Chapter 183: Some Skeletons Should Stay in the Closet

Ren scraped the last grain of cold, curry-stained rice into her mouth. She chewed with the enthusiasm of a prisoner eating gruel.

“All done,” she whispered to the hollow.

Altair did not turn around. The massive Golden Eagle remained perched at the entrance, staring out into the darkness of the forest like a feathered gargoyle. He was stoic. He was silent. He was radiating a “Do Not Disturb” aura so strong it could probably repel mosquitoes.

Ren sighed. She gathered the bark plates, the hand-whittled chopsticks, and the blackened stock pot.

She went to the entrance, right next to him, to wash the dishes in the light drizzle.

“Excuse me,” she muttered, reaching past his tail feathers to scrub a piece of kale off the bark.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t even shuffle his wings.

’Okay, message received,’ Ren thought, scrubbing aggressively. ’We are ignoring each other. That works for me. It was a mistake. A momentary lapse in judgment caused by adrenaline and pheromones. We are sweeping it under the rug.’

Once everything was clean, Ren sat back.

“Pack it up,” she muttered as she put the things back in her inventory.

The clean pots, the leftover ingredients, the chef’s knife, and even the bark plates and chopsticks vanished into the void.

’I’m keeping the plates,’ Ren decided. ’They might come in handy later. Plus, it was hard to peel them off the tree. That’s labor. That’s value.’

She turned her attention to the fire. It had burned down to glowing embers, casting a soft, orange light around the cozy space. Ren threw a few more sticks onto the pile, watching the flames lick upwards.

She reached out and felt the wool dress hanging on the twig nearby.

“Hallelujah,” Ren whispered.

The heat from the fire had done its job. The itchy abomination was still a bit damp, but it was almost dry. By morning, it would be ready to torture her skin once again.

“At least I won’t be naked,” she muttered.

She crawled into the center of the nest. The air outside was cool, carrying the scent of wet pine and earth, but the mossy depression was surprisingly warm. It retained the heat of the fire—and, she noted with a pang of longing, the lingering warmth of Altair’s body.

Ren curled herself into a tight ball, hugging her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut.

’Swallow it,’ she told herself firmly. ’Swallow the feelings. Dig a hole in your emotional backyard and bury them next to your dignity.’

She opened her eyes one last time to look at Altair’s silhouette against the moonlight.

’He is a complication,’ Ren reasoned. ’I cannot handle a Bird Prince who needs sex-ed. My plate is full. It’s overflowing.’

Ren released a heavy breath and rolled over, turning her back to him.

’Goodnight, Bird,’ she thought. ’Tomorrow, we part ways. No more drama.’

She closed her eyes, ready for the sweet release of sleep.

[System: Psst. Host.]

Ren’s eyes snapped open. She stared at the wall of the tree.

’What?’

she hissed mentally. ’I am sleeping. Go into sleep mode.’

[System: Nothing really important. Just thought it might be something you’d want to know.]

’Then it can wait until morning,’ Ren groaned.

[System: There is a bounty on his head. A very large one. Assassins are looking for him.]

Ren froze.

Her curiosity spiked like a heart monitor flatlining, but she clamped it down instantly.

’You are rage-baiting me,’ Ren accused. ’You are trying to reel me back in. I am not biting. I am a fish with lockjaw.’

She didn’t ask who put the bounty on him. She didn’t ask how much. She didn’t ask why. She knew the System. It would dangle the carrot and then smack her with the stick.

’Great,’ Ren thought bitterly. ’Just great. He’s hot, he’s a virgin, he’s a Prince, and he’s wanted dead or alive. He is a walking, talking Red Flag.’

This was just more reason to stick to the plan.

’We definitely have to part ways in the morning,’ Ren decided, pulling her knees tighter to her chest. ’The last thing I need right now is to be dodging assassins. I have enough people trying to kill me. My dance card is full.’

She sighed.

’I need a notebook,’ Ren mused. ’I need to start writing down my problems. “Problem 1: Lost in another dimension. Problem 2: Husbands hate each other. Problem 3: Debt to a sarcastic AI. Problem 4: Accidental intimacy with a fugitive bird prince.”’

She could go on and on. The list was getting ridiculous. And she didn’t even include Vex. He was a problem that would need its own notebook.

Ren closed her eyes again, willing her brain to shut down.

But her mind was wide awake. It was doing cartwheels. It was overdosed on emotional caffeine.

’Why wasn’t he fazed?’ Ren wondered, staring at the darkness behind her eyelids.

She had told him everything. She told him she was from another world. She told him about cars, TV, the internet. She even told him about the System—the voice in her head that gave her quests and somewhat guided her.

Most people would have looked at her like she was insane. Or asked a million questions.

Altair just… listened. He nodded. He accepted it.

’Maybe it’s the amnesia,’ Ren theorized. ’If you don’t remember your own world, maybe every world sounds crazy? Maybe he thinks voices in the head are just a standard feature of being alive?’

Or maybe he just trusted her that much.

The thought made her chest ache.

’Stop it,’ Ren scolded herself. ’Go to sleep.’

Her mind raced. It replayed the way his hand felt. It replayed the way he looked at the semen on his hand. It replayed the way he shifted back into a bird to avoid eating rice and kale.

Eventually, exhaustion won the battle. Her thoughts became disjointed, slippery things. The sound of the rain faded into a rhythmic lullaby.

Ren drifted off.

But her mind wasn’t done with her. It had one last trick up its sleeve.

It plunged her straight into a dream.

It wasn’t a nightmare about bears or the end. It wasn’t a memory of her life before now.

It was everything she ever wanted. A deep, hidden desire she would never admit to having.

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