Chapter 0.108 : A Crimson Chase

"You're dead, Jin Rotschy."

Those golden eyes, smoldering with indignation, turned away from him as Rena stormed off toward the academy courtyard, her fiery red hair flowing behind her like a burning comet on a warpath.

Jin didn't flinch. In fact, his grin widened.

"Shall I prepare a black suit for the funeral, Lady Amberheart?" he called out in a voice dipped in irony, his crimson eyes flashing with mischief.

He followed her casually, hands in his pockets, the sound of his polished boots echoing softly against the marble floors. His entire presence was a walking paradox: relaxed yet menacing, carefree yet sharp as a dagger poised for the perfect jab.

They emerged into the courtyard, bathed in the noonday sun. Students buzzed about like lazy bees, chatting, flirting, and eating. But the moment Jien stepped into view — tall, dressed head-to-toe in black, from his high-collared coat to his fitted pants and raven boots — the atmosphere shifted. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Conversations stuttered mid-sentence.

Whispers rippled through the crowd like falling petals.

"Is that him?"

"The dark one? He's even more gorgeous up close."

"Did you see his eyes? Crimson... they look like they could set you on fire."

Jin paid no mind to the murmurs, his gaze fixed on the redhead ahead of him. He caught up easily, walking beside her like a shadow.

"My darling wife," he said lowly, just enough for her to hear. "Tell me, shall we kiss here in the garden, where everyone can watch and burn with envy? You do look delicious when you're angry. It gives you that special… spice."

Rena stopped dead in her tracks, her fists clenched, face blooming a dangerous shade of red.

"Shut up Jin" 

Jin smiled and bent down and whispered,

"So what color is the lace?"

.Rena's face turned even redder. 

"Are you insane?" she hissed. "Do you *want* people to hear you?"

He leaned a little closer, tilting his head, eyes glittering like garnet flames. "Oh? Then it *is* pink lace. Good to know."

"You—!" she choked, glaring at him. The heat rose from her chest to her cheeks like wildfire. "Don't—"

He interrupted again, smug and smooth. "Is your skin beneath it as soft as silk? Or is there a secret garden? Maybe freshly trimmed?"

She looked like she was about to combust on the spot. Her hands itched to slap him. "You are the worst kind of—"

But he only chuckled softly, almost lovingly, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Rina, Rina… You wound me. I'm simply admiring the mystery of my exquisite wife. One must appreciate art, especially forbidden art."

The tension between them crackled like static electricity. Rena's breath came fast, her body pulsing with an odd mixture of rage, embarrassment… and something else she didn't dare name. She wasn't sure which was more frustrating — his shameless teasing, or the fact that her heart *actually skipped* when he got too close.

Gods, why did her chest tighten every time he smiled that devil-may-care smile?

And why did he smell so… distractingly good?

"Stop following me," she muttered, starting to walk faster.

"Can't," he replied with ease, trailing behind her like a storm cloud with a smirk. "My heart follows where my wife goes."

"Your *heart* is a liar."

"My tongue too. But both are yours."

She cursed under her breath. "You're impossible."

"Yet you haven't killed me. That must count for something."

Rena whirled around and shoved a finger into his chest. "One more word and I'll—"

"You'll kiss me again?" he offered, grinning.

Her cheeks went crimson. The image flashed in her mind — her face buried in his chest, sobbing into him, her fingers clinging to his coat like a child clings to warmth. The memory was sharp and recent and far too intimate.

"Shut. Up."

He did. For three whole seconds.

Then he leaned in, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath near her ear.

"By the way," he murmured, voice lowered to a velvet murmur, "I read in one of the academy's biology books that intense emotional outbursts can increase heart rate and release hormones that make you… aroused."

She pulled away from him so quickly, it nearly looked like she'd been electrocuted.

"You… disgusting… *pervert*."

He beamed. "That's *Husband Pervert* to you, dear."

Behind them, some students giggled. Others watched with envy or awe — but no one dared approach. There was something magnetic, dangerous even, about the way those two clashed. Like fire flirting with gasoline.

And yet... no matter how much she yelled, Rina didn't walk away.

She didn't really *want* to.