(Garrick’s Perspective)
It had been ten years since Garrick first registered as an adventurer.
Ten years since he and Mireya were reckless rookies chasing rank and coin.
Ten years since the bandit trap.
They survived.
Most of their party didn’t.
Those who lived walked away from the guild life. Broken limbs healed. Broken confidence did not.
The party disbanded.
Mireya chose the receptionist desk.
Garrick chose solitude.
Why?
To stay near her.
To make sure no blood ever reached her counter again.
To stand within sight.
Within reach.
Just in case.
He had loved her since the first year.
He was certain she knew.
They just never said it aloud.
People assumed he was afraid of rejection.
They were wrong.
He was afraid of poverty.
He remembered his childhood too clearly.
A family of eight.
One frail grandparent.
Two exhausted parents.
Five hungry children.
Rented shack.
Rented farmland.
Debt that never shrank.
One meal a day.
Sometimes two.
Working from dawn until the sun disappeared and praying the harvest didn’t fail.
Love was abundant in that home.
Money was not.
And love did not fill empty stomachs.
When his older siblings came of age, They left.
Not out of greed.
Out of arithmetic.
One less mouth meant slightly fuller bowls.
That memory carved itself into him.
He feared becoming a father who loved deeply but could not provide.
He feared watching his wife ration meals.
He feared telling a child, “Not this year.”
If he ever married—
He would be ready.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Not almost ready.
Ready.
He swore it.
He did not delay because he doubted Mireya.
He delayed because he refused to gamble with her future.
In ten years, he built:
- Enough savings to support both of them for a year without income.
- A modest house — final installment due in days.
- A transition plan from adventurer to town guard. Stable. Safer.
- An education fund, even if children came sooner than expected.
- Emergency reserves.
- Even a tentative connection with Baron Valmor — weak, but useful.
He planned for twins.
For illness.
For drought.
For disaster.
He planned until fear turned into structure.
He was almost ready.
All that remained—
Courage.
He had watched her for a decade.
The tiny fang that showed when she laughed.
The way her ears twitched when she forced a professional smile.
The way her tail puffed when stressed.
The quiet tremble in her hands when adventurers staggered in drenched in blood.
He never asked her to quit.
If she loved her job, he would protect it.
And her.
From the outside.
She invited him to dinner.
Got drunk.
Or pretended to.
She asked him to carry her home.
Her hand lingered at his collar.
Her breathing changed.
She tested him.
He endured.
He tucked her into bed.
Covered her with a blanket.
And leaned close to whisper into her ear:
“I love you.”
“Wait for me just a little longer.”
He left before his resolve cracked.
Outside, his fists shook.
“Queen Silver Ward is the best!”
“Baker version supremacy!”
“Angelic Nurse BANZAI!”
“Get a grip, you degenerates!”
The guild hall was in chaos again.
Garrick stepped forward.
“Enough!”
Someone shouted back.
“You were the first to party with her! Which faction are you in?!”
“I’m not in any faction!”
“Yeah right! You’ve been claiming you love someone else for ten years. Who is she, huh? Waiting for Silver Ward to grow up?!”
The world went red.
“FCK YOU!”
He swung.
And for the first time in a long while—
Garrick joined the brawl.
Mireya pinched the bridge of her nose.
Her tail was fully puffed.
“…Ten years,” she muttered.
“…why did I wait ten years for this idiot?”
She was once cried in silent.
For insecurity.
What if she's overthinking it?
What if he's never love her?
It's just her misunderstanding?
.....
But last week.
After she pretend to be drunk and tested him.
He didn't assault her.
He did something simpler.
He whispered that he loves her.
Ask her to wait a little longer.
Wasn't ten years enough waiting?
"Today... I'll take an answer."
She stood.
Walked forward.
Grabbed Garrick by the ear mid-punch.
The entire hall froze.
“Garrick.”
His spine locked.
“Yes.”
“You. With me.”
The guild parted like the sea.
She didn’t let go of his ear until they reached the quiet street behind the building.
He stood straight.
She crossed her arms.
“Are you done?”
“…Yes.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Ten years of it.
She looked up at him.
“You think I don’t know?”
He swallowed.
“You think I can’t see what you’ve been doing all this time?”
He tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
“You followed me from the capital to Frontier Town.”
Silence.
“You hover around the guild like a guard dog.”
Silence.
“You carried me home last week.”
His heart stopped.
“And you whispered something before you left.”
She stepped closer.
Her tail swayed.
“If you’re going to confess,” she said quietly, “do it properly.”
"Or told me that you never loved me, I'm just imagine things."
The world narrowed.
Ten years of savings.
Ten years of planning.
Ten years of fear.
He exhaled.
“I love you.”
No whisper this time.
No hesitation.
“I have loved you for ten years.”
“I wasn’t waiting because I doubted you.”
“I was building something worthy of you.”
His voice trembled.
“I have a house. Almost paid. Savings. A stable job lined up. Plans for education. Plans for children. Plans for disaster.”
He looked down at her.
“I will never let you go hungry.”
Silence.
Her ears twitched.
Her eyes glistened.
“You idiot.”
She punched his chest.
Not hard.
“You think I was waiting for a mansion?”
She stepped into him.
“You think I don’t know how to work?”
Her tail wrapped around his wrist.
“I would’ve been happy with you in a rented shack.”
Her voice softened.
“But…”
She leaned her forehead against his chest.
“…thank you.”
His arms hesitated.
Then wrapped around her.
Carefully.
Like something sacred.
“I’m ready,” he whispered.
She huffed softly.
“Finally.”
From inside the guild—
A crash.
“ANGELIC NURSE SUPREMACY—”
Mireya sighed.
“Your first duty as my future husband.”
“…Yes?”
“Go stop that.”
He smiled.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She didn’t let go of his hand.
Inside the hall, Garrick returned calmer.
Stronger.
When someone shouted:
“Which faction are you in?!”
He answered simply:
“Receptionist.”
The guild went silent.
Ivaline blinked in confusion.
Chronicle recorded the moment.
Ten years of silence.
Broken.
Not by war.
Not by wealth.
But by courage finally catching up to preparation.