Kiss the Stranger

The room had been filled with the scent of food. There were fruits, vegetables, meat, and even sweet desserts. It was the first time I’d ever seen such a lavish spread laid out all at once. Best of all, the rice was cooked properly—no water poured in to make gruel. It was rice, not porridge: glossy grains piled in a bowl.

“Just wait, Rikal.”
The cat, excited by the smell, darted underfoot. He tried to climb my leg, then leapt onto a shelf and flexed his paws toward a broiled fish as if to snatch it. Seeing him go berserk, I decided I had to remove him for a moment.
“I’ll grill the meat, okay?”

“Got it.”
Kamar lifted the cat obediently—until Rikal hissed, his fur bristling, claws out. We swapped roles in an instant.
“There you go, Rikal. Good boy.”

I whispered his name softly and held him close. Instantly his harsh cries turned into contented purrs. Kamar watched in amazement, and I couldn’t help laughing.
“They say cats have excellent memories. We’re in trouble. What ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) did you do to him, Kamar?”
I teased him, and he glanced at me.

“He’s a cat.”
“So?”
“Who can ever know what’s in a cat’s head?”
He had a point, and I laughed again. Cradling Rikal, I turned—and caught Steward’s eye across the table. He smiled.

“You two get along so well. Almost affectionate, I’d say.”
He didn’t sound mocking, so I blushed and smiled back.
“Thank you. Thanks to you, we sold those tapestries at a great price.”

Steward had helped us more than I expected: he gave Kamar medicine and even pointed us to a shop that would buy my tapestries. Kamar hadn’t understood why he needed the pills, but when Steward said, “Yohan’s pheromones are strong enough to cause problems,” he reluctantly agreed. After taking them, Kamar’s body scent vanished. I regretted it, but Kamar said he didn’t mind if it was for my health. I’d refused to take any; Kamar liked my natural scent too much.
Beyond that, Steward had offered countless bits of advice for our life here. Remembering all that, I thanked him, and he grinned.
“I should be thanking you—sharing your meal like this.”

He added lightly, “And your tapestries were splendid. It’s still hard to believe you made them yourself, Yohan.”
He glanced at my hands—calloused, scarred—and I felt self-conscious, sliding them under the table.
Steward didn’t seem to notice. “It’s rare for men to do embroidery, especially in a place like Al-Ad.”

“Is it forbidden in Al-Ad?”

I asked, surprised. He nodded.
“They’re very old-fashioned here.”

He chuckled, then added, “There’s even a law that if a virgin sleeps with someone, they must marry them. In this day and age! So a woman must marry her first partner. Ridiculous—what if it was rape? She’d have to marry her attacker!”
Steward shook his head with a wry smile.
“And that’s just one of the absurd laws.”

“I see….”
I murmured, staring at my lap. If a woman must marry her first partner, then a woman from here who met Kamar first would have to wed him—but…
A pang of unease rose in me. What if I hadn’t been Kamar’s first? What then?
Steward talked on. He said his purpose here was to research the unique physiologies of royals, but his plans had fallen through and he’d taken this outpost while waiting for word from the palace.

“Well, I can’t stay forever—if it drags on, I’ll have to go back.”
He shrugged, and I asked, puzzled, “Unique physiologies? What kind? Oh—I’m sorry, that’s royal secrets.”
I apologized, and he blinked before laughing.

“There’s nothing to keep secret. It’s common knowledge….”
He paused, his expression shifting.
“But I’ve wondered—both of you know so little. Where have you been? Even if you came from another city, this is extreme.”

His unexpected question left me speechless for a moment. I glanced at Kamar, but he seemed oblivious. Steward shrugged.
“Well, everyone has their reasons; you’re not obliged to tell.”
His words made me want to speak. I glanced at Kamar again and, with effort, began.

“It’s just… we met by chance, and Kamar’s condition—he has amnesia… and we had to leave. That’s all.”
Steward listened quietly, then frowned.
“Amnesia? You remember nothing about yourself?”

I nodded. His face flickered with surprise—he was a doctor, after all. I touched my chin before asking hesitantly,
“Steward, is there any way… any chance his memories could return?”
“Hmm… amnesia isn’t common.”

He added, “The brain is delicate.”

“Right….”
I mumbled, and he asked,
“He doesn’t have to recover his memories, though. You could live fine as you are—if you manage the pheromones. You won’t stay here forever, right? Where will you go?”

“I’m not sure yet….”
He watched me, then said,
“No firm plans?”

“…Not yet.”
He stroked his chin, murmuring,
“Well, nobody knows what’ll happen next.”

I spoke up carefully but firmly,
“But one thing’s certain: we’ll stay together.”
“Oh?” Steward’s eyes brightened, then his expression grew uneasy again.

“Be careful, Yohan. You never know about people.”
I blinked at him in surprise. He glanced behind me and nodded toward Kamar.
“You said it yourself—you know nothing about him. Hard to trust someone completely.”

I remembered the blood and the way Kamar had cut men’s throats without remorse. Steward still had faint marks on his neck. I swallowed hard and whispered,
“I can’t shake the thought that Kamar might have done something terrible.”
Steward narrowed his eyes.

“He could be worse than any criminal.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. I froze—and then Kamar appeared, carrying a plate.
“What are you talking about?”

He set it down and looked at me. I forced a laugh and shook my head.
“Just nonsense, right?”
I sought agreement, and Steward smiled.

“If Yohan says so, it’s nonsense.”
After that, he truly turned to trivial chatter—scandals of some footballer, feeding a stray dog yesterday, and so on—nothing suspicious. Yet even as I chimed in, those words echoed in my mind:
He could be worse than any criminal.

Worse than any criminal. Who?
A chill brushed down my spine, but I pretended not to notice.