Chapter Text

It was one of those summer mornings when the tide whispered rather than roared, and the breeze carried the briny scent of salt and seaweed. Amelia, dressed in a camisole and cotton shorts with her sunglasses settled on her head, was chilling on one of the loungers by the inn. Her knees folded, propping up the thick novel resting against her thighs, eyes deep in a medieval fantasy world she could practically see unfolding behind her lids.

She didn’t notice Pablo until his shadow fell over the page from the side.

“Well, look who’s here,” he said, a little out of breath, like he’d jogged from somewhere. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Taking a day off?”

She glanced up—and there he was. In shorts, a sheen of sweat glinting on his shoulders and chest with no shirt to cover it. Drops clung to his hairline, trailing down his temples.

It was the first time she’d seen him shirtless. Not that it mattered. Nor had she been waiting for it to happen. Sure, the way his muscles flexed under his shirt had always been—objectively—a pleasant bonus whenever she stopped by the smithy.

But this was like flying too close to the sun.

The golden ray blazed behind him, casting a halo that traced the outline of every defined curve—his broad shoulders, the strong lines of his arms, the taper of his waist where one hand casually rested...

Somewhere inside her chest, her heart gave a traitorous little stutter.

Still, she played it cool.

“Just taking a small break,” she said in the most casual tone she could muster, slipping a bookmark between the pages before snapping the book shut.

As she looked back up at him, she slid her sunglasses down from where they’d been perched on—partly to block the glare, mostly to hide the way her eyes kept wandering. “I’ve been up since four. Got a lot of work done this morning. Thought I’d reward myself a little.”

He settled onto the lounger beside her, turning sideways so he could face her fully. Lifting his right arm—the one inked with that strikingly captivating Calavera—he swiped a streak of sweat from his left eyelid with his thumb.

And it somehow—uncannily—looked like a teasing little wink.

Behind the subtle flex of his biceps, his lips parted in a soft smile—his right eye glinting with that usual mischievous spark.

It’s alright. It simply means I’m a straight woman, Amelia thought as her heart skipped another beat, eyes barely blinking behind her sunglasses.

“What are you reading?” he asked, fingers loosely intertwined, elbows propped on his knees as he leaned in with curious ease.

She lifted the book, and the angle happened to catch the sun, sending a sharp glint off the gilded title—right into his eyes. He squinted against the glare as he tried to read the title.

“The Aria of Frost and Flames...” He drawled. “Oh yeah, I know this one. Pretty sure it was playing on the radio when I tried to set up a bonfire last winter. Very fitting.”

He let out a low chuckle as Amelia rolled her eyes, giving him a sarcastic laugh.

She huffed, then said with a shift in tone. “It’s a medieval fantasy novel,” her voice was softer, slightly threaded with excitement. “Kings and lords and dragons and wars. Lots of drama and chaos.”

Pablo’s brow lifted, a playful spark lighting his eye. “Is there a legendary blacksmith, too?”

Amusement flickered within her before she answered, “Not legendary, but yes, there is a blacksmith. Mysterious and seems to be an important character later on. But I’m barely halfway through the first book, so I can’t say for sure.”

He smiled, easing back with his hands propped behind him on the bench. “Rafael gifted me a book about a legendary blacksmith,” he said. “It was great. Also medieval fantasy, might be interesting for you, too. I still have more books I wanna read, but it’s just hard to find the time.”

She nodded in agreement. “Same here. I try to read as often as I can—especially in this weather, it’s nice to read by the beach,” the blue sky reflected off her sunglasses. “I used to talk medieval fantasy with friends. It made it easier to stick with reading, I think. Alice reads a lot too, but our tastes in books are... very different, to say the least.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, well aware of Alice’s love for books about inexplicable phenomena or extraterrestrial lives.

A playful spark lit behind his eyes as he tilted his head. “Then maybe we should do that. Read the same books, meet up, discuss... keep each other motivated.”

One eyebrow lifted as she considered the suggestion for a beat. “So like a book club? Who else is in?”

“Just you and me,” he said with a wink. Then, as his grin faded, something more sincere settled in his voice. “The more the merrier, but then the harder it gets to align interests and schedules, don’t you think?”

She paused to mull it over. He had a point—keeping it just the two of them would make things simpler. She was still far from finishing the first book, and the rest of the series loomed ahead like a mountain she wasn’t quite ready to climb all on her own. But maybe having someone to share it with would make it less intimidating. Fun, even.

And maybe as time passed, they’d find other people who would also be interested.

“It’s actually a good idea,” she finally said. “But I’m not ready to start a new book. At least, not until I finish this one. It’s seven hundred pages and it’s only the first of the series...” she lifted the book again, showing him where the bookmark was nestled.

“No problem,” he promised. “I’ll ask Millie, she’s been wanting to expand the fantasy section anyway. I’ll catch up on that one as soon as I can, and once we’re both done, we meet and talk medieval fantasy. Deal?”

She smiled, glad to find someone who might actually share her interest. “Deal.”

Pablo tilted forward again, forearms back resting on his knees as a bright smile bloomed on his face. “Then let’s stay in touch,” he said. “You got your phone with you? Let me give you my number.”

Amelia nodded, then reached into her pocket to take her phone. She created a new contact and handed it to him. His fingers danced over the screen with casual confidence, quickly typing something in.

When he passed it back to her, her eyes widened in shock.

Her lips parted, caught somewhere between disbelief and a scoff. When she looked up, he was already watching her reaction—his eyes sparkling with mischief, his lips tilting into a sly smirk—smug as always.

With a tap on his knees, he stood up and began stretching his limbs. “Well, it’s settled then. I’ll keep you updated as soon as I get my hands on the first book. Gotta finish this jog before I cool down too much. Adiós, Amelia.”

And just like that, he disappeared into the winding trail toward the Garden Lane—leaving her alone, caught in yet another whirl of bafflement.

Her eyes flicked back to her phone, still bearing the aftermath of his mischief. The emojis couldn’t be unsent—the heart, on the other hand...

With a tired sigh, she opened the contact detail and tapped the edit button. Just as her thumb hovered over his name to erase the heart, it faltered for a second, held back by some inexplicable hesitation.

After a moment, she brushed it off with a scoff, shook her head, and deleted the heart.

Chapter Text

Just two weeks after, they were meeting up at Raja’s Coffee Corner. With his usual open, easy smile, Pablo walked over to the table carrying two glasses of iced coffee, but his eyes shone a little brighter that afternoon—lit with a genuine excitement.

“Yo, I actually got hooked,” he said, sliding into the seat across from Amelia, settling the iced coffees on the table. “Never finished reading anything that fast before. All seven hundred pages. That’s just crazy.”

She thanked him for the coffee and felt a quiet thrill curl through her chest. A fellow The Aria of Frost and Flames fan. She hadn’t expected that it’d be him.

“So,” she drawled, stirring her drink to blend the float in, the clinking of the spoon filling the brief pause. “Do you have a favorite character so far?”

He nodded right away. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to say her name. The noblewoman who’s also a knight?”

“You mean Ijswyn?” she asked, chuckling softly.

“That’s the one,” he said, his pronounciation stumbling a little. “Ijswyn.”

She took a sip from her drink and kept it lifted, as if she was presenting it to him. “Fun fact—‘ijs’ means ice in my language. Just like how it sounds.”

After setting her drink down, she added, “And ‘-wyn’ is an old poetic suffix. It means grace—or blessing, depending on context. She was blessed as a baby by the ice goddess Ishva, hence the name.”

Pablo leaned in a little, eyebrows raised, visibly intrigued. “Right. Your grandparents weren’t originally from Coral Island, were they? Where were they from?” he asked, taking a sip from his own drink.

“North Wolland,” she replied, wrapping both hands around her drink and savoring the cold against her palms.

He tilted his head. “Can you speak the language?”

“Yeah. I was born and raised there. Well, until I was eleven. I still speak Wollandaise with my grandparents in Pokyo,” she glanced down at her drink as a faint, nostalgic smile slowly forming on her face.

A mischievous spark lit up his expression. “Cool. Can you teach me some swear words?”

“No,” she laughed, shaking her head as she resumed stirring her drink. “Then I won’t be able to swear at you discreetly.”

He leaned closer, “I’d rather you swore at me openly—and only I can understand it.”

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharpened with skepticism. “Think you can handle it?”

His grin stretched wider, eyes now sparkling with dare. “Hit me, Vandenberg junior.”

She let out a quiet huff. “Okay. We can start with ‘klootzak’.”

He blinked. “Kloo—what?”

“Klootzak,” she repeated.

“That... sounds like somebody who’s caught a cold,” he squinted, trying to grasp the word. “HH-KLOOT-ZAK!” he faked an exaggerated sneeze-cough.

She nearly choked on her drink, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. “If you say it like that, yeah.”

“HH-KLOOT-ZAK!” He did it once more before cracking up himself.

She let her laughter fade, catching her breath but keeping a grin. “Bless you,” she said, matching his playful tone.

Curiosity lit up in Pablo’s eyes as his laughter simmered down. “What does that mean?”

“Literally, it means—” she hesitated. Did she really want to say the literal meaning?
No. No she didn’t.
“...It’s our version of ‘asshole’—a common insult, but still sharp enough to get a reaction.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Noted. What else you got?”

She circled her eyes as she tried to find another example. “Hmm, ‘eikel’. That one’s great. Literally means ‘acorn’.”

He blinked with amusement. “Acorn?”

“Yeah. But it’s used to call someone a jerk. Or a d-head,” she explained with a giggle, amused by the amount of cuss words she’d said so far.

“So I could be walking around in North Wolland and hear someone shout, ‘You stupid little acorn!’ and it’s supposed to be an insult?” he said, starting to crack up again.

“Pretty much,” she held back her own laughter. “It’s insulting, but also kind of funny because it’s such a silly word to curse someone else with.”

“Alright. So I got a flu and a nut. Come on, Vandenberg. Give me something heavy.”

Amelia snorted, nearly spilling a cackle—the double meaning, his last comment... she hadn’t expected to be having such a juvenile fun.

Especially not after everything.

But now, here she was—finally able to laugh over simple, silly things again.

“...What?” Pablo’s grin lingered, teasing and enjoying the flush on her face.

She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “Nothing. Never mind.”
Her pointing finger shot up, signaling for him to give her a minute. She reached for her coffee, took a slow sip, trying to simmer down the urge to laugh.

He watched her for a moment—no idea what was so funny, but he figured he’d let her have her laugh before stepping back in. “So... am I still getting the heavy insult?”

She huffed once, smirk still lingering at her lips. “Alright, but this is heavy heavy, so it’s the last swear word I’ll be saying today.”
She paused for a beat before murmuring the word with a wince. “Kankerlijer.”
“It literally means ‘cancer sufferer,’” she added. “It’s extremely harsh and offensive because it uses a serious, deadly disease to insult someone. People consider it taboo, kinda like the worst thing you can wish on someone else.”

Pablo nodded, his smile gradually fading. “Okay. Reserve that one for mortal enemies only. Noted.”

“Exactly. Or just... never. You could go to jail for that.” She laughed, crossing her index fingers into an X. “Anyway—your turn,” curiosity now flickered in her eyes. “You said your parents moved here, right? Where from?”

“First of all, I’m honored you remember that,” he pressed a hand to his chest in playful gratitude. “And second—Dulca Island. I still speak the language with my parents and Raf sometimes.”

“Okay, so how do people in Dulca Island swear?" She asked, resting her chin on one hand.

Pablo grinned, leaning back to his seat. “Well, the classic one is ‘cabrón’. It means something like ‘bastard’, but depending on the tone, it can be an insult or almost like a teasing nickname between close friends. Same with ‘culo’, means ‘ass’ but can be endearing.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “So it’s all about how you say it?”

“Yes exactly. Then there’s also ‘pendejo’, the everyday idiot or dumbass. A casual tier of insults.”

“There are tier of insults?” She chuckled. “So what would be the highest?”

“Oof. That would be ‘hijo de puta’ or ‘chinga tu madre’. Meaning ‘sunuvabitch’ and ‘love’ your mother,” he gestured quotation marks with his fingers. “Involving family when swearing is extremely offensive. Taboo, even.”

After a beat, he laughed and added, “You know, my parents would really like you—but please don’t say any of these in front of them.”

She scoffed. “I mean, what are the chances of me meeting your parents?”

“Hey, you never know what the future might bring,” he rested one elbow on the table, propping his chin on his fist, leaning in with a sly grin. “Gotta stay open-minded, am I right?” A wink followed, shameless in its implication.

She raised a brow in disbelief. “Well, we don’t wanna risk them liking me more than they like you. Maybe it’s better to keep it this way,” she casually took a sip of her coffee.

Pablo laughed under his breath. “That sounds like a risk I’m willing to take.” He leaned back a little, letting the grin linger.
There was a glint in his eye now—teasing, but with intent.

Like he was daring her to keep going.

Amelia set her coffee down, eyes locked on his as if she was giving weight to her words. “You know, I spent years working as an investment risk manager before I moved here.”

He raised an eyebrow, a spark of interest glinting in his eyes. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her voice calm and steady, but he could see the mischief in her eyes. “And I can already tell you that it’s not worth the risk.”

“Even more reason to meet them, then. Settle the score,” he reached for his drink, took a slow sip, and flashed her a confident smirk.

She shook her head lightly, a skeptical smile tugging at her lips.
She started wondering why he kept pushing—and why she kept letting him.

“As you wish,” she said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “But those who ignore the frost’s whisper often find themselves lost in the blizzard.”

He was delighted to recognize the quote from the novel, and responded with a matching line of his own. “Fear not, Lady Amelia of House Vandenberg. For I have braved mightier tempests in pursuit of far less worthy cause.”

Amelia laughed softly as a warm thought settled in her mind.

Maybe this was why she kept coming back. His flirty remarks could sometimes be a bit much, but his playfulness and the way he willingly stepped into her world—genuinely interested in what mattered to her when few others were—created a comfortable rhythm between them.

Enduring his antics felt like a small price to pay.