Chapter 154: Tomorrow
A faint blush crept across Antonia’s cheeks.
"...You’re saying things like that rather casually now."
Denzel tilted his head.
"Hm?"
She looked away almost immediately, pretending to focus on the small jar of ointment still sitting open in her hand.
"I mean..." she muttered, her voice noticeably quieter than before. "...asking me to use my healing magic like it’s nothing."
Denzel blinked once.
Then looked down at his hands.
Then back at her.
"...Well... isn’t that what it’s for?"
Antonia’s shoulders stiffened.
"..."
"..."
Slowly, she closed her eyes.
"...You’re impossible."
"Huh?"
She pressed two fingers against her forehead as though trying to ward off a headache.
"I don’t know whether you’re being deliberately shameless or genuinely oblivious."
"I’m... pretty sure it’s the second one."
She glanced at him.
Studied his face for a second.
Then sighed.
"...I know."
For some reason...
That only made it worse.
A nervous laugh escaped Denzel.
"...Did I say something weird?"
She looked at him again.
The confusion on his face was so painfully genuine that she couldn’t even bring herself to stay annoyed.
"...No."
"...Not exactly."
"You just..."
She hesitated, searching for words before ultimately giving up.
"...Forget it."
Denzel scratched the back of his neck.
"...Sorry?"
She let out another sigh.
"You really do apologize for everything."
"...Sorry."
Her lips twitched.
"...See?"
His face immediately turned red.
"...Right."
For a brief moment...
Neither of them said anything.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
If anything...
It felt strangely peaceful.
Antonia lowered her gaze once more, this time toward his hands still resting in hers.
The redness hadn’t faded.
If anything, it looked worse now that she’d had time to examine it properly.
Several blisters had already begun forming across his palms.
The skin around them looked raw.
"...Honestly..."
Her voice softened.
"You really pushed yourself today."
Denzel followed her gaze.
"I guess I did."
"You guess?"
He gave an awkward smile.
"I didn’t really notice until the training was over."
"...Of course you didn’t."
She gently turned one of his hands over, running her thumb carefully along the edge of one blister without pressing against it.
He winced.
"...Sorry."
"I’m not."
She looked up.
"You should’ve stopped before it got this far."
"I couldn’t."
The answer came so naturally that it surprised even him.
Antonia searched his expression.
There wasn’t stubbornness there.
Nor recklessness.
Just quiet certainty.
"...Why?"
Denzel thought for a moment.
"...Because..."
He smiled sheepishly.
"...I finally felt like I was getting somewhere."
Something in Antonia’s gaze softened.
She understood that look.
The one someone wore after finding even the smallest glimpse of progress.
It was difficult to tell them to stop.
She let out a slow breath.
"...You’re hopeless."
"I’ve been told."
"...More than once, I imagine."
He laughed.
"...Probably."
Another quiet silence settled between them.
Antonia looked at his hands one last time.
Then closed the wooden box with a soft click.
"...Fine."
Denzel looked up.
She still wasn’t meeting his eyes.
"I’ll heal them."
His shoulders relaxed almost immediately.
"...Really?"
"Don’t sound so surprised."
"I just thought..."
"...That I’d refuse?"
"...Maybe."
She huffed softly.
"I should."
Finally, she looked at him.
"But this is treatment."
Her cheeks slowly began turning pink again.
"...Nothing more."
Denzel nodded without hesitation.
"I know."
The simple sincerity in his voice caught her completely off guard.
"..."
She quickly looked away again.
"...You’re making this much harder than it needs to be."
The room fell quiet once more.
Not the awkward kind.
The kind that seemed to settle naturally after words had run their course.
Antonia busied herself with the small wooden box beside her, though there was nothing left to arrange. She straightened a neatly folded strip of cloth. Adjusted the lid by a fraction. Ran her fingers along the edge of the table.
Anything to keep her hands occupied.
Denzel watched her for a moment before lowering his gaze.
"...So..."
She paused.
"...So?"
"I’ve... never actually seen you prepare for it."
"For what?"
"The healing."
A beat passed.
Then, almost reluctantly, she answered.
"...There’s nothing to prepare."
"Oh."
Another silence.
"...Except..."
She stopped herself.
Denzel looked back up.
"Except?"
Her lips parted.
Then closed again.
"...Nothing."
He could tell she wanted to say more.
But whatever it was...
She couldn’t quite bring herself to.
Instead, she drew in a slow breath and stepped closer.
One step.
Then another.
The small distance between them steadily disappeared.
Denzel instinctively straightened where he sat.
She was close enough now that he could catch the faint scent of lavender clinging to her clothes.
Close enough to notice the slight rise and fall of her breathing.
Her eyes remained fixed somewhere around his shoulder, refusing to meet his.
"...Antonia?"
"...Don’t make this harder."
"I wasn’t trying to."
"I know."
That somehow made it worse.
She stopped directly in front of him.
For a long moment...
Neither of them moved.
The room seemed unusually quiet.
Even the music drifting faintly through the walls had become little more than a distant murmur.
Denzel could hear his own heartbeat.
It was... embarrassingly loud.
Antonia slowly lifted her gaze.
Their eyes met.
Only for a second.
Her cheeks immediately deepened in color.
"...Close your eyes."
"...Right."
He obeyed.
Darkness settled over his vision.
He heard her take one slow breath.
Then another.
She was hesitating.
He could feel it.
As though she kept gathering the courage to move, only to lose it again at the last moment.
...
Activation Phrase...
The thought surfaced almost automatically.
So naturally that it startled him.
He only needed to say it.
Everything after that would become simple.
Just like before.
No nervousness.
No uncertainty.
No racing heartbeat.
...
His lips parted.
Then stopped.
A strange feeling settled in his chest.
If he used it now...
Would this still be their moment?
Or would it become another thing he’d borrowed from the system?
The thought lingered.
Long enough for him to realize something.
He didn’t want to hide behind it.
Not this time.
Slowly...
He opened his eyes again.
Antonia was still standing there.
She looked just as nervous as he felt.
She noticed his eyes open and froze.
"...Denzel?"
He didn’t answer.
Not because he didn’t know what to say.
Because there wasn’t anything he wanted to interrupt this moment with.
Very gently...
He leaned forward.
The movement was so small she didn’t seem to understand it at first.
Then her eyes widened.
"...W-Wait—"
The remaining distance disappeared.
Their lips met.
Softly.
Carefully.
For the briefest instant, Antonia went completely still.
Surprise held her there.
Then...
The tension slowly melted from her shoulders.
Her eyes drifted closed.
She returned the kiss.
Tentatively at first.
Then with quiet certainty.
Time seemed to lose its meaning.
Neither of them had intended for it to last.
Neither of them was the first to pull away.
When they finally separated...
Only a few inches remained between them.
Neither spoke.
Denzel could still feel the warmth lingering against his lips.
Antonia’s breathing had grown noticeably uneven.
She stared at him for a heartbeat longer before quickly looking away.
"...Y-You’re..."
She swallowed.
"...You’re unfair."
Denzel blinked.
"...I am?"
"You..."
She pressed a hand against her burning cheek.
"...You weren’t supposed to..."
The rest of the sentence never came.
Another quiet silence settled between them.
This one felt different.
Warmer.
Heavier.
After several long seconds, Antonia finally gathered herself enough to clear her throat.
"...We should..."
She still couldn’t quite look at him.
"...Actually heal your hands."
Denzel let out a small, embarrassed laugh.
"...Yeah."
"...We probably should."
Antonia drew in a slow, steadying breath.
"...Give me your hand."
Denzel did so without a word.
This time, neither of them joked.
Neither of them tried to hide behind awkward laughter.
She cradled his hand between both of hers, her fingers noticeably warmer than before. Perhaps it was because she was still flustered.
Or perhaps...
He was simply paying more attention now.
"...This won’t take long," she murmured.
He nodded.
"I’m ready."
Her lashes fluttered.
Then, with far less hesitation than before, she leaned in once more.
Their lips met again.
The kiss was gentle.
Different from the first.
There was no surprise this time.
No uncertainty.
Only quiet purpose.
The instant their lips touched, Denzel felt it.
Warmth.
Not the warmth of skin.
Mana.
It flowed through the point of contact before spreading like gentle sunlight across his body.
He felt it travel down his arm, slipping through muscles strained from countless swings of the practice sword.
The dull ache that had settled deep within his forearms began to loosen.
The burning in his shoulders eased.
Finally...
The warmth gathered around his palms.
He watched as the angry redness faded before his eyes.
The swollen blisters shrank little by little until the torn skin knitted itself back together, leaving behind smooth, unbroken flesh.
The soreness disappeared with it.
Antonia remained perfectly still throughout the spell, her concentration unwavering until the last thread of mana faded.
Only then did she slowly pull away.
She released his hand a heartbeat later.
"...There."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"It should be completely healed."
Denzel stared at his palms.
He flexed his fingers once.
Then again.
There wasn’t even the slightest sting.
"...Amazing."
A small smile tugged at Antonia’s lips.
"It would be strange if my specialty wasn’t."
He laughed softly.
"I guess that’s true."
For the first time all evening, she looked directly into his eyes.
"I’m serious, Denzel."
The smile faded into quiet concern.
"You’ve only just started learning the sword."
"You don’t have to destroy your hands trying to catch up to everyone else."
He looked down at his palms again.
"...I know."
"You say that..."
"...But I’ll probably overdo it again."
She sighed.
"I thought as much."
"...I’ll try not to."
"I know."
She believed him.
Not because she’d expected him to stop pushing himself.
But because she knew he’d genuinely try.
That was simply the kind of person he was.
She reached out almost absentmindedly and brushed a loose strand of hair away from his forehead.
The movement was so natural that neither of them reacted immediately.
Her fingertips lingered for only an instant.
Then realization caught up to her.
"..."
Her eyes widened.
She hurriedly withdrew her hand as though she’d touched something hot.
"I..."
Color rushed back into her cheeks.
"...You should get some rest."
Denzel blinked.
"...Already?"
"You have training tomorrow."
"...Right."
"And..."
She looked everywhere except at him.
"...Don’t make me heal injuries like these every day."
A grin found its way onto his face.
"I’ll do my best."
"...That’s exactly what I’m worried about."
He laughed.
"I’ll see you tomorrow."
"...Mm."
He stepped toward the door before pausing.
Turning back, he found Antonia still standing beside the treatment table, watching him.
The moment their eyes met, she quickly looked away.
His smile widened just a little.
"...Good night, Antonia."
A tiny pause.
Then...
"...Good night, Denzel."
He slipped out into the hallway, the soft chime above the front door ringing faintly as he left the massage parlor.
The cool evening air greeted him.
Almost absentmindedly, his fingers brushed across his lips.
A helpless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He couldn’t tell whether the lingering warmth came from Antonia’s healing magic...
Or from the kiss they’d shared before it.
Either way...
Tomorrow suddenly didn’t seem nearly far enough away.