Back to Normal (Or Trying To Be)
Nana's life had developed a strange duality.
Half of it was extraordinary—dating a Sea God, learning about underwater kingdoms, collecting shells on magical beaches, being kissed until she forgot her own name.
The other half was aggressively normal—Hunter missions, paperwork, training sessions, and her tiny apartment with its temperamental water heater.
Today was a normal day.
"Nana, left!" Tara shouted.
Nana dove left as a Wanderer's claw slashed through the air where she'd been standing. She rolled, came up with her blade, and struck precisely at the creature's core. It dissolved with a shriek.
"Nice!" Nero called from his position. "That's twelve for you, ten for me, and—" He grinned at Tara. "—eight for our dear team leader."
"I'm coordinating!" Tara protested. "Someone has to make sure you two don't get yourselves killed!"
They were clearing a Wanderer nest in the industrial district—routine work, Level 3 threats, nothing too dangerous. The kind of mission Nana could do in her sleep after years of training.
"So," Tara said as they finished the cleanup, her voice taking on that dangerous casual tone. "How's your boyfriend?"
Nana nearly dropped her blade. "What?"
"Your boyfriend," Tara repeated innocently. "The famous artist. The one who kissed you on his car in front of your apartment building while Nero and I watched in traumatized silence."
"We're still in therapy," Nero added solemnly. "The images are burned into our retinas."
"I hate you both," Nana muttered, her face burning.
"Does he always kiss like that?" Tara pressed. "Like he's trying to consume your soul? Because wow. *Wow*. If I wasn't already dating someone—"
"Tara!" Nana protested.
"I'm just saying! You could have warned us you were dating a literal romance novel protagonist! Does he write you poetry? Does he paint you like one of his French girls? Does he—"
"We're working!" Nana interrupted desperately. "Can we focus on the mission?!"
"The mission is over," Nero pointed out. "Now we're just walking back and have plenty of time for interrogation. So. Details. All of them. How did you meet? How long have you been dating? When were you planning to tell your best friends—"
"We're hurt," Tara added. "Deeply hurt. We had to learn about your relationship by witnessing public displays of affection hot enough to melt steel."
Nana groaned. This was going to be a long walk back.
After the mission debriefing and what felt like hours of teasing, Nana finally escaped to head home. But first—her routine stop.
The street food stall on the corner near her apartment had become a habit. The owner, a kind young man named Jin, always had the best roasted chestnuts and made bubble tea exactly how she liked it—less sweet, extra tapioca pearls.
"Nana!" Jin called when he saw her approaching. "The usual?"
"Please," Nana said, grateful for normal human interaction that didn't involve questions about her love life.
Jin worked quickly, preparing her order with practiced efficiency. "How was your day?"
"Long," Nana admitted. "But good. Yours?"
"Busy! The weather's getting colder so everyone wants warm snacks." He handed her the roasted chestnuts, then—as always—added a steamed bun. "Bonus. On the house."
"Jin, you don't have to—"
"I want to," Jin interrupted, smiling. "You're always so nice. Always smiling. It makes my day better, so I want to make yours better too."
Nana blinked, surprised. "I just... smile at people. It's normal?"
"You'd be surprised how many people don't," Jin said. "Most customers are rude or in a hurry or on their phones. But you always stop, always talk, always treat me like a person instead of just a vendor." He shrugged. "So you get bonuses. Deal with it."
Nana felt warmth bloom in her chest. "Thank you, Jin. Really."
"Go home," Jin said, waving her off. "Eat while it's hot. And say hi to your fancy artist boyfriend for me! I saw the photos online—you two are cute together."
Nana's face flamed. "How does everyone know—"
"You were trending on social media!" Jin called after her, laughing. "Hashtag ArtistBoyfriend! Hashtag CoupleGoals!"
Nana fled, her face burning, Jin's laughter following her down the street.
As Nana walked the last few blocks to her apartment, the feeling hit her again.
*Being watched.*
It had started three days ago—this creeping sensation of eyes on her back, of shadows moving just out of sight, of *something* following her movements.
But every time she turned around, the street was empty.
Just paranoia, probably. Occupational hazard of being a Hunter. When you spent your days fighting monsters, you started seeing threats everywhere.
Still.
Nana glanced over her shoulder as she entered the alley that was a shortcut to her building.
Nothing. Just empty street. Just shadows from the setting sun.
*You're being ridiculous*, she told herself. *There's nothing there.*
But her hand still went to the blade hidden in her jacket. Just in case.
The alley was quiet. Too quiet. Even the usual city sounds seemed muffled here, distant.
Nana walked faster.
*Almost there. Just a few more meters. Then safe inside. Then—*
A sound behind her. Soft. Like something moving through water.
Nana spun, blade out, ready—
Nothing.
Just empty alley.
Just her imagination.
But her heart was pounding, and her instincts—honed from years of fighting Wanderers—screamed *danger*.
She ran the last stretch to her building, practically threw herself through the door, and didn't stop until she was inside her apartment with all the locks engaged.
*Paranoia*, she told herself again, leaning against the door. *Just paranoia.*
But she couldn't shake the feeling.
Couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong.
Something was coming.
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🐚🐚🐚
Nana had just stepped out of the shower, her hair still damp, when her phone buzzed.
**Thomas:** *Ready to be picked up in 30 minutes? Rafayel's at the perfume collaboration event but he wants you to come. Fair warning - there will be cameras and fans. Lots of both. Are you comfortable with that?*
Nana smiled despite her earlier unease. Seeing Rafayel always made things better.
**Nana:** *I'm comfortable. I'll be ready. Thank you for driving!*
**Thomas:** *It's my job. Also Rafayel won't shut up about you and it's driving me insane, so please come rescue me from his pining.*
**Nana:** *He's not pining. He saw me two days ago.*
**Thomas:** *Two days is apparently an eternity when you're a lovesick Sea God. Who knew? Just be ready. And maybe bring emotional support for me.*
Nana laughed and started getting ready.
She chose a simple outfit—nice enough for a public event but not trying too hard. Light blue dress that hit just above her knees, comfortable flats, minimal makeup. Her hair cooperated for once, falling in soft waves.
The bond mark on her neck was visible. She touched it lightly, feeling it pulse warm, and decided not to cover it.
Let people see. Let them know she was his, and he was hers.
Thirty minutes later, Thomas arrived in one of Rafayel's more subtle cars—which was still obviously expensive but at least wasn't the flashy sports car.
"You look nice," Thomas said as she climbed in. "Prepared for the chaos?"
"How bad is it?"
"Picture a hundred screaming fans, fifty photographers, and Rafayel being professionally charming while secretly counting the minutes until you arrive." Thomas pulled away from her building. "So, pretty bad."
"He's fine without me," Nana protested.
"He's *functional* without you," Thomas corrected. "There's a difference. You should see his face light up when—" He stopped himself. "Never mind. You'll see soon enough."
The venue was stunning—a modern art gallery transformed into a promotional space. Banners everywhere featuring Rafayel's face and the perfume bottle. Elegant displays. Soft lighting. Classical music playing.
And people. *So many people*.
Thomas guided her through a side entrance, avoiding the main crowd. "Rafayel's in the center section. Doing interviews and photos. Just—stay near me, okay? If it gets overwhelming, let me know and I'll extract you."
"I'll be fine," Nana assured him.
But when they emerged into the main space, she understood his concern.
*Rafayel* was at the center of everything—literally. Cameras pointed at him from every angle. Reporters with microphones. Fans pressed against barriers, screaming his name. All attention, all focus, all gravity pulled toward him.
He was in professional mode—charming smile, perfect posture, answering questions with that easy confidence that came from centuries of practice. He looked incredible in a tailored suit, deep purple (because of course), his eyes catching the light.
"The perfume," he was saying to a reporter, "is meant to capture the essence of the ocean. Not the touristy beach smell—the *real* ocean. The scent of tide after a storm. The salt and minerals. The way the air tastes just before sunset on an isolated shore." His eyes scanned the crowd as he spoke, searching— "It's about memory. About longing. About—"
He saw her.
And his entire expression transformed.
The professional mask dropped. The charming artist disappeared. And what remained was just—
*Rafayel*.
Looking at her like she was air and he'd been drowning.
The reporter was still asking questions, but Rafayel wasn't listening anymore. He was moving toward Nana, the crowd parting around him, his focus absolute.
"Excuse me," he said to the reporter, not rudely but firmly. "Someone important just arrived."
And then he was there, right in front of her, and his smile was blindingly genuine.
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hi," Nana managed. "You're supposed to be working."
"I was," Rafayel said. "Now I'm taking a break. Thomas, handle the media?"
"I hate you," Thomas said, but he was already moving to intercept the confused reporters.
Rafayel took Nana's hand, pulling her toward a quieter corner. Behind them, she heard fans screaming—about her, about them, about the way Rafayel looked at her—but Rafayel didn't seem to care.
"You came," he said, like he'd been uncertain.
"You asked me to," Nana pointed out.
"Still." Rafayel's thumb traced circles on the back of her hand. "You came. In public. With cameras. You're not hiding."
"Why would I hide?" Nana asked. "I'm proud to be with you."
Something in Rafayel's expression cracked, became vulnerable. "I'm proud to be with you too. So proud. Everyone should know. Everyone should see—" He touched her neck, where the bond mark was visible. "—that you're mine and I'm yours."
"Rafayel," Nana said, aware of the cameras probably capturing this moment. "We're in public."
"Good," Rafayel said, and kissed her forehead, soft and reverent.
The fans screamed louder.
Somewhere, Thomas was probably dying of secondhand embarrassment.
But Nana couldn't bring herself to care.
After the perfume event—after Rafayel had finished his obligations and taken approximately seven hundred photos with fans—they went to the aquarium.
It had been Rafayel's idea. "I miss home," he'd admitted quietly. "The ocean. Lemuria. My people. But I can't go back for a few weeks because of work commitments. The aquarium is—" He'd shrugged. "—close enough. For now."
So they walked through dim hallways lit by blue tank-light, watching fish swim in lazy circles, the sound of water filtering through everything.
Rafayel stood in front of the large ocean tank, his expression distant. Sad.
"Do you miss it?" Nana asked softly, slipping her small hand into his larger one. "Lemuria? Your world?"
"Every day," Rafayel admitted. "I've been on land for three hundred years and I still miss it. The weight of water. The way light filters down from the surface. The absolute silence of deep ocean."
He pointed to a school of red fish—small, darting, exactly like the ones from the festival.
"I caught fish like these," he said. "When I was young. Before everything got complicated. My cousin and I would race to see who could catch the most." His smile was bittersweet. "He always let me win. I didn't realize that until much later."
Nana leaned against his side, offering comfort without words.
"Sometimes I wonder," Rafayel continued, "if I made the right choice. Staying on land. Waiting for you. I got you back, so it worked out, but—" He stopped. "—was it worth it? Three hundred years of loneliness? Three hundred years of grief?"
"Was it?" Nana asked.
"Yes," Rafayel said immediately. "A thousand times yes. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. Doesn't mean I don't miss what I left behind."
They walked through more exhibits—jellyfish that glowed, octopuses that hid in rocks, sharks that circled endlessly.
"I can take you back," Rafayel offered. "Underwater. To Lemuria. Anytime you want. You don't have to ask permission."
"Would your people mind?" Nana asked. "A human visiting so often?"
"You're not just a human," Rafayel said. "You're my bonded mate. You're the princess who saved them all. They'd welcome you. They'd—" He smiled. "They'd probably throw a festival in your honor. Make you uncomfortable with attention. Force you to eat Lemurian food that humans aren't supposed to be able to digest but you can because of the bond."
"That sounds chaotic," Nana said, laughing.
"It would be," Rafayel agreed. "But it would also be good. For them to see you. For you to see them. For everyone to know—" He pulled her closer against his chest. "—that we're together. That this time, we're keeping each other."
Nana looked up at him, at the way his eyes reflected the tank-light, making them seem to glow. "Today was perfect," she said.
"Today was normal," Rafayel corrected. "I went to work. You came to visit. We're at an aquarium like any other couple. That's not perfect, that's—" He stopped, searching for words. "—that's real. That's the life we're building. Normal and extraordinary mixed together."
"I like our life," Nana said.
"Good," Rafayel said. "Because I'm planning to keep you for a very long time. Possibly forever. Hope that's okay."
"I'll think about it," Nana teased.
"Think fast," Rafayel said, and kissed her right there in front of the shark tank, soft and sweet and full of promise.
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🐚🐚🐚
Thomas drove them back to Nana's apartment, suffering visibly in the driver's seat.
"You know," he said conversationally, "when I signed up to be Rafayel's manager, I thought I'd be handling art galleries and business deals. Not playing chauffeur for the most disgustingly romantic couple I've ever witnessed."
"You love it," Rafayel said from the backseat, where he was very much not keeping appropriate distance from Nana.
"I tolerate it," Thomas corrected. "There's a difference."
"Thomas, you cried at our aquarium kiss," Rafayel pointed out.
"I had something in my eye!"
"Tears. You had tears in your eye."
"I hate you both."
When they pulled up to Nana's building, Rafayel walked her to her door like the gentleman he sometimes pretended to be.
"Tonight was good," Nana said. "Thank you. For inviting me. For—" She gestured vaguely. "—everything."
"Thank *you*," Rafayel said. "For coming. For not hiding. For being willing to be seen with me even when cameras and fans make it complicated."
"It's not complicated," Nana said. "I love you. Why would I hide that?"
Rafayel went very still. "You—what?"
Nana realized what she'd said. Her face flamed. "I—I mean—"
"Say it again," Rafayel demanded, his eyes bright and intense.
"I love you," Nana whispered.
Rafayel pulled her close, his arms tight around her, his face buried in her hair. "I love you," he said back, voice rough with emotion. "I love you so much. For three hundred years. For forever. I love you."
They stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, the words settling between them like a promise.
When Rafayel finally pulled back, he handed her another flower—a white rose, perfect and pristine.
"For you," he said. "To remember tonight by."
"I don't need flowers to remember," Nana said, but she took it anyway. "I'm not forgetting this."
"Good." Rafayel kissed her one more time—soft, lingering, full of love—before stepping back. "Sleep well. Dream of me."
"Conceited," Nana accused fondly.
"Confident," Rafayel corrected, and with one last smile, returned to the car where Thomas was pointedly looking anywhere else.
Nana watched them drive away, the flower in her hand, her heart full.
She went inside, locked her doors, and fell asleep smiling.
And didn't notice the shadow that had followed her home.
Didn't feel the corrupted magic that was seeping through her apartment's walls.
Didn't know that while she slept peacefully, Theo's patience was finally running out.
The storm was coming.
And tomorrow, everything would change.
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🐚🐚🐚
To be continued __