013 ※ Ferret Fears and Fae Follies: A Very Unusual Travel Companion

"Are you planning on taking my stew with us?"

He gave a simple, nonchalant gesture of agreement, his hand barely rising before dropping back to his side. The slight shrug of his shoulders and the faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips told me he wasn't taking my question seriously. His response was brief, but I could see the gleam in his eyes, the way he was silently amused by my irritation.

"Are you seriously considering taking my savage stew of snake to the Royal Capital?" I asked again, but this time, I couldn't resist provoking him. The words slipped out with a bite, and I crossed my arms in front of me, raising an eyebrow. I tilted my head slightly to study his face, wondering if I could get him to react.

"This won't work with me, darling," he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with that unmistakable arrogance he always carried, like it was second nature.

The word darling caught me off guard, and my heart skipped a beat, racing unexpectedly. It wasn't just irritation that stirred inside me—it was something far more unsettling. I tried to brush it off, but the discomfort tightened in my chest, a sensation I couldn't quite place.

"Don't call me that, please," I said before I could stop myself, my voice coming out sharper than I had intended. I could hear the edge in my tone, but I didn't care. Something about the way he said it unsettled me deeply.

"Why not?" he asked, feigning innocence, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. There was that playful glint, as if he were enjoying pushing my buttons, as if my discomfort was something to be savored.

I blurted it out before I could stop myself, before the words even registered in my mind. "My mom called me like that."

The moment the words left my mouth, I froze. It felt like the air in the room had shifted, and I instinctively covered my lips with my right hand, almost as if I could take the words back, erase them from existence. I hadn't meant to say that. It was too personal, too raw, and now it was hanging between us like an unwanted truth. Even though... it was but a lie.

My mother never called me that. It was him who did it. The sheer memory of it made a sickening and vile guilt crawl under my skin. All I wanted was to forget him and all that he did to me, all that forced me to do, all that had happened and the consequences of my teenager... actions.

But he would never leave me be. He was still in my mind, lurking like the vicious viper he is.

Kai's expression softened, his eyes losing their mischievous gleam. He stepped a little closer, his voice taking on a strange, almost soothing tone. "You don't have to be sad about it, little one. Be happy because you had the chance to meet her and live with her. You have memories with her. Just think about the good moments, like her calling you darling."

I didn't want to think about it. The lie slipped out before I could even think it through. What he didn't know—and what he never would—was that my memories with her weren't filled with the warmth he implied. The truth was far darker, colder than the comforting words he offered. But it was easier to lie, easier to smile and nod than to confront the hollowness of those memories.

It was almost cruel, the way his words seemed to twist inside of me, making everything feel more complicated than it should be. I didn't want to acknowledge the feelings that were rising within me, the discomfort, the nostalgia, the sense of loss. It wasn't guilt that I felt; no, it was something else—something far more complicated.

"You don't have to thank me for saying this," he added, as though offering comfort was the easiest thing in the world, as if there were nothing more to it. The simplicity of his words, his casual tone, made the whole conversation feel all the more frustrating.

I quickly turned away, trying to shake off the feelings his words had stirred in me. I moved around the treehouse with more urgency than I had planned, trying to keep myself busy, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the uncomfortable tension between us. The task itself didn't require much effort, but it gave me something to concentrate on, a distraction from the gnawing feeling inside.

I grabbed the capped bowl of stew and handed it to him, the motion feeling automatic, detached, like I was playing a part in a scene I didn't want to act out. I turned my gaze away from him quickly, my attention shifting to Bakaashi, the little ferret curled up on my bed. The sight of him, with his fur all fluffed up and his tiny red eyes blinking sleepily, helped ground me in the moment, even as I tried to keep my mind from wandering.

"What is this little creature?" Kai asked, his voice laced with surprise and something that sounded like wariness. He took a few steps back, clearly unnerved by the small ferret, and I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction.

I burst out laughing, loud and uncontrollable, unable to keep it in. His face, twisted in confusion and a little fear, was too much for me to handle. "Are you truly scared of a little ferret?" I managed to say between fits of laughter, my amusement getting the best of me.

Bakaashi stirred, blinking up at him with his small, beady eyes, completely unfazed by Kai's reaction. The little creature was more curious than anything, and I could see the way Kai's eyes widened even more as Bakaashi's gaze met his.

Kai took another cautious step backward, his eyes still locked on the ferret. "How do you live with such a creature?" he asked, his voice holding a mix of disbelief and something else—annoyance, maybe?

I laughed even harder, unable to stop myself. "He should be scared of you, not the other way around! You're scared of a ferret? Seriously?"

"Hahaha, so funny..." Kai muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm, though there was no mistaking the irritation behind it. He was clearly not enjoying this, and part of me found that even funnier.

"You're not bringing this creature with us," he said, his tone firm, like it was a decree that couldn't be changed.

I shot him a defiant look, still grinning from ear to ear. "If he doesn't come, I won't go," I said, crossing my arms, giving him an ultimatum. His reaction was as expected—irritated, but not willing to back down.

Kai's expression twisted with annoyance, his jaw clenched. "Ugh... just let the snakes eat him. He must be delicious," he said with a roll of his eyes, like it was the most natural suggestion in the world.

My jaw dropped slightly, completely shocked by his words. I blinked, disbelieving. "You—what?!" I gasped, my voice a mix of surprise and disbelief. I couldn't believe he had just said that about Bakaashi.

Kai just shrugged, a smug grin spreading across his face. "I'm kidding. I'm not evil like that. But seriously, don't bring him too close. Please."

I shot him a glare, my frustration rising. "This creature has a name, you stupid Fae. It's Bakaashi," I snapped, my voice growing colder, though I still couldn't fully hide the irritation that was building up inside me.

Kai scoffed, rolling his eyes in that annoyingly exaggerated way of his. "You're the worst person in the world to pick a name. Damn," he said, his words dripping with disdain.

"Idiot," I muttered under my breath, my glare turning into something more playful, though my irritation was still there.

"Fuck you! This name's cute," I retorted, a small laugh escaping me despite myself. I didn't know why, but I couldn't help but feel the playful side of me fighting through the frustration.

Kai rolled his eyes again, clearly not impressed, but his teasing smirk never wavered. "Your concept of cute is very disturbed," he said, his voice full of mockery.

I shot him a look—one that was as much of a challenge as it was a mix of frustration and amusement. Something else lingered there, too, something I couldn't quite grasp. But for now, all I could do was stand there, silently daring him to push me further, knowing that this strange back-and-forth wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.

The tension between us thickened, hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge, neither of us willing to fully acknowledge it, but both of us dancing around it with every word, every jab. And so, we continued, playing this strange game, trying to make sense of the mess we were caught in.