Chapter 72: Returning with Full Hands (III)

The terrace also had a beautiful makeover. A new tarp had been placed covering the stairs, extending for almost ten meters. A new wall was built on each side, ensuring better protection against the storm that was trying, at all costs, to penetrate their conversation.

Clara had pulled Dante into a corner, where she handed him a bowl with stew. She had one too, holding it delicately. She was still wearing those worn gloves.

"You've got guts, Dante. I admit that." Clara picked up a fork, pointing it at the potato with the tip. "You brought the person who possibly hurt Degol here and treated her like she was your daughter."

Dante was chewing the pork when it caught in his throat. He coughed twice, causing Clara to laugh.

"I didn't think that would throw you off so much." A cloth was stretched, and he wiped his mouth and the saliva that had flown onto his leg. "Well, that's what everyone was saying. She seems a bit shy, which stops them from questioning what she did before."

"First, she's not my daughter. And yes, I've got guts. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here."

Clara raised her eyebrows, ignoring his playful arrogance.

"Sure, sure. The guy who jumped into a portal to save his friends, and now, here he is, saving homeless people and bringing food to a desperate woman." Mockingly, she placed a hand over her chest. "I'm so moved by your beautiful story. But I don't have time."

Dante laughed, continuing to eat.

"You want a report?"

"Of course." The fork was pointed at him. "Go on, you can start."

The two shared a larger box, swapping places and crossing their legs, only about a meter apart. Dante liked the proximity. For some reason, the woman was radiant. Even though she was older, she had a serene aura that pulled him away from the chaos of the world around him.

It would be an interesting...

No. Dante pushed that thought out of his head right away. There was too much at stake to think about romance, especially with Clara Silver. He was young, 29, and she... well, she was a more mature woman, full of experiences.

It was time to set aside feelings and focus on the facts.

From his conversation with Marcus at the door of the Research Center to his entry and fight, every one of his actions was described so Clara could understand his way of thinking. He didn't leave out what he said to the shooter, nor the fact that he had hugged him.

Clara seemed more emotional as she listened, but when he narrated the fight with Juno, she became focused, locking her eyes on his. She asked about the position of the man who was with Juno and how he had died. He didn't hide anything.

When he described Sebastian's death, he expected some reprimand for his actions. On the contrary, Clara stretched out her arm and gently took his hand.

"You did what you had to do. That's important. I'm not the right person to judge, but those people would've had a terrible end if you hadn't intervened." Her index finger traced over his. "What you did for Marcus there, I respect more than anything anyone else has done for us."

"Killing a life is still a pretty big sin." He didn't hide his disapproval of his actions. "I could've knocked him out or even let him sleep. I chose the easier, faster way."

Clara didn't let go of his hand and pressed her lips inward, an expression that said 'It's okay.'

"You did what had to be done. And that's the most important. You came back with your hands full. Well, it was with people and without the Lunar Stone that Meliah wanted, but you came back."

Dante laughed. He kept his hand in hers, not wanting to pull away. With his other hand, he reached into the pockets of his coat, his fingers searching for something at the bottom of the inner pocket. When he pulled it back out, a yellowish stone rested in his palm, shimmering almost shyly.

The soft light danced between the grooves of his fingers, revealing something deeper—a pulse, a whisper of Cosmic Energy that seemed to vibrate in the air around them.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" he murmured, his voice low, almost challenging, as the glow reflected in his eyes, making them even more intense.

Clara didn't pull her hand back, and she used her other hand to touch the stone. As soon as her fingers brushed it, a shiver ran through her skin. She seemed hypnotized. Now, Meliah clearly owed her a life. The object would save her brother, and better yet, it would guarantee all the Winter supplies.

She finally raised her gaze to Dante, her eyes shining with a mix of gratitude and reverence.

"Is this... is this going to work?" she asked, her voice barely audible, as if she feared breaking the spell.

Dante shrugged, a wry smile forming on his lips.

"If it doesn't work, I'll have to curse the two brothers again."

She suddenly lunged forward, hugging him. Dante stretched his arms out to the sides, stunned. That hug completely disarmed him. He hadn't expected something so direct, so intense. Clara buried her face in his shoulder, while he stared blankly ahead, wordless, trying to process the moment. As much as he wanted to react, his thoughts of the Capital held him back.

Dante loosened his mindset. How many years would it take for a portal home? And where was the Capital? He didn't even know where he was. He had no idea how long everything would remain unstable.

Is it wrong to wish that the day I leave takes a little longer?

Dante felt guilty for the thought, but couldn't help it. He didn't want to admit it, but something in his soul longed for more time there. Without thinking too much, he began closing his arms, until he touched Clara's back.

She let out a soft giggle, her head sinking deeper into his shoulder, as if surrendering to the moment, unwilling to pull away. The laugh was light but full of an unexpected tenderness.

"I thought you wouldn't give the hug back. The mighty Dante doesn't hug the people who thank him?"

With his free hand, he closed his fist around the white robe she wore, his fingers brushing gently over the strands of hair falling on her shoulder. The touch was almost instinctive, as if his hand wanted to keep the closeness, not wanting to break the connection that, somehow, was forming between them.

"I think only if the person is you," he murmured, his voice soft, quieter than he expected.

There was something in the way he said it that made it clear: it wasn't just a simple response, but a disguised confession. Those words carried a meaning he didn't know how to deal with, but somehow, it made perfect sense.

It always made sense; he just didn't want to deny it.

"I'm flattered, Dante. I hope I'm the only one who can do that."

"You need to convince me to want to hug you, not catch me by surprise like this," he joked, tickling her. "See? You can't even handle five minutes of honest banter with me."

Clara pushed him back, laughing. She had turned red, but her face was lit up as if the moon itself were present. Dante couldn't help but admire her.

"Here." He stretched out his hand with the Lunar Stone. "Give it to Meliah and tell him it was really hard, and that if he's a good person like he says he is to everyone, he should send us more things. He needs to stop being so stingy, Clara."

"I've already talked to him about that. They say goodbye with a closed fist. Like this." She shook her closed fist back and forth. "I don't even know how they got people to work with them."

Clara grabbed the two bowls and placed them beside her. Before standing up, she once again held Dante's hand.

"Before you go deliver this. Here, I also have something for you. Here."

From the robe pocket, something caught Dante's attention. A paper. No, upon closer inspection, he realized it wasn't just any paper, but a letter. It was sealed with a green wax, delicately stamped, as if sealed for a special purpose. Dante stared at it, his expression confused, feeling a growing curiosity.

Still in awe, Dante looked up, but Clara was already walking away, gently tapping his shoulder before leaving. The gesture was simple but full of meaning. She didn't look back, but her words were clear and direct.

"Thank you for everything. I don't think I've ever properly thanked you."

She walked away. And Dante, carefully, opened the letter.