The walk from the counter of the Reverie was cloaked in an awkward silence, the air heavy with unsaid words. Caelus found himself trapped in an uncharacteristic contemplation, his usually effortless banter a ship lost at sea.

"Why did I introduce myself like that? I'd normally say some offbeat things to new acquaintances..." His inner monologue ran rampant, trying to untangle the sudden surge of cheerfulness that had compelled him to act uncharacteristically buoyant around Acheron.

Yes, his usual demeanor was one of brightness—a beacon of positivity to new faces. But this was different. This was a glow not summoned by social obligation or empathy, but a genuine, spontaneous warmth that bubbled up from somewhere deep within when he laid eyes on Acheron.

The other Trailblazers had often playfully reprimanded him for his overzealous greetings, reminding him of the decorum befitting followers of Akivili. Politeness was paramount, the starting point for new ventures both social and political.

They were all too aware of his background—an amnesiac awoken in Herta's Space Station, catapulted into violent skirmishes led by the Antimatter Legion, eventually becoming a heralded hero across Belobog and Xianzhou Luofu.

Oops, a digression—back to the present. His heart raced with an unfamiliar energy, an earnest delight that swelled in the presence of Acheron.

Beside him, Acheron matched his stride with an effortless grace. As they walked, Caelus allowed himself a furtive side-glance, hoping she remained oblivious to his wandering gaze.

Her beauty struck him, a presence that might even challenge Kafka's allure, especially her che—

"Caelus?" Her voice broke through his reverie, and he shook his head, dispelling the vivid imagery that had captured his thoughts.

"Please don't look at me with such concern... it's unnerving," he mumbled inwardly, lost in the jewel-like violet of her eyes. They awakened something within him, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

And he liked it.

Acheron's head tilt and the gentle cross of her arms signaled something amiss. "We've been standing in front of this door for five minutes," she remarked, her tone a balanced mixture of inquiry and subtle apology.

"Door?" The word stumbled out of him as he turned to the numbers displayed before them, confirming the counter's direction to Acheron's room. Engrossed in his thoughts, he'd led them astray in his mental maze and now stood at the threshold of inaction.

This wasn't like him. Or was it?

Caelus coughed awkwardly, attempting to salvage his poise. "Umu! I was just double-checking the numbers, ensuring accuracy for a lady of your stature." His words seemed to catch Acheron off guard, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Why did he say that? This isn't embarrassment; this is... self-expression. Perhaps this was what Miss Himeko and the others meant by restraint. It was time to learn the subtleties of etiquette.

To escape his internal fumbling, he pressed on the door, letting the mechanism click and swing open to reveal Acheron's room.

A step inside transported them to a different era—a space where Art Deco met modern luxury, creating a symphony of timeless elegance. The room wrapped around them with its curved architecture, the absence of sharp angles offering a comforting embrace of grandeur and intimacy.

Above, disc-shaped lights bathed the space in a warm glow, playing off the dark walls and geometric patterns of the carpet—a dance of shadow and radiance. In the room's heart lay an opulent seashell-shaped seat, reminiscent of a golden age Hollywood set piece, inviting introspection or a quiet dialogue.

A large circular window punctuated the space, framing palm trees against the evening sky, hinting at a coastal respite amidst the urban grandeur. Velvet-textured seating in oranges and browns clustered around a glass-topped table, the vibrant bouquet upon it a splash of life and color.

Tall plants flanked the seating area, their greenery a soft whisper of the outside world brought within. Across the room, a vintage jukebox stood like a guardian of melody, its presence a nod to the bygone era's rhythm.

Every element, from the lush upholstery to the choice accents, sang a siren song of comfort and nostalgia, a lullaby for the weary traveler or the contemplative soul.

Caelus cleared his throat, the richness of the room's design momentarily distracting him from his prior embarrassment. "Welcome to your temporary sanctuary," he gestured grandly, his voice an anchor in the sea of luxury that surrounded them.

---

Standing on the threshold, Caelus watched as Acheron surveyed her temporary sanctuary. The way she moved, the slight tilt of her head, the way her eyes lingered on the art deco fixtures—every action spoke volumes, painting a portrait of a woman both intrigued and overwhelmed by the world she found herself in.

"Hmm, a bit too luxurious for my liking," Acheron declared, her voice resonating with a touch of discomfort as she surveyed the opulence of the room. The extravagance before her seemed superfluous, crafted for a life shared rather than a solitary existence. Her instincts, honed by the practicality of survival and the necessities of adventure, found little value in such grandeur.

"It is? I can't tell, honestly. I've been surrounded by these types of assortments and treatment for as long as I can remember," Caelus confessed, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the line of his jaw. Spoiled by the high-powered alliances that had embraced him, his world had always been cushioned by luxury, a stark contrast to Acheron's efficient simplicity.

Bronya, the stern but caring leader of Belobog, had insisted on providing him with the finest accommodations as a token of gratitude. In Xianzhou Luofu, the people had hailed him as a hero, though he tried to redirect their praise to his comrades. Yet, the well-meaning Guinafen always nudged him to accept their generosity. Modesty was one thing, but when faced with a torrent of kindness, it was difficult not to be swept away.

Acheron's soft chuckle broke the tension, her gaze momentarily softening as she looked around the lavish lobby. "I suppose there's a first time for everything," she mused, her voice laced with a curiosity that mirrored his own.

Now, standing with Acheron, who adjusted herself on the plush seating, Caelus felt out of his element. "Cute," he remarked, the word slipping out unbidden as she settled into the cushions.

Indeed, Acheron seemed to agree, patting a pillow with a soft smile. "Indeed, this pillow is very cute. Now, come, sit with me," she invited, her voice a gentle lullaby that beckoned him closer.

Was this a date? The thought flashed through Caelus' mind, causing a slight panic. No, this was just a shared moment, nothing more. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before accepting her invitation.

"Okay," he responded, though his cognitive functions seemed to take a backseat as his emotions commandeered the helm. With hesitant steps, he approached, each movement feeling as significant as a leap across galaxies, before finally settling beside her on the couch. He settled beside her, his body shivering—not from a draft but from the maelstrom of emotions spiraling within him.

Suddenly, he felt the warmth of Acheron's touch as she reached out and took his hand, the gesture so intimate that his heart raced. Her glove lay discarded on the table, a silent witness to their burgeoning connection.

"I sense a disturbance within you, and I thought a touch of kin-ship would suffice," Acheron stated, her intuitive perception peering into the turmoil of his psyche.

He was a Trailblazer, unshaken by the threat of the void or the heat of battle, yet here he was, unnerved by the gentle touch of a woman. He mustered his courage, focusing inward. "It's my first time being this close with a lady as beautiful as yourself," he confessed, feeling an inner cringe at his own words.

Oblivious to the effect of his declaration, Acheron merely blinked, bringing her hand to her mouth as if to stifle the budding emotions that even she struggled to understand.

Smooth, indeed, Caelus. Very smooth.

"I... see. Well, if that is all, you may return to your room," Acheron suggested after a moment, prompting Caelus to snap out of his reverie.

"Eh?" he uttered, confusion painting his features.

"You have done your duty of navigation. Perhaps it is time for you to leave?" she reiterated, her voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of reluctance.

He feared for a moment that she was severing their connection, but her next words washed away his apprehensions. "If you'd like, we can meet in the dreamscape. Rest, Caelus," she offered, an implicit promise of a future encounter.

Gratitude filled him. The bond they had formed, however new and fragile, would not end this day. He rose from the couch, feeling lighter. "Thank you, Acheron... have a good evening?" His farewell was tinged with the awkwardness of the unknown.

"Have a good evening, Caelus," she returned the sentiment, her nod an affirmation of their shared experience.

As he turned to leave, one last awkward exchange unfolded. "Umm... could you release my hand, please?" he asked, turning away and attempting to mask his embarrassment with a disjointed whistle.

Acheron, momentarily puzzled, followed his gaze to their entwined hands. "Sorry..." she murmured.

"It's alright," he assured her, and with that, they parted ways—for now.

---

How did it come to this? Caelus mused, his thoughts a whirlwind as he succumbed to the dream, allowing the subconscious waves to carry him into the dreamscape. The transition was meant to be seamless, a gentle drift into the realm of dreams where possibilities were boundless, and reality was but a whisper. Yet, fate, it seemed, had a different script in mind.

No sooner had he surrendered to the dream than he found himself hurtling through the dreamscape's sky, a comet ablaze with uncertainty and anticipation. His descent was meteoric, slicing through the velvety fabric of the dream world towards the Golden Hour—a moment suspended in the eternal twilight of dreams, where every second glittered with the potential of eternity.

He crashed, a spectacle of disarray, forming a crater where elegance was expected. Dust settled around him as he lay in the makeshift nest his arrival had carved out of the dreamscape. It was then that he heard it—the voice that had become his anchor in both waking and dreaming worlds.

"Are you alright, Caelus?" The concern in Acheron's voice was unmistakable, a lighthouse beaconing through the fog of his embarrassment. He raised his eyes to meet hers, expecting to find judgment or amusement. Instead, he was met with a gaze brimming with genuine worry. And in that moment, he realized how much he appreciated her concern, how much he—liked it. More than liked, he cherished it, this thread of connection between them that seemed to grow stronger with every encounter.

End of Chapter

A/N: Hello, everyone. I hope this chapter has made your day much better. That is all for now. Err... Thank you for reading! I'll be uploading the next chapter on Saturday next week. Have a good day!