Dad❤️
The name flashed brightly on the screen, taunting her.
That was the registered name for the incoming call. This was her strictly personal number—a ghost number. Only five people in the entire world knew these digits.
It really was him!
Her chest pounded so hard it felt like her ribs might crack, a wave of nausea washing over her.
Does he already know I'm missing?
The realization hit her like a bucket of ice water. What the hell was I thinking? In her haste to escape the scandal and the noise of the city, she had completely forgotten to tell anyone she was going on a secret vacation. She had just… vanished.
Her dad. Panchero Haven. To the world, he was a retired General, a man of iron and discipline. To Peony, he was usually the sweetest, coolest dad in the whole world. She was his favorite child, his princess. He let her get away with almost anything.
But "almost" was the keyword. Because when he was angry, he wasn't just a dad. He was scary.
"I... I have to take this," she stammered, her voice thin and brittle.
She pointed vaguely at her phone, taking a shaky step back. Tobey, sensing the shift in her mood, gave a quick, understanding nod. He turned away immediately and started tidying up his painting tools, giving her the illusion of privacy.
Peony walked toward the edge of the campsite near the river, the rushing water drowning out the silence of the forest. She feared he might hear her dad scolding her. She feared he might hear the terror in her voice.
Her heart continued to hammer against her sternum. Her hands were sweating, making the phone slippery in her grip. She took a deep breath, trying to summon her "actress" persona to compose herself, and tapped the green answer icon.
"Good eve—" she started, forcing her voice to sound happy, bright, and completely innocent.
"Your greetings will not work on me, lady."
The voice on the other end cut her off like a guillotine. It was loud, deep, and vibrating with controlled fury.
Peony felt her blood run cold. She froze, her eyes widening in terror. She was doomed.
"You've been missing for three whole fucking days!" Panchero roared, the sound distorting slightly through the speaker.
"With all of these massive issues surrounding you, with your career burning down in the news, you suddenly decide to vanish? What do you think went through our heads? Heh?"
His laugh was dry, sharp, and utterly devoid of humor.
"What do you think your mother's reaction was when she walked into your empty house? You vanished for days without a single word. We didn't know where you were, and that scared us."
Her mother was softhearted. She was easily affected by any negative emotion; that was why her father never brought his issues from the camp back to the house. That protectiveness was engraved in all his children.
Peony's mind quickly conjured the worst possibilities, making her legs go weak with fear. What if she got hospitalized? What if she had a heart attack? She was old now, prone to sickness and complications.
"W-wha... what happened to Mom, Dad?"
"Heh."
That was the only reply she received. It frustrated her, but it terrified her more.
"D-dad..." Her eyes clouded with tears and stomped on the ground.
"We already know your location. Preston wrote a program to track you the moment you opened your phone. And we were about to drag you out of that fucking jungle you're running from. My private team and I will be there in three hours."
"NO!" Peony screamed, her voice cracking. But realized that Tobey is just nearby, he will be worried so she quickly lower down her voice. "No, Dad! Don't come in here!"
She turned back to glance at Tobey. He was standing by the fire, his back to her, cleaning his brushes. He looked like he wasn't listening. But she couldn't risk it. If her father saw Tobey—a strange man alone in the woods with his only daughter—Panchero wouldn't ask questions. He would shoot immediately.
"Dad, please," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "I'm safe. I'm fine. But you can't come here tonight."
"Why? Are you being held captive? Just fucking tell me!"
"No! I'm very safe he—"
"Or do you not want me to see the person you've been with?" His voice dropped, dangerous and low. "Is that a man? Your secret lover?"
He went silent for a moment, but his heavy sigh roared in her ears like static. "...I just don't understand why this has to add to the worry your mother and I already carry."
"Ya... nn—Dad. Please."
"Well, that is exactly why I need to be there!"
"No, Dad! It's not safe here. The terrain... and it's already night time. It's very dangerous to come here."
"I don't care about the goddamn terrain! A worried father is more dangerous than anyone else. So I'm coming to get my daughter."
"Dad, stop! If you come here now... I'll run. I swear to God, I'll run deeper into the forest and you'll never find me."
Silence on the other end. Peony held her breath.
CRASH.
She gasped and almost dropped the phone as she heard something shatter against a wall on the other end of the line.
"Fine," Panchero finally gritted out. She could hear his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together. "But you are coming out. Tomorrow morning. First light. I will be waiting at the main road. If you aren't there by 6:00 AM, I am burning this entire forest down to find you. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Peony sobbed quietly. "Yes, Dad. Tomorrow morning. I promise."
She hung up the phone and turned it off, her hands shaking uncontrollably. She wiped her tears furiously, took a few deep breaths to compose herself, and put on a fake smile before turning back to the campsite.
She thought she had been quiet enough. She thought the distance and the sound of the river had masked her conversation.
She was wrong.
Tobey hadn't moved. He was still cleaning the same brush, his back turned to her. But his enhanced senses had picked up every single word. He heard the vibration of her phone. He heard her desperate pleas. He heard the heavy, threatening voice of the man on the other end.
Tomorrow morning, he thought.
A sharp pain pierced his chest, one that had nothing to do with physical injury. The hidden wound in Timothy's heart reopened—the old trauma of being the one left behind by loved ones. But the mind of Tobey was strong. It had stood the test of time. He suppressed the ache, refusing to let it affect his vessel.
He placed the clean brush down and turned around, returning her fake smile with a gentle one of his own.
"Is everything okay?" he asked, lying effortlessly.
"Yes," Peony lied back, her voice bright and brittle. "Just... checking the time. It's getting late. We should sleep."
"We should sleep," Tobey agreed, his voice soft.
Peony nodded, but she didn't move toward the tent immediately. Her eyes drifted back to the easel. The painting glowed in the dying firelight—a perfect capture of her vulnerability and strength. She reached out, her hand hovering inches from the canvas, wanting to touch it but knowing she couldn't.
"It's still wet," she whispered, a wave of sadness hitting her. "Oil paint takes days to dry. Even if... even if I wanted to, I couldn't take it with me." She couldn't voice it out.
She bit her lip, holding back tears. She knew she was leaving at first light. She would never be able to come back for it.
Tobey stepped up beside her, his presence warm and solid against the cold night air. He looked at the painting, then down at her. He knew exactly why she looked so heartbroken.
"Don't worry," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "This painting is yours. It has your name on it, Peony. No one else will ever own it."
"But I can't..."
"I'll keep it safe for you," Tobey interrupted gently. "I'll let it dry, and I'll protect it. Think of it as safekeeping. When the time is right, and we see each other again, it will be waiting for you."
Peony looked up at him, searching his blue eyes. We won't see each other again, she thought bitterly. Dad will make sure of that.
But she forced a smile, clutching her phone tighter in her hand. "Okay. I'm holding you to that."
She looked down at her screen, where the digital photo of the painting was saved.
"At least I have a picture of it," she murmured, swiping her thumb over the image. "I can keep this version with me."
Tobey kissed the top of her head. "Come on. Let's rest."
They walked to the tent in silence.
That night, they didn't have sex. There was no wild passion or playful teasing. Instead, they lay together in the darkness, their bodies pressed close, tangling their limbs as if trying to merge into one person. Peony buried her face in his naked chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, savoring the warmth of his skin, trying to memorize the scent of him.
Tobey held her tightly, stroking her hair in the dark. He didn't sleep. He just held her, counting the seconds until the sun would rise and steal her away.
The first light of dawn was just beginning to turn the sky a pale, bruised purple when Peony woke up.
She moved with agonizing slowness, careful not to disturb the man sleeping beside her. Tobey was lying on his back, his breathing deep and even, one arm thrown carelessly over his eyes.
She sat up, shivering in the morning chill. She looked at him for a long minute, tears blurring her vision. She wanted to wake him up. She wanted to kiss him goodbye. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, even though they had only met and bonded for a few days.
But she couldn't. If she woke him, he would ask questions. He might try to stop her, or worse, he might try to come with her. And that would force her to make an impossible decision. If he came with her, her father would hurt him. Or worse, kill him.
I have to save him, she told herself.
She quietly gathered her clothes and her bag. She dressed in silence, stifling a sob when she pulled her shoes on. She grabbed her phone—the tracking beacon that had ruined everything—and took one last look at the tent.
"Goodbye, Tim," she whispered into the silence. "Thank you for saving me. And for..." she choked on the memories of the last few days, moments of pure joy, "...taking care of me."
She turned and slipped out of the tent, zipping it closed with trembling fingers.
She walked out of the campsite, past the dead campfire, past the easel where her portrait stood covered by a tarp, and headed toward the trail. She didn't look back. She couldn't bear to.
Inside the tent, the moment the zipper clicked shut, Tobey's eyes snapped open.
He hadn't been asleep.
He lay there for a moment, listening to her light footsteps crunching on the leaves, moving further and further away. The pain in his chest was sharper than any blade he had faced in Earth.
He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't chase after her to stop her. He respected her choice. She was trying to protect him.
But that didn't mean he was going to let her walk through the forest alone.
He moved.
He didn't bother to get dressed fully. He still wore the boxer briefs from the night before; he simply threw his robe over his shoulders and shoved his feet into his hiking boots.
He slipped out of the tent, trailing quietly fifty meters behind her.
He didn't need a system or a skill to disappear. He moved with the silent grace of a predator, his footsteps making zero sound against the forest floor. It wasn't a technique he had to think about; it was simply how his body worked. Every muscle fiber and nerve ending fired with a terrifying precision, granting him a level of control that felt less like a learned skill and more like innate, biological perfection.
He became a shadow, blending into the trees not through magic, but through sheer speed and control.
He watched her stumble over roots, watched her wipe tears from her face as she hiked.
He moved faster than human eyes could track, darting ahead of her without disturbing a single leaf. He cleared the path silently—tossing a small stone to scare off a snake seconds before she arrived, snapping a confusing branch to guide her gaze toward the safer route.
He was her silent guardian, her ghost, escorting her to the edge of his world using nothing but his own raw power.
They reached the main road just as the sun broke over the horizon.
Peony stopped at the treeline. Her breath hitched.
There, parked on the shoulder of the desolate road, was a convoy of black SUVs and a red pickup truck. Men in suits stood by the vehicles. And standing in the center, leaning against the truck with his arms crossed, was Panchero.
Peony took a deep breath, fixed her hair, and stepped out of the woods.
Tobey stopped at the edge of the shadows. He leaned against a massive oak tree, hidden perfectly by the foliage. He watched as Peony walked toward her father.
He saw her dad, Panchero, hug her—tight and desperate. He saw her brother, Preston, open the car door for her. He saw Peony pause before getting in, looking back at the forest one last time, her eyes searching the trees.
"I'm here," Tobey whispered, though she couldn't hear him.
She got into the car. The door slammed shut. The convoy engine roared to life, and within seconds, they were gone, leaving only a cloud of dust settling on the asphalt.
Tobey stood there for a long time, staring at the empty road.
He was alone again. A tear escaped his eye, sliding down his cheek before he even knew it was there. He quickly wiped it using his hand and took a few deep breath to calm down.
It's okay, Timothy. He whispered and gently tap a few times on his left shoulder.
He walked back to the campsite. He packed the tent and everything. He cleared the fire pit. And finally, he stood in front of the easel.
He looked at the painting one last time—the firelight, the shadows, the woman who had made him feel human for a few brief days.
He placed his hand on the canvas.
[Item Stored: "The Muse" (Oil Painting)]
The easel was empty. The colors, the warmth, and the woman were gone, tucked away in a void where time could not touch them.
Tobey lowered his hand. The grief that had been clouding his eyes seemed to vanish with the painting, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. The lover was gone. The planner had taken his place.
"We have forever," he whispered to the empty air. "I will be ready. And I will take her back."
He turned away from the river, his stride long and purposeful as he began the trek toward the main road.
"Time to really start my new life in Woolace.