After dinner, the night in Kagurem grew even more vibrant. Lights flickered along the stone-paved streets, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of ale and the echoes of laughter. Yggdrasil and Balin stepped out of "The Stone Pot Cauldron," the lingering warmth of the meal and their recent intimacy still swirling in their hearts.

  Balin led Yggdrasil toward a place called the "Stone Hammer Inn." Yggdrasil had hoped to find a place to rest after the bustling market, but they were stopped at the front desk by the apologetic dwarven landlady.

  "I’m so sorry, we’re completely full for the night," she sighed, her tone genuinely regretful.

  Yggdrasil furrowed his brow, a slight hesitation rising within him. Just as he began to wonder where else he might go, Balin spoke up, his tone gentle and laced with a hint of a smile.

  "Don't worry about it. Stay at my place tonight."

  His voice was matter-of-fact, natural in the way of someone accustomed to looking after others. As he spoke, he lightly patted Yggdrasil’s shoulder, his broad palm moving with an unpretentious ease.

  "My house is just nearby, and there’s plenty of room. Having you stay for a night is no trouble at all."

  In that instant, Yggdrasil’s heart leaped. He had been silently admiring this dwarven guard—harboring an unspoken yearning for that steady physique and gentle gaze. Hearing this invitation, a genuine smile spread across his face.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "Truly? Then... thank you for the trouble."

  "It’s no trouble at all."

  Balin laughed and pulled over a wooden chair from the roadside, gesturing for Yggdrasil to rest for a moment. Yggdrasil sat and watched Balin—that rounded face looked exceptionally soft under the lamplight, and that rounded, sturdy physique felt as though it could shield him from all the cold winds of the world.

  Under the streetlamps, the two left the inn and stepped back into the night. Exhausted from several days of travel, Yggdrasil’s steps were somewhat heavy. Balin glanced back, an eyebrow raised playfully.

  "Why so slow? You won’t be able to keep up with me at this rate."

  With that, he proactively reached out. His palm was warm and solid; when he took Yggdrasil’s hand, it brought an immediate sense of unshakeable security.

  Yggdrasil froze for a microsecond, but he did not pull away. He gently gripped back, and the moment their fingers interlaced, an indescribable emotion quietly surfaced.

  "Come on. I’ll lead the way."

  The tone was plain, yet it felt more resolute than any formal promise.

  And so, they walked hand-in-hand through the night streets of Kagurem. The stone road shimmered with reflections of the lamps, and the distant sounds of forges and low-hummed dwarven ballads made everything feel incredibly peaceful and grounded.

  Yggdrasil silently watched Balin’s profile—the thick shoulders, the way his black beard swayed in the wind, and that rounded, springy physique. Every detail made his heart tremble quietly.

  "Thank you, Balin..." he whispered.

  Balin didn't turn his head, merely replying softly, "You won’t be without a place to stay tonight. My home isn't exactly a mansion, but at least it's warm."

  As the night deepened, the city lights outlined the silhouette of the dwarven city. They walked hand-in-hand through alleys where light and shadow intertwined, carving the scent and presence of one another into their hearts, inch by inch. That touch was no longer just about warmth; it was destiny, quietly weaving together a story that was only just beginning.