The autumn this year had turned out to be unusually warm. The sun, no longer scorching but still generous, flooded the heir’s study with golden light, pouring in through the tall windows. Outside, leaves swirled in a slow dance, and their quiet rustle was the only sound disturbing the peace.
Randel sat at a massive oak desk covered in scrolls and reports. Thin gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose — he only wore them when working with documents. Amanda, seeing him in them for the first time, froze in the doorway, completely forgetting why she had come.
God,
she thought.
He even looks good in glasses… Just like in those manhwa where the duke is sitting in his office, and then the heroine arrives…
She stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, simply watching him. Randel hadn’t noticed her yet — he was completely absorbed in reading. His fingers turned the pages, occasionally making notes with his quill, and his brow furrowed slightly whenever he encountered a particularly difficult issue. The glasses gave him an entirely different air — not the cold warrior, not the unapproachable heir, but something… cozy. Domestic. Almost vulnerable.
“You’re just going to stand there?” he asked without lifting his head.
Amanda startled.
“How did you know?”
“You smell like forest and cinnamon. And I can hear your breathing.”
“I’m breathing quietly.”
“For you, it’s quiet. For me, it’s loud. I always hear you.”
She smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She walked around the desk and… stopped. Randel raised his head, and a warm light kindled in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.
“Are you busy?” she asked.
“Very,” he replied. “But for you, I always have time.”
She watched him — his serious face, the glasses that made him look so… human — and suddenly she wanted something simple. Something she had seen in the manhwa she used to read back when she was Yamada Light. Something that had once seemed so distant and impossible.
She stepped closer, and before he could ask what she was doing, she sank down onto his lap. She settled sideways, pressing herself against his chest and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“What…” he began.
“Shh,” she pressed a finger to his lips. “Keep working. I’ll just sit here.”
Randell froze. His hands hovered motionless above the scrolls. Amanda could feel his heart starting to beat faster.
“Are you sure?” he asked, a husky note creeping into his voice.
“Absolutely,” she murmured, nuzzling her nose into his neck. “You’re warm.”
“I’m always warm.”
“Right now you’re warmer.”
He let out a slow, deep breath. Then his hands returned to the table, fingers picking up the quill once more. He tried to go back to reading, but his gaze kept drifting down to her.
“You’re distracting me,” he said.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re breathing.”
“I told you I breathe quietly.”
“For you it’s quiet. For me… it’s a storm.”
Amanda smiled. She liked feeling his tension, his attempts to concentrate, and his quiet defeat in this small battle.
“Keep reading,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He sighed and turned back to the scrolls. His arm around her waist was firm but not tight — simply holding her. Just… being there.
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Amanda closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of his body, heard his steady breathing, and noticed how his fingers would occasionally leave the quill to brush along her shoulder, her arm, or through her hair. Unconsciously. Naturally. As if she had always belonged right here.
“You know,” he said after a while, “I’ve never been able to work when someone was nearby.”
“And now?”
“Now I can’t work when you’re
not
nearby.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was staring at the scroll, but his fingers had stopped moving.
“Randel.”
“Hm?”
“You’re not working.”
“I know,” he set the quill aside and turned fully toward her. “You win.”
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You were here. That’s more than enough.”
He removed his glasses and placed them on the desk. His face became open, vulnerable. Amanda ran her fingers gently across his cheek.
“They suit you,” she said.
“The glasses?”
“Yes. You look… smart.”
“And without them I look stupid?”
“Without them you look like you could kill a man with a single glance. With them… you look like you could write a treatise on taxation.”
He laughed — softly, warmly, the way he only ever laughed with her.
“You’re the only one who says things like that to me.”
“Because I’m the only one who isn’t afraid of you.”
“You’re afraid,” he said, pulling her closer. “I can feel it. Sometimes, when you think I’m not looking, there’s fear in your eyes. Not of enemies. Not of the future. But of the day when I might…”
“Don’t,” she covered his mouth with her palm. “Don’t say it. Not today.”
He kissed her palm. Then her wrist. Then the soft skin on the inside of her elbow.
“Alright,” he murmured. “Not today.”
She buried her face in his neck again, feeling his warm breath on the top of her head.
“Tell me something,” she whispered.
“About what?”
“Anything. What you were reading. What you were thinking. What you dream about.”
He was silent for a moment. His fingers gently played with strands of her hair.
“I was reading reports from the eastern borders,” he said. “The restoration is going slowly. People are afraid to return to the ruined villages. They fear the horde will come back.”
“Will it?”
“Not soon. Gul-Nadar is dead. Without him, the horde is just a pack of wolves without a leader. But they will find a new one. They always do.”
“And what will you do?”
“Build. Fortify. Wait. And hope that by the time they return, we’ll be ready.”
He fell silent, and his arm tightened around her waist.
“And I was also thinking about you,” he added.
“About me?”
“About how you stand on the cliff in golden armor. How you raise your hand and the enemies flee. How you remove your helmet and people fall to their knees. How you smile when you think no one is watching.”
“I don’t smile.”
“You do. Every morning when you look out the window at the forest. Every evening when I come to you. Every night when you think I’m asleep.”
She blushed.
“You’re spying on me.”
“I’m admiring you,” he corrected softly. “Those are two different things.”
She wanted to say something sharp, but the words got stuck in her throat. Because he was looking at her as if she were the only light in his entire world.
“Randel,” she whispered.
“Hm?”
“You… you make me happy.”
He smiled. His face softened, almost boyish.
“I know,” he said. “I see it. Your eyes light up when you’re near me. Your breathing becomes deeper. Your hands stop trembling. You… you become yourself.”
She pressed closer to him, hiding her face. She felt embarrassed. And joyful. And scared. And at peace, all at once.
“I was never myself,” she said. “Not until you.”
“And now?”
“Now… I’m learning.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“Learn. I’ll be right here. Always.”
They stayed like that for a long time. The candles burned low, darkness gathered outside the windows, but neither of them wanted to move. The study was warm and cozy, and only two hearts beat in perfect unison, drowning out the rest of the world.
“Randel,” she said softly.
“Hm?”
“Can I stay?”
“Here? For the night?”
“Yes.”
He was silent for a moment. His arms tightened around her.
“If you stay,” he said, “I won’t let you go until morning.”
“I don’t want you to let me go.”
He lifted her into his arms — just like he had after the battle — and carried her to the wide sofa by the fireplace. The same place where they had sat many times before, discussing plans, maps, and war. Tonight, there was nothing there but the two of them.
“Are you sure?” he asked, gently laying her down on the soft cushions.
“I’m sure,” she replied, tugging at his shirt. “Come here.”
He lay down beside her, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close. She could feel his heart beating in time with hers. His breath mingled with her own. His strong, steady hands held her as if she were the most fragile treasure in the world.
“Are you afraid?” he asked.
“No,” she answered. “Not with you.”
He kissed her. Slowly. Tenderly. The way one kisses something more precious than life itself.
“Sleep,” he said.
“You sleep too.”
“I can’t. I’m afraid that if I close my eyes, you’ll disappear.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she hugged him tighter. “I promise.”
He let out a soft sigh. His eyelids grew heavy. He hadn’t slept properly for many nights — endless work, reports, and constant worries. But tonight, holding her in his arms, feeling her warmth and her steady breathing… he finally allowed himself to relax.
“Amanda,” he whispered, already drifting off.
“Hm?”
“I love you.”
She smiled, listening as his breathing grew slow and even.
“I love you too,” she replied softly.
Outside the window, leaves continued their quiet dance. In the fireplace, the fire burned low. And only two hearts beat in perfect harmony, drowning out all fears, all doubts, and everything that had come before.
This was their night. One of many. Real.