Chapter 31 - Swan Boat
I find myself strolling alongside Myrrh through a park nestled just a couple of blocks from the café. The air is tinged with a mix of fresh greenery and faint sweetness drifting over from nearby stalls. The first thing that catches my eye is an enormous monunt—an imposing, one-to-one scale statue of a Fra Unit, sculpted from pure ivory with intricate gold plating glistening in the light. It stands as if frozen mid-strike, one massive fist extended in a perfect karate punch. The likeness to Myrrh’s own Fra Unit Mode is uncanny, making the statue seem almost like a reflection of her, its unmoving gaze focused forward in silent vigilance.
Around us, the park is alive with color and motion. Vendors line the pathways, hawking bright balloons that sway in the gentle breeze, fluffy clouds of cotton candy, and sizzling hotdogs. A series of fountains flank the monunt, sending glowing water arcing gracefully into the air, casting a soft shimr over the scene. Children’s laughter rings out as they dart around, dodging the gentle spray, while couples stroll hand-in-hand and dog-walkers move at a leisurely pace.
“Welco to Mirana Plaza,” Myrrh says, her voice swelling with pride as she gestures toward the towering monunt. “This is where Earth’s mightiest heroine, Mirana Alicent, made her final stand against the Cosmic Beasts during the Christmas Raid. WAIFUs fought relentlessly here, holding the line as endless waves of beasts crashed against them. It was this battle that sealed my mother’s legacy as the most renowned WAIFU of all.”
I shoot her a playful smirk. “Too bad her daughter’s a sham.”
Myrrh’s lips twitch, her smile tight and restrained, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I’d usually kick your mouth shut for saying that, but I’m in too good a mood to ruin it.” Despite her attempt to hold her composure, I can practically see her mind strangling in imaginary retribution.
I can’t help but chuckle. “Just teasing.”
I take a mont to admire the monunt of Mirana Alicent, feeling a sense of awe well up as I look at the impressive sculpture. The monunt is encircled by dense bushes brimming with peculiar silvery flowers, their tallic sheen glinting in the light. The blooms look as though they were crafted from pure silver rather than grown from the earth, catching and reflecting the sunlight in a way that gives them an otherworldly glow. While other flowers add bursts of color throughout the park, these silver blossoms stand out—strange, almost alien. I doubt anything like them exists naturally on Earth.
“Those are Cyberflowers,” Myrrh explains, following my gaze. “They’re genetically engineered plants infused with mystical nanomachines, just like us WAIFUs. I read sowhere that these flowers were actually the first test subjects for these nanomachines. It was a bit of a happy accident—they turned out to be stunningly beautiful, so now they’re used as ornantal plants all around Xyraxis.”
I nod, fascinated, the futuristic flora making the place feel even more like a sanctuary to heroes and legends. “So they’re like WAIFUs in a way,” I remark, pulling out my phone to snap a picture of the monunt against the backdrop of Cyberflowers.
“Exactly. And just like the Cyberflowers, we WAIFUs are the epito of cyber mystic beauty,” Myrrh adds, striking a dramatic pose and placing a hand against her chest with a sassy confidence, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Be sure to take a picture of too.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help a faint smile. “Fiiiiine.”
I line up the shot, framing the monunt, the tallic flowers, and Myrrh posing beside them, her expression a blend of playfulness and pride. I snap the picture, admiring it as it captures the glint of the flowers, the powerful statue, and Myrrh’s graceful stance—a perfect composition, my own little masterpiece. Maybe it’s because Myrrh’s natural beauty elevates the shot, or maybe it’s because I’m just that good with a cara. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s the latter.
Behind Mirana Plaza, about a hundred ters, lies a serene, man-made lake, its gentle waves reflecting the light like ripples of polished glass. Encircling the water’s edge is a dazzling array of flowers arranged in bands of vibrant color, stretching like a living rainbow that hugs the shoreline. Myrrh and I walk slowly along the path, the quiet lapping of the water accompanying our steps. In the lake, swan-shaped boats drift lazily, paddled by tourists who smile and laugh as they take in the tranquil beauty of the scene.
Suddenly, Myrrh stops, turning to with a mischievous grin. “Since you’ve managed to put in a good mood today, I’ll treat you to a boat ride. Let’s go!”
Before I can protest, she’s already speaking to the boat attendant, buying tickets for the two of us. Soon enough, we step into one of the delicate swan-shaped boats, settling onto the cushioned seats. But as the boat rocks gently, I realize there’s a catch: as the designated “gentleman” here, I’m handed the oars.
Rowing the boat sounds simple enough, but after a few strokes, I start to feel the burn. My shoulders groan in protest, and unfamiliar aches radiate through my biceps and triceps. My lack of exercise is catching up fast, and I’m soon panting, struggling to keep the boat moving smoothly.
“Faster, faster, crewmate!” Myrrh teases, reclining comfortably with her head propped on her hands, a smirk dancing on her lips.
“You… should be the one rowing…” I gasp, my breath coming in shallow puffs. “You’re the more athletic one.”
She raises an eyebrow, feigning outrage. “Excuse ! I am a proper lady, and you should act like a gentleman—just this once!” She huffs dramatically. “Not to ntion, you’ve never even opened a door for !”
“Go find a boyfriend to be your slave, then!” I grumble between labored breaths.
She gives a mock gasp, her eyes gleaming. “Who needs a slave when I have a goon like you?” she quips, her smirk widening. “Now row faster, you lowlife scum!”
“Honestly, Myrrh, fuck you. No wonder Ephraim left you—you’re a damn slave driver,” I mutter, just loud enough for her to hear.
She lets out a laugh, clearly amused, and leans back, clearly savoring my struggle, while I can only focus on the endless push and pull of the oars, wondering if I’ll survive this “treat” of hers.
Myrrh pouts, crossing her arms. “Hey, I never treated Ephraim like a slave. He was a real gentleman—always thoughtful, always giving what I wanted before I even asked for it.” Her expression softens briefly, perhaps rembering so fleeting, sweet mont.
I can’t help but smirk. “Was he just as thoughtful with his new girlfriend?”
Her brows twitch, but she holds her smile, letting the jab slide. I almost expect her to fire back, but instead, she sighs and flicks her hair with exaggerated sass. “Let’s just change the subject. I’m done with that cheater anyway.”
The playfulness fades a bit as she seems to settle into a more serious mood. Her blue eyes narrow, fixing on with a curious intensity that feels unexpected. She’s quiet for a mont, then asks, her voice calm but probing, “Alright, let’s talk about your love life. How co you’ve never been in a relationship? I know plenty of hooligans like you who manage to find soone, so don’t tell you’re ‘holding out.’” She eyes suspiciously. “And you’re definitely not bisexual; you don’t care about your looks nearly enough.”
I lift my chin proudly, savoring the mont. “I have high standards.”
She snorts. “Bullshit. Give the real reason.”
I freeze, the oars resting still in my hands as the weight of her question settles over . The truth of why I’ve never been in a relationship is sothing I’d always planned to take to the grave—a secret even my closest friends have never pried into. My mouth feels dry as I bow my head, inhaling softly, bracing myself.
“Nobody would have ,” I say quietly.
I half-expect Myrrh to burst into laughter, the way she usually does whenever I let my guard down. I brace myself, counting down—three, two, one. But there’s only silence. When I glance up, I realize she’s not laughing, not even smirking. Instead, she just stares, a poker face masking a flicker of disbelief mixed with sothing uncomfortably close to pity.
“Well, you can laugh anyti now,” I mutter, attempting to lighten the tension.
Myrrh’s face shifts into a smug, teasing grin. “Aww, poor Zaft Callahan. So I’m your first date? Too bad your first date only has distaste for you.”
Her words sting a little more than I expected, but I keep quiet, frowning as I try to steel myself. This is Myrrh’s chance to throw jabs, so I sit back and prepare to endure whatever insults she tosses my way. But then, to my surprise, her tone softens, shifting from mocking to sothing more neutral, even thoughtful.
“I don’t think it’s really true that nobody would have you,” she says, her voice calr. She hesitates for a second, then continues, “I… heard back on prom night that so people thought you were quite a looker. Maybe you could be attractive if you actually tried—like a broken clock that’s right twice a day.”
There’s a gentleness in her words, hidden beneath her usual sass. It’s enough to catch off guard, and I glance away, unsure how to respond. For a mont, I sense an unexpected warmth between us—a truce, perhaps, in our usual battles of words.
mories of prom night flicker in my mind. The details are hazy now—a blur of music and unfamiliar faces, half-rembered laughter. I don’t even recall my hairstyle or what tux I wore, just the unforgettable mont when Myrrh was dumped by her ex. Almost a year has passed since that night, yet that scene lingers more clearly than any other detail.
“What makes you think of that anyway?” Myrrh asks, pulling back to the present.
By now, we’ve drifted to the center of the man-made lake, surrounded by serene water that reflects the spiraling height of Archonlight Tower. I let my gaze settle on the tower for a mont, its structure rising like a silver thread into the sky. Taking a deep breath, I finally reply, “Well, as you’ve pointed out countless tis, I’m immature and act like a delinquent.”
Myrrh frowns slightly, as if dissatisfied with my answer. “You might be immature, but you’re loyal. You’ve got a strong sense of camaraderie. I think that’s the most important thing about you. You never leave anyone behind—not even your jackass ‘brotherhood’ back in high school.” Her gaze softens. “You… you even saved .”
I look down, unsure how to respond, my fingers grazing the oars. “Well, girls don’t seem to notice that.”
“False,” she says, a small smile breaking across her face. “I know at least one person who had a bit of a crush on you in the student council.” She holds up her fingers in a tiny pinch to emphasize just how slight that attraction might have been.
I blink, my curiosity fully engaged. “Who?” I lean forward, searching her face for any hint.
Myrrh’s grin turns smug as she leans back, savoring my curiosity. “It’s a secret.”
What a tease. I narrow my eyes at her, barely restraining the urge to toss her into the lake. But under the frustration, I feel a hint of warmth—the rare monts when Myrrh lets her guard down enough to say sothing kind.
“Was it… you?” I murmur, my smirk barely hidden.
Myrrh’s cheeks flush instantly, a bloom of red that betrays her before she can cover it up. Her blue eyes narrow, fixing with a glare that would probably wither anyone else. For a mont, she just stares, her expression sowhere between outrage and embarrassnt. She looks as though she’s staring at so botherso insect, yet that blush lingers.
“Ha! In your dreams! Know your place, you peasant,” she snaps, the bite in her voice attempting to mask the hint of flustered vulnerability.
I chuckle, leaning back. “If there’s a peasant in this boat, it’s definitely you.”
Her eyes narrow as she flicks her hair over her shoulder, trying to maintain her composure. “Let’s just say… even if there was the slightest inkling of interest, it’s been buried under layers of annoyance from all the tis you’ve driven insane.”
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