Rachel Creighton

For me, a smile has always been my shield, and kindness my disguise.

A disguise to keep people at arm's length.

To never let anyone get too close.

To never allow anyone to love me.

Because I know all too well how deeply people can hurt you.

My mother taught me that lesson well.

So I made sure no one else could get that close.

No one, except my father, was ever allowed near me.

No one else would ever have the power to hurt me.

That was how I chose to live.

That was how it should have always been.

Even Lucifer, the boy I've known since we were in diapers, has no idea what my mother did to me. He never understood my true heart.

Yet now, this heart of mine—the one meant to be out of reach for everyone—began to race.

It began to beat.

Louder and louder.

I could feel warmth rising to my cheeks as I looked at Arthur.

'He's handsome...' I thought, my thoughts trailing off.

Arthur has always been handsome. I knew that the moment I first laid eyes on him.

But now, he seems different.

They say that love makes you see the world through rose-tinted lenses.

Maybe that's true—because reality, after all, is only what we perceive through our eyes.

I didn't like Arthur at first. I was only kind to him because that was how I kept people away from me.

But, slowly, I began to like him as a friend.

Arthur is extraordinary.

Even now, those eyes of his...

It's as if he can see me.

As if he understands me.

As if he knows my pain.

As if he's holding me in his arms, stroking my head and whispering, "It will be alright."

I tried hard to keep my lips from curling up.

I tried so hard.

But I couldn't help it—I couldn't stop myself from liking the idea of it.

It wasn't Arthur's strength or his resolve that made my heart flutter.

It was his pure kindness.

He was stoic and calculated at times, but I knew.

Because I was the same, I could tell the genuine care he had for us.

'How can someone like this even exist?' I wondered as I looked at him.

How could he care for me like this?

I knew it wasn't romantic love, but he loved me as a whole person.

I could see it in his eyes.

Maybe I was wrong, maybe it was all in my head.

But I could tell.

He knew my pain, he understood it, and he cared about it.

More than just the princess of the North or the future Saintess, he saw me as Rachel.

He saw me as the sixteen-year-old girl, still healing from the trauma her own mother inflicted on her eleven years ago.

I continued to observe him after we danced, my face flushed. Arthur had separated from me after kissing my hand, and that simple gesture sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

I couldn't take my eyes off him.

As the birthday banquet began winding down, I decided I couldn't just let him slip away. I walked over and grabbed his arm.

"Come with me," I whispered in his ear.

Arthur looked a bit surprised at first but then smiled. "As you wish, birthday girl."

Without another word, I led him through the grand hall, weaving between the guests, until we reached a quieter corner. I pushed open a door and stepped outside onto a private balcony, the cool night air brushing against my skin. The moon hung high in the sky, its silver light bathing everything in a gentle glow.

I turned to Arthur, my heart pounding. He followed me, the soft click of the door behind us sealing us away from the rest of the world.

"Rachel, what is it?" he asked, his voice soft, genuinely curious.

I looked into his eyes—those calm, understanding eyes—and took a deep breath. "I… I wanted to thank you," I began, my voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur tilted his head, a gentle smile forming on his lips. "Thank me? For what?"

"For being here," I replied, my gaze dropping to the ground. "For treating me like… me. Not the princess, not the future Saintess, just Rachel." I raised my head, locking eyes with him once again. "You don't know how much that means to me."

For a moment, there was silence. Arthur's expression softened, his eyes warm as he studied me. "You don't have to thank me for that, Rachel," he said, stepping closer. "You deserve to be seen as who you are. Not as a title, but as a person."

I took a deep breath, my gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I want to tell you something," I began, my voice wavering slightly, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

Arthur's expression shifted, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. He stayed silent, allowing me the space to continue.

"I've never talked about this with anyone," I said, my heart pounding in my chest. "Not even with Lucifer."

He remained quiet, giving me his full attention.

"It was about my mother," I started, feeling the tightness in my chest as the memories threatened to overwhelm me. "When I was five, she changed... something happened, and she just wasn't the same anymore." I paused, swallowing hard. "She would hurt me—physically, emotionally. She wasn't the kind and loving mother she used to be. She turned into someone else entirely, and no one could help."

Arthur's eyes softened, and he stepped even closer, his presence a comforting warmth against the cold memories. "Rachel… I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"I spent that entire week terrified," I continued, my voice trembling. "The woman who was supposed to love me, protect me... became my worst nightmare. She used magic to hurt me, to make me feel powerless. I was just a child—I didn't understand why."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I looked away, trying to keep them from falling. "My father finally stepped in when he returned from the battlefield. He put her in an Eternal Prison. And even now, I know that he's still holding her there, using his own mana to keep her sealed away. That's why he's weaker than the other Radiant-rankers."

Arthur gently placed his hand on my shoulder, his touch grounding me, bringing me back to the present. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like for you, Rachel," he said softly. "But you're here now. You've survived. And you're stronger because of it."

I looked up at him, my vision blurry with tears, but I managed a smile. "I suppose," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "But that's why I always keep people at arm's length. I can't let anyone get that close. I can't let them hurt me like she did."

Arthur's hand squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. "You don't have to let anyone in if you're not ready. But I hope you know that not everyone will hurt you. Some people just want to care for you."

"God," I muttered, my heart pounding faster and faster as I looked at him. After wiping my tears, I locked eyes with him. "You… it's not fair, you know."

Arthur tilted his head slightly, a puzzled look crossing his face. "What isn't fair?" he asked.

"You can't just barge into my life and treat me like this!" I burst out, my voice trembling. "You can't just be so unconditionally kind to me, be so understanding, always ready to comfort me, to make me laugh, and expect nothing in return! What… what the hell are you, Arthur?!"

My hands grasped his collar as I pulled him closer, our noses almost touching. My breath came in shaky gasps, but I couldn't hold back anymore. "Tell me, Arthur," I whispered, my voice quivering with raw emotion. "How can I not love you with all my heart? How can I not want to trust you completely, to give you everything when you treat me like this?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between us, the space between our faces so close I could feel his breath on my skin. Arthur's eyes widened, and for the first time, I saw a flash of something behind his calm gaze—an emotion I couldn't quite place.

Arthur opened his mouth, as if to say something, but the words seemed to escape him. He swallowed hard, his expression softening, yet he still didn't answer.

"Don't ever leave," I whispered, my voice almost breaking. "Just stay. Stay by my side. That's all I want. Even if you don't love me, even if you can't be mine, just stay with me, Arthur Nightingale."

"I…" Arthur hesitated, his eyes filled with conflict.

I grabbed his collar again, desperation clawing at me. "Tell me what's inside your heart, Arthur!" I pleaded. "I want to comfort you, I want to love you, so let me in too. Please."

Arthur looked at me, his expression full of pain. He finally spoke, his voice soft, almost haunted. "There was… someone I loved once, Rachel," he began, his gaze drifting away, lost in a memory. "She was everything to me. We were going to build a future together. I loved her, more than words could express. She was my anchor, my light."

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if to steady himself. "But destiny ripped us apart. It was like a cruel joke that fate played on me, taking everything I held dear."

"I tried to move on," Arthur continued, his voice trembling. "But I can't forget her. The guilt, the feeling that I abandoned her, that I failed her… it haunts me. I don't know if she's still out there somewhere, thinking about me, wondering why I left. I couldn't protect her. I couldn't be there for her when she needed me most. That thought… it tears at me every day."

"That's why, Rachel. I can't love you the way you want me to. Not when my heart is still trapped in the past, still aching for someone I lost."

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to accept his words. "Don't joke with me, Arthur," I said, my voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and determination. I could see it in his eyes—he had moved on, even if he didn't realize it yet. He was holding onto the ghost of a memory, a phantom that no longer held him the way he thought it did.

"Do not lie to me or hide, Nightingale," I warned, stepping closer. I reached up, cupping his face, forcing him to look at me, to see me. "What do you truly think of me?"

Arthur's eyes widened, his gaze wavering as he struggled to find the words. I could see the confusion, the hesitation, the emotions he didn't want to acknowledge.

But I had enough.

I pulled him in, closing the distance between us as I pressed my lips to his.

The world seemed to vanish in that instant, everything fading away until there was nothing but the warmth of his lips against mine. My heart raced, pounding in my chest as I felt his breath hitch, his hesitation breaking under the force of the moment.

His hands hovered near my shoulders, unsure, trembling. But I deepened the kiss, my hands tangling in his hair, refusing to let him retreat from this.

For a few precious seconds, he let himself respond, his lips moving against mine, a quiet desperation between us. It was like a dam breaking, the flood of all those unspoken words, the feelings we both held back for so long finally finding a release.

I pulled back, just enough to rest my forehead against his, my breath coming out in shaky gasps. "I'm real, Arthur," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I am right here. Not a memory, not a ghost. So be mine. Choose me."

Just then, the door to the balcony slid open.

An unwelcome surge of mana rushed toward me.