From deep within me, an unfamiliar warm feeling made my ears perk up.

It was a simple change to the name, so how—why did my cheeks feel so hot?

“Alright, Lyon.” I said, filling the small silence that endured.

Embarrassed to look at him, my eyes wandered around the room. First at the piano, sitting directly below the sunlight, and then to the door, happy that this moment wasn’t a figment of my imagination, and Lyon wasn’t running away.

A sudden dampness on my thigh and a slight pressure on my robe snapped me out of my stupor. Blinking away the embarrassment, I glanced down to find the sleeve of my robe stained brown. Below, droplets of cacao splattered on my thigh, stark against the fabric.

A low, nervous laughter of mixed emotions escaped my lips.

In my hurried attempt to pull him into an embrace, I spilled the cups, our clothes dipped in cacao, and the orange with the slice of bread found a new plate: the floor.

‘Why do I have to be so clumsy?’

Lyon had yet to notice, still clinging onto me.

I inhaled deeply, taking my mind off the mess. In hindsight, it was obvious what needed to be done.

Appreciating the moment, I spoke warmly.

“Lyon, my dear, would you mind letting go?”

At the sound of my voice, Lyon’s eyes fluttered open. Realizing that I was holding him, he immediately shoved me away and stumbled back, landing squarely on the buttered bread and squishing the orange flat in the process.

I couldn’t help but laugh, quickly raising a hand to hide my giggles.

“S-sorry,” He said, lowering his head.

“It’s alright Lyon. Nothing a little cleaning and a bath can’t fix.” I said, bending down and fixing back his hair. “Now, do you want me to help you take a bath, or do you want to do it on your own?” I said in a joking manner.

Immediately, his cheeks grew redder than a tomato.

“I-I’ll do it myself.” He blurted out, already back on his feet, reaching for the second floor.

Another chuckle escaped me.

Baths were the only exception to the rule where he would allow me to touch him. At least for the first week, when he wasn’t moving from the bed and I had to force him. After that, he would always be embarrassed and wouldn’t let me enter the bath with him.

Regardless of the reason, this time it worked in my favor. There was a lot to be done and so little time.

First, I needed to clean up the mess. That was easy enough. It was only an orange and a single slice of bread, after all, and outside my clothes and the table, cacao hadn’t spilled over to the floor.

In less than five minutes, everything was crystal clean.

I placed a set of clean clothes outside the bathroom door for Lyon, then changed into a white dress—one more fitting for the occasion. It was a gift from my mother, and of all the things I had left behind, this dress was not something I could abandon.

The dress was simple in design, free of silvery embroideries tracing intricate patterns or golden threads woven into the fabric’s edges. It didn’t need such embellishments. Instead, it was crafted from a silky material, soft and light, almost translucent. This design allowed it to catch and reflect light, whether by day or night, highlighting the wearer rather than drawing attention to itself.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

By the time I finished changing, Lyon was still in the bath. With a few minutes to spare, I decided to double-check my supplies. It would be a real hassle if I had to search for anything in the forest, or worse, make a trip to the city.

Luckily, since I’d never needed Ashbloom seeds, colored paper, or carving tools before, everything required was safely stored in the dimensional ring.

As I imbued quint into the ring to take them out, footsteps echoed from behind me.

I offered him a warm smile as I turned.

“I was about to come check on you, but it seems my worries were for naught. Come here, I have something to show you.” I said, stepping to the side and letting him see for himself the table behind me.

“M-Mira…” He began hesitantly, extending and retracting his hand, battling the fear that urged him to stay put instead of trusting me.

“Yes?” I said in a light tone, inviting him to continue.

Just as he was about to say something, he waved his head, closed his eyes, and walked closer.

On the table, I had spread the papers out in an ascending order of color, resembling a rainbow.

“See all those papers here? Tell me, which three are your favorite?”

He looked at them with knitted eyebrows, and after a minute or so, picked up a blue, orange, and yellow paper.

“Ah, what beautiful colors. My favorite is pink. I like it because it reminds me of my mother. From the papers you choose, which paper would Papa, Theodore, and Cain be?”

I moved the rest further back, letting him focus only on these three colors while taking out the necessary tools.

Eventually, he said, “Papa is blue, Theodore is yellow, and Cain is orange.”

“Perfect. Now please take a look at this,” I said, taking the pink paper.

I folded it in half lengthwise, ensuring that the edges were perfectly aligned. This created a neat, sharp crease along the fold. With the folded edge positioned at the bottom, I drew a series of parallel lines across the surface of the paper. I spaced these lines about one inch apart, and once the lines were drawn, I took a pair of scissors and cut along each one.

After completing the cuts, I unfolded the paper, revealing a pattern of evenly spaced slits running through the center. The paper, once flat, now had a delicate, lattice-like quality to it. To transform this into a three-dimensional shape, I brought the two short edges of the paper together. As I did so, the paper naturally curved into a cylindrical form. Carefully applying a small amount of wax to secure the edges, the cylinder held together firmly.

Finally, I cut a narrow strip from the leftover paper. This strip would serve as a handle. I attached it to the top of the cylinder by waxing each end of the strip to opposite sides of the opening, ensuring it was centered and sturdy.

Once I was done, a small pink lantern was left sitting on the table.

Usually, there was an extra step where the lantern would be decorated. It was supposed to be tradition ever since the Blood Wars, where we, the living, would remember the deceased’s accomplishments in life one last time before letting them go. High Elves paid particular attention to this ritual, sometimes going as far as performing small plays, orchestral music, or, in even rarer cases, dances in their memory.

“I know this will sound difficult, but can you try to do the same with the three of them? Don’t worry, it’s easier than it looks, and I’ll help you in every step of the way. What’s important is you trying to do it.”

He responded with a small nod and took the blue paper.

I similarly proceeded to take another piece of paper and slowly repeated the steps at a slow pace so that he could follow.

Surprisingly, he was a quick learner, making only minor mistakes on his first try (easy enough for me to fix them on the spot), and by the last, not even needing my help.

Great job, Lyon, you did amazing!” I praised him, and for the first time, a hint of a smile touched his lips. But almost immediately, he looked away, trying to hide it.

I sighed internally. ‘As long as he feels better…’

There were still two more things to take care of, and this next part was going to be tricky.

“Lyon, my dear, would you mind coming with me to the forest?” I asked gently.

He jolted, anxiety flashing in his eyes. “Why?”

I softened my tone further. “There’s a special tree I want to show you.”

“What’s on the tree?” he asked, still uncertain.

“Well… I could tell you, but I think it’s something you should see for yourself. It’s related to the lanterns we made. But if you really want to know beforehand, I’ll tell you.” I paused for a moment, then added, “You can trust me, Lyon.”

I watched as his fingers fidgeted and his eyes searched the floor, clearly wrestling with the decision. I didn’t push him, letting him take his time to make up his mind.

“Okay,” he finally said in a quiet voice. Then, he looked up at me, his eyes vulnerable but filled with courage. “But... can you tell me a story first?”

A genuine smile found its way on my lips. “Of course. Let me grab two coats, and I’ll recite it on our way."