The city streets bustled in organized chaos, even as the snow insisted on blanketing the world in white. Merchants shouted their offers, riders struggled to guide their horses through the frozen mud, children ran and laughed as if the cold were just another game. There was life there, and for Damon, after days of forest and silence, it was almost like breathing again.

"Welcome to civilization," he murmured, opening his arms as if introducing himself to the city. "The smell of bread, sweat, and cheap promises… nothing like that to warm the soul."

Ester didn't answer. She walked a few steps ahead, her dark cloak flapping in the wind, her attentive eyes scanning every face, every shadow, as if calculating invisible risks. For her, there was nothing cozy about that place; it was just another dot on the map, another mandatory stop before the next step.

The sun was already dipping below the horizon, tinting the sky with orange and pink hues, reflected in the ice covering the stone and wooden roofs. With every minute, the cold seemed to intensify, as if winter were reminding everyone that night would soon arrive.

Ester stopped at a wider corner, where she could see a row of taverns and inns vying for customers. A heavy smell of ale and roast meat drifted through the half-open doors, mingled with the loud laughter of drunks and the clinking of mugs.

"We need shelter," she said, her voice practical and direct. "Traveling at night would be suicide."

Damon smiled, approaching her. "Ah, so even the great Ester Deathstriker admits that sleeping in a bed is better than freezing in a cave."

She ignored him for a few seconds, her eyes scanning the options. Then, without looking at him, she added, "Besides... we need a bath."

The blond froze in place. His eyes glinted mischievously, and the smile that spread across his lips was instantaneous.

"A shower, huh?" He leaned in, as if to peer at her face. "Look, I thought you liked smelling of smoke and sweat... But now that I think about it... it's true. After that night, you must really need it."

Ester turned slowly, and the look she gave him was sharp as the blade of her sword.

"If you finish that sentence, I'll cut out your tongue."

Damon threw up his hands, laughing loudly, his amusement unmistakable. "Relax, relax! I was just going to say I could easily have another night like that." He winked. "I wouldn't mind risking my life again."

A blush rose to her cheeks, subtle but undeniable. Ester narrowed her eyes, like a beast ready to pounce.

"One more word and you won't wake up tomorrow."

He laughed, throwing his arms behind his head, completely unconcerned. "It's worth it just to see you blush, you know?"

Ester sighed deeply, as if carrying a cross heavier than any enemy. She simply turned and started walking toward the inns, ignoring him.

Damon ran after her, still laughing. "Hey, wait! You can't let me freeze to death out there. I need your icy protection, remember?"

"What you need is common sense," she snapped, without slowing her pace.

They walked through the busiest streets, where makeshift bonfires lit the way and merchants were finishing their day's activities. Damon looked like a child at a market: he looked at everything, pointed at things, commented loudly.

"Look at this place... it smells more like salted meat than people." He pointed to a stall where huge slabs of meat hung. "I wonder if we could negotiate a taste?"

"Focus on what matters," Ester said firmly. "We need a safe inn, not trouble with butchers."

He shrugged. "But I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"True," he admitted shamelessly.

They passed a group of bards playing near a tavern, their cheerful melodies echoing through the street, attracting customers. Damon paused for a moment, tapping his foot to the rhythm, but Ester tugged at his arm.

"Hey!" he complained. "I was about to start dancing."

"No."

"Have you tried? I bet you'd be good."

"Damon."

"Okay, okay, no dancing... for now." The smile never left his face.

The options were many: noisy taverns, inns smelling of cheap wine, and more discreet ones, with reinforced doors and more respectable-looking patrons.

Ester stopped in front of a two-story inn, made of stone at the base and wood at the top. A sign swayed in the wind, depicting a moon and a chalice—"The Scarlet Moon." The place seemed clean enough, bustling but not chaotic.

"Here," she decided, entering without waiting for Damon.

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Look at that... it even suits me. Crimson Moon. Sounds dramatic."

Inside, warmth immediately enveloped them. The main hall had sturdy wooden tables, a huge fireplace crackling in the corner, and the smell of freshly baked bread in the air. There was laughter, conversation, and the constant sound of mugs clinking.

Damon took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Ahhh... that's the sound of happiness."

Ester walked to the counter, where a burly man in a stained apron was drying mugs with a cloth.

"Two rooms," she said bluntly. "With a bath."

The innkeeper raised his eyebrows, sizing them up. "Two rooms, huh? I'm sorry... we're short on rooms... we have a double room, what do you think?"

Ester froze in place, and the expression on her face could have frozen even the fireplace behind them. Damon, on the other hand, smiled so wide it seemed fate had played him the greatest trick of all.

"A double room?" he repeated, leaning against the counter, almost laughing. "I think it's perfect."

"No way," Ester said dryly, like a blade cutting through the air.

The innkeeper raised his hands in a conciliatory tone. "I understand the suspicion, but the city is full today. Hunters have returned from the forest, merchants have been trapped by the ice... The double room is spacious, has a good fireplace, and we've even guaranteed a bathtub full of hot water." He smiled again. "Better than sleeping on the street."

Damon placed his hand on his chin, theatrical. "Look at that, a fireplace all to ourselves, Ester. Hot water... a soft bed... it almost seems like a reward after nearly freezing to death." He blinked. "Who knew fate could be so generous?"

"It would be generous if you'd stay silent," she replied harshly, turning to the innkeeper. "Is there really no other option?"

The man shook his head. "Just the double room. Or you can look for another inn, but I can't promise you'll find something better at this hour."

Silence hung for a second. Ester closed her eyes, breathing deeply, clearly struggling with herself. Damon, of course, seized the moment.

"Well, I don't mind. I can already imagine it... me on one side of the bed, you on the other, a huge pillow between us like a wall of snow." He smiled mischievously. "And if you snore, I promise to pretend I didn't hear."

A blush rose to her cheeks. Ester leaned slowly toward him, her eyes flashing with danger.

"One more word, Damon, and you'll be sleeping in the stable."

He held up his hands innocently. "Okay, okay!" I'll stay quiet.

"Hard to believe." She sighed, surrendering to practicality. "We'll take the room."

The innkeeper gave her a satisfied smile and placed a heavy key on the counter. "Second floor, back door. I'll have the hot water turned on right away."

Ester took the key without looking at Damon, who was already grinning like a mischievous boy about to get candy.

"I knew you wouldn't resist the idea of ​​sharing a fireplace with me," he murmured, following her up the stairs.

"Shut up, Damon."

…

The room was spacious by the standards of a small-town inn. It had stone walls covered in simple tapestries, a large wooden bed reinforced with thick quilts, a small table with two chairs, and, in the corner, a fireplace already lit, the fire crackling and illuminating the room in golden hues.

When the door closed behind them, Damon whistled softly.

"Not bad." He threw his cloak over the chair and stretched out like a cat. "I've stayed in much worse places."

Ester closed the door and set the key on the table, not looking at him. Her face was impassive, but her shoulders betrayed tension.

"You stay on your side." She pointed coolly at the bed. "Not an inch more."

Damon smiled, throwing himself on the edge of the bed as if it were his. "Of course, of course." He patted the mattress. "But tell me, which side is my favorite?"

She gave him a look that could pierce armor.

"The floor side."

He laughed, rolling over on his back in bed. "You're relentless."

Soon there was a knock at the door. Two innkeepers entered carrying steaming buckets and poured water into a wooden tub placed near the fireplace. Steam spread through the room, making the air hot and humid.

"Hot shower, as promised," one of the boys said, stepping out.

Damon lifted his nose, inhaling the steam. "Ahhh, now that's life." He looked at Ester. "So... who goes first?"

"Me," she replied immediately, already taking off her cloak. "You stay outside until I'm done."

His eyes widened, playfully offended. "Outside? In the cold hallway? But what if I catch a deadly cold?"

"You'll survive."

"Or maybe not," he said dramatically, bringing his hand to his forehead. "Just imagine, me lying in the hallway, shivering, and you here, warm in the bathtub… It would be a cruel fate."

Ester didn't answer. She just stared at him steadily until he sighed and stood, walking toward the door.

"Okay, okay… but don't be late, or I'll have to warm myself by the fireplace." He winked. "And you know how creative I am."

She lifted her boot, as if to throw it at him. Damon laughed and escaped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

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