Chapter 295

Chapter 295: Chapter 295

The market became busier as the afternoon passed.

Their progress slowed near an intersection where two merchant carts were trying to squeeze through the same narrow street, while customers continued moving around both sides instead of waiting for the congestion to clear.

Rayleigh noticed the problem before anyone shouted: one of the carts had been loaded badly.

Several wooden crates were stacked above the side rail and secured with a single rope that had already begun slipping beneath the weight.

A small boy stood beside the cart, staring at a stall across the road while his mother argued over the price of cloth several meters away.

The rope gave way, and three crates tipped outward.

Rayleigh handed Syr the box he was carrying. "Hold this."

He crossed the distance with Shunpo before the first crate had fallen halfway.

One hand caught the largest box while his other arm took the second against his shoulder.

The third had already fallen too far to catch normally without dropping the others, so Rayleigh kicked the underside lightly enough to redirect it away from the child.

The crate landed beside the cart and split open, apples rolling across the street.

The boy stared up at Rayleigh.

Rayleigh set the two boxes back onto the cart. "You should move."

The child nodded rapidly and ran toward his mother.

The merchant responsible for the cart immediately rushed forward, apologizing to everyone around him while trying to collect his scattered produce.

Rayleigh helped lift one crate back into place, and Syr joined him after putting their purchases somewhere safe.

She picked up an apple. "You really do that without thinking."

Rayleigh took another from beneath the wheel. "Do what?"

"Help."

"There was a child underneath it."

"I know."

Syr placed the apple back into the broken crate. "You told me yesterday that you weren’t interested in being a hero."

"I’m still not."

"You moved before his mother even noticed."

"That isn’t heroism. It’s having functioning legs."

Syr looked amused. "You make everything sound very ordinary."

"Most things are."

She considered that answer while helping gather the last few apples.

Rayleigh did not notice anything particularly meaningful about what had happened.

He had been close enough to stop an accident, so he had stopped it.

Turning that into some statement about morality would only make a simple action more complicated than necessary.

Syr understood that now, and perhaps that was exactly why she found him difficult to categorize.

...

They finished shopping before sunset.

Syr had bought considerably more than Rayleigh expected, although most of it consisted of ingredients she claimed Mia would complain about before eventually using anyway.

Rayleigh ended up carrying the wooden box, two cloth bags, his medical book, and the tea.

Syr carried one smaller bag.

Rayleigh looked at her while they walked back toward the Hostess. "I’ve been tricked."

"You offered to help."

"I offered once."

"And I accepted repeatedly."

"That isn’t how an offer works."

"It worked today."

Rayleigh shook his head but made no attempt to return any of the bags.

The afternoon had been strangely pleasant, and that realization bothered him more than the weight.

He had spent several hours with Freya and, as far as he could tell, she had done nothing particularly dangerous.

There had been no Charm, no Ottar standing at the end of an alley, no demand that he join her Familia, and no attempt to force information from him about his Zanpakutō.

She had simply gone shopping with him.

Rayleigh knew better than to assume that meant Freya had become harmless, though it did mean his expectations had been wrong.

When the Hostess came into view, Syr slowed. "Thank you for coming."

Rayleigh adjusted the box under one arm. "You mainly needed someone to carry this."

"I could have asked anyone at the tavern to do that."

"Then why didn’t you?"

Syr looked at him directly. "Because I wanted to spend the afternoon with you."

There was no joke attached to the answer.

Rayleigh had become accustomed to looking for the hidden intention behind almost everything Freya did, but nothing complicated appeared in her expression now.

He believed her, though that did not make the situation easier.

"I had a good time too."

Syr blinked.

Rayleigh continued walking toward the tavern before she could make too much of the admission, but a second later, she caught up.

"You could say that while looking at me."

"I already said it."

"Once more."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you’ve received enough encouragement for one day."

Syr laughed and stopped trying.

...

Rayleigh helped carry the purchases inside before leaving.

Mia took one look at the amount Syr had bought and immediately started questioning why she needed half of it.

Rayleigh used the distraction to escape before anyone could involve him.

He had nearly reached the end of the street when Syr called his name.

"Rayleigh."

He stopped; she rarely used his actual name.

Syr stood outside the tavern entrance. "Can I ask you one thing?"

Rayleigh waited; she had respected every boundary he set during the afternoon.

"One."

"The person you bought the book and tea for."

Rayleigh’s expression became more guarded.

Syr saw it and immediately clarified. "I don’t want their name."

That mattered.

She looked at the bags in his hands before meeting his eyes again. "Are they waiting for you?"

Rayleigh understood the question more easily than she probably realized.

He thought of the quiet house, the locked door, the study on the upper floor and the woman who would almost certainly criticize him for returning later than expected before drinking the tea he had bought for her.

"Yes."

Syr nodded, though there was a brief emotion in her expression that Rayleigh could not identify.

Then she smiled. "Then you shouldn’t keep them waiting."

Rayleigh studied her for a moment. "Good night, Syr."

"Good night, Rayleigh."

He left.

...

Alfia was reading when Rayleigh returned home.

As usual, he checked the street before unlocking the door and entered alone.

Once the lock clicked behind him, he placed his purchases on the kitchen table and called upstairs.

"I’m back."

"I noticed."

Rayleigh smiled.

A few minutes later, Alfia came downstairs and immediately saw the book and tea, her eyes moving from them to him.

"You went shopping."

"Yes."

"With the waitress."

Rayleigh stopped.

Alfia turned toward the tea as though she had said nothing unusual.

The soul thread between them carried enough information that she did not need someone following him to know he had spent most of the afternoon in an unusually relaxed mood.

She might not know Syr’s identity, but Rayleigh had mentioned the Hostess before.

He decided there was no point pretending. "Yes."

Alfia opened one packet of tea and smelled the leaves. "They are good quality."

"I thought you’d like them."

Her hand paused, the movement small enough that anyone else might have missed it.

Then she closed the packet. "You bought them for me."

"One packet."

"And the book?"

"For both of us. There’s a section about medicinal plants from elven regions that might be useful."

Alfia looked at the title, her expression remaining composed, though the connection between them warmed faintly.

Rayleigh had learned not to expect a dramatic response from her.

"Thank you," she said.

"That was easier than getting Tsubaki to thank me for maintaining Tobiume."

"Tsubaki has less dignity."

Rayleigh laughed.

Alfia carried the tea toward the kitchen, and he followed.

Nothing about the afternoon needed to become more complicated than that.

...

High above Orario, Freya sat beside her window while the last sunlight disappeared from the city.

She had learned almost nothing in the ordinary sense.

Rayleigh had not given her a name.

He had not described the person he cared about beyond a fondness for quiet places and books, nor had he explained what illness made him search through old medical texts.

Yet Freya had learned something much more important.

The second heartbeat belonged to someone.

Someone alive, someone connected to Rayleigh deeply enough that the bond remained visible within his soul even while they were separated.

When Syr had asked whether that person was waiting for him, the connection had responded before Rayleigh answered.

Freya could have investigated.

Finding someone hidden inside Orario was not difficult for the Freya Familia.

Ottar, Allen, or any number of her children could begin tracing Rayleigh’s movements and probably uncover the answer eventually.

She did none of that.

Her earlier order remained unchanged.

Nobody would follow him.

Nobody would approach his home.

Nobody would investigate the person connected to him.

Freya wanted to understand Rayleigh because he chose to let her closer, not because she tore his private life apart until there was nowhere left for him to hide.

That distinction mattered more now than it had before.

Ottar stood near the doorway. "You learned something."

Freya smiled faintly. "Yes."

He waited, but she did not elaborate.

Instead, Freya looked down toward the western district where Rayleigh had disappeared into the evening streets.

For the first time since becoming interested in him, she possessed a question that could probably be answered easily by force, and she had decided not to ask it.

That choice was far stranger to Freya than the mystery itself.