Ember Reborn: The Flame That Defied Fate-Chapter 55: Cookies, Contacts, and Catastrophes -

"What do you mean, what?"

Iris’s voice came from above me, crisp and accusing.

I opened one eye—only to meet her stare.

She was looking down at me with the expression of someone who had just caught a thief red-handed.

"What else?" she continued. "Every time, you look away like you’re hiding something."

"...That’s not fair," I muttered.

It was unfair.

I only looked occasionally.

"Liar," Iris said immediately, poking my cheek. "Do you think I don’t notice where your eyes go whenever we meet?"

"Well, that’s..."

I searched for a defense.

Found none.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

Iris’s lips curled into a mischievous smile—half teasing, half pleased.

"Hehe. It’s okay."

Then she added, softer:

"If it’s you, Dale, I don’t mind if you get flustered sometimes."

My brain stalled.

"...You’re saying that like it’s normal."

"It is normal," Iris said, as if explaining a basic rule of the universe. "You’re a boy."

"...That’s not a real argument."

"It’s the best argument," she replied smugly, then flicked my forehead lightly.

I sighed and stared up at the sky through the trees.

After everything that had happened—Astaroth, Elisha, the shifting future, the endless training—this kind of silly banter felt unreal.

But it also felt... safe.

I could tell Iris had changed since that day.

Not just in her memories returning.

Not just in her strength sharpening.

In the way she acted around me.

Bolder.

Less guarded.

More honest.

She probably had feelings for me.

I wasn’t oblivious.

And if I was being honest with myself... 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

I felt the same.

In the previous life, we’d been lovers.

It was only natural that the thought of returning to that wasn’t unpleasant.

But—

Not now.

Right now, the future was unstable.

I’d killed Astaroth and shattered the script, which meant the dangers ahead wouldn’t be "the same but delayed."

They’d be worse.

Different.

Unknown.

And romance?

Romance was a luxury for a world that wasn’t about to explode.

’We can become lovers when things settle down.’

After waiting centuries—after wandering alone for longer than most people’s entire civilizations—waiting a little longer wasn’t hard.

It was... responsible.

"Ahem."

I forced my mind back to the present and cleared my throat.

Then I started to lift my head from Iris’s lap.

"I should—"

"Stay," Iris said immediately.

Her hand pressed lightly against my forehead, guiding me down again.

Not forceful.

Just firm.

Like she was preventing a stubborn child from sprinting back into danger.

"...I’m fine," I tried.

"You’re not," Iris replied flatly.

Her tone didn’t leave room for argument.

I stared up at her.

She stared back.

Then, in a quieter voice—almost annoyed—she said:

"You always look like you’re holding yourself together with willpower."

"...What?"

"Even today," Iris continued, gaze softening, "you wanted to rest, didn’t you?"

"No," I lied automatically.

Iris narrowed her eyes.

"Liar."

"...How do you know?"

"Anyone could tell by looking at your face," she said.

I blinked.

My "face"?

"What does my face look like?"

Iris leaned down slightly.

Her eyebrows pinched together.

"Exhausted," she said. "Really exhausted."

I didn’t answer.

Because she was right.

I thought I’d hidden it well—kept the fatigue buried under habit and discipline.

But Iris wasn’t "anyone."

She knew my expressions.

She knew when I was forcing my breath to stay even.

She knew when my smile was a mask.

"...Sorry," I murmured.

Guilt crept up in me—guilt for worrying her, for making her chase me out of the academy, for being unable to just relax like a normal person.

I tried to sit up again.

And again, Iris’s hand gently pushed me down.

"Stay still," she repeated.

This time, her voice was softer.

And then—

A faint white glow began to radiate from her body.

Not blinding.

Not dramatic.

Just warm.

Like sunlight filtered through curtains.

Her eyes—normally clear blue—shimmered with faint colors, like a prism catching light.

A saint’s blessing.

I swallowed.

"Iris..."

She didn’t look at me.

She looked at the sky, hands lightly resting near my temples.

And she whispered a prayer—not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

"Oh, Seven Gods... please look kindly on your child who has fallen into exhaustion."

The white light flowed from her fingertips into me.

And the effect was immediate.

"Ah..."

Warmth spread through my body like sinking into a hot bath.

My muscles loosened.

My mind—tight as a drawn bowstring—finally slackened.

The crushing fatigue didn’t vanish completely.

But it dulled.

Like someone had lowered the weight I’d been carrying by half.

I exhaled slowly without meaning to.

Iris looked down at me, expression serious.

"How do you feel?"

"...Better," I admitted.

It came out quieter than I expected.

Like my voice was finally tired too.

I blinked heavily.

"You suggested going out today because of this," I said, the pieces connecting.

Iris’s lips lifted slightly.

"Yes."

A pause.

Then, quietly:

"If I didn’t, you would have trained anyway."

She pinched my cheek once, not hard, just enough to scold.

"You’re impossible."

"...Thanks," I murmured.

"Hmph." Iris looked away, pretending she wasn’t pleased. "If you’re thankful, then rest."

The moment she said it, something inside me gave up.

The drowsiness I’d been fighting all day surged over me like a tide.

My eyelids became heavy.

My thoughts blurred.

I heard Iris’s voice faintly, like it came from very far away.

"Sweet dreams."

The last thing I felt was her hand gently smoothing my hair back.

Then the world went dark.

The sun remained warm.

The park remained quiet.

And Iris sat on the bench with a sleeping Dale on her lap, staring forward like she was guarding a treasure.

For several minutes, she didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe too loudly.

Didn’t even blink much.

Because the moment she let herself think, her face burned.

’What was I thinking?’

Even if it was to help him rest...

Even if she had dragged him out here on purpose because he needed it...

She had still acted too boldly.

Too comfortably.

Too... personally.

’What if he thinks I’m shameless?’

The thought made her shoulders stiffen.

She glanced down at Dale’s sleeping face.

Then frowned.

"...I can’t even see him properly."

Because her jacket collar and the angle of her posture blocked her own view.

Annoyed, Iris adjusted the fabric and shifted her shoulders slightly.

"There."

Now she could see him.

Dale slept quietly, expression softer than usual.

His ashy-gray hair looked almost gentle in the sunlight.

His sharp eyes were closed, making him seem... younger.

Less like the stubborn fighter who refused to break.

More like a boy who had forgotten how to rest.

A warm heat spread through Iris’s chest.

’Why is he like this?’

No one in their right mind would call Dale "cute."

He wasn’t the graceful, polished type.

He wasn’t the "perfect prince" type.

But to Iris—

To Iris, who had watched him bleed for her, stand for her, and return from death for her—

Every part of him felt precious.

’Ugh. I’m going crazy.’

It had gotten worse recently.

After the incident with the demon cultists—after seeing Dale throw himself into danger without hesitation—her feelings had stopped being something she could push aside.

At first, she tried.

She told herself she was a Saint.

She told herself she shouldn’t fall into personal feelings.

Then she found herself thinking:

The Seven Gods don’t forbid love.

And then she found herself thinking something even bolder:

Maybe the gods want this.

And then—

She remembered.

The "accident" from a few days ago.

Elisha Baldwin.

The special professor.

The woman who had grabbed Dale during "verification" and made the entire training ground explode into chaos.

Even though Iris knew it wasn’t romantic—

Even though it was clearly intimidation and investigation—

The memory still made her stomach twist.

Grit.

Iris clenched her fist on instinct.

Then she looked down again.

Her gaze landed on Dale’s lips.

"...Ahem."

She coughed awkwardly and looked away.

No.

No, Iris.

Stop it.

She glanced around.

The park was quiet.

No one nearby.

Only distant footsteps far down the path.

Her heart thumped.

Then her eyes landed on the small paper bag beside her—leftovers from the café earlier.

Cookies.

Iris’s eyes lit up with a brilliant idea.

A safe idea.

A normal idea.

She opened the wrapper carefully and pinched off a tiny crumb.

Then she sprinkled it—very gently—near the corner of Dale’s mouth.

"Oh dear," Iris whispered dramatically, putting on a ridiculous performance even though no one was watching. "Dale, you’re so careless. You’ve got cookie crumbs."

She leaned closer.

Not to kiss.

Not to do anything insane.

Just to—

She reached out with her finger and wiped the crumb away.

There.

See?

Normal.

Helpful.

Saintly.

Her heart still pounded like she’d committed a crime.

’Okay,’ she told herself. ’That’s enough. That was the limit.’

And then—

Ding!

The alarm from Dale’s Hero Watch went off suddenly.

"Eek!"

Iris nearly jumped off the bench.

Dale stirred.

"Mmm..."

Half-asleep, he lifted his wrist and squinted at the hologram.

"...What..."

Then he dropped his arm and sank back into Iris’s lap like nothing happened.

"I’ll sleep a bit more..."

Iris froze completely.

"...Y-yes," she whispered, voice shaking. "Please... rest."

She didn’t move for several seconds, terrified he’d noticed her.

But Dale’s breathing evened out again.

He was asleep.

Still asleep.

Iris finally exhaled in relief.

"Phew..."

And then, as she calmed down, her eyes drifted back to the Hero Watch.

It was still on.

The hologram still visible.

A message displayed clearly.

From: Juliet Kang

[When should we meet today?]

Iris’s brows furrowed.

Juliet Kang...

Another third-year candidate.

She’d seen him in the dining hall before.

A blonde boy with an expensive air and a smile that never felt sincere.

’Why is Dale meeting him?’

And why did the message sound... familiar?

Important.

Private.

Too casual for someone you barely knew.

Iris stared at Dale.

He slept peacefully, unaware that his watch was exposing his social life to an anxious saint.

’I’ll ask him later.’

That was the reasonable choice.

So Iris reached toward the watch to turn it off—just to help him sleep.

Beep.

"...Oh."

Her finger hit the wrong button.

The screen changed.

A folder opened.

Photos

Iris blinked.

Then blinked again.

And the first image loaded.

"...Huh?"

It was a picture of Juliet Kang.

Wearing women’s clothing.

Striking a dramatic pose.

Iris stared at it in absolute silence.

Her brain crashed.

The park was warm.

The day was peaceful.

And yet, in Iris’s mind, thunder exploded.

"...Dale," she whispered, voice trembling.

Her expression slowly hardened.

Very slowly.

Like a saint becoming a judge.

"...What exactly... are you doing with this?"