Death Guns In Another World

The night had grown quiet by the time the festival lights began to dim, leaving only the soft glow of lanterns swaying in the wind. Most of the crowd had dispersed; laughter still echoed faintly from the distant streets, but the heart of Velria was slowly falling into silence.

Alex and Saeko walked side by side through the cobbled path leading back to the inn. The air was cool and filled with the faint scent of blooming night lilies. Her hand rested in his, neither speaking—their silence spoke louder than words.

When they reached the inn, Alex held the door open for her. It was a quiet, elegant establishment, built in the old eastern style with dark wooden frames and paper-paneled windows that glowed softly from within. The innkeeper bowed politely as they entered, but Alex simply nodded and guided Saeko upstairs.

Their room was spacious and warm. A low table stood near the balcony, already set with a few light snacks—fruit, rice cakes, and bottles of wine that Alex had ordered earlier. The balcony doors were open, letting the cool mountain breeze flow in.

Saeko stepped inside, her steps light and measured. She turned toward the open balcony, gazing at the sea of stars stretching endlessly above Velria. “It’s beautiful,” she said quietly.

“It is,” Alex replied, his eyes not on the sky but on her.

She noticed his gaze, faint color touching her cheeks before she looked away. “You always stare too much.”

“I missed having someone worth staring at,” he said softly, walking past her to unfasten his cloak and set it aside. “Come on. Let’s wash up. You’ve been traveling and fighting for days—you must be exhausted.”

Saeko gave a small, tired smile. “You sound like an old man.”

“Maybe I am,” he said, chuckling. “Come on.”

The bathing room was built in a mix of eastern and western styles—a deep stone tub filled with steaming water, framed by bamboo on one side and smooth granite on the other. Steam curled through the air, carrying the soothing scent of sakura oils that Alex had mixed in.

Saeko let down her hair, its long black strands flowing freely past her shoulders. Alex rolled up his sleeves and tested the water’s temperature. “Perfect,” he said.

They slipped into the bath, each sitting at opposite ends. The warmth of the water eased the lingering ache in their muscles, the silence between them unbroken and serene. Outside, the faint chirping of crickets echoed through the night.

Saeko leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. “I’d almost forgotten what peace feels like,” she murmured.

Alex rested his head against the edge of the tub. “You’ve been fighting nonstop, haven’t you?”

She nodded faintly. “It was easier that way. If I kept moving, I didn’t have to think.”

He didn’t press further. He simply listened, letting the water carry away the weight of unspoken memories.

After a while, he stood, drying off with a towel. “Lie down,” he said quietly. “You’ve been tense since the moment I saw you. I’ll help you relax.”

She blinked, arching an eyebrow. “You’re giving me orders now?”

He smiled faintly. “Consider it a request.”

When Saeko lay down on the soft futon, Alex knelt beside her, rolling his shoulders before pressing his hands gently against her back. The warmth of his palms met the coolness of her skin, and slowly, he began to knead.

At first, she didn’t react—her muscles were so taut it felt like stone beneath his hands. But Alex’s touch was steady, patient. He pressed along her shoulders, down her spine, working out the tension from long hours of travel and battle.

“You’re really stiff,” he murmured.

“You try fighting a dozen monsters while guarding a caravan,” she replied, voice muffled by the pillow.

He chuckled softly. “Fair point.”

Minutes passed. The steady rhythm of his hands moved in perfect precision, neither too strong nor too soft. Each motion was deliberate, each touch laced with care rather than indulgence. Slowly, the rigidity in her posture began to ease.

Saeko exhaled deeply, the sound almost like a sigh. “You’ve gotten better at this,” she murmured.

“I practiced,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Nyx used to beat me to a pulp during training. Massages were the only thing keeping me alive.”

She laughed quietly, a sound so rare that Alex almost stopped to listen. “That sounds like you.”

When he finished, she didn’t immediately rise. Instead, she turned her head slightly, her hair spilling over the futon like a dark river. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

He smiled. “Anytime.”

Afterward, they changed into light robes and moved to the balcony. The night was still bright with stars. The moon hung low, its reflection dancing in the distant river.

Alex opened a bottle of wine, pouring two glasses. Saeko took hers without a word and sat beside him on the floor, her legs folded neatly beneath her.

They sat there in silence, sharing a quiet meal—slices of fruit, roasted chestnuts, and rice crackers. The wind brushed past them, cool and gentle.

At one point, Alex leaned back, gazing at the stars.

He looked at her then—really looked. The way her hair caught the moonlight, the way her eyes reflected the stars. “You’ve changed,” he said softly.

She turned toward him, her expression calm. “So have you.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I’m still the same idiot who got lucky enough to meet you.”

Her lips twitched upward, just barely. “You never learn when to stop talking.”

“Would you prefer I stay quiet?”

“No,” she said after a pause. “Not tonight.”

Time passed gently. They spoke of simple things—of the missions she’d taken, of the adventures he’d gone through since arriving in this world. They compared their scars like trophies, laughing at the memories that had once been drenched in blood and fear.

For once, they weren’t warriors or survivors. They were just two people sitting beneath the same stars, trying to remember what it felt like to live.

At some point, Saeko leaned against his shoulder, her head resting lightly there. The wine had painted a faint warmth across her cheeks.

“Don’t move,” she said softly when he shifted slightly.

He froze. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She chuckled quietly. “You’ve changed, but you still talk too much.”

“Comes with missing you,” he replied.

Her eyes softened, though she said nothing more.

Together they sat like that, the stars above them glittering like countless tiny flames. The breeze rustled her hair, carrying the faint sound of music from the distant streets where the last remnants of the festival continued.

Alex reached out slowly, intertwining his fingers with hers. She didn’t resist.

“You know,” he said quietly, “when I first arrived in this world, I promised myself I wouldn’t get attached. That I’d stay focused on surviving.”

“And?” she asked.

He smiled faintly. “Then I remembered I already broke that rule a long time ago—with you.”

She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Idiot,” she whispered. But the way she said it was soft, filled with affection.

They stayed that way until the wine was gone and the stars began to fade, the first light of dawn creeping slowly over the horizon.

When the world began to stir once more, Saeko lifted her head from his shoulder. “We should rest,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, though he didn’t move immediately.

As they stood, he glanced one last time at the stars, then at her. “We’ll have to fight again soon,” he said quietly. “Maybe harder than ever before.”

Saeko nodded. “Then we’ll fight together.”

He smiled. “Just like old times.”

She returned the faintest smile. “Exactly like old times.”