rising up in his chest. He ran one palm across his sternum, trying to abate it.

"These are. . ." He trailed off, voice shy and quiet.

Lei Hua boldly tucked the prince's bangs behind one ear, fed up with them obstructing the view of his face. "Do you not like them?"

He sounded heartbroken, and Qian Meng couldn't take it, so he rushed to speak. "Of course, I like them, in fact, I think they're quite beautiful," he replied, chancing a glance up at the cultivator through his lashes.

Lei Hua was smiling so widely it hurt to look at. "Oh," he exhaled, shoulders slumping in relief. "That's good. I'm so glad. Would you like me to help put them on?"

Qian Meng nodded, almost in a daze, and held out the box. The cultivator took out the braces before setting it aside. Stupidly, the prince left his hands outstretched, palms up, but Lei Hua didn't tease him. He only turned them face down, unlocking the metal clasps that kept the vambraces shut. One went on, and then the other, locking with resolute finality. They were lightweight but thick enough to stop a blade should he need them to. His throat went dry as he watched them wink in the morning sun, the brightness a stark contrast to the rest of his dark ensemble.

His zhiyin held his arms up closer to the sun, turning them this way and that as if admiring his gift, a soft smile playing on his lips. Qian Meng could only watch, mouth parted ever so slightly. It all felt so surreal. No one had ever given him a gift like this before—one with such obvious thought and intent behind it. Lei Hua guided one of his arms back to his lap, but continued holding up the other, both hands cupping it.

"I had these custom made for you," the cultivator murmured, cheeks tinged a charming pink.

Qian Meng kept silent, watching Hua's finger run along the vines. "These signify connection and friendship." Then his finger trailed down to touch a blossom, caressing it. "And these, well, I might've gotten a little carried away, but. . . Because plum blossoms unfurl in the bitter cold, they symbolize perseverance, strength, endurance, and an unbounded spirit. They reminded me of you."

The prince closed his eyes, feeling so out of sorts that he wanted to scream or cry or fall into the man's broad chest and never rise from it. Fondness was a balm to his soul, pushing him toward Lei Hua until their shoulders were pressed together and he could lie his head there. The cultivator froze, even stopped breathing for a moment, before his body went liquid and he let go of Qian Meng's arm, letting it drop back to his lap.

"Thank you," the prince murmured. "I've never gotten such a thoughtful, beautiful gift before. I will cherish them for the rest of my days."

The words left his mouth without difficulty, for they were the utter truth. The only thing he felt badly about was the fact that he hadn't thought to get the cultivator anything in return. Hell, he didn't know admitting they might be cultivation partners was code for purchasing precious gifts. Qian Meng's eyes fell to study them again, his chest constricting with unshed tears.

"You're welcome," Lei Hua choked out.

The cultivator was trying his best to hold himself together, but it was so very hard with the prince leaning his body against his shoulder with such easy comfort. As if his shoulder was made to house Qian Meng's head for the rest of eternity, right here beneath the willow tree. All other responsibilities be damned.

"I'm sorry I did not get you a gift in return. But I have these buns," Qian Meng said, sitting up and rustling through his pack for them.

Lei Hua laughed, and it helped to push the overwhelming emotion aside as he took one. "There is no need to feel sorry. I wanted to give you something, so I did. I thought it'd be a suitable gift before your first hunt."

Qian Meng nodded, talking around a bite of food. "Speaking of, when do we leave?"

"Now," a voice snapped from behind, startling them both.

They turned to find Lei Changming standing there, arms crossed over his chest as he pointedly stared at the new braces clasped around Qian Meng's wrists, brows raised. The prince felt himself blush again, but Lei Hua, the thick-faced man that he was, didn't balk at all as he stood, shoving the rest of his bun into his mouth and dusting off his hands.

"Let's go, then."

The brothers started down the hill first, leaving Qian Meng to scramble after them, snatching the ornate box from the grass on the way.

⚔

The hunt led them to a swamp just outside of Smotia, a peaceful waterfront town on the very edge of the Pondlightian Empire. And as this was Qian Meng's first time leaving the palace, he couldn't help but marvel at every little thing they passed. From the tall, overarching hemlock trees to the moss beneath his boots, he took it all in. Lei Hua kept pace beside him, righting him by the elbow whenever he stumbled over a root he hadn't been aware of or tried to wander away. Which, to the prince's embarrassment, happened quite a few times. Plus, the heavy sword borrowed from the barracks armory was an uncomfortable weight hanging off his waist, leaving him unbalanced. But he didn't dare complain or make any sound.

No one did as Grandmaster Lei led the way through a thick cluster of cypress trees, feet gliding through the water so smoothly it barely rippled, let alone splashed. Qian Meng tried to do the same, but it was a great deal harder for him. His limbs felt heavy and awkward when he looked at the cultivators, and a sick sense of inferiority stung his ego.

"Not much further," the Grandmaster called, voice a low trill.

In his hand was a beacon talisman fueled by the wielders qi and coded to the monster one was hunting as long as you had access to its blood or saliva. It glowed a hazy white that flared brighter the closer you got to your target. Only cultivators with strong golden cores could use such high-level talismans, for it siphoned qi for as long as it was in use. However, it was incredibly accurate. And, currently, it was glowing so brightly that Qian Meng almost couldn't look directly at it. He felt the air turn heavy with demonic energy, simmering against his skin and prodding at his mind.

Lei Hua pressed closer to his shoulder, eyes darting from side to side as he slowly unsheathed his wondrous sword. Its shine was brilliant through the dull darkness of the swamp. He pulled his own, feeling foolishly unprepared holding a regular practice sword. It would only serve to protect him from harm once, for the cultivators informed him it would not be powerful enough to kill a demonic spirit or creature. Should he try, it would surely shatter. The revelation had startled him, but even so, he'd agreed to come along on the hunt. With his new vambraces and Lei Hua by his side, there was nothing to worry about. Even if the dark creature was the most terrifying beast, the Lei family had ever hunted.

Lei Hua's words, not his.

"At the ready," the Grandmaster commanded, crouching low and tossing the talisman into the air.

It flew ten feet above their heads and hovered there, shining so brightly a flash of white light pulsed from it with each breath the wielder took, flaring across the murky water. The four of them spread out, covering each of the four cardinal directions and slamming formation flags painted with restriction spells deep into the muck. Once the spells were activated, they would trap the beast, but they had to wait for the most opportune moment, slashing their palms and smearing blood across the runes only when the demonic spirit was snared.

Qian Meng palmed his blade as he ran through the steps in his mind, sweaty with nerves, breathing even. He was ready for this; he was. Lei Hua had said so, and he was learning to trust that. Knew he could despite the sick roil of his stomach. The prince took several deep breaths to calm his writhing dantian, allowing his qi to flow through his meridians, strengthening his resolve and sharpening his senses.

The quiet was absolute, but the talisman continued to burn brighter and brighter with each passing second. He watched the water, the trees, even squinting into the horizon for any sign of movement. There was none, but he could feel a creeping sense of foreboding climbing up his spine to root between his shoulder blades, alerting him to danger. Qian Meng tightened his grip on the leather, swallowing hard. He licked his lips.

"It's close," Lei Hua murmured from his left, crimson eyes narrowing as they swept back and forth.

Compared to Qian Meng, the cultivator was at ease. Sword hanging by his side, body loose, and a wicked glint to his gaze that spoke of barely restrained feverishness. Not a hint of fear filled him, not as it did with every breath Qian Meng shuddered into his chest. The prince looked to Lei Hua, lips parting to ask him where all that bravado came from, when the world fell into chaos via slow motion.

From one moment to the next, a terrifyingly enormous shadow lunged from beneath the water. Forming from nightmares and gloom, smoking claws outstretched and razor sharp. Its eyes were the dull color of dried blood, yet glowing with sinister light. Qian Meng sucked in a breath, but his body moved on its own, ducking in a whirl of splashing water and soiled robes. His heavy sword came up too late, though, swiping through thin air as the creature disappeared beneath the surface again, not a ripple left behind. His heart beat wildly in his chest, filling his head with noise as Lei Hua nodded at him, reaching out a hand for their fingers to touch. It grounded him to the moment, narrowed his focus.

The beast struck again, this time rushing Lei Changming at the eastern point of their formation. The cultivator lept with impressive speed, slashing his glowing sword in an arc of silver, only to miss as well. All four men pressed closer together, guarding each other's blind spots as the beast rose and fell from the putrid water with such overwhelming speed and grace Qian Meng was dizzy with it. It never landed a blow, though, and that seemed to anger the spirit until it was worked into a frenzy. Roaring repeatedly as it came above the water. His ears rang, pushing all valid thought from his mind as he ducked again, sword whirling.

To his surprise, it caught.

Tearing through shadows on the belly of the beast until they came pouring out, showering him in demonic energy. The high pitch noise between his ears heightened, and he staggered, sword shattering the moment he tore it out of the beast's skin, dropping around him in pieces like falling stars. Resentment crawled across his skin like soft, coaxing fingers. He shivered, captured between recoiling and arching closer. The sensation slithered beneath his clothes, and he felt it pause on his scars, settling there. And while it could not speak, he felt the souls of the damned scream for him, recognizing his years of pain and suffering.

"Qian Meng!"

The shout tore through his consciousness, and he looked up into the face of his zhiyin hovering before him, hands cupping his cold cheeks. Lei Hua had a wild look of worry coating his features, but the prince nodded, trying to convey he would be fine. Asking him to get back into formation with his gaze alone.

Still, the screams of the damned filled his head.

The cultivator spoke again, but this time he heard nothing. Only watched his lips move with a dull sense of confusion as he stood, rolling his shoulders. The smoke roiled off Qian Meng, finally letting go of his scars and ceasing its noise. He looked past his partner toward the formation, eyes widening. Father and son brandished their heavenly swords, battling the demonic beast toward the center of the restriction array. The prince pushed Lei Hua, forcing him away and toward his point in the formation—they couldn't afford to be lax now just because he didn't handle resentment well.

His blood rushed as he searched for another way to slice his palm, sword having been lost. The snarls of the beast slowly came back into focus, impossibly loud and grating to the ear. The talisman above the cultivators heads was so bright now it was hard to look at, illuminating the once dusky swamp with celestial light. His hands trembled where they searched the water at his feet for a piece of his sword, or a sharp rock. He found nothing, only sediment and oily mud squelching between his fingers.

It felt like time had stopped, but really, it was sprinting forward. The battle was already slowing, both sides having taken heavy blows. With each limping lunge, the beast leaked a steady stream of shadows, its version of lifeblood. Qian Meng could see its consciousness flickering. It stumbled just as much as the bleeding cultivators. His focus narrowed on the situation, running several scenarios in quick succession.

It was time to activate the trapping spells.

Two of the four points could not reach their positions.

He had nothing to cut himself with.

"Fuck," he muttered, darting toward where Lei Hua was muttering unintelligible incantations, fingers flicking through the air, gaze focused solely on the beast.

And for the first time, the prince noticed the wind picking up, pushing the creature forcefully from side to side, into the blades, away from landing a killing blow. He was doing his best to help how he could without interfering and risking everyone's lives. Qian Meng resolved to do the same, taking Lei Hua's sword from its sheath with a gasp. Spiritual energy rushed up his arms—the sword pulsed with it, almost as if it had its own heartbeat. It chased away the remaining demonic energy, banishing it as he tore through the water as quickly as he could.

Without a thought, he slashed one long line down his wrist, unflinching, and threw out his arm. Blood arced, hitting one, then two, then three of the formation flags. They flared crimson, runes rising to float through the air, spinning ceaselessly. He had no time to marvel at the magic as he darted inside, pushing himself forward with every pounding beat of his heart as the beast lunged at the flagging Lei family, enraged all over again by the magic coating the air so heavily he could taste sulfur on the back of his tongue.

On instinct, Qian Meng's foot struck out, kicking Lei Changming aside just before razor-sharp jaws clamped around his torso. It forced the cultivator out of the formation, and then only the Grandmaster remained before the beast, staggering. He held together the torn flesh of his side with one hand and brandished his starmetal sword with the other, a look of fury on his ethereal face. If the prince wasn't so hyper-focused, seeing that might've taken his breath away. Not once before this day had he seen someone who looked so similar to a Celestial Being.

But Grandmaster Lei could not become a God if he were dead.

Qian Meng whistled, shouted, and slammed Lei Hua's sword against his legs to get the shadow beast's attention. It worked, somewhat, splitting it for just long enough that he had time to feint a blow and slide beneath the beast's legs to pop up on the other side, gaze wild and legs stumbling. Grandmaster Lei opened his mouth to speak but didn't get the chance, heaving out a coughing breath coated with blood when the prince kicked him away too. And, without thinking of the consequences, he flicked blood onto the final talisman, sealing himself inside the entrapment circle with the creature.

"Qian Meng!" Lei Hua gasped in outrage, but the prince paid him no mind as he turned, holding the shimmering sword in both hands.

Behind him stood the wild creature, hackles raised and teeth bared, covered in the dripping blood of the Lei family. The sight enraged him; sent him on a rampage as he lunged forward. Channeling every long spar with the cultivators into his moves, allowing his qi to flare outward, stilling his trembling limbs and filling them with one last burst of energy. They traded blows so quickly he felt no pain. But the creature was far slower than him now, having already been heavily damaged by the cultivators.

He grinned, feral with delight as he whooped, launching his body up and over the creature's head. Ethereal sword flaring in such a quick arc it blurred sliver before slicing cleanly through the resentful spirit's neck, severing it from the body. Its legs stumbled, rumbling the trees around them once, twice, before it broke apart. Resentful energy burst in a flutter of dark tendrils, shooting toward the flags trapping them within the array. Qian Meng stumbled back, sword still locked between both fists, watching as it bounced off the talisman in a shower of spiritual energy. Like sparks coming off iron.

"Qian Meng!"

It was Lei Hua's voice again, desperate this time, nevertheless, he ignored it. He knew with aching clarity that the moment the dark energy realized it had no chance of escape, it would attack him instead. Blood poured from his wounds, dripping into the water and turning it a sooty crimson. With every drop, the flags around him flared, tightening the formation until no one and nothing but him could break it.

He inhaled the scent of it, fingers spasming at how familiar it was. And, only for a second, the prince was forced to remind himself that this was not his father's chambers. He was not in danger of being punished, was not being punished. This sacrifice was for helping people—to save those who could not do so themselves. The thought grounded him just enough to meet the rushing blow of demonic mist that attacked. Lei Hua's sword cut through it cleanly, but he struck again, screaming through his teeth.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Until his arms were shivering. Until he could no longer stand, knees falling into the water with a deafening splash, already soaked robes weighed down by watery blood. The heavy tint of resentment through the air was gone, but a whisper compared to what it had been. Only upon realizing it did Qian Meng allow his shoulders to slump, his qi that was once abundant in his chest spent to the last drop. Having been funneled through the spiritual weapon with such urgency it almost burned up his dantian.

"Meng'er."

Lei Hua's voice was a shot of noise through the quiet, pulling his tired gaze upward. The prince looked at him through his limp hair, licking his cracked lips. His zhiyin was smiling at him, worry a shining beacon as he crouched just outside of the array, pressing his hands to the barrier.

"Please, destroy the formation so I may help you. The creature has been defeated. You've won," Lei Hua coaxed as if he spoke to a wild animal.

"No, I don't want anyone else to be hurt," the prince admonished, almost scolding him.

Qian Meng then turned away, eyes dropping the sword lying atop his soaked knees. He ran one finger along the pulsing blade, marveling at it. Wishing he had one of his own.

"No one else will be hurt. Your qi exercised all the resentful energy in the formation."

That sounded reasonable, so he nodded, lips pressed in a thin line. Distantly, the prince realized he was in shock. He could barely hear his partner's voice, let alone feel the extent of his injuries. Perhaps breaking the formation was the right thing to do. Perhaps Lei Hua told the truth, and it was safe. Qian Meng lifted his eyes back up, hopeful.

"It's safe?" He murmured, needing confirmation.

Lei Hua's face turned impossibly fond, voice a gentle caress. "Yes, Meng'er, I would not lie to you. Please, drop the formation."

The prince let out a long-suffering sigh before tossing the sword toward the nearest flag, severing it in half. With a booming wave of spiritual energy that blew back their hair and forced the group to squint against it, the formation shattered and Lei Hua rushed forward. Taking Qian Meng into his arms with shaking hands that ran down his arms, pressing into his pulse points to funnel spiritual energy into the prince. Aiding in healing. It felt just as perfect, just as right as it did all those weeks ago when the man had stopped his panic attack.

Qian Meng sighed, content. "Ah, that feels nice."

Lei Hua laughed wetly. "Does it? Here, have some more."

The flow increased, pulsing through his meridians with blazing force. Qian Meng gasped faintly, shivering. The rest of the Lei family limped forward, eyes wide as they looked down at the man in Lei Hua's arms. Changming appeared particularly put out, anger furrowing his brow, and the prince couldn't help but tease him.

He pointed at the spot between the man's eyes. "You'll get early wrinkle lines if you keep doing that."

To everyone's great surprise, the Grandmaster laughed. "Indeed."

Lei Changming turned to his father as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Shufu! Do not encourage him! He is not a cultivator, yet he sacrificed himself to—"

The Grandmaster cut him off with a wave of his hand. "To defeat the beast. Yes, I am aware. It was a valiant deed, and one that I heartily thank the prince for. You have our everlasting gratitude."

Then he clasped his hands together and bowed low, hair falling in front of his face. Qian Meng panicked at the sight, looking between Lei Hua and his father for help. The man was no help though, only gave a little shrug with a relieved smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"No need! No need! Stop bowing!" Qian Meng shouted, eyes wide.

The Grandmaster straightened with an arched brow. "Why no need? You were the only to land the killing blow, the one even to exercise a resentful spirit that would have taken us hours the conventional way. You saved us much time and effort at the expense of your new dantian. That deserves thanks and praise. How is he doing, Hua?"

Lei Hua closed his eyes in concentration. "His dantian is exhausted, but not damaged. He will recover after a few days of bed rest."

The Grandmaster grinned, clapping his hands together. "That is excellent news. Now, let us gather our tools and return so the prince may rest."

⚔

The trip back to the castle felt ten times longer than the way there. Every step he took was harder than the last, and Qian Meng had to admit it left him feeling nauseous. His vision spun, but from sheer exhaustion rather than his injuries. Miraculously, Lei Hua had healed them to a close by replacing Qian Meng's qi with his own. It could only go so far though, and his dantian was once again depleted by the time his body used every donated drop to heal itself.

Lei Hua held him up against his side, one strong arm wrapped around his waist. And by God, the touch positively burned. They'd been close before, but the prince was still buzzing with the cultivator's residual spiritual signature. It made his skin that much more sensitive to his touch, twitching with every soft brush. To his credit, Lei Hua graciously ignored every little twitch or shiver that Qian Meng couldn't hold back. Which was a blessing and a curse, for Lei Changming was staring holes into the two of them just as he had this morning.

Again, Qian Meng didn't know what to say.

They stopped just inside the rear gates at the prince's request. He knew coming back through the front entrance would be a detrimental mistake. Here, he was close enough to his shed that he might go unnoticed. Grandmaster turned to him one last time, acknowledging him with a dip of the chin.

"Thank you again for your help today, Qian Meng. You have more than earned your place at my son's side. I look forward to guiding you in cultivation and witnessing your growth when you return to the Zephyr Temple with us."

The prince scrambled to stand up straight on his own, chest squeezing as he clasped his hands together, bowing low. "Thank you for your blessing, Grandmaster Lei."

The man smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Call me Shufu."

"O-oh. Of course, Shufu."

Lei Changming snorted, rolling his eyes, but everyone ignored him. Grandmaster Lei, his business done, grasped his eldest son by the arm and glided away, leaving Lei Hua behind. For a moment, the cultivator watched his family go, lips parted in wonder. As if he hadn't expected his father's approval so soon. Only Qian Meng's voice shook him out of it.

"How about we meet up again after a bath and a meal?" He asked.

Hua's eyes darted back to meet his, crinkling at the corners with quiet warmth. "Sure, but only if you promise me you will, at last, show me your quarters."

The prince flushed, stepping away and tucking his arms behind his back. "There isn't much to see, so just know that I warned you."

The cultivator grinned. "We'll see about that."

Those words were charged with something Qian Meng wasn't sure how to deal with, so he whirled around, waving the man away. Lei Hua's laughter followed him all the way to his bathing chamber, echoing long after its timber left the air. Solidifying in his chest just as resolutely as his heart, just as everlasting as the shimmering heat of his growing feelings for his zhiyin. Qian Meng found that he quite enjoyed it. He much preferred it over the desolation he'd drowned in for most of his life. Everything felt perfect. Like he'd paid the terrible price for happiness and he was, finally, reaping the rewards. The smile blooming on his lips was hesitant, and he pressed two fingers there.

It was then that the universe struck back.

"Oh, father will have a field day with this."