【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

Chapter 450 [Empire] Macabaka-style date

Nightingale was stunned for a moment, seemingly amused by my words. He stared at me for a long moment, his brows raised slightly, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He probably didn't expect me to make such a seemingly simple yet profound suggestion at this moment.

"Date?" He smiled, his voice low and gentle. "You mean, a formal one?"

I nodded. Although I was a little flustered, I still mustered up the courage to look at him. "Well, let's just have a normal date, in a relaxed mood, and have a good chat. Maybe... maybe we can get to know each other more clearly."

Nightingale lowered her head, seemingly considering my proposal. The momentary silence made me uneasy. I began to wonder if my proposal was too rash. After all, I knew the complexity of this relationship better than anyone else.

"Do you think this is stupid?" I asked suddenly nervously.

He turned his head, his eyes soft and he smiled gently: "No, it's actually quite good. We should really do this."

I breathed a sigh of relief and couldn't help but smile. "That's settled then. When does it start?"

"Let's start now." He said calmly, "Since you brought it up, we have to do it well."

I was a little surprised, but relieved. Although there had always been a subtle distance between us, at that moment, I felt a long-lost sense of peace. I didn't say anything else, just nodded, ready for our "official date."

Nightingale looked at me and smiled again: "Let's go somewhere to talk."

He stood up and extended his hand, as if inviting me to walk towards a new starting point together.

I looked into his eyes and smiled shyly, "Okay."

Then, we walked out of the house together and embarked on this new journey that seemed simple but was full of unknowns.

Nightingale and I walked down the street. Even though we'd been together for so long, the feeling of "dating" still felt a little strange. We knew so much about each other, so many details had been foreshadowed in our daily interactions. But once it became a so-called "date," this superficial unfamiliarity quietly surfaced.

The night streets were lit with mottled lights, and the air was filled with the chill and freshness of winter. I instinctively shoved my hands into my pockets, feeling the coolness. Although there were many people around, it felt like the world between Nightingale and me was just the two of us. Every step was cautious, as if there was an invisible layer of glass on the ground, afraid to break anything and ruin this precious atmosphere.

Nightingale occasionally glanced at me, a vaguely searching look in his eyes. He wasn't one to express his emotions easily, and even now, the atmosphere of this "date" seemed to make him feel a little uneasy. I could sense that he was no longer the usual playful and aloof Nightingale. Instead, he had become tentative, reserved, as if waiting for some reaction from me.

"Tell me, how does a normal date go?" I broke the silence with a hint of lighthearted teasing in my voice. Although I said this, I felt a sense of unease in my heart, as if this was the first time I was facing him, and not just the Nightingale I could talk to without restraint.

He was slightly stunned, chuckled and said, "You ask me? I seem to understand this kind of thing even less than you do." His tone was softer than usual, as if he was deliberately finding an excuse for himself.

"Are we going to stay like this?" I couldn't help but feel anxious and curled my lips slightly. "It doesn't matter. We can do things differently and just take a walk."

He paused, a complex emotion flashed in his eyes, and then nodded silently: "Okay."

Despite our attempts to relax, that air of detachment still hung over us. I've discovered that the most challenging aspect of dating someone I know well isn't the silence, but the hidden meanings hidden in those fleeting glances and words. Every word, every gesture, even every casual smile, seems to be magnified by the other person, a slight touch evoking deeper reflection.

We walked aimlessly for a long time, and suddenly I stopped, turned to him and said, "You know, with a relationship like ours, it's really hard for people to figure out what we are." I said softly, in a low voice, as if testing my true feelings.

Nightingale looked at me, frowning slightly. That deep look in her eyes seemed to become more complicated in an instant: "Well, maybe. Between us, many things don't need clear definitions."

"Do you find this kind of vagueness tiring?" I asked softly, a little uneasy in my eyes.

He was silent for a while, as if he thought for a long time before answering: "I don't think so. At least it's easier than some clear-cut relationships." His voice was low and steady, as if giving me an answer that could not be refuted.

I was suddenly speechless. Actually, I understood what he was trying to say. Often, relationships don't necessarily need clear boundaries; rather, blurred boundaries can create greater freedom, less constraints, and more privacy.

Nightingale glanced at me, her lips curled up slightly. "So, let's just stroll around and chat today, like a normal date. But maybe we should be a little less pretentious."

I nodded and smiled: "This is a special date between us."

And this date unfolded quietly amidst this subtle emotional fluctuation that seemed ready to erupt at any moment. We walked further, our steps relaxed, yet it felt like we were embarking on an uncertain journey, unable to find the end, yet unwilling to stop.

Eventually, we ended up wandering onto Mercenary Street. We exchanged glances, each grinning with the intent to mock the other. "Is this an occupational hazard of being a mercenary?" I asked the teacher defiantly.

Nightingale chuckled, with a hint of teasing in his eyes: "You are considered a veteran, and you have even become a part of this pathology." His tone was deliberately relaxed, but his slightly unruly attitude remained unchanged.

"Hey, don't forget, you were the one who got me into this business first," I countered defiantly, a smile playing on my lips. Though my words were joking, a complex mix of emotions welled up inside me. The world of mercenaries is full of gray areas, and things aren't always black and white. Even our relationship often falls into this nebulous boundary.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, seeming a little surprised. "Really? You actually remember what I said back then?" He shook his head slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "But it's not your fault. A place like Mercenary Street is bound to pick up some unpleasant aura every time you come here."

I smiled, casually walked over to a roadside stall, picked up a ripe fruit, and bit into it. The sweetness matched the nightingale's atmosphere strangely. "Is this what you call 'sick'? I'm drawn to these stalls even when I'm walking down the street," I sighed, a touch of helplessness and self-mockery in my words.

Nightingale didn't seem in a hurry to respond. She slowly walked over to me, looked up at the street in the distance, and a deep light flashed in her eyes. "This world is full of contradictions. The more you try to avoid them, the more easily you'll be affected by these seemingly insignificant details. You might even think that small stalls and trivial things like these can actually be relaxing."

I bit into the fruit and smiled softly. "It seems you've already integrated into this morbid 'daily routine,'" I added softly. "But, honestly, Nightingale, sometimes I think this 'disease' isn't entirely bad. At least, it allows me to find something in the endless chaos..."

Nightingale looked at me, a complex smile in her smile. "Have you started to adapt? That's good, at least you'll be able to face these complexities more calmly than I am."

I didn't reply, simply continuing to chew the fruit in my hand. A moment's silence passed. The surrounding streets were still bustling with activity, the clamor gradually drowning out our conversation. Yet, this brief pause, like an invisible thread, quietly connected our hearts—though everything we did seemed insignificant, it was, in some way, deeply intertwined with each other.

Nightingale finally patted my shoulder and said, "Let's go, keep going."

We began our aimless stroll again, continuing on this familiar yet unfamiliar street. Every step seemed to bring us a little closer to the things we didn't want to face, but it also made us more determined. At least at this moment, keeping going was the most important thing.

Finally, at a street corner, I couldn't bear it anymore and ended this Makkabaka date.

In that instant, all thought, all hesitation, vanished. The street lights still flickered above us, and the sounds in the distance faded, but I couldn't hear anything. A cool night breeze filled the air. I gripped Nightingale's collar tightly and pressed him against the wall.

He didn't resist, and even froze for a moment. That moment of stillness was as if we were all waiting for something—waiting for some impulse, some emotion that had been stagnating for too long to erupt.

Then, I kissed her.

This time, the kiss was free of hesitation, filled with a hint of urgency, as if to make up for all the unspoken words. The air was filled with the smell of alcohol and the night, and the beating of my heart almost resonated with the world around me, mixing together and deafening.

He didn't push me away, nor did he speak. He simply responded silently, his movements becoming more urgent. Our breaths intertwined, our bodies growing closer and closer. I felt his arms wrap around me, practically trapping me in the darkness.

I knew I wasn't fully conscious when doing this, but at the moment, I didn't want to dwell on it. Nightingale's presence was like a powerful magnetic field, drawing me in. All rationality crumbled at that moment, leaving only my uncontrollable urge towards him.

Finally, I slowly pulled away from his lips, my breathing becoming a little rapid. We looked at each other, and the emotion flashing in our eyes was clearer than any words - the thing that had been suppressed in my heart for a long time finally found an outlet.

"You..." His voice was low and hoarse, as if he had not yet recovered from the sudden kiss.

I smiled slightly. Although I was still a little uneasy, at this moment, I finally didn't back down. "You know I'm not a casual person," I whispered, "but sometimes, certain things really can't wait any longer."

Nightingale took a deep breath, his eyes complex, as if thinking about something. I no longer waited for his response, but just looked at him quietly, waiting for his reaction.

But in the end, I didn't even have the heart to wait.

In that moment, I practically lost all reason. All hesitation, all caution, vanished in that moment. I stopped thinking about the consequences, the potential misunderstandings, or how I had gotten into this situation. I simply wanted to pull him into my world.

I roughly pulled Nightingale into my arms, my arms tightly wrapped around his back, as if to hold him captive forever. My heartbeat grew faster and faster, as if every beat could shatter my chest. The air grew heavier, and the surrounding clamor seemed to have nothing to do with us. Only the sound of our breathing and heartbeats intertwined.

He was a little surprised, and I could even feel his body stiffen. But soon, his body softened, gradually releasing that seemingly invisible line of defense, responding to my movements. His hands tightly grasped my shoulders, pulling me closer, as if this was a response.

I could feel the warmth of his body and his tense breathing. Nightingale didn't push me away. Instead, as I embraced him, he gradually gave me his strength, as if silently telling me that he didn't reject this closeness.

I don't know how long it took, but finally a trace of rationality returned to my mind. I let go of him slightly, breathing softly, and my eyes met his, a complex mixture of emotions.

"Don't you want to say something?" I asked in a low voice, my eyes were somewhat provocative, with a hint of provocation, but I couldn't help but hide a hint of uneasiness.

He looked at me with deep eyes, as if countless words were swirling in them, but he never spoke. He just exhaled softly and whispered, "You are such a trouble."

"Trouble?" I laughed, feeling a subtle sense of loss, but then I realized I was being ridiculous. Perhaps we were part of this mess. "So, how are you going to solve this problem?"

He was silent for a while, and finally said: "I will take care of it, don't worry."

My heartbeat suddenly quickened, and a hint of anticipation involuntarily surfaced in my eyes. I didn't know how the future would unfold, but at this moment, the distance between us seemed even closer.

"You were so passive just now." I laughed with a somewhat bad tone.

Nightingale's expression paused slightly, as if he wasn't used to my direct provocation. His brows raised slightly, his eyes filled with a hint of disdain, yet also a hint of helplessness.

"You seem quite pleased with yourself." He chuckled softly, his tone carrying an inexplicable provocation and depth. "However, since you enjoy seeing me passive so much, I can show you what true initiative is."

Before he finished speaking, his movements had already quietly changed rhythm. Almost instantly, he pulled me back into his arms, his strength somewhat firm, as if to tell me that he wasn't going to passively allow me to control him. I could still clearly feel the tension and warmth of his body, even hear his slightly rapid breathing.

I was stunned for a moment. I hadn't expected him to strike back so quickly, instantly reversing the prank. The sudden feeling of being controlled was hard to adjust to, and my heart beat erratically, as if every beat reminded me that the game was far from over.

"How is it? How do you feel?" Nightingale whispered softly, with a hint of pride in her tone, but also a rare gentleness.

I resisted the urge to break free and looked at him provocatively, smiling with some disdain, but unable to hide the turmoil in my heart: "You really are good at taking the initiative."

He smiled nonchalantly: "It's just that sometimes, taking some 'active' actions can also let you know that you are not always in control of the situation."

He gently lifted my face and looked at me with deep eyes, as if he wanted to see through my heart at this moment. I knew that my defenses were beginning to be broken down by him bit by bit, but I couldn't pretend to be calm anymore.