Chapter 124: How to Enjoy the Founding Festival (3)
“Wow, I won this time!” Aracila exclaimed, her voice ringing with triumph.
A burst of confetti exploded into the air as Aracila’s box popped open first. Damian, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face, glanced at his own box, which opened a few seconds too late. If he’d been just a fraction quicker, the bet could’ve ended in his favor without dragging into a third round. As he brushed away the fluttering confetti with a wave of his hand, the game’s host came scurrying over, practically bouncing with excitement.
“Congratulations! You’ve set the fastest time, so here’s your prize!”
The host thrust a small gift box toward Aracila. A strange sense of déjà vu tugged at her as she lifted the lid. Sure enough, nestled inside was a badge.
The Headbutt Champion badge.
“…”
Aracila stared at it, momentarily speechless. She hadn’t expected to end up with something like this, just like Damian had with his own absurd prize. As she stood there, clutching the badge, Damian leaned in with a grin and pinned it to her collar with a gentle touch.
“This is ridiculous,” Aracila muttered. “I’d rather have the Dart King title. Trade with me.”
“No can do,” Damian replied, his lips curling into a broad, teasing smile. “Wear it with pride, Headbutt Champion.”
He threw her own words back at her, and Aracila found herself at a loss for a retort.
Now crowned Dart King and Headbutt Champion respectively, the two moved on to their final challenge. They arrived at a treasure hunt stall run by a kind-faced grandmother, whose warm presence seemed to light up the bustling festival. As soon as she spotted them, she let out a hearty chuckle.
“Well, well, look at the newlyweds!” she said, her eyes twinkling.
“How did you know?” Aracila asked, instinctively reaching to adjust the mask on her face, wondering if they’d somehow been recognized.
The grandmother’s response was calm and knowing. “Oh, you can just tell. There’s a certain fresh glow that only newlyweds have.”
“Oh,” Aracila said, her cheeks warming as she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.
In truth, she and Damian were a contract couple, bound by agreement rather than love. She wondered just how convincing their “newlywed glow” could possibly be but decided not to contradict the old woman’s assumption. It didn’t seem worth the trouble.
“So, are you two here to join the treasure hunt?” the grandmother asked.
“Yes,” Aracila replied.
“Perfect timing! We were short two players to start the next round.”
Beaming, the grandmother led them to a small group of participants gathered nearby. Once everyone was assembled, she explained the rules with a clear, practiced tone.
“The search area stretches from the plaza to Third Street. Somewhere in that range, we’ve hidden a rabbit doll wearing a crown. Find it, and you win.”
With a sharp clap of her hands, the participants scattered like leaves in the wind, each darting off to hunt for the prized doll. Aracila and Damian agreed to split up—the one who found the doll would claim victory in their ongoing bet. As they parted ways at a fork in the path, Damian called after her.
“No magic this time.”
“Tch, fine,” Aracila grumbled, though she’d secretly been hoping to use a detection spell. Fair was fair, though, so she shook off the temptation and set out, relying on her own two feet to track down the doll.
Navigating the crowded streets was no easy task. The festival was a chaotic swirl of people, animals, and clutter—so much so that it was hard to tell one thing from another. Still, Aracila kept her composure, her sharp blue eyes scanning the scene for any sign of a crowned rabbit doll.
She moved through the plaza, then First Street, before reaching the residential area of Second Street. There, among the rows of nearly identical wooden houses, she spotted it: perched delicately atop a bright red mailbox was the rabbit doll, its tiny crown glinting in the sunlight.
“Found it!” Aracila shouted, her heart leaping.
“My lady?”
At the same moment, Damian appeared from the opposite direction. Their eyes locked, and a spark of tension crackled between them.
That rabbit’s mine!
Aracila was the first to move, sprinting toward the doll with single-minded determination. Damian wasn’t about to let her win so easily—he broke into a run, aiming to claim the prize for himself.
In that fleeting moment, Aracila’s gaze caught a shadow by the window of the house next to the mailbox. An elderly woman, likely the homeowner, was watering a flowerpot on the windowsill. The watering can she held looked far too large and heavy for her frail frame. Her trembling arms caused the stream of water to wobble precariously.
If that thing falls on her head…
Damian’s mind raced to the worst-case scenario. A falling can could soak her, or worse, injure her. He had to act. But before he could shout a warning, the old woman let out a startled “Oh!” and the watering can slipped from her grasp—plummeting directly toward Aracila, who had just reached the mailbox with a triumphant grin.
“My lady!”
Damian’s voice was sharp with panic as he surged forward. Aracila, startled by his sudden cry, looked up in confusion. In an instant, Damian closed the distance, his arms stretching out to pull her into his embrace, shielding her with his body.
A cascade of water poured over them, followed by the heavy thunk of the watering can striking Damian’s shoulder before clattering to the ground.
For a moment, Aracila stood frozen, her mind catching up to the chaos. Then, snapping back to reality, she grabbed Damian’s arms, her eyes wide with concern.
“Damian! Are you okay?”
From above, the old woman’s frantic apologies echoed down, but neither of them paid her any mind.
“I’m fine,” Damian said, his voice steady despite the water dripping from his hair.
“Your shoulder—how’s your shoulder?” Aracila pressed, her hands hovering near the spot where the can had struck.
“It’s fine,” he reassured her. “It wasn’t a brick, after all.”
The collision had been loud but harmless—the heavy watering can left no mark on Damian’s sturdy, muscled shoulder. Still, Aracila couldn’t shake her worry, her eyes darting over him as she checked for any sign of injury. Water droplets slid from the tips of his soaked silver hair, tracing the elegant lines of his cheekbones as they fell.
“I’m really fine, so please don’t worry,” Damian reassured her, his voice calm and steady.
Aracila let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you for saving me. I’ll dry us off with magic.”
“That, I’d appreciate,” Damian replied quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the clingy dampness of his wet clothes.
As the two worked to dry their clothes and themselves with Aracila’s magic, the crowned rabbit doll rolled forlornly along the street, forgotten in the chaos. Aracila had grabbed it from the mailbox only to drop it in the commotion. By the time they remembered the doll, another participant had swooped in, snatching the lonely prize from the pavement. Realizing their oversight only after Damian’s clothes were dry and fluffy again, the two had no choice but to trudge back empty-handed.
“Well, we both failed the last round,” Aracila said with a small laugh.
“So, a draw, then?” Damian asked.
“Looks like it. The sun’s setting, so there’s no time for another game anyway.”
Aracila pointed toward the sky, where the vivid blue that matched her eyes had softened into a mesmerizing blend of twilight hues. The sinking sun bathed the streets in a warm, crimson glow, casting lengthening shadows as they made their way back to the treasure hunt stall. As expected, another participant had already been declared the winner.
“You’re a bit late, dears,” the grandmother said with a kind smile. “But I’ve got participation prizes for you both.”
She handed them each a bright yellow badge shaped like a chick, inscribed with “Aspiring Detective.” Aracila and Damian, now adorned with their Dart King and Headbutt Champion badges alongside these new ones, exchanged glances and burst into laughter.
“These are actually kind of nice,” Aracila said, still chuckling.
“I agree,” Damian replied. “If one of us had ended up with two ‘king’ badges, the other would’ve been jealous.”
Giggling softly, they left the treasure hunt stall and strolled through the streets. The sun had vanished completely, and the sky darkened into night. Yet, the streets remained lively, illuminated by scattered lanterns that kept the darkness at bay. Unlike the old days when people would hurry home as soon as night fell, the festival had drawn crowds to linger in the vibrant evening air.
Aracila watched the bustling scene with a contented smile before turning to Damian. “So, what now? Should we head home?”
“Well…”
To her surprise, Damian hesitated, his usual confidence replaced by an uncharacteristic uncertainty.
“What’s up? Is there something else you want to do?” Aracila asked, tilting her head.
“Actually, yes,” he admitted. “If you’re up for it, there’s one more thing I’d like to try.”
Aracila nodded without a moment’s thought, her voice brimming with curiosity. “What is it?”
“You’ll see if you follow me,” Damian said, offering no further explanation. For the first time that day, he took the lead, his strides purposeful. Aracila trailed behind, her face alight with eager anticipation.
Damian stopped at a plaza that hadn’t been there earlier in the afternoon, now filled with stalls brimming with activity.
“Lanterns for sale! Sky lanterns!”
“Handmade, sturdy, and affordable!”
Vendors called out enthusiastically, their voices rising above the hum of the crowd. Aracila, who had never stayed out this late for the Founding Festival, gazed around with wide-eyed wonder.
Damian approached one of the stalls without hesitation and returned with two sky lanterns.
“I heard that during the Founding Festival, people release lanterns into the sky while making wishes,” he explained.
“Really? I had no idea,” Aracila said, genuinely surprised.
Since arranging to spend the day with Aracila, Damian had done some research of his own. He’d learned about the tradition of releasing sky lanterns, a custom popular among common folk during the festival. Rumor had it that wishes made during this ritual were more likely to come true, and he’d wanted to share the experience with her.
“Since our bet didn’t end with a wish being granted, how about we try this instead?” he suggested.
“Sounds great,” Aracila agreed, nodding eagerly. Despite her noble status, she was never one to care much about class distinctions, and she accepted his idea with genuine enthusiasm.
Relieved, Damian handed her a yellow lantern. They made their way to a small hill behind the plaza, a quieter spot compared to the crowded Maroon Hill where most people gathered. Confirming they were alone, Aracila slipped off her mask, letting the cool evening air brush against her face. The sensation was refreshing, like shedding a layer of constraint.
Damian watched her quietly as she closed her eyes, savoring the gentle autumn breeze. Her hair fluttered lightly, and her long, delicate eyelashes framed her soft yet refined profile, etching itself into his memory like a painting.
“Shall we release the lanterns now?” Aracila asked, her eyes snapping open with sudden energy.
“…Yes, of course,” Damian replied, startled out of his reverie. He averted his gaze, a touch of embarrassment coloring his expression as he let out an awkward cough.
They set to work preparing the lanterns. Damian pulled a match from his pocket and lit the small flame inside each one. Standing at the hill’s crest, they released their lanterns into the sky, clasping their hands together and closing their eyes to make their wishes.
Halfway through, Damian cracked one eye open, stealing a glance at Aracila. Unlike her playful demeanor earlier, her expression was now earnest, almost endearingly serious.
My wish is to keep looking at you for as long as I can.
It was a selfish, cowardly wish, he knew. But even if it was shameless, he wanted to indulge in it, if only this much. He was all too aware that he could never truly claim her heart. Aracila had dreams of her own, ambitions that burned brightly within her. If he could stay by her side without hindering those dreams, if he could keep his feelings in check, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to linger just a little longer.
She was, after all, a strong woman, as she herself had once declared. Not someone who needed protection to survive, but someone bold and remarkable enough to protect others. Perhaps, he thought, it was okay to let himself be a little greedy.
Having finished her wish, Aracila turned to him, her eyes sparkling brighter than the stars above. “What did you wish for?”
“It’s a secret,” Damian said with a faint smile, pressing his lips together firmly.
“What? It must be some grand wish if you’re keeping it so hush-hush,” she teased, narrowing her eyes playfully.
But sensing his resolve, she respected his silence and didn’t press further. Instead, she gazed up at the cluster of lanterns drifting across the night sky, each glowing with the weight of someone’s hopes. Their light was brighter than anything else in the world.
On impulse, Damian reached out and took her slender, pale hand in his. Aracila froze for a moment, then turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. Feeling a pang of guilt, Damian scrambled for an excuse.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“It’s still autumn,” she replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Well… it’s evening, so it could get chilly, couldn’t it?”
It was a flimsy excuse on a pleasantly cool autumn night, but Aracila glanced down at the large hand enveloping hers, then turned her gaze back to the sky without a word. She could’ve pulled away—there was no reason to let him hold her hand like this. Yet, strangely, she didn’t want to.
That night, as they stood together feeling the warmth of each other’s hands, they watched the lanterns float high above, their glow lingering in the darkness for a long, quiet moment.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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