The light inside the inn was almost too bright.
As soon as Guts crossed the threshold, he squinted, momentarily blinded by the overhead lamps. A warm, flashy glow — almost insolent.
Nothing like the dusty arena he had just left.
Nothing like the heavy silence still clinging to his boots.
He took a few steps, the echo of his sword resounding against the wooden floor, and spotted Rem.
She was waiting by the counter, standing straight, hands folded in front of her. Her face lit up as soon as she saw him — a mix of relief, curiosity… and restrained impatience.
A few meters behind her, Roswaal leaned casually against a column, lost in thought, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window.
He said nothing. Didn't move. Just a spectator to whatever came next.
Rem, however, stepped forward without hesitation.
Rem (smiling softly):
"So, that famous hookah night… turned into a wrestling match with the whole kingdom?"
She said it with a light, teasing tone. But her eyes were searching for something else.
A wound. A tension. A truth.
She didn't mention Emilia — deliberately. And Guts felt it.
He stood silent for a moment, letting the weight of his steps echo until he reached her.
He wasn't out of breath. Not exhausted.
But something inside him had given way.
Guts (deep voice):
"Let's just say… I made an impression."
Rem :
"So… shall we go?"
Guts :
"Let's go."
Before stepping out, he turned his head one last time.
Emilia stood further back, frozen in silence. She didn't meet his gaze. She even turned away — as if his very presence still irritated her.
Guts lingered for a heartbeat… then walked away without a word.
They left the inn almost as soon as they had arrived, two shadows slipping away from the inn's too-bright light.
Rem walked beside him — quiet, attentive.
Rem (softly):
"I hope… it's not too bad, between you two."
Guts (low voice, eyes on the horizon):
"No… I think it'll pass."
He paused, then added with a lighter tone:
Guts:
"By the way, I found a hookah bar not far from here. I'm taking you there."
Rem (surprised, almost amused):
"Really? Just the two of us? You're not inviting the others?"
Guts (shaking his head):
"No. Just you and me."
He lifted his eyes to the capital's sky, bathed in night's dim glow.
Guts (inner thought):
I need to unwind. Forget the shouting, the stares, the politics…
And with her — maybe this weight will ease, just a little.
They pushed open the door to the hookah bar, and a soft mist greeted them instantly.
A sweet scent filled the air, blending orange, mint, and spiced berries.
Dim lighting filtered through lazy smoke trails, casting shifting shadows on the ochre walls.
Guts took a slow breath, almost unconsciously.
A memory stirred — brief moments of calm, of camaraderie, of rest between storms.
Without a word, he sat in a large cushioned chair in the corner of a cozy lounge.
Rem followed, settling beside him, eyes on him.
Guts flipped through the menu slowly.
The names passed before his eyes — strange, almost poetic.
He frowned slightly… then smiled faintly.
The Fragrances of the Mist Garden:
• Dragon's Breath – icy mint and fiery lemon
• Night Petals – wild blackberry and cherry blossom
• Golden Dunes – warm honey and oriental spices
• Dawn's Tears – watermelon and soft rose
• Opal Night – black vanilla and blond tobacco
• Stardust – black grape and green mint
• Desert Kiss – red apple and cinnamon
• Moonlight Glint – coconut and almond milk
• Awakening of the Colossus – ripe banana and fresh pineapple
• Crimson Flame – pomegranate and black licorice
He slowly ran a finger down to the last one.
Then moved back up to another, looking thoughtful.
Guts (calm, almost amused):
"Banana and pineapple… Awakening of the Colossus. Yeah. That suits me."
Rem (curious):
"A tropical choice?"
Guts (smirking):
"I needed some sun."
A peculiar man approached their table.
Short, bald, well into his forties, with dark circles like old regrets too deep to forget —
Yet somehow, he smiled warmly, proud of his little establishment.
Owner (cheerful, playful):
"Ah, fresh faces! We don't get many tourists around here. Have you chosen your flavor?"
Guts barely looked up, then nodded firmly.
Guts:
"Two Colossus Awakenings."
Rem glanced at him, surprised, slightly confused.
Rem (softly, almost shy):
"But… I don't even know how it works…"
Guts gave a faint smile, raising a hand toward the owner.
Guts:
"Add a teapot. For two."
The owner burst out laughing, clearly entertained, and tapped the table with delight.
Owner (teasing, with a wink):
"Ahhh, a connoisseur! I'll bring it right over, master smoker."
He left with a spring in his step, contrasting with the subdued atmosphere of the lounge.
Around them, the smoke drifted slowly under the golden light.
Then came the wait.
Silent. Still.
Not a word passed between Rem and Guts.
They just sat there, side by side, suspended in that fragile calm —
He, buried in thought.
She, tense with quiet anticipation.
Guts observed the surroundings.
The bar was full, even crowded. They were lucky to find a seat —
That simple thought drew a faint smile to his lips.
Lucky…
Yes, despite everything — the stares, the tension, the accusations —
He had earned this one moment of quiet.
A shelter. Just for now.
Rem only had eyes for him.
He didn't look at her. Didn't seem to notice her at all —
But she didn't mind.
She was happy.
Happy to be here, with him, in a moment that belonged to them alone.
Her heart beat faster than expected.
Maybe it was the tension of being alone with him?
Maybe the thrill of discovering something new — the hookah, the night, the shared silence with someone so raw, so unreachable.
Maybe both.
She smiled as she looked at him.
Then the moment broke with a familiar voice.
Owner (cheerful):
"Here you go, my friend… And for you, young lady."
He set down two polished hookahs and a steaming teapot at the center of the table.
Light glinted off the copper, and steam drifted up to mingle with the already fragrant mist.
Guts didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the mouthpiece, brought it to his lips and took a deep pull.
First draw — to warm the coals.
Second — deeper.
Third. Fourth. Fifth.
The smoke thickened — warm, full, swirling.
The coals glowed red, crackling softly.
He knew: now was when the flavor was purest. Strongest.
These first minutes — the most intense. Fleeting joy, if you could grasp it.
Next to him, Rem hesitated.
She studied the device in her hands, the pipe that seemed so simple —
Yet Guts drew something almost peaceful from it.
She brought the mouthpiece to her lips and inhaled softly…
Nothing.
Frowning, she looked at Guts, absorbed, almost entranced.
She tried again — deeper this time.
And then — smoke filled her lungs.
Instant hit.
She coughed violently, caught off guard by the sweet, heavy burn.
Guts turned his head toward her and smiled, faintly amused.
Guts (calm, nearly conspiratorial):
"So? What do you think?
…Hits hard, huh? Don't worry, you'll get used to it.
You might even end up liking it."
Rem, still coughing, eyes watery, didn't answer right away.
She nodded, embarrassed, surprised… but not unhappy.
Guts (gently, gesturing toward her hookah):
"Want me to light it for you? It'll go smoother after that."
She nodded again, this time with a small smile.
He brought the tube to his lips without thinking.
To him, it was nothing. Just a gesture.
But to Rem… it meant everything.
A tiny, invisible detail.
Something he had touched. His breath, his hand — now hers.
She took it, cheeks tinged with pink, heart thudding.
It was silly, she knew.
Just a hookah pipe.
But to her, it was like a kiss.
A indirect kiss , she thought, amused by the absurdity.
A meaningless act for him —
A memory for her.
She was about to smile and say something more…
But her gaze slipped toward the window.
The image of Emilia, distant after the ceremony, returned.
Her silence. Her averted gaze.
She had changed.
And for the first time, Rem felt something shift.
A tension.
Thin, but real.
Between the knight and his lady.
Emilia hadn't greeted Guts.
Hadn't even looked at him.
And that…
Froze something deep inside her.
Guts drew another long puff.
He said nothing — but a faint shiver passed through him.
A memory of Emilia's gaze — or rather, of its absence.
She hadn't looked at him. Not once.
And for some reason he couldn't explain…
That bothered him.
They smoked in silence for a while.
Time stretched.
The lounge dissolved into a cloud of exotic scents, and only the soft glow of lanterns filtered through the swirling haze.
Rem (softly, almost timidly):
"Do you… do this often?"
Guts (shrugs):
"When I can.
When I find a quiet place — and a night that's worth it."
He took another draw and exhaled slowly.
The smoke rose in spirals — like thoughts made visible.
Rem:
"You know… I think I get why you like it.
It's like… disappearing from the world. Just for a bit."
Guts turned to look at her. He said nothing —
But his eyes spoke.
No war.
No politics.
No betrayal.
Just a breath shared.
Guts:
"Yeah. That's it.
A moment outside the world."
No more words were needed.