Chapter 473: Explain Yourself (2)
"Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!" Serah’s voice rang sharp, her eyes burning holes straight into Marcus as she kept her claymore leveled at him.
Marcus, with his axe tilted lazily against his shoulder, blinked in exaggerated confusion. His brows lifted high, and his mouth parted like she’d just accused him of eating babies for breakfast. "Um... princess, I’m honestly lost here," he said, his tone filled with baffled innocence, though the playful tilt at the edge of his lips betrayed his usual comedic flair.
"Really? Are you serious right now?" Serah snapped, her patience fraying. "You’re telling me... you actually have no idea how I woke up to find myself COMPLETELY naked?!"
The word naked seemed to slap Marcus across the face harder than any blade could. His eyes went wide, pupils shrinking with an exaggerated horror that made his reaction almost cartoonish. His hands twitched like he wanted to throw the axe and flee.
Serah gasped slightly at his expression, then her suspicion hardened. She swung her sheathed claymore with a sharp whoosh, aiming right at his chest. "I knew it! You are a perverted bastard!!"
Marcus spun his axe around, deflecting the blow with the wooden side while his footwork carried him back with quick, nimble steps. The heavy thunk of her strikes echoed as he side-stepped, ducked, and twisted away from her relentless swings. "Wait—wait, princess, I can explain!" he said with a smile, a crooked grin that was meant to soothe but only fueled her fury. "It’s definitely not what it looks like—or what you’re thinking."
"Oh, you better explain," Serah growled, swinging again.
This time Marcus ducked low, the claymore sailing just above his head, then jammed the axe’s corner against her blade to block. His eyes flicked up, pleading with a comically innocent expression that contrasted his scarred, battle-worn body. "Alright, alright! But first—let’s maybe not swing around a giant, dangerous sword like it’s a toy, yeah? You almost shaved my eyebrows clean off!"
Serah paused, narrowing her eyes at him. Then, with visible effort, she pulled back her claymore, lowering it but keeping her arms crossed tightly against her chest, her glare demanding answers.
Marcus exhaled dramatically, like he’d just survived a battlefield, and leaned the axe against a tree. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm before sighing again for comedic emphasis. "Damn, princess, you really almost ended my life there. I’m pretty sure I saw the afterlife flash for a second—spoiler alert, it was boring."
"Oh, please," Serah rolled her eyes. "I’m waiting."
Marcus cleared his throat, straightening his posture, his grin tugging back to life. "So... uh, what happened was... you had overexerted yourself. Pushed way too hard. And since I happen to be a well-raised gentleman," he added with mock pride, "I couldn’t just let you stay in that awful state. So, naturally, I decided to take care of you. Which meant..." He held up his hands in surrender. "Yes. I had to get you out of those shredded, bloodied clothes to patch up every wound you had."
Serah remained dead silent, her piercing gaze never blinking, as though waiting for the rest.
Marcus raised his hands higher, grinning sheepishly. "Oh—and I didn’t look! Not at all."
Her eyes narrowed to slits.
"Okay, okay!" Marcus said quickly. "Maybe just your upper half—but that was totally by accident, I swear! Nothing more. Cross my heart."
Serah sighed, rubbing her temples in frustration. "I guess... I can’t completely blame you. Still—you could’ve tried waking me up so I could do it myself."
"Oh, yes. I tried," Marcus replied smoothly. "Shook you, called your name, even poked you a few times. Nothing. You didn’t budge an inch. I figured you were really beat. And to be fair, you were out for two days straight."
Serah blinked, her arms uncrossing slightly as confusion replaced her anger. "Two... days?"
Marcus nodded, utterly casual. "Yep. One. Two. Days. Gone. Don’t worry—happens to the best of us. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if you thought it was still the same day as that Pureblood mess."
Serah’s thoughts churned at his words. ’Did I really push myself so far that I was out cold for two whole days?’ The thought unsettled her, but she shook it off with a controlled exhale.
"Well..." she said finally, her voice softer but still guarded, "I suppose you’re... justified."
Marcus puffed his chest out, grinning smugly. "Thank you very much. About time you recognized my noble sacrifices."
Serah shot him a look but added, more quietly, "Also... thank you for not leaving me completely. Even after I told you to go, when I fought the Purebloods."
Marcus’s grin didn’t falter, but his answer was disarmingly blunt. "Oh, I left."
Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait. What?"
"I never stayed to watch you fight. If you want to thank someone, you should thank him." Marcus lifted a lazy finger, pointing behind her.
Serah stiffened. She had thought it was just the two of them here, in this quiet clearing by the cabin. Yet, when she turned slowly, her eyes met something that made her instinctively grip her claymore tighter.
A figure stood behind her, tall and solid, a silhouette darker than shadow itself. At first it was faceless, formless, until her eyes adjusted—then she saw it bore the exact build, stance, and presence of Marcus. The hair tied back, the posture, even the curve of his smirk—except for one eerie detail. The figure had no face at all, just smooth darkness where features should’ve been.
Serah’s breath caught in her throat. "Is... is this your shadow?" she muttered, almost in disbelief.
"Yep." Marcus’s voice rang with smug satisfaction, his grin widening as he leaned against the tree. "Meet Phantom."
Serah’s eyes stayed locked on the strange entity—Marcus’s shadow given form. Phantom’s faceless void gaze remained fixed on her as though he were peering into her very soul.
Curiosity tugged at her. Tilting her head slightly to the left, she studied him. To her surprise, Phantom mirrored the exact motion, tilting his head with the same angle and timing, like a reflection in some distorted mirror.
She narrowed her eyes and shifted her head the other way. Again, Phantom followed perfectly.
"Is he... copying me?" Serah asked, her tone skeptical yet faintly amused, her claymore still resting loosely in her grip.
"Yeah," Marcus replied casually, leaning on the haft of his axe like this was nothing unusual. "He’s a shadow, after all. And even though he isn’t your shadow, as long as he’s standing in your shadow, he’ll imitate you. That’s just how he works."
Blinking, Serah glanced down, realizing for the first time that Phantom’s feet were planted directly in her own shadow, his inky form overlapping hers. Every small motion she made—whether it was her hand brushing a strand of hair or the subtle shift of her stance—Phantom mirrored exactly, as if her body dictated his existence.
A soft laugh escaped her lips. "Well, I guess I can say he’s cute. Far cuter than you, at least." Her eyes flicked to Marcus with a sly smirk.
Marcus let out a loud pfft and scoffed, feigning indignation. "Like I care. You admitted I’m cute—doesn’t matter how you spin it. A win’s still a win."
Serah’s smile faltered into a narrow-eyed glare, irritation flickering across her face at how effortlessly he turned her jab back on her. She rolled her eyes, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a comeback, and instead shifted her attention back to Phantom.
Her gaze softened, a genuine warmth in her eyes as she whispered, "Then I suppose I’ll thank you, Phantom, since you’re the one who stayed with me and brought me back."
She paused, then glanced sideways at Marcus. "And you as well. I know Phantom wouldn’t have lingered without your word. That much is obvious. I can’t say I’m not grateful."
Marcus straightened with mock grandeur, one hand across his chest, and gave her an overdramatic bow. "You’re most welcome, my dear princess. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got wood to split. You can go wander off with Phantom if you’d like. And once I’m done here—" his lips curled into a mischievous grin—"we’ll finally have that lover’s talk you’ve been desperately waiting for."
Serah spun toward him, her face igniting red. "It’s not a lover’s talk!" she snapped, her voice cracking slightly as she searched for words. "It’s... it’s..."
"Hmm?" Marcus tilted his head, his teasing tone dripping with mock innocence. "It’s what, princess?"
Serah’s mouth opened, then closed. Her cheeks burned hotter, and silence hung between them. Finally, with an exasperated groan, she rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. "Ugh. Forget it. Let’s go, Phantom."
She turned on her heel, her auburn hair swishing behind her as she strode off. Phantom followed without hesitation, his faceless form trailing her every movement like a devoted shadow.
Marcus watched them depart, his grin widening into a laugh. He leaned back against the tree, arms crossed, chuckling to himself. "Gods above, she makes it too easy."