I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 117: The One Who Watched

Lira's Point of View

Lira hadn't meant to follow.

She told herself that.

Said she was just walking to clear her head. That the mountain air was good for reflection. That she wasn't being nosy. That she wasn't… hoping.

But her boots had wandered without permission.

Now she stood behind a narrow outcrop, breath held, heart caught.

Below her, on the frost-lit cliff, Isaac stood with Sylvalen. Closer than usual. Intimate. Quiet.

Then he reached out. Brushed a strand of her hair aside.

And kissed her.

Not long. Not urgent.

But final.

Lira's heart didn't shatter.

It just… dipped. Folded in on itself, quietly.

She turned before they could see her. Her steps were silent—too practiced from a hundred shadow runs and monster ambushes. She left the way she came. One step. Then another.

"Should've kissed him when he still smelled like old blood and mold," she muttered to herself. "Back when I had the monopoly on weird, brooding moments."

Halfway down the ridge, a voice stopped her.

"You knew."

Sylvalen.

Lira didn't turn. "Kinda obvious, wasn't it?"

The elven woman stepped into view, calm and poised even in the twilight.

Lira sighed. "So, this is the part where you warn me to stay away?"

Sylvalen tilted her head. "No. This is the part where I ask why you haven't told him."

Lira blinked, caught off guard. "Wait—what?"

Sylvalen folded her hands behind her back. "You love him. Anyone with eyes can see it. You fight beside him, bleed for him, worry for him. You were with him when no one else was."

"That doesn't mean I—"

"You do," Sylvalen said gently.

Lira hesitated.

Then muttered, "Aren't you mad?"

Sylvalen's brows lifted slightly. "Mad?"

"I mean… I've got feelings for the same man you just kissed. That usually ends with daggers or screaming."

The elven princess gave her a small, amused smile. "Lira. I come from a kingdom where our race has a declining birth rate and a reverence for long-lived bonds. Polygamy isn't unusual among elves."

Lira gawked. "Wait, what?"

Sylvalen nodded. "Love isn't a competition. And Isaac is… not ordinary. Neither are you. If he returns your feelings—even a part of them—I wouldn't stand in your way."

"You're serious."

"I am."

Lira scratched the back of her head. "That's… a lot to process."

Sylvalen stepped closer. Her voice softened. "Tell him. Not because I'm giving you permission—but because you'll regret it if you don't."

Lira looked down, her voice barely audible. "What if he says no?"

"Then you'll at least know," Sylvalen said. "And he'll never forget you had the courage to speak."

Lira was silent for a long time.

Then she whispered, "You're kind of terrifying, you know that?"

Sylvalen smiled. "You're not the first to say so."

Later that evening, back at camp, Lira sat by the fire—arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the flickering embers.

Isaac was nearby, packing quietly for their departure.

He glanced over. "You okay?"

She didn't look at him. "I'm always okay."

Isaac hesitated, then nodded.

He turned away.

Lira stared at his back.

And whispered, "Just… not brave yet."