Robin subconsciously raised her hand to brush away the damp strands in front of her forehead and murmured a low "Mm." "It's... inconvenient here." She was referring to this secluded island, which clearly lacked the facilities for grooming, making even a decent mirror hard to find.
Seraphilia looked at the blue eyes faintly visible beneath the thick bangs, and at Robin's clothes, which, though clean, were clearly coarse and simple, causing a pang in her heart. She stepped forward, this time more naturally, reaching out her hand, just like a long time ago, to gently brush aside the damp bangs from Robin's forehead, her fingertips touching her cool skin. That real touch was more reassuring than any words.
Robin did not dodge, but lifted her face, allowing the action, her blue eyes gazing quietly at her. In that look, the initial shock and vigilance had faded, leaving only calmness and a deep sense of reliance.
AI Model: gemini-3.0-flash
The tactile sensation at her fingertips and the clear features before her eyes overlapped with the image of that cold, dark little shack in Black Iron Town from her memory. Only this time, the trepidation was gone, replaced by serenity and reliance, and a warmth like something lost and found again.
"I'll help you cut it," Seraphilia said, her tone carrying an unquestionable earnestness, her eyes shimmering with a gentle light. "This time, I brought scissors."
---
Night had fully fallen, shrouding the forest in a deep, inky blackness.
A small campfire was lit in the clearing, its flames dancing merrily. Seraphilia had provided the solid fuel she carried with her, which burned longer; the fire was bright and steady, not only dispelling the chill and dampness of the forest but also the last remaining trace of awkwardness between the two.
Robin sat on a flat stone, her profile softened by the firelight. Seraphilia knelt before her, her posture upright yet carrying an indescribable tenderness.
A pair of brand-new, small, sharp scissors glinted silver in the firelight. Seraphilia had specifically bought them with her first month's salary as a lieutenant junior grade, keeping them carefully by her side, waiting for this moment.
Without a mirror, Seraphilia still had to rely on her intuition. She carefully gathered the overly long and thick bangs on Robin's forehead; the strands carried the coolness of stream water and the slight saltiness of a sea breeze. Her ice-blue eyes gazed intently at the features about to be revealed, as if performing a sacred and important ritual.
Robin sat quietly, her eyes slightly downcast, her long eyelashes casting fan-shaped shadows in the firelight. She allowed Seraphilia to work on her hair, her breathing steady and soft.
The "snip, snip" of the scissors rang out crisply, exceptionally clear in the silent forest. Snippets of hair fell away, some landing on Robin's eyelashes and the bridge of her nose with a slight itching sensation. She blinked, her eyelashes trembling slightly.
"Don't move," Seraphilia's voice was very soft, carrying a focused tension and an unconscious note of doting.
She paused her movements and reached out her finger, extremely gently brushing away the tiny hair clippings from Robin's eyelashes.
The distance between them was very close—close enough that she could clearly smell the faint scent of greenery and books on Robin.
She could see Robin's smooth forehead gradually being revealed, the well-shaped eyebrows, and those fully exposed azure eyes that were currently gazing at her quietly.
Without the bangs obstructing her, Robin's face looked much fresher, and... even more youthful and beautiful.
The firelight danced in her eyes, reflecting a nearly surreal warm glow, as if melting away the loneliness hidden deep within them.
Seraphilia's heart skipped a beat, and the tips of her ears felt a bit warm.
She quickly lowered her head to hide the fleeting flutter in her heart and continued her work, her movements becoming even more cautious as she strove for a neat cut.
The process of cutting her bangs was also an opportunity for Robin to observe Seraphilia closely and quietly.
The firelight illuminated Seraphilia's face clearly, also highlighting the small scars and the faint, not-yet-faded bruises on her face and the side of her neck. When Seraphilia raised her arm to comb the hair near Robin's ear, Robin's gaze fell upon the bandages wrapped around her forearm and the more numerous marks visible from her sleeve, extending upward.
Those marks, new ones overlapping old ones—some were abrasions, while others looked like bruises left by blunt force—appeared exceptionally jarring on Seraphilia's fair skin.
Robin's brow furrowed unconsciously, a wave of inexplicable, dull pain surging in her heart.
Robin's lips pressed thin.
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