Chapter 74

Texas agreed readily, straightened up, and followed Mostima out.

For a moment, only Han Fei and Lemuen were left alone in the secret room, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows of the two of them side by side.

Lemuen didn't let the silence fall; after the two left, she said, "Aren't you tired?"

"It's alright."

Han Fei turned to look at her, his expression completely indifferent.

That's how the body works when it's digitized; it won't get tired as long as its stamina bar isn't depleted.

Bandaging a wound is a minor task that requires little physical effort.

"That's a real shame."

Lemuen looked regretful and said softly, "I wanted you to use my pillow for a while longer."

As she spoke, her hands casually brushed over her legs, which were hidden by her skirt, the meaning quite clear—if you say you're tired, I can let you rest your head on my lap.

Han Fei blinked, then readily changed his tune. "Is it too late for me to say I'm tired now?"

Lemuen smiled knowingly and teased, "It's too late, I've already changed my mind."

The next second, Han Fei's face immediately fell.

"Pfft--"

Lemuen couldn't help but laugh out loud; her clear laughter was especially pleasant in the quiet, secluded room.

She gently patted her legs, which were pressed together and covered by her skirt, as if coaxing a child, her eyes sparkling with tender indulgence. "Okay, I was just kidding, let's rest for a while."

Volume 1: Chapter 108 A Sweet Dream

Han Fei hesitated for only a moment before his body honestly gave the answer.

Why not use a warm, soft lap pillow instead of going to poke yourself on that cold, hard stone?

With this self-evident thought in mind, he turned and rested his head on Lemuen's plump and elastic thighs, but his gaze was deliberately directed at the open space in front of the cave, as if the scattered remains were engraved with the most exquisite runes in the world, worthy of his full attention to "study".

Lemuen looked down at his slightly stiff posture, a gentle smile curving her lips. She reached out, her fingertips lightly touching Han Fei's black hair, a tentative, soft caress, and asked softly, "Are you tired? Would you like me to give you a massage?"

Han Fei subconsciously shifted his body to look at her sideways, his tone tinged with surprise. "You can do this?"

No, it won't.

Lemuen answered readily and frankly, her fingertips lingering in his hair, her voice as soft as a feather brushing the surface of water, "I just... wanted to help you relax, want to try? Tell me if you feel uncomfortable."

Han Fei wanted to say forget it, but when he met her eyes, which were full of tenderness and a little expectation, the words of refusal were swallowed back as if by magic.

He silently turned his head back to where he was "studying" the remains, and squeezed out a muffled syllable from his throat. "Um... if you don't mind the trouble."

"How could it be troublesome?"

Lemuen's voice carried a genuine warmth.

Before he could finish speaking, her warm hands gently touched the sides of his head.

Warm fingertips, with a soft touch unique to women, began to move slowly and gently across his scalp. It wasn't the kneading and pressing of a professional masseur seeking acupoints, but rather a tender and soothing caress.

Her touch was extremely light, like willow catkins falling under the warm spring sun, or like a fledgling bird rubbing its downy feathers against the palm of the hand. Her fingertips would draw small circles, or her fingertips would gently press and slide, the range slowly spreading from the temples to the top of the head, the movements soothing and rhythmic.

This isn't about relieving muscle soreness; it's more like a silent comfort, a gentle invitation.

Every light touch, every warm caress from Lemuen's fingers, felt like gently plucked at his taut nerves, trying to slowly relax the string called "vigilance".

Her movements contained no deliberate skill, only pure intention: to relieve him of his burden, to make him feel comfortable, to allow him... to truly rest in this moment of peace.

As the gentle, soothing sensation continued, Han Fei's previously stiff neck and shoulders seemed to relax somewhat unconsciously.

His gaze, which had been deliberately directed toward the open space, gradually became blurred. The flickering candlelight in the cave, the soft touch beneath him, the gentle caress on his head... all intertwined to form an invisible, reassuring net that silently enveloped him.

Just as her consciousness began to fade away as if sinking into warm water, a soft melody, like a sigh, quietly flowed from Lemuen's lips.

The melody was ancient and soothing, carrying the unique, timeless charm of Laterano, like the gentle trembling of a church bell.

Han Fei's muddled thoughts tried to capture the blurry notes and discern the meaning of the lyrics, but his heavy eyelids and overwhelming drowsiness made all sounds as indistinct as if separated by water.

"Hmm... what are you singing?"

He mumbled incoherently, his voice heavy with sleepiness.

Lemuen's fingertips continued to move as they touched his hair, but she applied even lighter pressure, as if afraid of disturbing this hard-won peace.

She lowered her head slightly, her warm breath almost brushing against his forehead, and answered in a soft, whispered voice, like soothing a cub:

"It's a lullaby from Laterano..."

Her soft voice was like an annotation blended into the melody; the ancient and soothing humming did not stop, but instead lingered and swirled more clearly in the silent cave, like a stream flowing silently under the moonlight, carrying a soothing magic.

Her fingertips continued to gently caress his hair, and her soft chanting seemed to come alive, swirling with the candlelight and his gradually sinking consciousness.

He hummed for an unknown amount of time, and then a whisper, filled with boundless tenderness and affection, like the softest feather lifted by the warm stream, quietly slipped into his hazy senses:

"Sleep well... my good child~"

That "good boy" carried a strange magic, completely loosening the last taut string in Han Fei's consciousness.

He unconsciously rubbed against her legs, finding a more comfortable position. His tense body completely relaxed, and his breathing became long and steady. The lingering melody of the lullaby, like a gentle tide, completely engulfed him in the tranquil darkness.

Lemuen lowered her head slightly, her gaze calmly falling on the sleeping face. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows on his features, and the lines that were usually sharp or taut were now completely relaxed, leaving only a childlike peace and tranquility.

A few strands of her hair, loose and flowing, were gently brushed against Han Fei's eyelids and cheeks by the faint airflow in the cave, bringing a barely perceptible tickle, like the touch of a butterfly's wing.

"Good girl~"

A soft, almost breathy sigh, filled with pity, escaped from her lips.

She raised her hand one last time, her fingertips filled with endless tenderness, and gently brushed her hand through his hair.

After doing all this, Lemuen remained with her head bowed, gazing into the distance, as if trying to imprint this peaceful slumber in her heart.

Only the occasional crackling of the candlelight and his long, steady breathing remained in the cave.

After a long silence, she finally uttered her most sincere blessing in a voice as soft as the night breeze:

"Then, sweet dreams."

After a while, footsteps were heard outside.

Lemuen looked up and stared at the entrance. A short while later, Mostima and Texas walked in one after the other, carrying large bags and small packages.

"Those ones..."

Mostima's voice stopped abruptly, not from shock, but because she saw Lemuen raise her finger in a shushing gesture.

The next second, Mostima noticed the guy lying on Lemuen's lap, his breathing deep and even as if he had sunk to the bottom of a lake, the sharpness in his eyes gone, leaving only a calm and unguarded look.

Texas also witnessed this scene.

Texas paused almost imperceptibly as she instinctively looked at Lemuen's face.

Their gazes met silently in mid-air.

Lemuen met Texas's gaze, her lips maintaining their usual tranquil, moonlit curve. Her eyes held no provocation, only calm acceptance, and even a hint of clear understanding.

Texas's gaze lingered on Lemuen's face for half a second before falling on Han Fei's face.

Her breathing rate remained unchanged; only her knuckles, resting on the backpack strap, appeared cold and pale from excessive control.

The next second, she looked away, said nothing, and silently unloaded her pack. The canvas and tactical armor made a short hissing sound as they rubbed together, but it was stopped by an absolutely precise force the next second. The heavy pack sank silently into the shadows of the corner like a feather.

The cave fell silent again, save for the crackling of the candle wick and the man's long, steady breathing.

Volume 1: Chapter 109 The Return (Bonus Chapter)

Just as Lemuen had wished, Han Fei had a very interesting dream.

In his dream, a girl told him that she would marry him if he gave her a Heart of Africa.

Han Fei was about to scoff and tell her, "You think you're worthy of the Heart of Africa?"

Before he could even utter a word, a slightly urgent shout pulled him back to reality from his dream.

"Lemuen, are you alright?! You..."

The shouts stopped abruptly, but Han Fei was still completely awakened, slowly opening his sleepy eyes.

"You're awake."

Lemuen's delicate face suddenly came into view. The girl's face was as gentle as ever, yet with a hint of apology, as if she felt guilty for not being able to protect Han Fei's sleep.

"Um?"

Han Fei had just woken up, was still not quite clear-headed. He couldn't even figure out what was going on at first, and his eyes were filled with confusion: Why was Lemuen by my side?

"So," Fiammetta's voice, filled with confusion and anxiety, rang out again, piercing Han Fei's chaotic thoughts like a needle, "Can anyone tell me what exactly happened?"

At this point, he finally realized what was happening. Memories gradually surfaced in his mind, and he understood why Lemuen was by his side.

Han Fei immediately sat up straight, patted his cheek, and said to the side, "Sorry, I accidentally fell asleep."

"It's okay."

Lemuen responded softly, a fleeting, almost imperceptible furrow crossing her brow—her legs, having been used as a pillow for too long, were starting to feel sore and numb.

Han Fei failed to catch this fleeting reaction. He looked at Fiammetta and said succinctly, "In short, Captain Andoain's Originium Arts went out of control, seriously injuring Lemuen and me. Mostima shot and wounded him in an attempt to stop him."

"Wrong."

Mostima corrected her languidly but clearly, "It wasn't out of necessity. I was very angry, you know?"

Okay, I understand.

Han Fei readily agreed and added, "I also forgot to thank you. If it weren't for your shot, I probably would have been dead."

"It was just a small favor."

Mostima waved his hand dismissively, saying, "You've done enough for our team; this is nothing."

"But Lemuen..."

Fiammetta's gaze shifted between Lemuen and Han Fei, who appeared to be unharmed, and her confusion deepened.

According to Mostima and Han Fei, Lemuen should be seriously injured, but judging from the way she just offered Han Fei a lap pillow, she doesn't look like someone who is seriously injured.

Mostima saw through her confusion and pointed it out directly. "This is all thanks to Han Fei. Do you know? Just now, Lemuen was seriously injured and unconscious. No matter how I called out to her or tried to stimulate her, she didn't respond at all..."

She paused, her voice slightly low. "Like a corpse that's barely breathing."

"I... I'm so sorry."

Fiammetta lowered her head, overwhelmed by a cold tide of self-blame and guilt—even though Lemuen was so badly injured, I was still doubting...

"It's alright, no one blames you." Lemuen's voice was gentle yet firm. "Look, I'm perfectly fine now, aren't I?"

Fiammetta then raised her head and looked at Lemuen and Han Fei beside her.

When her gaze fell on Han Fei, Fiammetta's eyes showed a hint of gratitude, and she said solemnly, "Thank you."

Han Fei nodded slightly, accepting the gratitude.

This reassured Fiammetta somewhat, but she immediately clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white, and said, "So, what about Andoain? You just let him go like that?"

"He's gone," Lemuen said softly. "Perhaps he'll never come back."

"I can not understand."

Fiammetta's expression became chaotic once again, confusion and anger appearing on her face at the same time. She couldn't understand why Lemuen could be so calm, even though she had almost died at Andoain's hands.

Even more incomprehensible is why Andoain, after causing all this, could swagger away so easily.

Fiammetta slowly looked around, his gaze finally settling on Mostima.

Those Sarkaz -like horns were so striking that even the once-brilliant wings behind them seemed shrouded in an inescapable gloom.

A cold and clear realization instantly gripped Fiammetta's heart—everything she knew, that peaceful "past," had been utterly shattered and could never be restored.

Han Fei could save Lemuen from the brink of death, but he couldn't save Mostima.

Fallen Angels—this is the harshest punishment Laterano Law imposes on those who harm their fellow human beings, meaning Mostima will be banished from Laterano.

"If I had been there, would none of this have happened?"

Fiammetta's voice was hoarse, as if she were questioning the crowd, but even more so, as if she were interrogating her own soul.

"Um, is it possible that they are all the same?"

Han Fei scratched his head and said rather bluntly, "I think I should be stronger than you, at least more resilient, but I was still severely injured by Andoain and almost died."