NOVEL NEXT Chapter 88: A Silent Claim
"U-us?" Lirael's voice trembled, her tone soft and uncertain.
Ethan studied her with a faint, amused smile. She still hadn't fully accepted it—the bond between them. For him, though, the matter was already decided. Looks like tonight will hold something special for her, he thought.
"You're still skeptical," he said lightly, his eyes narrowing as though he were testing her resolve. "Are you still doubting what it means for us to be together?"
Her hands tightened against her skirt. "B-but… right now, I'm your maid." The words spilled out before she could stop them, fragile as glass.
The instant the excuse left her lips, Ethan closed the distance. One of his hands rose, tilting her chin upward with deliberate gentleness. His gaze bore into hers, steady and unshakable, until he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.
"Mmm—!" The small sound escaped her throat before she could think, warmth flooding her face.
When he pulled back, her wide, stunned eyes searched his, but Ethan only smirked. "So what if you're my maid? There's no rule saying love can't exist between master and servant." His thumb brushed her lower lip, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. "In fact, I'd say it's quite the opposite."
From his pouch, he drew out one of the other rings—simple, gleaming under the lantern light of the street. Without hesitation, he slid it onto her finger.
"Let the world know you're mine," he said, voice calm yet resolute.
Lirael lowered her gaze, lips trembling—but a faint, unshakable smile shaped her mouth.
---
The moment passed, but its weight lingered. Side by side, they began walking toward the Adventurer's Guild. For once, their hands carried no bags of monster spoils or glittering trophies of the day's work. Only the light jingle of coin pouches at their belts reminded them of practical burdens.
The afternoon sun hung high above, spilling warmth across the stone streets. The crowd had thinned a little after the midday rush, but the marketplace still carried its rhythm—merchants calling out their wares, the clatter of wagon wheels, the distant laughter of children darting between stalls.
Lirael's steps felt different now—lighter, yet bound by the ring hugging her finger. Almost unconsciously, she touched it as though to confirm it was real.
Ethan, walking at her side with that faint, knowing smirk, seemed unchanged. And yet, between them, everything had shifted.
The guild doors creaked open as Ethan pushed inside, and the familiar tide of noise washed over them. Adventurers in worn armor laughed boisterously around their tables, mugs clinking. The scratch of quills on parchment mixed with the chatter of negotiations, while the scent of leather, steel, and ale clung to the air.
Without hesitation, Ethan and Lirael walked past the rows of occupied tables toward the quest board. The tall oak board was layered thick with parchment, so much so that the edges of some postings curled with age. Most notices bore the same urgent red mark: Subjugation.
The monster spike in the region had clearly driven the guild into overwork. Wolves, goblins, even stray ogres—nearly all of them called for groups of adventurers, some even multiple parties working together. Ethan's eyes swept over them, but he dismissed them just as quickly. He needed something precise. Something that he and Lirael alone could handle—without risking the exposure of his hidden soldiers.
After a few minutes of quiet scanning, one posting caught his eye.
> Quest: Subjugation of an Ironfang Serpent
Location: Marked hunting grounds, northern forest outskirts
Threat: Length estimated 18–20 feet. A poison-type serpent with hardened, iron-gray scales and fangs carrying a necrotic venom that causes numbness followed by paralysis.
Estimated Rank: C – B
Reward: 1 Gold for confirmed kill
Ethan plucked the parchment free and handed it to Lirael. Her brows lifted slightly as she read.
"A serpent?" she murmured, eyes flicking to the illustration sketched along the margin—a long-bodied creature coiled among roots.
"Not just any serpent," Ethan said with a grin. "Ironfang. Good defense, nasty bite. But manageable."
She glanced at him, lips tightening. "Manageable for you, maybe. Its venom doesn't sound pleasant."
Ethan chuckled under his breath. "That's why I have you, isn't it? To shoot it down before it gets close."
She nodded. "Alright. Let's take it."
They brought the parchment to the counter. The receptionist—a sharp-eyed woman with auburn hair tied back in a braid—looked it over and tapped her quill against the posting.
"The Ironfang's been spotted slithering near the river bends. Forest terrain, thick undergrowth—you'll need to keep your eyes sharp. Reports say its scales are tough enough to turn aside weak strikes, so go for the softer underside if you can. And be cautious—the venom sets in quick."
Ethan offered her a confident nod. "Noted."
The woman stamped the parchment and scribbled their names down in the registry. "Entry marked. Safe hunting, you two."
With that, Ethan slipped the paper away, and he and Lirael turned toward the exit.
The guild's noise fell behind them as they pushed the heavy doors open. The afternoon light bathed them once more, and soon enough they were at the city gates.
The guards recognized Ethan by now, their earlier suspicions all but gone. A curt nod from him, a returned gesture from the armored men, and the way ahead was clear.
Beyond the gates, the cobblestone gave way to dirt. The forest loomed in the distance, its canopy a wall of green, branches swaying with the late breeze.
Ethan adjusted his belt, feeling the weight of his dagger and coin pouch, and glanced at Lirael. "Ready?"
She brushed her fingers against the new ring still gleaming on her hand, then looked toward the forest. "Always."
And with that, the two of them stepped into the trees.
---
"So," Ethan said as they walked beneath the thick canopy, his voice kept low but carrying a casual ease, "how's the bow treating you?"
Lirael's fingers brushed along the smooth curve of the new weapon, her eyes scanning the undergrowth as they moved. "It… feels perfect," she admitted. "Balanced and steady."
Ethan smirked, keeping his stride measured. "Good. Then this fight will be the real test. Try to get used to it—make it yours."
She gave a small nod.
The forest around them was alive with muted sounds: the rustle of leaves high above, the distant caw of a crow, the faint skitter of unseen creatures weaving through brush. The air here was damp, carrying the earthy smell of moss and river silt. Each step was measured, quiet, every snapped twig underfoot sharp against the heavy silence.
When they drew closer to the marked location, the atmosphere shifted. The usual forest chatter dulled—the birds no longer sang, and even the wind seemed to have stilled. The tension was enough to raise the fine hairs on the back of Lirael's neck.
Ethan lifted a hand, halting her. His eyes sharpened as he surveyed the terrain. Ahead, the trees thinned slightly into a small clearing tangled with roots and ferns, the perfect nesting ground for something serpentine.
He leaned close, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're here. I'll move straight in, draw its attention." He then pointed toward a ridge of roots and sloping ground to their right. "You circle wide—take the high ground. Keep your arrows ready, and aim for the soft spots when it shows itself."
Lirael inhaled slowly, then gave a firm nod. Her hand tightened around her bowstring. "Got it. Don't do anything reckless."
Ethan's grin flickered in the dappled shade. "Reckless? That's half the fun."
With that, he signaled her to move. Silent as a shadow, Lirael slipped away through the trees, her figure vanishing into the green as she climbed the higher ground. Ethan, meanwhile, stepped forward into the clearing, the air heavy with anticipation.