23 - Advice

It didn’t take long for Luna to find him.

The village was not large, and she had guessed rightly that Darren would not linger in its heart where people might press him with questions or stares.

He had gone outward, to the edge where tilled farmland met the wild sprawl of grass and brush. Beyond that, the land rolled gently toward distant hills, hazy in the afternoon light.

Luna spotted him even before she heard him.

Darren stood there with his back to the village, shoulders taut, fists clenching and unclenching as though he could wring the confusion out of his own body.

The two knights accompanying him lingered a few paces away, watchful but uneasy, unsure if they should intervene or simply let their young lord shout at the empty sky.

And shout he did. His voice carried, raw and unrestrained.

“Why is it never enough?” Darren cried. “I don’t want to bind her. I don’t want to hurt her. Just being near her is—gods, it’s enough! But everything I do, it just pushes her further away. What am I supposed to do?”

His words tore through the quiet countryside. Birds startled from a nearby hedge, wings scattering like fragments of his anger.

Luna stopped a short distance away, listening. She hugged her arms loosely across her chest, her expression unreadable. His voice wasn’t just frustration—it was desperation, threaded with pain.

She had heard that same kind of voice before, in her old world, whispered by classmates who had sought her ear about crushes, about breakups, about the unbearable weight of unspoken feelings.

Even now, in this strange world, it sounded the same.

She padded forward until she was close enough for her own voice to carry.

“Yo.”

The simple word broke the rhythm of Darren’s shouts like a stone dropped in still water.

Both knights snapped to attention instantly, swords half-drawn in the same heartbeat. Their eyes darted toward her, brows knitting with alarm.

How did she get so close? one of them thought, his jaw tightening. They hadn’t heard a step, hadn’t sensed a presence until she had spoken. That alone was enough to send suspicion flaring up their spines.

The first knight’s hand tightened on his sword hilt. The second shifted his stance to block Darren with his body, protective instinct overriding etiquette. Both had seen the little girl before, of course—but now, standing here in the open, she felt entirely different.

Their eyes narrowed.

This isn’t an ordinary child.

Even Darren, who had been mid-shout, turned at once. Surprise flickered across his face before suspicion replaced it. He straightened, shoulders stiff, gaze sharp.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Were you following us?”

Luna tilted her head, unfazed by the tension that instantly radiated from all three.

“You’re awfully quick to accuse,” she said lightly. “I didn’t sneak here to fight you. If I wanted to fight, you’d already know.”

The knights didn’t lower their guards. Their eyes stayed locked on her, bodies still taut with the promise of movement.

Luna sighed through her nose, tapping her finger against her arm as though debating with herself. Then, with a flick of that same finger, she gave them a demonstration.

The world shifted in an instant.

A burst of icy wind swept outward from her body.

The grass bowed under the sudden weight of frost, and the surrounding trees glittered as thin layers of ice formed across their bark and branches.

The temperature plummeted, sharp enough that the knights’ breath misted in the air.

But the ground beneath their feet remained untouched. The circle they stood in—barely two strides across—was perfectly free of frost, as though her magic had bent itself around them with meticulous precision.

The two knights stiffened, the blood draining from their faces. They glanced about at the frozen landscape, then back to the girl who had done it with a gesture as casual as brushing lint from her sleeve.

And then, just as easily, she snapped her fingers again.

The frost retreated. The ice evaporated into mist, leaving only damp earth behind, as though the chill had been nothing but a dream.

Luna let her hand fall back to her side and raised her brows at them.

“See?” she said, voice dry. “If I meant harm, you’d be popsicles right now. So relax already.”

The knights exchanged a look, one silently asking the other if he felt as unnerved as he did. The other’s stiff nod answered the question clearly.

Darren, however, stepped forward. His suspicion hadn’t faded—it had sharpened.

“You came here,” he said, “because of Sarah, didn’t you? If you’ve hurt her—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. His hand was already twitching toward the hilt of his sword, every line of his body ready to spring.

Luna blinked at him, then frowned in exasperation.

“Really?” she said. “That’s your conclusion? That I’d go out of my way to hurt someone I like?”

He froze.

Luna crossed her arms, tapping her foot against the dirt, her annoyance plain.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered. “I heal her hand, I eat her stew, I actually like her—and you think I’d hurt her? You’re dumber than I thought.”

Darren opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

“Relax, knight boy. I’m here because I want to help. You and Sarah clearly like each other, but both of you are tangled in your own stubbornness. It’s exhausting just to watch.”

That silenced him. For a moment, he could only stare at her, his earlier anger and suspicion caught off-guard by the bluntness of her words.

The knights shifted again, their grips tightening on their weapons. Helping? What kind of mage-child barges into a noble’s personal affairs claiming she wants to ‘help’?

But Darren, despite himself, felt something tug at him. There was no malice in her voice. Only irritation, and—strangely—conviction.

Still, his pride bristled.

“You expect me to believe that?” he said, his voice rough. “That you came here just to meddle in my—”

“Yes,” Luna interrupted flatly. “Exactly that. I like meddling. Especially when two people are clearly too stupid to admit how they feel about each other.”

The silence that followed was almost comical. The knights blinked at each other again. Darren’s jaw clenched, caught somewhere between outrage and bewilderment.

And then, when she made to turn away with a huff—“Fine, maybe I should just leave you to your mess”—Darren’s voice burst out again, desperate this time.

“Wait!”

She stopped mid-step, glancing back over her shoulder.

His eyes were wide, his pride stripped bare. “If you… if you know something—if you really mean to help—don’t go.”

Her brows arched. She stayed quiet, watching him struggle.

Finally, he swallowed hard and dipped his head—not just in apology, but in genuine plea.

“I’m sorry. For misunderstanding you. For doubting. Just… please. Help me.”

The knights gaped openly. Their young lord—a noble, son of Baron Eldwin—was lowering his head to a little girl. They moved instinctively to protest, but Darren held up his hand, silencing them.

“Apologize,” he ordered them.

The two knights froze.

“My lord—” one began.

“Now.” His tone brooked no argument.

Confused but obedient, they both bowed stiffly toward Luna. There was no resentment in the act—only bewilderment. Why apologize to this child? Why treat her with such deference?

Luna let them stew for a moment before sighing and settling herself more comfortably.

She conjured a chair of solid ice with a wave of her hand, its surface gleaming in the sunlight, and plopped down on it with all the casual grace of a queen on her throne.

The three men instinctively lowered themselves to the ground. The knights exchanged another baffled glance, as if asking each other, Why are we sitting on the dirt? But when they saw Darren seated as well, they followed suit without complaint.

Luna crossed one leg over the other and leaned back, her arms folded. Her expression shifted from playful smugness to something sharper, more serious.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s start simple. Do you know why Sarah keeps refusing you?”

Darren looked down at his hands. His voice, when it came, was softer than before.

“Because she’s smart,” he said. “Because she knows what people would say if I—if a noble—chose her. The stigma. The whispers. That I’m selfish for dragging her into a world she doesn’t belong to. That my family would be shamed for allowing it.”

His jaw tightened. “She pushes me away to protect me. To protect my house. But… it feels like she’s cutting out a part of me every time she does.”

Luna tilted her head, studying him. Then she smiled crookedly.

“Not bad,” she said. “I thought you’d be denser.”

He blinked at her, unsure if she had just praised or mocked him.

“Do you know what she thinks of you?” Luna pressed.

This time, his hesitation stretched. He shifted, uncomfortable, before finally admitting, “I think… she thinks well of me. Sometimes I wonder if she likes me. But with the way she always refuses, I don’t… I don’t know what’s true anymore. I can’t understand her.”

Luna watched him for a long moment. He wasn’t stupid—that much was clear. His words carried thoughtfulness, even vulnerability.

But the confusion in his heart was like fog, no matter how clever he was, he couldn’t see through it alone.

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm.

“You’re right,” she said softly. “You can’t understand her. Not completely. Because that’s not how love works. You’ll drive yourself mad trying to solve it like an equation.”

Darren’s eyes flicked up at her, startled.

She continued, her voice firmer now. “Stop obsessing over what she feels. Start with what you feel. Do you love her? Do you want to stand by her, no matter how many people whisper or glare?”

His breath caught. His mouth opened, but before he could answer, Luna lifted a finger.

“And don’t you dare say yes unless you mean it. Because if you don’t, if you’re just chasing an idea, then you’ll hurt her worse than any gossip ever could.”

The weight of her words pressed into the silence. The knights, who had been stiff and ready to act this whole time, found themselves sitting still, unexpectedly caught by the truth in her voice.

Darren lowered his gaze again. His hands clenched tight on his knees.

“I do,” he whispered. Then stronger, “I do.”

Luna’s lips curved into a sly smile.

“Good,” she said. “Then stop trying to decipher her like she’s some puzzle. She’s not pushing you away because she hates you. She’s doing it because she cares. Because she thinks she’s protecting you. And that,” she added with a smug little tilt of her head, “is exactly why she needs you to push back.”

For a long while after Luna’s words, the only sound was the gentle rustling of the fields beyond the village, the sigh of grass bowing under the afternoon breeze.

Darren sat hunched, elbows on his knees, staring at the dirt as though the answers might be etched there in lines only he could decipher.

The knights didn’t move, either. Their discipline was evident in the way they sat straight-backed, eyes alert, but their silence spoke volumes.

They had no words to add, no counsel to give. Not because they didn’t care—but because none of them had ever heard someone speak so boldly to their young lord before, let alone a girl barely past childhood.

Luna leaned back into her icy chair, satisfied. She had delivered the truth as cleanly as she could. Now, it was up to Darren whether to absorb it or shove it aside.

Finally, he lifted his head. His eyes, though still shadowed with doubt, carried a spark of something steadier.

“You make it sound so simple,” he said quietly.

Luna smirked. “That’s because it is. People like to pretend love is complicated, but usually? It’s just fear dressed up as reason.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a frown. “Fear,” he repeated.

“Exactly.” She tilted her head, her tone softening. “She’s afraid of dragging you down. You’re afraid of hurting her. And while you both sit there tangled in your own fears, you’re too blind to see that you actually want the same thing.”

Darren’s hands curled into fists again—not in anger this time, but as if holding onto her words.

“I…” His voice caught. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t know if I can do it. Push past her walls. Convince her. Every time I try, I only make it worse.”

“Maybe because you’ve been trying the wrong way.”

His gaze snapped to her, caught by the firmness in her tone.

“You don’t need fancy speeches,” Luna continued, swinging one leg idly over the other. “You don’t need to prove yourself with titles or strength or whatever you noble types obsess over. Just be honest. With her. With yourself. If you keep second-guessing her feelings, you’ll drown in circles forever.”

The words hit him like a stone sinking into a still pond—ripples spreading, disturbing the surface of his thoughts.

Honesty. As simple as that?

But hadn’t he always been honest with her? His mind flashed back to nights at the academy, sitting with Sarah in the courtyard, telling her his frustrations with exams, his hopes for the future.

She had listened then. She had laughed, scolded, and encouraged. She had never pushed him away in those moments.

Maybe Luna was right. Maybe Sarah didn’t want the grand gestures. Maybe she just needed him to stand there, unshaken, no matter how many times she told him to leave.

Still, doubt tugged at him.

“What if…” His voice faltered. “What if my persistence only makes her suffer more?”

Luna groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

“Listen, knight boy. She invited you to eat after that whole scene earlier, didn’t she?”

“…She did.”

“She served you stew?”

“…Yes.”

“Then she doesn’t hate you.”

His mouth opened, shut again. The logic was childish in its simplicity, but something about it made his chest ease just a little.

Luna’s smirk returned. “People don’t feed those they hate. Trust me, I know. I’ve been around plenty of hangry people.”

The knights, silent witnesses to all of this, exchanged another look. The girl’s reasoning was unorthodox, but the effect on Darren was undeniable. His posture had shifted, his breathing steadier now.

One knight leaned slightly toward the other, murmuring just low enough that Luna’s sharp ears still caught it. “She talks like a seasoned counselor.”

Luna almost laughed aloud. If only they knew. In her old world, she had spent countless lunch breaks listening to her classmates moan about crushes and heartbreaks.

She had never dated herself, but she had been the sounding board, the one to nod, to advise, to play the reluctant cupid.

Some habits, it seemed, carried across worlds.

She leaned forward now, resting her elbows on her knees, her gaze pinning Darren with the kind of focus that brooked no escape.

“Here’s the truth,” she said. “If you give up now, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day you’ll look back and hate yourself for not trying harder. And she—” Her voice softened. “She’ll regret it too. Because she does like you. Anyone with eyes can see it. She’s just scared.”

Darren swallowed hard, his throat bobbing.

“Follow your heart,” Luna pressed. “Only stop if you see her truly breaking. If she really hates you, if your presence brings her pain. Until then, fight for her. That’s what it means to love someone, isn’t it? Not to run at the first sign of resistance, but to stand firm when it matters.”

Silence again. Heavy, but no longer hopeless.

Darren’s chest rose and fell, his fists slowly unclenching. When he finally spoke, his voice was steadier than before.

“You sound so certain,” he murmured.

“I am.” She grinned, leaning back with a flick of her hair. “Besides, you’ve got me helping you now. And I’m very good at meddling.”

That earned her a startled laugh—short, incredulous, but real. His shoulders sagged, tension bleeding out at last.

The knights, too, seemed to breathe easier, though their eyes lingered on Luna with a mixture of respect and wariness.

They had witnessed her power, her audacity, her strange mix of childishness and wisdom. She was no ordinary girl, that much was beyond doubt.

Darren leaned forward, bowing his head low.

“…Thank you,” he said, voice thick with sincerity. “I don’t know why you’re helping me, but… thank you.”

Luna waved a hand dismissively, though her smile softened.

“Don’t thank me yet. I’m not done playing cupid. You’ve still got work to do.”

He looked up, caught by the mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Work?”

“Of course.” She stood, her icy chair melting back into the earth with a hiss of steam. “Sarah may like you, but she’s stubborn. If you want her to stop running, you’ll need to prove you won’t bolt either. And I,” she declared with a flourish, “am going to make sure you get it right.”

The knights blinked, startled.

“You—what exactly are you planning?” one asked, unable to keep the concern from his tone.

Luna only smirked wider. “Oh, don’t worry. Nothing dangerous. Just a little nudge here and there. You’ll see.”

Her confidence was infuriating and comforting all at once.

Darren, though, felt something stir in his chest. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, the knot of helplessness loosened.

He didn’t know how this strange girl planned to meddle, but her words had planted a seed he could no longer ignore.

He would fight. Not with swords or titles or pressure—but with honesty, persistence, and heart.

He rose to his feet, straighter now, his eyes clearer.

“I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “I’ll stop doubting. I’ll tell her how I feel, no matter what it costs.”

Luna’s grin widened, satisfied. “That’s the spirit.”

The knights followed, standing as well, their respect for him—and perhaps, begrudgingly, for her—etched in the quiet nods they exchanged.

As they began to walk back toward the village, the sun dipped lower, painting the fields in amber light.

Darren’s steps felt lighter, his heart steadier. And though doubt lingered at the edges, he clung to Luna’s words like a rope in the dark.

Behind him, the little girl hummed a tune to herself, smug as ever, already scheming her next move.

Cupid, after all, never rests.