[Chronos_Void]: Rogue is definitely getting the Attenborough voice ready for this. ’The Alpha claims the den... and the ears.

[Matthesage]: Wait... did the system just give Liam the ability to just kill steal ANYONE’S boss?

[Dragonfangs29]: This isn’t a raid anymore; this is a dating sim where the MC is the only one who doesn’t know he’s playing. 10/10 content.

[JudeTraore]: I wonder what Elizabeth meant by being busy later ;)

[Wolfbane_195]: Rogue, get the camera closer! I need to see the exact moment Berry’s soul left her body through her ears, absolute cinema.

"What do you want?" Liam asked Berry, "For dinner?" Still that low register. Still looking at her like the question mattered not because she mattered to him romantically, she told herself, but because ingredients mattered and she was now a variable in a recipe equation.

"Surprise me." It came out softer than she intended. Breathier. She cleared her throat. Twice. "I mean, of course, the chef’s choice. I don’t care, whatever’s efficient."

The raid portal shimmered behind them as they stepped out into the afternoon light. Liam stretched his massive frame, feeling the satisfying pop of joints after the intense battle. His fluffy white tail swished contentedly as he surveyed the group.

Rogue was busy examining his blue screen, eyes widening. "Oh shit! I levelled up eight times from that!" He pumped his fist in the air. "Can’t wait to farm this later, or die to a zerg, who knows?" He glanced at Liam, gesturing toward the unconscious Fridge. "Uhh, Liam, what do you want me to do with Fridge?"

Liam’s red eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the question. "Take him home," he said simply, his deep voice carrying across the clearing. "Or I’ll strap him to a wall outside my house and make him a dog house."

Rogue nodded quickly, understanding the implied threat wasn’t empty. He shrugged at Mirra, who was watching the exchange with mild interest.

Noir stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her lower lip jutting out in a subtle pout. She’d been close to Liam during the battle, but not quite as close as Elizabeth or Berry. Her tail twitched with irritation.

Midnight materialized at the edge of the group, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "Um." She looked at Liam first, then away. "Where should I go?"

Berry and Noir exchanged a glance. Berry reached out and pulled Midnight in by the shoulder without a word. Noir closed the other side.

"We’ll figure out the big house later," Noir said, mostly to herself.

Midnight went still for a moment, then nodded into Berry’s shoulder.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was practically skipping with joy, her pink hair bouncing with each step. "That was amazing! We actually did it!" Her pink eyes sparkled as she glanced back at Liam.

The thirty meat shields stood in a dazed cluster, looking at each other in disbelief. One of them kept patting himself down as if checking to make sure he was still alive. "We survived," he whispered to no one in particular. "We actually survived."

Johan followed behind, shaking his head with a small smile playing on his lips; he seemed both amused and impressed by the group’s improbable success.

As they approached the starter town, a massive shimmering effect appeared in the central square. With a series of wet thuds, forty Ruby-Eyed guild members materialised on the ground, their armour dented and bodies covered in various wounds. At the centre lay Barbossa, barely breathing, his once proud armour now a mangled mess.

The townsfolk and other players nearby stopped in their tracks, staring at the sudden appearance of the battered guild.

"What the hell?" one of the meat shields, ugh, mages, exclaimed. "Where were you guys?"

Another player pointed at a dark stain spreading across Barbossa’s leggings. "Did you pee yourself?" he asked, unable to keep the smirk from his voice.

The Ruby Eyed members looked up, faces flushing with embarrassment. Some tried to stand but collapsed back onto the ground, too injured to move properly.

Liam observed the scene with his usual calm, his nose wrinkling.

He turned away from the downed guild entirely, as if twenty groaning players were simply part of the scenery. His gaze found Elizabeth first. Then Berry. Then Midnight and Noir, who were already dusting themselves off near the fountain.

"Everyone okay?" He said it simply.

Elizabeth blinked. "We weren’t even, we didn’t fight them."

"Good."

Liam stretched his neck. Rolled one shoulder. The movement pulled his black shirt taut across his chest, fabric shifting over dense muscle.

"I need to cook," he announced. "We’re going home."

He glanced at his stream camera. "Thanks for watching, we’ll be back." Then he cut the feed.

Then he took Elizabeth’s hand.

Liam just reached down and folded her smaller fingers into his palm like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d done it a thousand times.

Elizabeth’s brain whited out.

She looked down at their joined hands. Looked up at his face. Liam wasn’t looking at her; he was already walking, pulling her along at an easy pace toward their townhouse, his tail swaying behind him in a slow, relaxed rhythm.

"Wait, why are you?"

"Crowds make me lose people." He said it without turning around, "Don’t want to lose you."

Berry stood rooted to the spot, watching Liam’s broad back retreat down the lane, Elizabeth stumbling slightly beside him, her free hand pressed against her own face.

Elizabeth, still being gently towed along, finally found words. "You’re holding my hand."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Told you." He squeezed once, "Don’t want to lose you."

Her fingers tightened around his. She didn’t say anything else. Her ears stayed pressed flat, pink flooding all the way to their tips, but she matched his pace and didn’t pull away.

The smell reached them before the townhouse did, wood smoke and roasting garlic threading through the cool afternoon air, warm and distinct, the kind of smell that made strangers slow down as they passed.

"What are you making?" Elizabeth asked. Her thumb traced a small circle against his knuckle; she probably didn’t realise she was doing it.

He did.

"Dunno yet." His grip shifted, lacing their fingers together properly. "You’ll find out when I do."

[TOOL TIP: THE CHEF’S PRIVATE TASTING]

Status: Main Feed Terminated / Internal Mechanics Engaged.

Tactical Hand-Holding: Liam has applied a [Lock-On] grip to Elizabeth. While his human brain claims it’s to "not lose her in the crowd," his 10,000x Instincts have already calculated the shortest path to a room with a locking door.

The "Hearth" Heat: Liam announced he "needs to cook," but the recipe he’s currently visualising doesn’t involve a skillet. He’s moving from [Open-Fire Braising] to [Slow-Burn Intimacy], and Elizabeth’s "pink white-out" suggests her resistance stats have officially hit zero.

Ingredient Analysis: Liam noted Elizabeth’s skin is "soft." Between the "Prepped and Waxed" discovery and the way he’s "lacing fingers properly," the system predicts a 100% chance of a very different kind of "Meat-Shield" being used tonight.