The Jiuguan Tavern in Shulan didn’t hold a candle to the food and drink offerings in Nyarlothep, but Cailu would have to compromise somewhere. Shi Island was his to protect, after all, even if the capital of Nyarlea had become just as much as his to bear.

Are you still alive, Matt?

Cailu hoped so. For so many years, he’d hoped to meet another man in this world that possessed even a fraction of the perseverance and strength he himself had to display for the last decade. Too often had an island welcomed a new man only to see him die within a week or two. So very few reached the heights required to access Nyarlothep. The few he’d ferried over before they were ready turned out to be a catastrophe—dying during their residency or on their return journey.

Just once, he’d like to congregate with the others. Devise a plan. Especially now, with the swarms of Defiled appearing on every island. It was too much for him to handle alone. Perhaps at the beginning of his life in this new world, he believed he was able to handle it by himself, but not anymore.

And so he pondered alone in the Jinguan Tavern, praying for the safety of who he was sure was his last hope. Men didn’t live long in Nyarlea—that much he’d gathered over the years. Compared to his competitors, he’d ascended to a rank of divinity for the world’s citizens and wouldn’t be surprised if he kept it.

Naeemah had turned in early for the night, and Kirti…well, he wasn’t certain that Kirti slept at all. Every member of Cailu’s past and previous Party terrified him in some way, and the [Witch Doctor] pushed his comfort limits further than he’d ever dreamed possible. But those were the ones he needed to keep closest—the ones that scared him. Much like Yomi’s demonic machinations, Kirti seemed to have her own brand of religious horror, keeping the souls of their defeated trapped inside of pebbles.

“Another drink, Master?” the waitress asked softly. Her black dress swept low on her chest and hugged the curves of her body. White ears and a thick tail diverged from her dark outfit, punctuated by the warm lighting inside Jiuguan.

“Yes,” Cailu grunted, leaning back from his cup.

She tilted the silver pitcher, and cloudy, steaming liquid streamed from its lip and into his Ochoko cup. It spilled into the wooden box beneath it—the Masu, as he’d learned long before—and filled halfway before she stopped pouring.

“May I get you anything else?” she asked with a warm smile.

“No, that will be all.”

“Of course, Master. Simply call if you should need me.” A glint in her eye suggested more than simple food service, but Cailu ignored it. Once he’d seemed to lose interest, she took the hint and turned her attentions to her other tables.

While he drank his sake, a girl at a far-off table caught his eye. Emerald eyes and ebony hair punctuated by breaks of green. Her posture was perfect, as if raised in a noble house, and her long fingers gently cupped her glass of wine. A black, corseted top bared strong, lithe arms covered in the scars of beasts—ones she seemed to present as trophies rather than blemishes to be ashamed of.

She was enraptured by her companion across the table, not sparing Cailu a glance. Her profile ignited a flame of memory he’d suppressed so many years before.

Fera…

Raven locks shone in the morning sun as Fera corralled Heiki back into the house for their midday meal. Glittering green eyes rested on his face, gently warmed by her smile. Ready for tea, love?

Father! Look what I found! Heiki cradled a butterfly in her palms. She thrust the insect forward to show him, blue eyes identical to Cailu’s, searching his face for approval.

The stranger’s ears flicked forward, and her eyes slid to meet his gaze. A thin smile curled her lips, and all nostalgic traces of Fera vanished, replaced with a sardonic grin vacant of his late wife’s brilliant warmth. She slowly rose from the table, her shapely legs covered by black pants and a heavy set of dark metal leg armor. Amongst the dark aesthetic of her clothing were moments of glittering silver—half-hoops, shining jewelry, and round sterling adornments in her hair.

She stalked toward the table, eyes never leaving his. Her hair trailed over both shoulders, ending just above the dip of her corseted top. Her narrow, black, and green tail swung behind her like a pendulum, keeping pace with her steps.

“Cailu, isn’t it?” Her voice was gruff as if hardened by the test of many battles. “Cailu Racken or something?”

Cailu bristled. “Cailu Raloquen. First of his name.”

She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward, stopping mere heartbeats away from his face. Black ash outlined her wide eyes, likely drawn on with a burnt match. “First of his name, huh? Sounds fancy.” She licked her full lips. “I’m Skye. Know how many girls have had my name?”

Cailu frowned. “I could not say.”

“Neither could I,” Skye growled, then leaned back. She meticulously studied him from head to toe, then continued, “I’ve seen you around. You walk and talk and act like we all owe you something.”

“You do,” he replied carefully, setting his jaw. “I keep the Defiled and Encroachers at bay. It is I who puts my life on the line for your island every single day.”

Skye crossed her arms over her chest. “There are plenty of us who do the same thing. We’re just not good enough for your Party.”

Furrowing his brow, Cailu replaced his cup in the Masu and carefully picked through his words. “A Party has certain requirements that must be met to function correctly—”

“Uh-huh. And your [Assassin] so lightly informed me that a [Fighter]-based Class would not be necessary.” She tapped her pointer finger against her elbow. “Are you afraid of being shown up in combat by a [Void Walker], First of His Name?”

“Fear has nothing to do with it.” The first tinges of anger sparked deep in his gut. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or constant travel and battle fatigue. Perhaps the politics in Nyarlothep were wearing his emotions thin. “You would only get in my way.”

“You say that with such conviction. Not everyone fights the same, you know.” Despite a lack of invitation, Skye took a seat on the bench across from his. She leveled his gaze and sneered. “The way you look at catgirls is something else. Like we’re all beneath you. Do you even realize that you’re doing it?”

Cailu rested his gauntlets on the table and waited. He never left his quarters without his armor. Today, it felt far heavier than he’d ever remembered. What right did this girl have to say these things to him? Didn’t she understand the sweat and blood he’d sacrificed to get here? To keep impertenint citizens like her safe?

She shook her head and continued. “And yet, when I caught you looking at me, it was different. Softer. Why?”

“You mock me and expect an answer?” Cailu growled.

Skye shrugged. “At this point, I expect nothing.” She reached across the table and stole the Ochoko cup from its box. Slowly lifting it to her lips, she paused and searched his face. “Shall I continue to do so?”

He clenched one fist as she sipped the cup’s contents. Skye’s slender jawline and soft curves were painfully reminiscent of Fera. Her sharp tongue and boorish demeanor, however, couldn’t have been farther from the woman he’d once loved. Gritting his teeth, he forced a response. “You reminded me of someone. Your delightful conversation has since remedied that mistake.”

“I see.” Skye chuckled, then swirled the cup at her chin. “Well, I beg you pardon my intrusion.” Finishing the sake, she set it down on the table, paused, then replaced it in the box with a final tap on the rim. “I’ll leave you to it.”

As she stood to leave, Cailu caught her wrist. The movement surprised them both. Skye looked at his gloved hand, then to his face. She said nothing; her eyes asked everything.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a burning in his cheeks and chest. His heart sped. The thoughts racing in his mind were beyond Skye’s resemblance to Fera. When was the last time he’d desired someone’s company? He swallowed against the building lump in his throat. “Please. Stay.”

“You sure? I don’t want to ruin your evening,” Skye chided, though her words were softer than before.

“I’m sure.”

She slowly took her seat, and Cailu raised his hand for the waitress, ordering two more Masu boxes.

“I’ve seen those drinks a few times, but I never really understood the box thing,” Skye admitted. She gestured to the empty cup. “Whatever’s inside is smooth as silk, though.”

“This sake is reserved for guests of honor. The boxes themselves are made of the same wood they use in the Temples of Saoirse,” Cailu explained, emptying the remaining sake inside the box into his cup.

“Probably should have just let me order another glass of wine, then,” Skye replied with a wry smile. “The title of Guest of Honor doesn’t belong anywhere near me.”

“You may be correct. Enjoy it while it lasts.” He cleared his throat. It’d been so long since Cailu had last made a joke that the tone fell flat. “Apologies, I meant that in jest.”

Skye grinned, but her eyes searched his face. “You are all over the place.”

He wanted to pretend that he didn’t know what she meant. Or disagree straight out. All over the place? Of course not. He was the most collected man in Nyarlea. He had the best handle on the situation and the strongest tools to take care of it.

They accepted the presented Masu boxes, and both drank deeply.

“Who did I remind you of?” Skye asked after a time.

Cailu tapped his cup. “Someone I knew many lifetimes ago.”

“A friend?”

“A bit more, I would say.” Still images of his wedding flashed across his mind. For so long, he’d pushed them away, and, in truth, he didn’t want to think of them now. “Let us talk of other things. Were you born in Shulan?”

Skye shook her head. “I grew up on the other side of the island. In Binh Lai. It’s pretty small—only a couple hundred catgirls live there.”

“The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Yeah. If I recall correctly, you walked over it about five years ago and never looked back,” Skye teased. “Your Party stepped in when the few of us defending the town weren’t enough.”

“I cannot remain in place for very long, regardless of circumstances,” Cailu said. “There is always a new threat to take care of. A city that needs my help. Evenings like this one are rare.”

Skye spun her cup in thought. “That must be exhausting.” Her tail flickered behind her, and her ears twitched low. “Maybe I judged you too quickly.”

Cailu shrugged .”What brought you to Shulan?”

“I wanted to pick up some extra work, and, well…” Her words trailed, and she drained her sake instead.

“What?”

She straightened her shoulders. “I want a daughter. But do I meet the qualifications?” Her tone sounded like a quip, but the unease on her face spoke volumes.

He smiled. A genuine smile felt foreign and strained his lips—as if he was relearning the gesture all over again. “I believe you do.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. I’ll prove it to you. Provided you don’t mind being beneath me.”

Skye blushed, and her eyes glittered. “We’ll see about that.”

Cailu fished a sizeable bag of Bells from his [Cat Pack] and set it on the table. He was quickly handed the key to The Jiuguan’s best room. Skye followed him wordlessly up the stairs, her leg armor clinking as she moved.

They wound their way through two long hallways before stopping at an elaborate door at the far end. Cailu unlocked it and swung it wide, gesturing for Skye to enter first. She paused beneath the threshold and searched the room with wide eyes.

“Does the Queen keep this suite?” she murmured.

“Rarely,” he replied. The opulence wasn’t lost on him. A bed that could easily fit five catgirls was draped in all fashions of silks and satins in a decorative canopy. A fireplace crackled merrily at the far end, warming a table set for two beside it. The bathroom held a large porcelain tub with a faucet that ran hot at all times of the year. One final, separate room with a small collection of books and a desk branched off of the main room.

“This room is bigger than my house in Binh Lai.” Skye slowly moved inside, eyes never focusing on one single thing. “Books, tea, snacks. You could live here.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Cailu’s lips as he closed the door behind him. “At times, I dream of that very thing.”

Skye turned to face him, locking his eyes for a few lingering heartbeats, then closed the distance between them. “We can call it home for one night.”

Before he could reply, she swung her arms around his neck and captured his kiss.

Cailu gasped.

[Memory stored and saved for Catgirls. . .]

When their breathing had steadied, Cailu drew away from her and joined her on the bed. Skye licked her lips and turned on her stomach, bending her knees and playfully kicking her calves back and forth.

It was a sweet gesture. One he recalled Fera doing after they’d made love…

He cleared his throat and brushed a hand through his hair. “I should tell you that this is usually the point where I collect my armor and leave.”

“Oh? And is that what you want to do?”

Cailu glanced at the table, noting a teapot and a modest container of sweets. “Hm. I was thinking we could share a cup of tea and see where the night takes us.”

“That sounds…homey.” Skye grinned. “Just for the night, though.”

He nodded and moved to the table. “Yes. Just for the night.”