The Art of Patience Act 3 (Part 8)
D… don’t touch him. You survived five hundred years with little more than memories. You can survive one bath.
Not unless he reaches for you first.
Five hundred years… Has it really been that long?
Yellow Tusk always said memory was a liar. That enough time would polish someone’s image until they became more beautiful than they had ever truly been. Nostalgia makes things shine… but often disappoint when you reunit with that pretty memory.
I thought maybe he was right but looking at Mihou now…
No. If anything, memory failed him. He’s just as beautiful as I remember. Just as warm. The same eyes that always looked sharper than his words.
More beautiful. Age suits him. Life suits him. Even after everything I’ve done… he still somehow looks at me like home.
I noticed it long ago, when Mihou saved me, but… I was hardly in a state to think about anything except surviving and of my own vengeance.
Now that I see it again, it doesn’t look like ink or some tattoo.
It’s more like a seal or a contract.
A contract… Why would Mihou bind himself to one? What kind? Who with? If I could just touch it for a second I could probably tell.
Stone, seals, enchantments—they all leave traces. My fingers would know.
He’s been careful ever since I came back. Always keeping just enough distance. Sidestepping every excuse for intimacy. Avoiding accidental brushes. He’s cautious… I can’t blame him for that.
If he wants me close he’ll tell me.
His hands. They’re so soft.
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