Chapter 869 - 868: A Fitting End for the Fool Who Tried to Ruin Everything, and a Lovely Night with Tifa."

When the entire company had finally settled down, Alex had a rare free minute that he could devote entirely to himself without remainder. He was not in the least bothered that this time fell in the dead of night. Comfortably settled on the wide wooden windowsill of the hotel room in Kalm, Alex pulled his legs closer to his chest and laid upon them a weighty volume that he had long intended to reread.

Before immersing himself in reading, Alex unhurriedly prepared the ideal setting: he slightly opened the window sash, letting in the night mountain breeze, and generously poured amber bourbon into a glass.

Taking a breath of fresh air, he struck a lighter, lighting a thin cigar, and exhaled a stream of fragrant gray smoke into the window. The book in his hands was special—a rare edition of the "Malleus Maleficarum," indefinitely "borrowed" from the secret section of the Nevermore Academy library. Alex was sincerely convinced that Headmistress Weems would not notice the disappearance of the folio any time soon, and if she did—that was clearly no longer his headache.

In the worst case everything could be written off as a misunderstanding, for only Wednesday knew about his little scheme. Chuckling slyly at his own thoughts, Alex began unhurriedly sliding his gaze along the lines, sipping the alcohol and at the same time building plans for the next day.

Turning another page, he briefly distracted himself from the text and thoughtfully looked out the window, mentally going through the inventory. Even before the escape from Midgar he had managed to stock up thoroughly on the Upper Plate: in his spatial stores rested a complete set for autonomous survival in the wild—from sturdy tents, folding tables and chairs to pots and kitchen utensils.

If the squad had to spend the night under the open sky of Gaia, they would do it with maximum comfort. Stroking his chin, Alex thought about elementary everyday trifles like clothes and hygiene products for his companions.

"I think the simplest thing will be to hand them some gil in the morning and send them to the local shops—let them buy whatever their hearts desire," Alex muttered under his breath, raising his gaze to the bright moon flooding the town with cold silver.

"Who are you raving to in the middle of the night?" came a muffled grumble from the bed. Dean discontentedly turned onto his side and opened one eye, fixing on Alex settled on the window.

"Talking to a smart person. Go to sleep," Alex answered in a quiet but mocking tone, waving a hand indefinitely toward his friend.

"Then quit mutating into a schizophrenic. Either lie down and watch your damn dream or shut that bread-slicer of yours," Dean muttered irritably, turning onto his other side and more comfortably tucking the pistol under the pillow.

"As if you yourself so vitally need this sleep," Alex threw at Dean's back with a warm, sly smile, returning to reading the book.

Instead of a verbal answer Dean lazily raised his hand, stretched it toward the window, and showed Alex an expressive middle finger, with his entire appearance making it clear that the discussion was over. And he truly had no intention of arguing: after the power of Amara had forever changed his essence, the need for ordinary human sleep had fallen away by itself, just like the need to physically restore strength.

However, this by no means meant that he was ready to voluntarily give up such a simple and pure pleasure as sound sleep. Previously sleep had been a sheer punishment for him—every night he was turned inside out by nightmares in which those he had failed to protect came to life, reminding him of decades of unbearable torment in Hell and Purgatory.

For a long time he had managed to switch off only on the edge of alcohol poisoning, when consciousness simply blacked out in absolute darkness. Now, when these nightmarish phantoms had finally receded, Dean cherished every peaceful hour spent in bed and had no intention of trading it for anything. Sitting on the wide windowsill, Alex understandingly nodded his head and looked away.

He knew better than anyone else what meat grinder his friend had gone through, and was sincerely glad that Amara's intervention had pulled Dean out of that endless spiral of self-destruction. Deciding not to reopen old wounds any further, Alex returned to the pages of the book. But the moment he turned another leaf, his left eyelid began to twitch nastily from the growing noise.

Alex sharply turned his head to the side and with annoyance remembered that in the spacious room he was not spending the night alone—he had the company of two more tall men in the persons of Dean and Barret. The synchronous snoring emitted by these two was so powerful and rolling that it seemed the sound waves were vibrating not only the wooden floors but the very walls of the hotel. Calmly reading a book under this bass orchestra was categorically impossible.

"To hell with it… My nerves won't take this. I'd better go out onto the open-air terrace," Alex hissed with irritation, slamming the heavy folio of the "Malleus Maleficarum" shut with a dull clap and mentally driving away the temptation to throw both snorers right through the closed glass onto the street.

Saving the remnants of his reason from the rolling sonic pressure, Alex mentally vowed: next time he would allocate a neat sum from his pocket but rent separate apartments for Dean and Barret on the other end of town so they could snore to each other's delight until their jaws fell off.

Making his way to the exit of the room, he cast a sympathetic glance at Red XIII's bed. The poor four-legged comrade had been unlucky enough to find himself squeezed right between two walking amplitudes of sound, and Red was already trying full tilt to shove his ears and muzzle deep under the pillow, desperately attempting to muffle this nightmare.

Raising his palms in a short silent prayer for Red's peace of mind, Alex quietly opened the door and slipped out into the cool, lamp-lit corridor of the second floor, pressing the book and the life-saving bottle of bourbon to his side. Carefully closing the leaf behind him so as not to disturb any of the sleepers, Alex stretched sweetly, with a pleasant crack stretching his stiff neck.

Feeling how the temperature that had dropped overnight pleasantly refreshed his skin, Alex heard the quiet, methodical rustle of a broom against the plank floor coming from below. Leaning his elbows on the turned wooden railing of the second floor, Alex looked down.

In the dim light of the muted lamps Broden was bustling at the counter: the hotel owner was slowly sweeping the lobby, occasionally shuddering from a dull, labored cough into his sleeve. Hearing the creak of the floorboards above, Broden raised his head and calmly met Alex's gaze.

For a moment a shadow of suspicion flashed through Alex's mind: what if one of the Sephiroths had reached here as well, deciding through the body of the unfortunate hotel owner to stage another pretentious performance before the next disappearance?

But no. Looking more carefully, Alex understood that before him was still the same, only fading man, living out his last days on the last of his strength, whose will had long since turned into a fragile marionette under the subconscious influence of Jenova.

"A beautiful night tonight, Mr. Broden. Would you like to keep me company? We could share a glass and talk about life," Alex called quietly, amicably raising the bottle of bourbon and leaning his elbows on the railing.

"I'm afraid I must decline such a tempting offer. Health has not been pleasing at all lately, you know," Broden answered dully, hiding his face in his palm and again dissolving into a short, labored cough.

"My sincere sympathies. I hope you will feel better soon," Alex said with genuine sympathy, leaning his torso forward a little.

"Unfortunately… there's not much to hope for here. I think you yourself understand perfectly well why," Broden answered, forcing out a tired smile with difficulty and slowly shaking his head from side to side.

"You know, Mr. Broden, one very good acquaintance of mine once uttered a wise thought: not a single raindrop falls to the earth by chance, and not a single meeting in this world happens just like that," Alex said, smiling mysteriously at the corners of his lips and looking Broden straight in the eyes.

"And what, in your opinion, is that supposed to mean?" Broden inquired, slightly raising an eyebrow that trembled from fatigue, and lightly leaning his back against the chair standing nearby.

"And the answer to that question should come not from me, but from you yourself… Good night, Mr. Broden," Alex threw quietly, smoothly pushing off from the railing and heading toward the stairs leading to the roof.

Following Alex with a heavy, clouded gaze, Broden wearily shook his head. He had no strength left to rack his brains over other people's riddles and metaphors. He had long ago and unconditionally resigned himself to the finale that inevitably awaited him ahead, and the only available consolation remained handfuls of medicines dulling the pain in his chest while awaiting the same terrible fate that had already swallowed many of his old comrades.

Taking a deep, whistling breath, Broden again shuddered from a convulsive cough. Looking at the blood-stained palm, he only sighed bitterly and silently took the broom back.

Stopping at the half-open door of the girls' room, Alex listened for a second, his thoughts returning to the fate of the ex-SOLDIER. He knew perfectly well that Broden was a bright and reliable man, and if desired he could fully be pulled out, not allowing him to finally turn into a wordless marionette in Jenova's hands.

However, the reflections were interrupted by a quiet rustle coming from behind the thin wooden panel: judging by everything, their nighttime conversation with the hotel owner had after all disturbed the girls' light sleep. Deciding not to tempt fate and not to arrange nighttime interrogations, Alex quietly shook his head and continued upward.

And at that time in the room itself complete discord reigned. Yuffie was sleeping the dead sleep of the righteous, sprawled across the bed, muttering some nonsense in her sleep and with a foolish smile pressing a down pillow to herself. Claudia had settled in the farthest corner by the cold glass, out of old reflex habit stretching out her hand so that her fingers in the dark could feel the hilt of the Buster Sword.

Only Tifa and Aerith, lying on neighboring mattresses, were not even trying to close their eyes. Tifa was continuously looking at the dark wooden ceiling, feeling how her brain for the hundredth time scrolled through the nightmarish film of memories from five years ago.

She was convulsively trying to build logic, to convince herself of the obvious: Claudia simply could not have been in Nibelheim then. But the alien details surfacing in the story flatly refused to converge with her own reality, creating an unbearable cognitive dissonance. Lying on her side a little behind, Aerith sensitively caught every movement of her friend.

She heard perfectly well how Tifa time after time heavily tossed and turned on the sheets, unsuccessfully trying to drive away the heavy thoughts. Aerith would have given anything to stretch out a hand and take away this pain, but her own mind was blind to the details of that tragedy—she had no answers to the questions that were tormenting Tifa from within.

"Aerith, are you asleep?" Tifa said in a barely audible whisper, sharply turning onto her side and looking at the back of her friend settled nearby.

"Not yet… I just can't switch off my thoughts. But for some reason it seems to me that you want to ask about something completely different," Aerith answered quietly, slowly rolling onto her back and turning her head toward Tifa.

"Just… a mess in my head. Tell me, do you by any chance know what Claudia was doing all these five years? Where she disappeared all that time?" Tifa sighed heavily, resting her cheek on her arm bent at the elbow and rising on the mattress.

"And you're seriously asking me about this?" Aerith asked again in surprise, blinking her lashes and pointing a finger at herself distrustfully.

"Well… I just thought maybe you have some guesses or fragments of other people's memories," Tifa said guiltily, shaking her head and leaning her torso a little closer to the edge of the bed.

"Hm… Honestly, I'm not sure. Maybe some echoes do fly through my head, or maybe they've never been there. But one thing is clear: this is eating at you more than it seems," Aerith drawled thoughtfully, slightly tilting her head to the side and lightly moving a finger in the air.

"This will sound insane… But I know for certain that she wasn't there. Five years ago in Nibelheim… Claudia simply did not exist. At least not in that form and not with those memories she talks about," Tifa said quietly, freezing for a second, swallowing a lump in her throat and, fearfully looking over her shoulder at Claudia peacefully sleeping by the window, exhaled very quietly.

"If this is eating you up from the inside so much, why don't you ask Alex? It seems to me he knows far more than I do myself," Aerith delicately suggested, putting a finger to her lips and indicating the door with a nod.

"I don't want to bother him in the middle of the night. He's already carrying so much on himself… He must be more exhausted than all of us put together," Tifa immediately waved her hands, resolutely rejecting the idea.

"Oh, come on, stop worrying for nothing. Alex isn't sleeping anyway—he went up to the terrace on the roof. Go to him, Tifa. I'm sure a couple of firm, warm hugs will do you good right now," Aerith whispered with a warm, sly smile, lightly pushing Tifa upward with a little finger.

"Aerith… what are you…?" Tifa mumbled embarrassedly, blushing deeply in the dark and convulsively trying to find words to hide her embarrassment.

"We're friends, Tifa. I already told you I'm ready to share. Go. And tomorrow morning you and I will switch," Aerith whispered conspiratorially, covering her mouth with her little palm and narrowing her eyes cheerfully.

At these words Tifa finally fell into a stupor, and her face flared with such a bright blush that in the semi-darkness of the bedroom it became noticeable to the naked eye. And the reason for her embarrassment was not even Aerith's readiness itself to "share" Alex, but the astonishing, natural ease with which she spoke about it.

Aerith had brought up this conversation more than once already, and Tifa herself remembered perfectly well how passionately Jessie had kissed Alex right on the threshold before their departure from Midgar to Kalm. Watching Tifa's frozen, frightened face, Aerith could not hold back and quietly giggled into her little fist.

This warm chuckle finally brought Tifa out of the trance. She shook her head and bestowed upon the Aerith settled on the pillows a tired, playfully stern look. In response Aerith only narrowed her eyes slyly and again beckoned her with a little finger toward the exit—come on, go already for your portion of well-deserved firm hugs.

Letting out a quiet, surrendering sigh, Tifa silently lowered her legs from the mattress and began pulling on her boots, with all her strength avoiding a meeting of gazes. Having put on her footwear, she moved on tiptoe toward the exit, along the way convulsively repeating to herself like a mantra: "I'm going only to talk. Nothing more, just an important conversation." However, already taking hold of the cold metal handle, Tifa involuntarily caught herself thinking that she honestly did not object at all to Alex's warm hands on her shoulders either. From this sudden honesty with herself an involuntary, embarrassed smile spread across her lips.

"I'll be back soon," Tifa whispered barely audibly, slightly opening the leaf and looking back.

"Go on, go on, have fun there! If Yuffie and Claudia wake up ahead of time, I'll simply say that you got up at the crack of dawn to get some fresh air," Aerith answered with a lively chuckle, cheerfully narrowing her green eyes at Tifa.

"I'm going only to talk…" Tifa hissed, embarrassedly knitting her brows at Aerith lying under the blanket.

"You forgot to add: and also to hug," Aerith finished for her with a giggle and with a clear conscience turned to the wall, wrapping herself more cozily in the down blanket.

Casting a farewell glance at Aerith wrapped in the blanket, Tifa silently slipped out into the corridor of the second floor illuminated by dim lamps and carefully closed the door behind her. From below the dull, lulling rustle of the broom with which Broden continued to put things in order still carried.

Raising her eyes to the ceiling, Tifa mentally noted the direction: Alex should be up there, on the open roof terrace. And although natural curiosity and slight anxiety grew inside her—why instead of normal sleep he preferred to while away the night under the open sky—Tifa decided not to guess once more on this account, but simply climb up and ask about everything directly.

However, just a couple of minutes before her fingers touched the handle of the exit from her room, on the terrace itself a scene unfolded that no one in all of Kalm should have witnessed. The entire neat wooden terrace was literally flooded with thick blood that had not yet had time to fully cool, turning into the scenery for a nightmarish, silent slaughter from which clearly no one had come out alive.

Chairs, small tables, and even decorative flower tubs were broken into splinters, and the floorboards were soaked through with crimson moisture. In the middle of this bloody scene only the measured, cynical rustle of turned pages and the rare, ringing clink of an ice cube against the walls of a glass were heard.

This cozy sound background strangely contrasted with the wet, wheezing gurgle coming right from under the feet—the sound of a person choking on his own blood mixed with torn lung tissue. Settled on the only miraculously surviving wooden deck chair, Alex impassively set the glass of bourbon on a small wooden table covered in blood and carefully turned another page of the "Malleus Maleficarum."

Hearing the growing gurgling wheezes at his side, Alex sighed heavily and wearily, after which he smoothly closed the heavy folio. Leaving the book on the armrest, Alex lowered a cold, emotionless gaze on what until recently had been a living being.

A meter away from him in a pool of blood an tormented body was convulsing. The limbs of the poor wretch were twisted at completely unthinkable, unnatural angles so that white fragments of crushed bones stuck outward. The breastbone was deeply depressed inward, pierced through by the broken wooden legs of a chair, and the face had turned into a continuous mess from multiple heavy blows.

The long silver hair was completely stuck together from the caked crust. Looking at this agonizing creature tangled in its own flesh, Alex did not even change expression. Slowly bringing the thin cigar to his lips, he clicked the lighter wheel, releasing a thick stream of gray smoke into the night air.

"So why the fuck did you even climb out here? Did you seriously think, you fuck, that I would run after you like Cloud and throw snotty phrases about the power of friendship? That I would stop you with a pretentious shout? Not let you destroy the world? Huh, Sephiroth? Why the fuck are you lying there gurgling now, you bastard? Was it worth it, motherfucker?" Alex threw with icy irritation in his voice, spitting right onto Sephiroth's broken, bloodied body.

"Kh-gh-h…" Sephiroth forced out a hoarse, constrained sound with incredible difficulty, looking at the offender with swollen eyes flooded with a crimson film.

"That's right, you faggot. Did you really imagine that you could come and wash my brains the way you idiots did with Sephira? Or maybe the way you fucked with your Cloud's brains? And how did all that end? Well, why are you silent? Where are your signature speeches about being the chosen master of the planet? Oh yeah… completely forgot. Probably hard for you to hold forth when I ripped out your tongue. What a pity," Alex smirked viciously, lazily throwing one leg over the other and slightly rocking the thin cigar between his fingers.

Slowly rising from the deck chair, Alex took a couple of steps and lazily pushed with the toe of his heavy boot the head of Sephiroth that hung limply, raising his chin.

Looking at Alex with his blood-filled eyes, Sephiroth tried with all his might to utter at least a word. But as Alex had said, in his mouth there was not only no tongue but no teeth either; even the jaw was crushed to such a state that it was impossible even to move it.

"Kh-gh-kgh-h…" a new bubbling wheeze tore from Sephiroth's mutilated chest as he unsuccessfully tried to move fingers broken in several places.

"Yes-yes, I know. You're not alone, there are many of you, this isn't the end and all that blah-blah-blah. Only for this specific version of you… Unfortunately, this was the last appearance on stage in our amazing blood spectacle. And we'll definitely get to your buddies. Although they'll probably be far luckier than you," Alex spoke in a soft, almost affectionate tone, squatting next to the dying Sephiroth.

With these words Alex leaned lower, catching the will-less Sephiroth by the hair with his fingers, and slowly brought the smoldering tip of the cigar right up to his eye. Holding the smoldering tip of the thin cigar only an inch from Sephiroth's frozen pupil, Alex felt a dull, icy wave of irritation rising inside.

He was already damnably fed up with all this: the moment he managed to carve out literally a couple of hours alone with himself to calmly read and think about nothing, some weak-minded maniac would inevitably be found who decided to jump out from around a corner and spoil all the peace.

Characteristically, these idiots each time sincerely believed that they could do something, and in the end only caused extra trouble. And this half-dead Sephiroth sacredly believed that he could pull the same trick as with poor Cloud, easily shaking someone else's mind with his cheap mental manipulations.

Alex was already preparing to crunch the smoldering tobacco right into the eye socket of the defeated enemy when from below, from the stairwell opening, came the barely audible creak of an opening door and careful steps. Catching the thin, recognizable trail of ripe cherry and tender jasmine, Alex instantly recognized Tifa's familiar scent.

Mentally estimating that Tifa had probably climbed up here in search of solitude and a conversation with him, Alex clicked his tongue in annoyance. Playing the sadist in front of the shocked Tifa was clearly not in his plans. The heavy hand unclenched, allowing Sephiroth's will-less head to thud dully against the floorboards.

Straightening to his full height, Alex lazily snapped his fingers—and in the same instant the space around them rippled. The blood spatters, mountains of turned-out flesh, and furniture fragments disappeared in the blink of an eye as if they had never been there, returning the terrace to its pristine, cozy, and completely innocent appearance.

"Hey, Penny, come out and play with the new kid. Only hurry up, we have guests," Alex threw, lightly tapping the toe of his boot on his own shadow, on which a pair of predatory, mad yellow eyes immediately opened.

"Hee-hee-hee-hee… A new little one wanted to watch the clown Pennywise's show? How delightful! It's been so long since there were spectators in my underground circus…" a sinister whisper ringing with childish laughter came from behind Alex's back, and right after that a bunch of bright-red balloons fluttered out of his deep shadow into the cold night air.

Watching a whole cluster of bright-red balloons fly out of his own shadow, Alex wearily rolled his eyes, mentally addressing Zhang Ya a silent question: why arrange this circus? In response he felt only a light but quite tangible push in the shin—his ghostly wife made it clear that joking about him remained her favorite entertainment.

Right after the balloons Pennywise himself emerged from the gloom with his habitual, unnaturally wide grin from ear to ear. In his knobby, fanged palm he clutched a bunch of thin strings. Finding himself in the fresh night air, Pennywise suddenly shuddered greatly, emitting a high, ecstatic sob—he was literally choking on the intoxicating, concentrated aroma of primordial fear.

Seeing how this nightmarish clown writhed in ecstasy, Alex could not hold back and heartily gave him a kick in the rear, hurrying him with the disposal. Receiving the unexpected acceleration, Pennywise turned and bestowed upon Alex such an offended look as if he were a puppy abandoned in the frost. From such an expression on his face Alex shuddered with disgust.

"Hurry it up," Alex hissed shortly, pointing a finger toward Sephiroth, since Tifa's steps on the stairwell already sounded quite close.

Exaggeratedly rolling his yellow eyes, Pennywise reluctantly turned to the body lying on the boards, which at that moment was shaking from a panic attack. Savoring someone else's helplessness, Pennywise giggled constrictedly, and in the same second both of them were covered by a dense swarm of bright-red balloons.

Hearing the creak of the last step, Alex briskly waved his palm, forcing the anomalous balloons to instantly dissipate into the night coolness without a single trace. The moment the red mist melted, Tifa's cute head appeared above the railing. Seeing Alex on the deck chair, she smiled with relief.

"Hi… Why are you here and not in bed?" Tifa asked quietly, climbing onto the terrace platform and heading toward Alex.

"Dean and Barret are blasting such a duet snore that the walls are shaking there. So I decided to save my ears. And why are you still not sleeping?" Alex smirked serenely, bestowing a warm look on Tifa.

"Oh yes… Barret really knows how to produce roulades. And I… just can't switch off my head. Thoughts keep going in circles and won't let me sleep," Tifa shook her head softly, approaching the carved railing and wearily leaning her back against it.

"Want to talk it out? Or first just need to gather your spirit a little?" Alex inquired with a smile, settling more comfortably on the deck chair.

"I'm not… distracting you, am I? I see you're reading here; I wouldn't want to barge in with my nonsense…" Tifa mumbled with slight embarrassment, pointing an elegant little finger at the rare book resting on the table.

"Don't even think about it. Come on, sit down. We'll talk," Alex softly interrupted her, with a warm smile patting the sturdy wooden edge of the deck chair right next to himself.

Seeing how Alex offered her to sit with him on the deck chair, Tifa laughed quietly and calmly approached closer. Stopping nearby, she hesitated for a second, unable to decide in her head whether she should sit with Alex or still drag a separate chair from somewhere.

Noticing this momentary hesitation, Alex softly took the initiative into his own hands. Before Tifa could orient herself, her wrist was carefully intercepted, and in the next moment she was already on his lap, drawn into reliable, firm embraces. Blinking in surprise, Tifa raised her head and met Alex's gaze, on whose lips a kind, sly smile played.

For a second a sensible thought flashed through her mind that perhaps it would be worth getting up and not abusing the moment by settling so freely on top of him. But the moment this warmth enveloped her shoulders, any objections evaporated by themselves. Absolute, lulling serenity replaced the anxieties, so that all fears dissolved at once into the night air.

Abandoning all attempts to resist, Tifa softly lowered her head onto his shoulder, closing her eyes from pure, physical pleasure as his fingers lightly and carefully slid through her hair. Enjoying this quiet caress, she hugged Alex around the waist, trustingly burying her nose in the curve of his neck.

Only now, feeling this on her own experience, did she fully understand why Aerith spoke with such warmth about these embraces. Alex, continuing to steadily and methodically run his fingers through Tifa's dark strands, perfectly realized what swarm of heavy questions and contradictions was still raging in her head after Claudia's confused story.

"You… you don't mind if I stay like this a little longer? I really need this right now," Tifa said in a barely audible whisper, pressing even tighter against Alex.

"You can stay as long as you need. After all, it's not the first time we've been this close to each other," Alex answered with a soft, soothing chuckle, lightly resting his cheek against the top of Tifa's head.

"Thank you…" Tifa exhaled almost inaudibly, tightly closing her eyes and dissolving into the long-awaited peace.

Settling her face on Alex's chest, Tifa finally allowed herself to let go of the heavy, intrusive thoughts, giving her mind a long-awaited respite. Slightly shifting to find the most comfortable position, she involuntarily compared this moment with their previous embraces, which more often served as a simple sign of gratitude.

But now everything felt different—these were not just embraces, but a true cocoon of safety, sheltering from the raging world and the endless chain of insane events that had piled onto their squad in recent days. Softly smiling at her thoughts, Tifa hugged him a little tighter, completely surrendering herself to the power of the comfort spreading through her body.

Alex, sensitively catching Tifa's measured, calming breathing, only slightly intercepted the weighty volume of the book with his free hand, returning to reading. At the same time his fingers continued to steadily and affectionately run through her hair, giving her the opportunity to rest and clean all the mental garbage from her head.

He understood perfectly well what heavy question was turning on her tongue, and deliberately did not rush events, giving her the right to take the first step herself. Without noticing it herself, Tifa in half-sleepy drowsiness lightly rubbed her cheek and lips against his neck, at the same time involuntarily intertwining her legs with his.

At that moment she cared least of all how embarrassing or uncomfortable this looked—she simply wanted to dissolve in this warmth. Feeling a light tickle on the skin, Alex lowered his gaze downward and tenderly touched the top of her head with his lips, smoothly sliding his palm along her spine.

Feeling this warm kiss, Tifa could not hold back a happy smile, and a light, barely noticeable in the dark blush flared on her cheeks, but she had no intention of pulling away even an inch. Lying like that a little longer, she was surprised to feel that from the surging relaxation she was beginning to imperceptibly sink into sleep.

Not wanting to fall asleep right here and now, Tifa carefully freed her arms from under his back and carefully turned over, resting the back of her head on his firm shoulder. Immersed in reading, Alex, the moment he felt her movement, automatically lowered a warm palm onto her stomach. For a second Tifa tensed slightly from the unexpected contact, but immediately relaxed, not even trying to remove his hand.

"What book are you even reading?" Tifa inquired with a light, embarrassed note in her voice, straining with all her might to distract herself from how confidently and warmly Alex's palm was stroking her stomach.

"Just… ancient legends and superstitions. Just the thing to while away a sleepless night," Alex drawled thoughtfully, turning a dense page with a light movement of his thumb.

"And how is it? Engaging reading?" Tifa asked with growing curiosity, involuntarily covering his hand that had moved to her waist with her own palm.

"Honestly, not particularly. I for some reason expected this thing to turn out far more interesting when… let's say, I requisitioned it," Alex admitted, slightly pursing his lips, rising and pulling Tifa closer to himself so that it would be more comfortable for her to settle between his spread legs.

"You stole it? Why?!" Tifa blurted out, rounding her eyes in amazement and shifting in place to settle more comfortably.

"We-e-ell… it seemed to me there would be more practice in demonology. And in general, I prefer the term 'took for indefinite storage,'" Alex parried with a cheerful chuckle, lightly pressing his cheek to Tifa's cheek.

"Eh… for some reason I'm not even surprised. After all, you're the one who managed to divert a large sum right from the accounts of the head of the Turks himself," Tifa sighed playfully, slightly tilting her head back and intertwining her fingers with his.

"That was legitimate compensation for moral damage. And the book I might even return someday. Probably. If the stars align in the right combination," Alex answered without missing a beat in a cheerful tone, setting the book aside and now hugging Tifa around the waist with both hands.

"Sometimes you behave like an absolute child… Looks like I'll have to keep an eye on you whether I want to or not, or else you'll dismantle half the town brick by brick," Tifa said with a tender, sincere laugh, lightly touching his cheek with her lips.

To be continued...

(Alex had hoped that, at the very least, he'd get a few minutes of peace in Kalm—but as it turned out, that wasn't to be. One couple decided to start snoring, making it impossible for him to read, while another idiot jumped out, spouting some melodramatic nonsense—only to end up losing his tongue and becoming a new friend to Pennywise. On top of that, I'd been planning to use this moment to get closer to Tifa; it's high time they grew a bit more intimate. Hehehe. Now, what else was I going to mention? Right—we're making progress toward our goal of leaving the city and moving on. Oh, and that's right—Dean is going to get his own Chocobo! Oh, yeah. Dean wants to ride a giant bird, and as a grown man, he's perfectly entitled to do so—and no one's going to stop him. And now, time to eat. Peace, love, and as for anyone who dares to disturb Alex's downtime—well, they've only got themselves to blame for what happens next.)

Early access to chapters on my patreon: p*treon.com/GreedHunter