A grin spread across his face as, after alighting from the cart’s last stop, he practically skipped toward his family’s farmhouse, already visible in the distance. The sun was nearly gone, casting just a sliver of orange on the horizon. He’d tid it perfectly, getting ho right as dinner preparations finished, giving him just enough ti to clean up and make himself presentable.
He paused at the door, hearing voices from inside. Female laughter. Multiple people talking over each other.
Shit! They were already here.
Jon quickly checked his appearance. His work clothes were dusty from the docks but not terrible. Should he change? No — being a hardworking young man was attractive, right? It showed ambition, reliability, all those qualities won valued.
He smoothed out his clothes, ran fingers through his hair, straightened his posture. Then, taking a deep breath and forcing his expression into sothing casual and confident, he pushed open the door.
The familiar comfort of ho greeted him. Warm light from oil lamps. The sll of his mother’s cooking. Worn furniture arranged around their small dining table... And a familiar purple-colored hair.
His heart skipped as he caught sight of the girl that had made him this love-struck. She was seated at the table, her back to him.
Silver hair entered his view next. The warrior woman. But Jon barely registered her presence. He had eyes only for the purple-haired girl.
Then a third figure entered his peripheral vision. Black hair.
He’d assud it was the creepy woman. But sothing felt off. The build was different. The presence was...
The black-haired figure turned in their chair to face him directly.
It was the man! The reclusive neighbor who never left that damned property!
What was he doing here?! Had his mother invited him too?!
For a split second, sothing like amusent flickered across the young man’s face. His eyebrows rose slightly. "I guess this must be Jon."
Jon’s mother and father responded with such warmth it was as if this stranger was their own son. As if they’d known each other for decades instead of weeks.
"Yes! Jon, co in, co in!" Matilda bead, waving her hand at her son as he quickly recovered.
The black-haired young man stood with fluid grace and walked toward Jon, hand extended, clasping his hand in a firm, confident handshake.
"Hello, Jon. I’m Arros." His smile seed genuine, friendly even. "I’ve heard quite a lot about you from Ben and Matilda here."
Jon found himself shaking hands sowhat numbly, trying to process the situation. Up close, Arros looked... normal. Handso in a conventional way, but nothing spectacular. Dark hair, regular features, maybe early twenties. His clothes were as plain as Jon’s own.
So why did Jon suddenly feel like he was at a disadvantage in his own ho?
"Arros here wants to know about getting work inside Hoshin Bay!" Matilda said brightly, gesturing for Jon to co sit. "I told him you’d be perfect to ask since you work at the docks."
Jon’s mind raced. This was good, right? It gave him an excuse to talk, to demonstrate his knowledge and connections. To show the purple-haired angel, whose na he still didn’t know, that he was a man of ans and influence.
"Right," Jon said, forcing his voice to sound casual and helpful. "It is difficult. But for those who know soone already working, the docks are always hiring. What kind of work are you looking for?"
Arros settled back into his chair with an easy smile. "Anything honest, really. I’m not picky. Just need sothing that pays steady wages while I get established here."
The purple-haired woman finally turned slightly, and Jon caught a glimpse of her profile. Even more beautiful up close. His carefully constructed confidence nearly crumbled.
Focus. He needed to focus.
"Well," Jon began, walking toward the table and trying very hard to look casual, "it depends on your skills. Can you lift heavy cargo? Work long hours? Deal with rchants who think they’re better than you?"
Arros chuckled. "I can handle physical labor and difficult people. Long hours don’t bother ."
"Then the docks should work," Jon said, finally taking a seat. His mother had positioned him directly across from the purple-haired woman. Bless her ddling heart. "I can introduce you to my foreman. Dern’s always complaining about needing more reliable workers."
"That would be appreciated," Arros said.
Jon’s father, Ben, jumped in. "Arros here has been helping with so repairs around our property. Fixed that fence post I’d been aning to get to for months. Did it in an afternoon too!"
"It was nothing," Arros demurred. "Just basic carpentry."
The conversation flowed naturally from there. Jon found himself explaining the ins and outs of harbor work while his parents asked Arros and the won about their settling in. The silver-haired woman, introduced as Silvana, spoke occasionally with calm authority. The black-haired woman, Ailin, said nothing. But the reason beca clear when Arros explained she had "a condition" and "had always been like that."
Jon tried to subtly move the conversation towards their identity, but Arros expertly found a way to always shift it back to talks about the docks.
No. This couldn’t go on. The thought about who Arros was to Thalia was gnawing at him now, causing his competitive side to flare.
He switched tactics and asked another question.
"So, Arros. Where did you study? Because you seem very educated for a man of such young age..." He took a gulp from his cup of water. "I’m very impressed."
Arros cracked a small smile, then shrugged. "Well, I’ve travelled here and there over the years, so it shouldn’t co as a surprise. I simply ca down here to settle, you know... Look for sothing more... permanent."
That last word seed to carry a hidden aning, one that made Jon uncomfortable. He even almost blurted out the main question he wanted to ask, which was about the relationship between Arros and Thalia.
But logic and decorum prevailed and he held his tongue, answering the rest of the questions Arros asked perfunctorily.
By the end of the night, he had achieved nothing of his goals in getting to know Thalia, beyond her na, that is. But Arros had gotten not just information about the docks from him, but also an assurance of a vouch-of-identity for getting to work at the docks.
The neighbors left with Matilda escorting them the short walk to their ho, laughing heartily and happily while Jon remained seated, wondering how the hell the night had turned out as it had. And how Arros had so easily gotten what he wanted.
Jon was never this timid, and neither was he soone who could be walked over so easily. But sohow, he just had. And now that he had a mont of silence to analyze, he could sense an incongruence in how the night had proceeded, but he couldn’t wrap his head around exactly what it was.
All he knew was it surely had sothing to do with Arros.
Just who the hell is that guy...?
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A/N: Hey guys. I know many readers do not like POV switches, but there’s a reason I started this arc with Jon’s POV, and with a light note. But rest assured, I’ll be switching back to the MC’s POV from the next Chapter, and I’ll also get straight into the next plot.
P.S. Don’t forget to vote with Power Stones and Golden Tickets!
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