"Thanks for the help, Lilly."
It was later that same day, the sun already tilting down towards the horizon by the time Soren made his way to Lilliana's dorm.
He shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder and raised his hand to knock, the familiar door in front of him oddly comforting after everything that had happened underground.
The door opened almost immediately.
Lilliana stood there, lime-green eyes widening a fraction when she saw him.
Her gaze swept over his face, his posture, as if counting invisible variables.
"It's fine," she said at once, stepping aside to let him in. "Are you feeling better now?"
He nodded.
"Yeah… a bit."
It wasn't a lie.
The nightmare had left a heaviness in his chest, the fight with the wraith had drained his body, but after training with Amelia and feeling his own growth plainly, something inside him had shifted.
The storm was still there, just quieter.
The first thing Lilliana noticed was that he seemed more relaxed than usual.
His shoulders weren't as hunched, and there was no frantic edge in his eyes.
For someone who watched him as closely as she did, the difference was obvious.
As his friend, she couldn't help but feel relieved.
"Have you eaten?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"I was planning to grab something on my way back to the dorm," Soren replied.
His original intention had been simple: return the book he had borrowed and leave.
He didn't want to barge in on her if she was busy.
He had already taken her help once with the book; showing up again felt like asking for more than he deserved.
"That's good then," she said. Then, without missing a beat, "Eat with me, then, Ren."
He blinked.
"Are you sure? I don't want to be a bother," he replied instinctively.
His tone wavered just slightly.
"It's fine, it's fine," she said, smiling as she reached out and grabbed his wrist.
Her grip was gentle, but there was no room to argue as she pulled him into the room fully and nudged the door closed with her foot.
He gave a small, resigned laugh.
"Can I help then?" he asked.
It wasn't politeness; it was habit.
If he was already imposing, the least he could do was contribute.
Lilliana's eyes sparkled.
"I finally get to taste Ren's cooking!" she said, her voice carrying a little excitement.
"If you want me to," he replied.
"Of course I do!"
There wasn't a hint of doubt in her voice.
"Just don't get your hopes up," he said, moving deeper into the familiar dorm room.
He had been here enough times now that the layout was memorised, the small living space near the door, the tidy desk where Lilliana did her work, the kitchenette lined with neatly arranged utensils and jars of dried herbs.
There were potted plants by the window, some with faint traces of mana, the leaves a little too vibrant to be normal.
As he stepped towards the kitchen, a thought slipped in.
'Am I coming too often?'
He mentally scrolled through his recent weeks.
Study sessions.
Blood magic lessons.
Quiet visits where they just drank tea and talked about nothing for an hour.
It hadn't actually been that long since they became friends, and yet lately, it felt like he was spending more time at Lilliana's dorm than in his own room.
He couldn't help but worry.
'If rumours start…'
He remembered Aria.
Their shared apartment.
The assumptions people made just because a man and woman lived together and didn't bother to correct it.
If anything similar started here, Lilliana would be the one in danger, not him.
A noble girl, a professor-in-training, always under scrutiny.
He didn't want to be the reason people whispered about her.
His brows furrowed slightly without him noticing.
"What are you thinking so hard about?" Lilliana asked.
He glanced over his shoulder.
She was watching him with her head tilted, lips puffed slightly, a familiar expression when she felt that something was off.
"Nothing, don't worry…" he said.
He turned back towards the stove, trying to push the thoughts aside.
"But are you really going to watch?" he added.
"Is that not okay?" she asked.
Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were focused on him, waiting for his answer.
Aria's face flashed in his mind at the question, her seated on the counter, swinging her legs and watching him cook, telling him he looked good in that ridiculous apron.
For a moment, the memories overlapped.
His chest tightened, but only for a second.
He forced himself to take a breath and loosen his shoulders.
"I don't mind," he said quietly. "Just be careful."
Even if Lilliana was a dhampir with ridiculous regeneration and the ability to heal even missing limbs, that didn't change the fact that he didn't like seeing her hurt.
Accidents in the kitchen were still accidents.
"As expected of Ren," she said.
In response to his concern, Lilliana took a few small steps back, creating a bit more space to watch from without hovering directly over his shoulder.
A peaceful atmosphere settled over the room as he began to work.
It was the first time in a while that Soren felt like he could properly breathe.
No monsters.
No curses.
No arena.
Just a quiet kitchen, a familiar friend watching from the side, and the simple act of cooking.
Until now, he had been running nonstop, training, worrying, planning, always moving because stopping meant facing everything in his head.
Only now had he finally slowed down enough to look back.
He turned to the ingredients Lilliana had in her pantry and fridge, mentally piecing together what he could make.
"Let's see…" he murmured as he pulled items out one by one.
Potatoes.
Carrots.
Broccoli.
A good cut of beef.
Basic seasonings.
Butter, herbs, flour for thickening.
More than enough.
He washed the vegetables, the sound of running water filling the small space.
The scent of fresh earth rose faintly from the peeled potatoes.
He chopped them into even chunks, the steady rhythm of the knife soothing.
"Wow, you're better than I thought," Lilliana said, eyes wide as she watched his hands move.
"Aha, thank you, but I can't compare to you," he replied, lips quirking.
He meant it.
Cooking was something he did because he had to, because it made life cheaper and easier and occasionally a little nicer.
Lilliana, on the other hand, gardened and worked with ingredients in a way that felt like an art.
He didn't see himself that way.
He set the potatoes to boil and turned to the vegetables, slicing and sorting them neatly.
The pan hissed when he added oil, the scent of browning butter slowly filling the room.
As Soren worked, his mind drifted back, unbidden.
He had only ever really cooked for two people before coming here: himself and Aria.
She had always praised his cooking, saying how amazing and delicious it was in exaggerated tones that made him roll his eyes and secretly feel good about it.
Back then, he had assumed she was just being nice, trying to boost his confidence, or repaying him for doing the cooking in the first place.
He watched his hands move, the muscle memory of chopping, stirring, seasoning flowing together.
'Maybe… I wasn't that bad,' he thought.
The meat sizzled as he laid it in the pan, the edges starting to caramelise.
He seared each side carefully and then lowered the heat, basting it slowly so the centre would stay pink.
The smell spread through the dorm, warm and savoury, with a hint of herbs.
On the other side of the counter, Lilliana stayed quiet, but her ears betrayed her again, flicking almost imperceptibly every time the scent grew stronger.
Once the meat rested, he turned back to the potatoes, drained them, and mashed them with butter and a bit of cream, mixing until they were smooth and fluffy.
It wasn't anything complicated.
But it was familiar.
When everything was ready, he plated the meal with more care than usual.
A bed of mashed potatoes on one side, vegetables arranged neatly on the other.
The slices of medium-rare beef were placed in the middle, the pink centres visible beneath the seared outer layer.
He poured a rich, brown gravy over the top, letting it pool slightly into the potatoes.
"Here," he said, carrying the plates over to the small table. "Sorry for the wait."
He set one plate in front of Lilliana and took the seat beside her with his own.
"It looks amazing, Ren, thank you," she said, smiling gently.
She looked down at the plate.
It was a fairly standard high-class meal, something she had seen countless times in noble households.
Vegetables like carrots and broccoli arranged carefully on one side.
A generous serving of mashed potatoes on the other, whipped just enough to look smooth but not unnatural.
And in the centre, thinly sliced beef, cooked exactly the way she liked it.
It was simple.
But the simplicity itself made her chest feel warm.
It was the first time in her life that anyone had cooked for her like this.
Not a servant paid to do it because it was their job.
Not a chef in a restaurant where she was just another customer.
Someone who remembered her preferences and stood at a stove thinking about how to serve her a meal.
Lilliana lifted the small gravy boat and poured some more over her plate, watching it run down over the meat and sink into the potatoes.
She picked up her utensils and took a bite.
The flavours came together smoothly, savoury, warm, and comforting without being heavy.
Her eyes widened.
She turned to look at Soren, who had taken his first bite and was chewing with an almost cautious expression, as if waiting to hear her verdict.
"Delicious," she said.
Just one word, but there was nothing casual in it.
Soren froze for half a second, his fork halfway back to his plate.
He never quite knew what to do when someone complimented him directly.
His first instinct was always to look away, to pretend he hadn't heard, or to brush it off with a joke.
But he didn't dislike it.
If anything, he was far too weak to it.
His lips curved, a small but obvious smile appearing before he could suppress it.
A faint blush colored his cheeks as he focused very intently on cutting his next piece of meat.
"I'm glad you like it," he said softly.
And for the first time in a long while, the heaviness in his chest loosened just a little more.
••✦ ♡ ✦•••
"Ahh… that was great! I didn't know you could cook so well, Ren."
Lilliana slumped back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, fork still in hand, her lime-green eyes curved with genuine delight.
Soren rubbed the back of his neck.
"Thanks, but you're way better than me. Pass me your plate," he said, a little awkwardly.
He stood from the table, already reaching for her dish as he stacked his own on top and carried them towards the sink.
"Hang on, Ren. Let me do that, you cooked after all," Lilliana said, pushing her chair back as she moved to stand.
"I don't mind," he replied.
He reached for the tap, but a pair of small hands landed on his back and pushed firmly.
"Shoo, you've done enough."
He stumbled a step forward, then let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but more relaxed than it had been in days.
"Alright, alright. I'll leave it to you," he said, raising his hands in surrender as he backed away from the sink.
He wandered into the living area and let himself drop onto the sofa.
The cushions dipped under his weight, the familiar warmth of the fabric wrapping around his tired body.
Now that he had eaten, the heaviness he had been ignoring settled fully into his limbs.
'…I'm more tired than I thought.'
Whether it was because he hadn't slept properly for a while, or because his body was finally letting go after the dungeon and the panic and the nightmare, Soren could feel the exhaustion catching up with him.
It was an awkward time of day, too early to call it evening, too late to still be afternoon, caught somewhere in between where time felt slower.
He lay on his side, one arm tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow.
The room was quiet, save for the faint clink of plates in the kitchen and the running water.
Then a soft, tuneless melody drifted over.
"Hmm~♪ Hmmmm~♪"
A cute sound.
Lilliana's humming floated through the dorm as she washed the dishes they had used, the notes light and absentminded.
It wasn't a song he recognised.
It didn't seem like she did either; it was just something she hummed on instinct, changing rhythm every few seconds.
The gentle sound mixed with the comfortable sofa, with the full feeling in his stomach, with the warmth of the room.
It made it impossible for Soren to keep his eyes open.
His eyelids grew heavy.
'…Just for a second,' he thought, letting his gaze unfocus.
The ceiling blurred, the edges of the room softened, and slowly but surely his eyes drooped shut.
His breathing steadied, fading into soft, even breaths as his body finally gave in.
Within moments, he had fallen asleep.
A little while later, the water stopped.
The quiet clinking of dishes came to an end.
"Ren, I'm done—"
Lilliana stepped out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a towel as she spoke, but her words trailed off when she saw him.
"—Oh, he's asleep," she finished, her voice dropping to a murmur.
Soren was sprawled on the sofa, one arm dangling off the edge, hair slightly messy, expression slack with rare, uncomplicated rest.
His guard, which was almost always up in some small way, was gone.
Lilliana stood there for a few seconds, just watching.
A soft breath left her lips as she turned away, padding towards her bedroom.
She returned with a folded blanket in her arms.
Without a word, she stepped closer and carefully draped it over his body, smoothing it gently over his shoulders so it wouldn't slip.
Up close, she could see faint shadows beneath his eyes, the tiny lines of tension at the corners of his mouth that lingered even in sleep.
"I wonder what happened…?" she whispered.
From the moment he had appeared at her doorstep earlier, Lilliana had noticed it.
There was something different in Soren's atmosphere.
He was still Soren, still sharp-tongued, still self-deprecating, still quick to downplay himself, but something had shifted underneath.
The desperate, restless edge that had clung to him since the mock duels was dulled.
The way his shoulders sat, the way his gaze moved, the way he smiled… all of it had changed, subtly but unmistakably.
It was such a drastic change that, logically, she questioned whether it was even possible overnight.
She didn't know what he had gone through in detail, only pieces, scattered between his words and his expression, but she could tell something heavy had been carried and then set down, at least a little.
In the end, though, the exact reason didn't matter to her as much as the result.
At the end of the day, Lilliana was simply happy.
Happy that her one and only friend looked lighter.
"I wish I could've helped though…" she muttered, puffing her cheeks out slightly.
It was a small, childish gesture, but genuine.
She had always told Soren that she was there for him, that he could talk to her if something was wrong, that he didn't need to carry things alone.
And yet, for some reason, he never came to her first.
He would only open up after she noticed, after she asked, after she poked a hole in his calm and waited patiently for the words to spill out.
To someone else, that might have sounded petty.
It was normal, after all, people didn't always know how to reach out, especially when it came to pain.
But to Lilliana, it was important.
She didn't want Soren to suffer unnecessarily, not if she had even a small chance of making it easier.
She knew how fragile he was, both physically and mentally.
She had seen him flinch from pain he tried to hide, heard the self-blame beneath his jokes, watched him throw himself into danger he absolutely didn't have to shoulder.
She narrowed her eyes slightly at his sleeping face.
"You're stupid," she whispered under her breath, though there was no heat behind the words.
She reached out, almost hesitantly at first, then let her fingers sink into his hair.
Her hand moved slowly, stroking his head with a gentle, repetitive motion.
Under her touch, Soren's previously neutral expression softened.
The faint line between his brows unknotted.
His shoulders eased a fraction more as his breathing deepened.
Watching that small change, Lilliana's features relaxed.
Being able to help him, even in such a small way, steadied something in her chest.
"Sleep well, Ren," she murmured.
Her voice was quiet, almost swallowed by the stillness of the dorm, but genuine.
She stood there for a while longer, hand in his hair, as if guarding his rest.
The lamp cast a soft glow over the sofa, over the blanket, over the boy who had finally stopped running for a moment, and the girl who had decided she would stay by his side as long as he let her.
————「❤︎」————