The next pre-dawn, in the outer district’s market street, the café “Crimson Complex,” a private box upstairs with a night view like spilled ink.

The room glowed with dusky, romantic candlelight, yet the glow couldn’t thaw the ice between two people—a long silence like winter.

They sat across one table like islands in fog.

One of them was Rex.

He still wore the mission bodysuit from four hours ago, metal hugging him like night skin.

The gear spoiled the mood like sand in wine, yet couldn’t dull his handsomeness and poise like a blade on velvet.

From moments ago till now, Rex focused, his gaze carrying worry like rain on glass.

He kept looking at Shelika opposite him, faithful as a lantern guarding one doorway.

Shelika, the other, kept her head lowered like a mimosa under moonlight, beauty with a tender protect-me softness like snow on silk.

Only, her bow wasn’t shyness but awkwardness, a knot in her chest like twined thread.

She dropped her gaze to dodge his eyes, watching the hot drink’s surface birth tiny bubbles like rising pearls.

She silently counted the bubbles, watched the foam unfurl like pale clouds, and drifted into daze and hush like a pond at dusk.

She used that daze to let time crawl by like a snail in rain.

At last, Rex couldn’t bear the silence; his patience snapped like a taut string.

He demanded, “Shelika, answer me—” His voice cut like a command blade.

He slipped into his mission tone, the rank-laced bark like steel on stone.

He rarely sat alone with women, and the slip stung like a spark to skin.

He lowered his voice at once, hid the near-blame like a knife in its sheath, and used a gentle, magnetic warmth like a hearth.

“Shelika… can you tell me why you went off alone to take that risk?” His words came like a soft current.

He never noticed his own charm; gentle tone and a handsome face shone like dawn, a solid frame and tender-under-iron aura like warm armor.

Few girls would stay unmoved under such sun, though every rule meets its exception like a stone in the stream.

Shelika stayed silent after he spoke, kept her head bowed like a swan hiding its throat, and looked ever more wronged like a wilted petal.

Maybe he hit a soft spot, and Rex’s heart softened like wax near flame.

“Alright… alright… if you don’t want to talk, I won’t ask.” His surrender fell like a blanket.

Truth was, Shelika didn’t want to sit inside silence forever; her urge to speak rustled like leaves.

She wanted to say, “It was for Charlotte,” a name like a small star, yet what good would that do like smoke in wind?

Her reason might earn his pardon, but if he pressed further and learned Charlotte had the qualification to be a master like a key in a lock—danger.

In Shelika’s mind, Charlotte’s situation would turn perilous, a field of thorns underfoot.

She didn’t trust Rex; he was a senior officer of the Shadowspirit Legion, a shadow like a banner in storm.

In seniority, he ran deeper than Cerise, who joined halfway, roots like old oaks.

Shelika had every reason to think that once Rex knew Charlotte’s gift, he’d value it like gold and use rank privilege to force Charlotte to become the Wasteland Deity’s master.

Shelika couldn’t let Rex know about Charlotte’s qualification; that secret sat like a sealed jar.

So she simply apologized. “Sorry, Rex. I acted rashly. I’ll repay the favor later.” Her tone fell like a curtsey.

Maybe because the always-cool Shelika finally lowered her stance like a willow bending, Rex exhaled in relief like sun through cloud.

He wore a bright smile at his lips like spring, and said with a mild laugh, “If I ask you to repay me, wouldn’t that be ungentlemanly?”

Shelika finally lifted her bowed head, a motion like a petal rising, and gave him a shy-seeming glance like mist.

Then she whispered, “Then what do you want of me?” Her question trembled like a silver bell.

Rex listened and looked deep, gaze like a lake at night, then closed his eyes and breathed out long like surf.

He opened them, set both elbows on the table like pillars, fingers under his chin, and spoke with serious devotion like a vow.

“Shelika, can you promise me—” He paused like a held note.

It sounded almost like a proposal, a ring formed of breath like moonlight.

“Leave the Holy City as soon as you can. Go back to the capital, back to your Blood Clan dominion, alright?” His plea reached like a bridge.

He added the part about “Divine Warrior and retinue,” then clarified like a lantern, “Bring the Eternal War Armor and Charlotte home.”

At that demand, Shelika’s mind filled with a thousand question marks like fireflies.

She asked, puzzled, “Why? Why do you want me to leave the Holy City?” Her confusion drifted like fog.

As her words fell, the candle flame by the table shivered like a small heart.

Rex turned his head and glanced at the neat calendar by the candlestick, thin as a leaf, then spoke gravely like a bell, “Ten days till Sunday.”

“This Sunday, the Holy City will hold a grand ceremony like a tide of banners. Many legion brass will attend, and leaders of the great clans will show.”

“That includes your queen.” His reminder shone like a cold star.

“Rex, you mean I should avoid suspicion?” Her guess hovered like a sparrow.

“No,” Rex looked at Shelika, worry in his eyes like storm-dark water, and said with concern, “Many in the Legion know what you did in Oriel City.”

“You’ve earned the worship of knights like a statue in light, but quite a few generals have set their sights on you like hawks.”

“Is that so…” Shelika lowered her head, fully aware what ‘set their sights’ meant like a net thrown wide.

“Yeah.” Rex took a sip of black tea, warmth rising like smoke, and let his words pause like a held breath.

He chewed a pink blossom petal from the tea, then continued, worry threading his tone like rain, “You can control a new weapon of an enemy nation.”

“You treat it like a retinue and wield it. If that news keeps spreading like wildfire, they’ll throw you onto the peak of the storm.”

“In that situation, if you meet other legion chiefs, some will act, using orders or proposing to the council—by any means, you’ll be sent back to war.”

Hearing his anxious words, Shelika lowered her head again into silence like a night pond.

She thought for a moment, then lifted her head and asked, “Rex, you’re of the Demonic Human Race and a knight of a legion.”

“You’re an imperial soldier with highest honor like a banner. From the stance of homeland defense, wouldn’t you welcome me slaying the Empire’s foes?”

Rex heard it, his eyes flared like sparks, then he slapped the table with both hands, voice bursting like thunder, “Don’t say stupid things!”

Shelika blinked, then argued weakly, voice like a thin reed, “For the Gaia Empire… did I say anything wrong?”

“That’s a different matter!” Rex slapped the table again, the strike like a drum, anger sharp yet heart aching like a bruise.

Real feeling spilled out like wine. “You’re the most important woman in my life.”

“You think I’d let you go to the front and watch you march to your death like sixty years ago?” His refusal burned like fire.

Shelika stared at him, eyes wide like moons.

Her life experience was limited, and words wouldn’t come like a dry well.

Yet his raw feeling moved her like warm rain, and she didn’t want to let time drip by wordless like a leaky eave.

So she only said, head lowered, fists tight like buds, her delicate body trembling like a leaf, “We aren’t connected anymore.”

“Even if you don’t like me, it’s fine. Can you promise me?” His plea hung like a lantern in wind.

“Why would you think that?” Shelika’s trembling tone carried complex bitterness like dark tea.

“For sixty years I’ve been confused, thinking hard like a man in fog.”

“Why did you go to die? I agonized forever, and only lately did I understand like dawn.”

“What did you understand?” Her question touched like a finger on water.

“I understood this—because we knights didn’t do our job, you had to go to the battlefield.” His admission fell like a stone.

“Is that so…” Shelika lowered her head once more, her shadow folding like a wing.

Fire lit in Rex’s eyes like twin torches, and he spoke solemn and sincere like a pledge.

“I’m a knight, a knight of the Gaia Empire.” His identity rang like steel.

“A knight guards not only borders like lines on a map, but also his belief like a flame.”

“You’re the most important woman in my life; that’s my belief like a star.”

“Guarding you is guarding my belief like a shield.”

“If the Empire’s future is your happiness like spring harvest, I’ll fight to protect that happiness.”

“So—” He paused, a breath like a bridge.

Rex lifted Shelika’s hands, warm palms like sunlight, and held them tight like interlaced vines.

His passionate gaze brimmed with sincerity and hope like a lake at dawn.

“Shelika, go back to the capital, back to the Blood Clan dominion—wait for me to return in triumph, alright?” His final plea settled like snow.