Chapter 904: Awkward Moment (1)

Liam followed Charlotte through the quieter Southern District with the strong suspicion that efficiency had betrayed him.

Most of the second-years were indoors now, packed into the reinforced barracks, the usable side rooms, and the few sheltered spaces that had been cleared enough to hold bodies without immediately threatening to drop a ceiling on them. The faint glow of lamps and controlled magic seeped through cracks in old walls. Low voices drifted from inside, some tired, some nervous, some too quiet to belong to students who had fully settled.

A few still ate by the courtyard edge under supervision, chewing through rations with the dull focus of exhaustion. Others had already fallen asleep sitting against stone, weapons close to hand and boots still on because no one trusted Veyrhold enough to become comfortable.

Outside, the district still moved in guarded lines. Patrol pairs crossed marked routes with spears, swords, bows, and glowstones kept low. Wall watch remained active above, silhouettes passing along the damaged parapet at steady intervals. The road leading deeper into Veyrhold stayed mostly empty, its darkness left alone by students who had finally learned that curiosity inside a half-secured ruin was not a virtue.

The Southern District was usable for the night.

Only for the night.

That distinction remained clear in every shadowed doorway Liam passed.

Charlotte walked beside him as though she had never met a dangerous place she could not turn into a private promenade. Her pace was light, unhurried, and deliberately just slow enough to be irritating. She kept her hands loosely behind her back, curls shifting with each step, her body angled toward him whenever the path allowed it. Now and then, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye with the kind of amusement that meant she knew exactly how much patience she was consuming.

"You know," she said softly, "most boys would look a little happier if I personally offered to escort them through a dark, ruined settlement."

Liam kept his gaze forward. "Most boys are easier to disappoint."

Charlotte laughed under her breath. "There it is. That warm gratitude. Truly, Liam, you make every useful errand sound like a funeral march."

"Funerals are usually better organized."

"Oh? Should I have brought flowers?"

"Silence would have been enough."

"Cruel." She placed a hand over her chest as if wounded. "And here I thought you were looking for Sheila because your heart could not bear a whole evening apart from her."

"I need to report something."

"To Sheila."

"To the commander."

Charlotte’s smile sharpened. "That sounds even more suspicious when you say it like that."

"It sounds accurate."

"You have no romantic imagination at all."

"Good."

"Do you ever get tired of using that word like armor?"

"No."

She hummed, clearly pleased rather than discouraged. Liam ignored the sound and focused on the route. They were not taking the most direct path through the courtyard. Charlotte led him around the side of the reinforced barracks, past a low broken wall, then through a narrower lane that curved away from the common patrol route before bending back toward a quieter section of the Southern District.

It was not unsafe. He would have stopped if it were. The markings were still within the cleared perimeter, and the patrol lines overlapped near enough that a shout would carry. But the route was indirect.

Deliberately indirect.

He noticed the small choices. Charlotte slowed whenever he grew silent enough to be comfortable. She glanced back when she took a turn, not to make sure he followed, but to enjoy the fact that he had to. She walked close to the edge of lamplight, not fully in shadow and not fully out, turning even a simple guide task into something shaped for amusement. Her help was probably real. That did not mean she was not playing with him.

Because it was Charlotte.

’Finding Sheila myself might have been faster,’ Liam thought as they passed a sealed doorway marked with two warning cuts.

Charlotte looked back at him as if she had heard the thought. "You are wondering whether abandoning me would be more efficient."

"Yes."

"That was quick."

"It was obvious."

"And yet you are still following."

"You claimed to know where Sheila is."

"I do."

"Then you are just taking your time."

"I am savoring your company."

"Do not."

"Too late."

He gave her a flat look.

She smiled at it as if he had given her a gift.

They passed a patrol pair near the end of the lane. The students straightened at the sight of Liam, then looked briefly confused when they saw Charlotte leading him somewhere with the relaxed confidence of someone escorting a guest through her own home. Liam ignored their expressions. Charlotte gave them a cheerful little wave that made one of them look away too fast. The patrol continued on, probably deciding that whatever this was, it was not worth being involved in.

After another short stretch, the district grew quieter. The sounds from the barracks thinned behind them, replaced by the faint drip of water somewhere nearby and the distant scrape of a wall-watch boot above. A broken structure leaned to their left, its roof mostly gone but one side still standing high enough to form partial shelter from the open courtyard. Another low wall curved ahead, creating a small pocket hidden from the main paths but not far enough to be outside the secured area.

Charlotte slowed.

Liam’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Charlotte."

"Yes?"

"If this is useless, I am leaving."

"You are always leaving somewhere." She stepped around the low wall and looked back with a pleased smile. "Relax. We have arrived."

Liam followed her two steps farther.

Then stopped.

Sheila stood in the partially sheltered space beyond the wall, alone beside a shallow stone basin someone had dragged from one of the salvage piles and filled with a small amount of rationed water. Her upper field layer was off and folded nearby with her belt and outer gear placed neatly on top of it. She still wore her field pants, boots, and a simple tank top, but the absence of her jacket made the moment feel unexpectedly private.

Her long white hair had been tied loosely over one shoulder to keep it out of the way, and she held a damp cloth against her stomach, wiping away the grime, sweat, and dried dust the day had left behind.

For half a breath, no one moved.

Sheila looked up.

Her body froze slightly, not dramatically, but enough that the cloth stopped halfway across her exposed midsection. Her eyes moved from Charlotte to Liam, then back to Charlotte with a dawning mixture of embarrassment and accusation. She had clearly chosen this place because it was away from the common paths while still within the secured district. She had expected quiet. Privacy, at least for a few minutes. Instead, Charlotte had arrived with Liam beside her as if this were exactly the sort of situation the evening required.

The awkwardness sharpened because it was Liam.

Again.

It was not the same as the dorm incident. She was not fresh from the shower with only a towel between herself and panic. She was dressed, technically. Covered enough that no reasonable person would call the situation scandalous. But the memory sat beneath the moment, making it feel far worse than it should have. Her shoulders tightened, and she lowered the cloth with careful slowness as if moving too quickly might somehow make the scene more embarrassing.

Liam registered the situation in the time it took to blink.

Sheila was not naked. She was caught off guard. Charlotte had done this on purpose or close enough to make the distinction irrelevant. The useful report in his Void storage suddenly felt like something that could have waited until dawn. His discomfort did not come from Sheila’s appearance. It came from the unnecessary social complication now standing between him and a simple conversation.

’Should have found her myself,’ he thought.