Chapter 228: Laughter And Late-Night Markets

Kane tugged on linen pants and a loose shirt, still damp from the spring. His nine tails swished impatiently as Cyrus took his time fastening buttons with infuriating precision.

"You look like you’re preparing for a board meeting."

"I look presentable." Cyrus smoothed his collar. "Unlike someone who dressed in forty-five seconds."

Kane stuck his tongue out.

The resort golf cart arrived moments later, piloted by a cheerful attendant who pretended not to notice Kane’s barely contained energy or the silver tails that kept flickering in and out of visibility.

They descended the winding path toward the beach, jungle sounds giving way to music and laughter.

The night market sprawled across the sand in organized chaos—dozens of vendor stalls with colorful awnings, grills smoking beneath strings of paper lanterns that cast everything in warm amber light.

The lanterns drifted skyward on thermal currents, their reflections dancing across dark waves like fallen stars.

Kane’s breath caught as they stepped onto the sand.

Salt hangs heavy in the air, mixing with wood smoke and the rich scent of grilled fish.

Vendors called out, hawking everything from fresh-caught octopus to skewered prawns glazed with chili sauce.

Families wandered between stalls, children clutching candied fruit while couples shared steaming bowls of coconut curry.

Spirit energy hummed beneath the surface—Kane spotted at least three selkies near the raw oyster bar, and that vendor grilling satay had the amber eyes of a tiger spirit.

But nobody stared or whispered.

Kane’s tails remained invisible, and Cyrus’s crimson eyes glowed faintly in the lantern light, yet the crowd simply... flowed around them.

Just another couple browsing the market.

Kane’s chest tightened with something unfamiliar—normalcy, maybe. The kind he’d always assumed existed only for humans.

Cyrus’s hand found the small of his back, warm and steadying.

"Where first?"

Kane pointed toward a grill belching fragrant smoke, where whole fish turned on spits above white-hot coals.

"There. And then everywhere else."

Cyrus’s quiet laugh made Kane’s tails swish happily as they moved into the crowd, blending seamlessly with the island’s magic-touched night.

Kane’s fox instincts surged forward the moment they approached the first grill.

He grabbed Cyrus’s wrist, dragging him toward the squid vendor with zero regard for dignified browsing.

"Four skewers, please," Kane demanded, already reaching for his wallet.

Cyrus paid before Kane could protest, accepting the smoking skewers.

Kane immediately bit into the first one, making an obscene sound of pleasure as charred tentacles hit his tongue.

Salt. Lime. Chili oil.

Perfect.

He demolished the first skewer before Cyrus had taken two bites, then started on the second.

Cyrus ate with infuriating elegance—each piece considered, savored, and consumed with the precision of someone who’d spent centuries perfecting etiquette.

Kane finished his third skewer while Cyrus was still halfway through his first.

"You’re ridiculous," Cyrus observed.

"You’re slow." Kane licked oil from his fingers, already scanning for the next target.

He spotted a noodle stall tucked between two fruit vendors, steam rising from massive woks as the chef tossed ingredients with theatrical flair.

Kane grabbed Cyrus’s hand, threading their fingers together as he pulled him through the crowd.

The vendor grinned when they approached, gesturing toward small ceramic jars of chili paste lined up like soldiers—mild to death.

Kane pointed at the second-to-last jar, its contents glowing ominous red.

"Two bowls. Extra sauce."

Cyrus raised an eyebrow but said nothing, accepting his bowl when it arrived.

Kane mixed the chili paste into his noodles, watching Cyrus do the same.

They lifted their chopsticks in unison.

The first bite hit Kane like a punch—heat blooming across his tongue, sweat prickling at his temples.

Delicious agony.

Cyrus remained composed, eating steadily without any visible reaction.

Kane waited.

Cyrus took another bite, then another, still perfectly controlled—

He coughed once, eyes widening fractionally. A thin wisp of crimson smoke escaped his lips.

Kane nearly choked on his noodles, laughing so hard tears gathered in his eyes.

"You—" Another laugh. "You almost breathed fire."

"I did not." Cyrus’s voice came out slightly raspy.

"There was smoke!"

"Entirely coincidental."

Kane was still snickering when they reached the tropical drink stand, where a cheerful vendor offered them coconut ice wine served in a hollowed fruit with two straws.

"For the newlyweds," she declared, winking.

Kane inhaled wine through his straw, coughing violently as it went down the wrong pipe.

Cyrus patted his back, expression carefully neutral.

"We’re not—" Kane managed between coughs.

The vendor had already moved to the next customer.

Cyrus guided the fruit’s rim toward Kane’s mouth again, helping him take a proper sip this time.

Sweet wine slid down Kane’s throat, cooling the lingering chili burn.

He pulled back, licking his lips—and froze as Cyrus’s thumb brushed the corner of his mouth.

The touch lingered, deliberate and possessive, wiping away a smear of chili oil.

Cyrus brought his thumb to his own lips, tasting it.

"You’re doing that on purpose," Kane muttered, face heating.

"I like watching you eat." Cyrus’s crimson eyes glinted in the lantern light, completely unapologetic.

They wandered deeper into the market, the crowd thinning as they reached the edges where artisan stalls clustered beneath swaying palms.

Kane stopped at a display of wood carvings, each piece depicting exotic spirits—selkies mid-transformation, tiger spirits prowling through bamboo forests, and phoenixes rising from carved flames.

His fingers traced over a small fox figure, no larger than his palm, with nine delicate tails curving upward.

"Cute," he murmured, setting it down reluctantly.

Cyrus’s hand settled on his lower back, guiding him toward the next stall.

Kane didn’t notice when Cyrus doubled back, exchanging quiet words with the vendor.

The music softened, laughter distant now as they reached the end of the market.

Kane’s energy flagged, the synthetic compound’s presence a dull ache beneath his ribs. He leaned into Cyrus’s side, letting the dragon take more of his weight.

"You know," he said softly, "if I didn’t know better, I’d think we were actually normal."

Cyrus’s arm wrapped around his waist, steadying him. "We’re close enough."

"That’s not comforting," Kane mutters, but he smiles.