Chapter 8
After drying his hair, Nash sank into the sofa, taking out his phone and scrolling through his contacts. The faint sound of water running from the bathroom caught his attention, and he turned his head to glance in that direction, but the view was obstructed.
He muttered to himself, “We’re about to get married, yet she still keeps her guard up around me…”
His eyes dropped to the screen where one contact caught his attention: Chatty Skye. He dialed the number without hesitation, and it rang once before someone picked up.
“Nashy! I’ve been waiting for your call, like a child waiting for the stars to light the night sky! It’s been three whole years since we last saw each other, and my longing for you is like a river that never stops flowing, endlessly and—”
“Enough,” Nash interrupted, cutting through the dramatic monologue.
“Yes, sir!” came the quick reply.
Nash’s tone shifted, becoming businesslike. “Did you find anything on the investigation I asked you to do?”
“I did, but…” the voice on the other end hesitated.
“Spit it out,” Nash’s voice turned cold.
“Twenty years ago, a fire broke out in Young Family Village. Master Calcraft was passing through the area and managed to rescue two people— a child, no more than two years old, and an elderly man. The following year, Master Calcraft came down from the mountain to practice medicine, bringing with him the child who had just learned to walk. From that, it’s clear that the child who survived the fire was you, Nash.”
Nash narrowed his eyes, his curiosity piqued. “And the old man?”
“The old man was none other than Herman Lewis.”
“Anything else?” Nash asked, his voice growing rougher. “An entire village burned down with no survivors… someone had to be behind it, right?”
“I haven’t found more details yet, but I’ll keep looking. If I find anything new, I’ll let you know immediately.”
“Alright.”
Nash ended the call and sank back into the sofa, the weight of his thoughts settling over him. For as long as he could remember, he had believed his master was his grandfather. He’d asked about his parents, but his master had never given him an answer. For over two decades, his identity had remained a mystery.
It wasn’t until three years ago, when he was entrusted to help the Skye family with a mission involving the Dark Dragon King, the fifth-ranked assassin, that he met Theo Skye. That encounter led Nash to learn that Theo managed several detective agencies, and Nash had offered a massive reward—150 million dollars—to investigate his own past. But that pursuit had come with a price. His master had forbidden him from leaving for three years.
Theo’s investigation had finally shed light on everything. The reason his master never spoke of his origins was that his entire family had perished in the fire. His master had feared that revealing the truth would push Nash into a dangerous spiral of hatred. Only after Nash had grown strong enough did his master allow him to seek out Herman.
Nash’s thoughts were interrupted when the bathroom door creaked open. Hera stepped out, wrapped in pink pajamas, a towel twisted around her head. She walked over to him, cheeks flushed, hands hidden behind her back. “Um… I accidentally washed your underwear until it fell apart…”
Nash blinked in confusion. “I thought I threw that away?”
The underwear in question had been in a sorry state for years, barely holding on. If not for his master’s three-year restriction, Nash would have had something much better by now.
“Maybe you didn’t throw it away properly,” Hera stammered, mortified. She had assumed he’d left it for her to wash.
Nash glanced at her hands behind her back, and Hera quickly turned away, rushing to the trash can.
A few moments later, while applying a face mask, Hera announced, “Tonight, you sleep on the bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Nash raised an eyebrow, pretending to be shocked. “I’m your fiancé. Shouldn’t we be sleeping together?”
Hera’s breath hitched, her voice faltering. “I… I’m not ready yet.”
Nash sighed dramatically, his lips curling into a small smile. “Actually, I know you’re just using me to get your grandfather’s inheritance.”
Hera panicked, her eyes widening. “I… I’m not…”
He closed his eyes, pulling a thin blanket over himself. “Feelings take time to develop. We’ve only just met. Besides, I know you’re just after the money.”
“I’m really not…” Hera’s voice trembled as she crouched by the sofa, choking back sobs. She wanted to explain, but the words wouldn’t come.
Nash could see the tears gathering in her eyes. He softened, opening one eye. “Don’t cry, I was only teasing you. Love takes time, and we’ve only known each other for a day. Even if you let me sleep in the bed, I won’t get on it.”
Hera blinked, wiping her tears away. “Really?”
Nash nodded, his voice light. “Of course. Love has a process. We’ve only just started.”
A small, tearful smile crept onto Hera’s face. “Then… no imagining things, okay?”
“I got it, my dear Ms. Hera,” Nash teased, drawing out her name with a hint of impatience.
Hera didn’t catch the edge in his tone as she returned to bed, still caught up in her thoughts.
The next morning, Nash was woken by a dull thud. He glanced over to see Hera lying on the floor, still asleep. Oddly, she didn’t stir. He rose, walked over, and carefully lifted her up, supporting her soft, smooth legs as he did. His heart skipped a beat as he felt the delicate curve of her skin, a surge of warmth rushing through him.
He quickly placed her back on the bed, covered her with the blanket, and, trying to shake off the lingering feelings, changed into his sportswear for a morning run.
By eight a.m., after finishing his run, Nash returned to find Hera preparing breakfast.
“Oh no…” Hera’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I… I forgot to make breakfast for you.”
She had been living alone for two years and, when she woke up and didn’t see him, instinctively made breakfast only for herself.
Nash walked toward the bathroom, casually saying, “It’s fine, I’m not hungry right now. You can eat alone.”
After freshening up, he changed into a crisp white shirt and suit, his demeanor transforming into that of a wealthy, poised young man.
His slightly messy hair, however, gave him an effortlessly handsome edge that no one could ignore.
When he walked back into the room, Hera looked up and froze. Was this really the same Nash from yesterday?
She blinked, caught off guard by the change. He looked like the kind of man women dreamed of—cool, confident, and strikingly handsome.
Nash sat at the dining table and waved his fingers in front of her eyes. “Am I that irresistible, Ms. Hera?”
Hera blushed deeply. She took a sip of milk, trying to compose herself. “Be careful when you sleep tonight. I’m afraid one day, I won’t be able to resist… and might just eat you up.”