"You're lying," Neva argues, peering through his twinkling eyes.
"I'm not," Rhett murmurs, shaking his head slightly, gaze steady and sure.
She rests her head once more over his sturdy chest, letting herself fall into the rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Then enlighten me," she whispers, familiar now with those eyes—so piercing, so purified by truth.
He exhales slowly.
"My father was an agent of EIS.
He did missions across every corner of the world whenever protection for the country called. On one mission, he disguised himself as a drug dealer—the one the target was supposed to meet."
He pauses, eyes drifting down to the woman curled into him—still, silent.
"Why did you stop?" Neva asks, raising her curious eyes.
He smiles. "I thought you were asleep."
She remains still as he kisses the top of her head, where long, wavy onyx hair falls in tangled rivulets.
"Carry on with your story," she urges softly. And so he does…
---
More than two decades ago, Keith Lei traveled west, to a country called Lazar, on a covert mission. At thirty-five, he posed as a drug dealer their target, Don, was scheduled to meet.
Assuming the identity, he set off alone and drove through Silicia village.
A storm brewed overhead, and with the destination still far, he sought shelter at a local homestay for the night.
Through the haze of dust, he spotted a faint golden glow seeping from the wooden lodge ahead.
Despite the charm of the scenery, the sky and earth shifted into something ominous.
On either side of a narrow, muddied road lied the river Tintern, veiled by thick wild bulrush. A white Audi sped through the street, and the humid air of June pressed down as storm clouds gathered—swollen and blue.
Lightning forked across the sky like jagged tree branches, illuminating the clouds in a flicker of silver and ice. Thunder followed, rolling in like a threat.
Rain lashed down violently. Leaves churned, branches crashed, the air howled.
Keith Lei's car jerked to a halt. He tried to restart it, but the engine sputtered. With a sigh, he glanced toward the trembling homestay. He opened the door, stepping out into the storm without an umbrella.
The moment his shoe touched the mud, wind and rain whipped him like lashes.
The cold clawed at his skin. And then—he heard it.
A baby's cry, piercing through the wail of the storm.
Instincts flaring, Agent Black searched. The cry grew louder. He ran toward it.
There—through tall, swaying bulrush, floodwater rushing past—an ark made of reed floated from the river's edge. A child weeped within, soaked and alone.
Keith waded into the water without hesitation, shoes ruined, clothes drenched. He grabbed the reed ark and pulled it to him. The baby wailed louder, wrapped in a white garment, sopping wet.
Back under the shelter of his car, he cradled the child against his chest to warm him.
But something stirred in his gut. He looked back toward the river.
And there, hidden in the reeds, he found her.
A young woman—unconscious, bleeding, beautiful.
He lifted her into his arms, gaze lingering on her face. Something ached inside him.
That night, he arranged for an apothecary and tended to both mother and child.
The next morning, without waiting for her to wake, Keith moved forward with his mission. His target: Don—a man aligned with a powerful, unnamed politician plotting to bomb the state of Erriador.
The enemy held a secret detonator and the code to unleash it.
Keith completed the mission. Saved Erriador.
But he could not forget the woman or the infant.
His heart—trained to stay cold—tugged for the first time.
So he returned.
He brought the poor mother and her son back with him to Erriador.
---
By the time Rhett finishes speaking, Neva is wide awake. Her palms rest on his chest, chin tucked over them as she gazes up at him. Her sleep has long fled.
"Not sleepy anymore?" he chuckles.
She shakes her head, eyes soft. "Your father took you both in... and then?"
"Well, he grew feelings for my young mother," Rhett says gently. "I was the little extra package. She recovered within a month. They got married soon after... but Mom passed away four months later."
"Rhett... I'm so sorry." Neva's voice falters with sorrow.
He only shakes his head, laughing the grief away like an old friend he's learned to live with.
"Let's sleep, alright?" he murmurs, holding her tighter.
She hums in response, a little dazed, shaken by the weight of his story.
But then she shifts again.
"Wait... what was the name of the river?" she asks, rising to meet his eyes.
"Tintern?" he answers, brows lifting slightly.
"Yes. Tintern," she murmurs, brows furrowing. "I feel like I've heard it somewhere..."