Soren didn’t stop, but the rims of his ears burned hot, his back held stiff and straight.
Even as Venti’s laughing voice drifted in the wind, Soren only quickened his pace, as if something were chasing him from behind, not even daring to look back… terrified that if he did, he would lock eyes with his teasing blue gaze once more.
The cobblestone road pressed against his soles, the soreness in his legs not yet fully faded, making every step slightly sluggish.
He clenched his shirt hem, his mind in a chaotic whirl: Were Jean and Barbara still looking for him?
That locked door and the burning crest on his body felt like two heavy stones weighing down his heart.
After walking for about a quarter of an hour, the outline of Mondstadt’s windmills gradually grew clear.
Pedestrians were already on the streets, the sweet aroma of the bakery drifted out, and the clanking of the blacksmith’s forge echoed in the air.
Soren let out a sigh of relief.
Just as he wanted to find a corner to rest his legs, the burning sensation in his abdomen suddenly flared up again, even worse than before, like a fire scorching him from the inside.
He staggered and leaned against a nearby wall, bending over to gasp for breath, his fingertips unconsciously scraping against the brickwork.
Abruptly, then, before he could sort out his thoughts, a sudden chill swept across the back of his neck, followed immediately by a pair of lightly calloused hands roughly covering his mouth and nose.
The palms still carried the scent of night dew and cold, crisp vegetation.
The grip wasn’t heavy, yet it possessed an irresistible strength, dragging him into the narrow alleyway beside them.
Soren went completely stiff, instinctively starting to struggle.
Just as his elbow jabbed backward, a cold female voice sounded near his ear, sharp like frost yet pressed extremely low.
“Shhh…
don’t struggle, and don’t make a sound.
Unless you want to be discovered, or found by them.”
The word “them” was uttered with extreme softness, as it accurately struck the most sensitive point in Soren’s heart.
He stopped his movements at once, his back pressed against the rough brick wall as his heart beat so violently it felt ready to burst from his chest.
He strained to roll his eyes, glancing askance behind him.
The person wore a dark nun’s habit with her cowl pulled low, revealing only the cold, sharp curve of her jawline.
However, that voice was inexplicably familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before.
Just as he clenched his shirt hem, his mind racing to recall, the person behind him leaned in even closer, her breath brushing against the tip of his ear as a trace of faint, lazy playfulness crept into her voice.
“It’s me…
Rosaria~”
Soren had barely let out a sigh of relief when the cold fingertips of the other brushed lightly against the back of his neck, the touch so like ice sliding across his skin that it instantly made his spine stiffen.
Rosaria didn’t withdraw her hand; instead, she slid it slowly down his neck, her fingertips stopping at the edge of his collar to gently hook the fabric.
The force wasn’t heavy, yet it carried an inescapable restraint.
“Seems you still remember me.”
Her voice sank even lower, her warm breath sweeping past the back of Soren’s ear, forming a bizarre contrast with the chill of her fingertips.
“Though you were a bit slower to recall me compared to how quickly you remembered Jean and Barbara’s faces.”
Soren could feel Rosaria’s other hand resting against his waist, the light calluses of her palm brushing through his clothes with an undeniable possessiveness.
He tried to shrink back, but she pushed him forward, pressing his back flat against the cold brick wall, leaving him without a single path of retreat.
“Y-You…
why are you here?”
Soren said with a trembling voice.
The burning heat in his abdomen had not subsided, and now, enveloped by Rosaria’s presence, even breathing became difficult.
Rosaria didn’t answer.
She lowered her head, the shadow of her cowl obscuring her eyes and revealing only a subtle curve at the corner of her lips.
Her fingertips slid inward along Soren’s collar.
The instant they brushed against his skin, Soren shivered all over; her fingertips were biting cold.
“Looking for you, of course.”
Her tone was casual, while her fingertips wandered over his skin, stopping precisely at the location of the glowing crest beneath his shirt hem and pressing down lightly.
“Jean and Barbara kept too close an eye on you.
I had no choice but to wait until they panicked before I could make my move.”
Soren’s heart sank instantly.
He tried to grab her wrist, but she pinned his wrist to the brick wall before he could react.
Rosaria’s strength was far greater than she appeared.
Her grip made his wrist ache, yet she deliberately avoided places where marks would be left behind.
“W-What do you want to do?”
“Nothing.”
Rosaria leaned closer, her cowl slipping down to reveal the dark, heavy light in her eyes.
“I just feel that leaving you by their side is far too unsafe.”
Her fingertips pressed against the pattern once more, her palm carrying a faint chill that made Soren whimper from the cold.
Yet she acted as if she hadn’t heard, merely smiling as her voice carried a touch of satisfaction.
“Look at you, you can’t even control your own body.
If you stay with them, they’ll only lock you away like a fragile treasure.
Only I know how to ‘take care’ of you.”
Soren wanted to argue, but her sudden, close movement cut him off.
Rosaria’s lips brushed against the corner of his, carrying a minty chill that made his entire body go numb.
“Don’t think about running.”
Her fingertips hooked his collar once more, pulling it up to force him to look up at her.
“Jean and Barbara won’t find this place, and Venti won’t meddle in this.”
There wasn’t a trace of a joke in her eyes.
The grip of her fingertips gradually tightened, and Soren could feel his collar crumple under her hold.
Soren’s Adam’s apple bobbed, as he tried to turn his head to avoid Rosaria’s close-range breath; his eyes stinging with unshed tears, his voice carrying an unconcealed vulnerability, cautious like a startled young beast.
“Pl-Please…
don’t hurt me…”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw Rosaria raise her hand; the very hand, calloused and firm, that had been pinning his wrist just moments ago, was now slowly reaching toward his face.
Soren’s heart clenched.
He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, his body tensing like a drawn bow, holding his breath as his mind braced for the pain of a strike.
But the expected pain never came.
A cold touch gently covered his cheek; Rosaria’s palm rested against his skin, her fingertips slightly rough but exceptionally light, as if caressing a fragile piece of treasure.
Even as her fingers brushed past his reddened eye corners, she deliberately slowed her movement.
Soren’s body remained stiff, his eyelashes trembling, but he didn’t dare open his eyes.
In the next second, that hand slid slowly to the back of his head, her fingertips threading through his sweat-drenched hair to firmly cup his neck.
With an irresistible force, she tilted his head, drawing him toward her.
A warm breath enveloped his neck in an instant.
Soren could even clearly feel Rosaria’s strands of hair brushing against his skin, bringing a faint, tickling itch.
Right after, a slight, sharp pain stung his neck; Rosaria buried her lips against the skin of his neck and bit down, not hard, but enough to leave a shallow tooth mark.
Her breath, mixed with the cold scent of mountain herbs, puffed against his skin, intertwining with the sensation of her teeth to create a tingling prickle that made his scalp go numb.
Soren instinctively tried to shrink back, but his neck was held firmly in her grasp, leaving him unable to budge even a fraction.
“Hurt you?”
Rosaria’s voice came from his neck, carrying a low, muffled chuckle as her teeth grazed gently over the fresh mark.
“Why would I hurt you?”
Her fingertips caressed the back of his neck, as if soothing him, yet also declaring a certain ownership.
“I just want to…
leave a little trace of myself on you.
That way, when Jean and Barbara see it, they’ll know, you already belong to me.”
Soren shivered all over, finally daring to open his eyes, but his field of vision held only the dark collar of Rosaria’s sister uniform.
Before the stinging on his neck could fade, a warm sensation followed; Rosaria actually ran her tongue gently over the tooth mark, the cold air and the warm tongue combining to send a sudden wave of goosebumps across his skin.