The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Cerys stared, equal parts skeptical and impressed.

"Are you seriously making a—"

"A goblin, yes," he interrupted, his focus unwavering. He grabbed the mask next, securing it to the top of the makeshift frame. The mask tilted awkwardly to one side, but with a quick adjustment and a strip of rope, he stabilized it. The hollow eyes of the mask stared back at him, unsettling in the dim moonlight.

"Not bad," he muttered, wiping his brow.

"But it needs more detail." His hands moved with the precision of an artist as he reached for the frayed rope, untying strands and wrapping them around the stakes to mimic the tattered look of goblin armor. He knotted the ends carefully, ensuring they wouldn't unravel.

"What about the hands?" Cerys asked, her voice low but tense.

"Goblin King's minions had claws."

Mikhailis nodded, his fingers already digging into the dirt. He unearthed two jagged sticks, their gnarled edges resembling clawed fingers. He attached them to the ends of the "arms" with more strips of fabric, adjusting their angles until they looked menacing enough.

"Perfect," he whispered, stepping back to survey his work. The goblin figure was rough, hastily constructed, but in the dim light and with Vyrelda's current state, it might just pass.

"Now for the finishing touch."

He reached for a charred piece of wood from the remnants of an old campfire nearby, rubbing it against the mask and stakes to darken them. The soot added an extra layer of authenticity, mimicking the grime of a goblin's skin and armor. He smeared some across his own hands, then wiped it off on the figure's torso, leaving faint streaks for texture.

Cerys's expression softened slightly as she watched.

"You're good at this."

"Years of practice," he replied with a wry smile, his hands moving to position the goblin in the clearing. He adjusted its posture, tilting the head forward and bending the "arms" into a defensive stance. The pose mirrored the one he remembered so vividly—the Goblin King shielding Vyrelda during their encounter.

"Okay," he said, stepping back and brushing his hands against his pants. "That should do it."

Cerys glanced at the figure, then at him.

"You really think she'll fall for this?"

"She's drunk, sentimental, and half out of her mind," Mikhailis replied, his smirk returning despite the tension.

"It's worth a shot."

The sound of Vyrelda's footsteps grew louder, her erratic pace sending vibrations through the ground. Mikhailis and Cerys crouched lower behind the rock, their breaths shallow as they watched her approach.

"Are you there~?" Vyrelda's voice called out, sing-song and slurred, but with an eerie edge that made Mikhailis's skin crawl.

As she stumbled into the clearing, her eyes locked onto the makeshift goblin. For a moment, the wild energy that had radiated from her seemed to dissipate. She froze, her sword lowering slightly as she stared at the figure with an expression that was almost… tender.

"Mr. Goblin…" she whispered, her voice trembling with an emotion that neither Mikhailis nor Cerys could decipher.

"You saved me…"

Mikhailis exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Cerys. It's working.
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"She's distracted," he mouthed, nudging Cerys gently.

"Let's go."

Cerys hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on Vyrelda. The scene was surreal, almost heartbreaking in its vulnerability. But Mikhailis tugged her arm, and she nodded, following him as they began to slip away from the clearing.

As they distanced themselves from Vyrelda, the oppressive weight of her presence began to lift, like a storm cloud finally drifting away after an endless deluge. They didn't stop until they were deep in the woods, the trees thickening around them in a protective embrace. The faint hum of crickets and the rustle of leaves gradually returned, a reassuring backdrop that hinted at safety, though their hearts still pounded with residual terror.

When they finally collapsed onto the ground, the forest floor felt both alien and comforting beneath their trembling bodies. Mikhailis rolled onto his back, staring up at the canopy above as his chest heaved with the effort of drawing breath. Each inhale was sharp, a reminder of the oppressive force that had chased them only moments ago. Beside him, Cerys had sunk to her knees, her hands braced against the ground as she fought to steady her breathing.

"That… was insane," she said between gasps, her voice breaking slightly as she struggled to regain her composure. Her words hung in the air, a shared acknowledgment of the chaos they had just survived.

Mikhailis nodded weakly, still lying flat on the ground.

"Tell me about it," he managed, his tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

"I think I aged a decade back there."

Cerys shot him a sideways glance, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing her face despite the lingering tension.

"You're the one who decided to stop and build a goblin," she said, her voice sharper now but still tinged with incredulity.

"Hey," Mikhailis retorted, propping himself up on one elbow.

"That goblin saved our lives. I think it deserves a little respect." He attempted a grin, though it was more strained than his usual smirk.

The moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above cast a soft glow over their surroundings, turning the clearing into a tranquil oasis compared to the chaos they had left behind. Mikhailis's gaze drifted to Cerys as she sat back on her heels, her red hair falling in disarray around her shoulders. Her usual ponytail had come undone during their frantic escape, no, he's not even using one from the beginning, but the loose waves framed her face in a way that caught him off guard.

Her sleeping wear, damp with sweat and clinging to her skin, accentuated the sharp angles of her features—the strong line of her jaw, the determined set of her lips, and the intensity in her green eyes as they scanned the woods for any sign of danger. She looked fierce and vulnerable all at once, a contradiction that made Mikhailis's breath hitch for reasons entirely unrelated to their earlier sprint.

Cerys turned her head and caught him staring. Her eyes widened slightly before a faint blush crept across her cheeks. She glanced down, seemingly self-conscious as she noticed the state she was in. Her hair, her attire, even the sweat glistening on her skin—all of it suddenly felt exposed under his gaze.

"What?" she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with uncertainty.

Mikhailis blinked, realizing he'd been caught. He opened his mouth to deflect with a joke, but the words died in his throat as his own embarrassment caught up with him. He shifted awkwardly, only to freeze as he noticed her gaze drop lower. She wasn't looking at his face anymore.

Oh, no.

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. His body had betrayed him, and there was no escaping it. Heat rushed to his face as he tried—and failed—to adjust himself subtly without drawing more attention to the obvious.

Cerys's blush deepened, spreading from her cheeks to the tips of her ears, but she didn't look away. Her green eyes flickered back to his, a mix of mortification and something else swirling in their depths. Her gaze, however, began to shift downward, hesitating before settling just below his waist. The realization struck Mikhailis like a thunderclap, his breath catching as he followed her line of sight.

It's a boner. A huge boner that completely make his giant thing seem like it about to burst from his pants.

No... no, no, no. His face burned with embarrassment as he realized the undeniable truth—his arousal was painfully obvious.

Cerys's eyes lingered for a moment too long, her lips parting slightly as her cheeks flushed even deeper. Her expression was a mixture of shock and something far more ambiguous, an unspoken tension that made Mikhailis want to disappear into the forest floor. He instinctively shifted, his hands twitching as though to shield himself, but the movement only seemed to draw more attention to the situation. Her gaze snapped back to his, wide and filled with a vulnerability that caught him off guard.

"Uh," Mikhailis started, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, trying to recover.

"This... uh, this isn't what it looks like."

Cerys raised an eyebrow, her blush still glowing but a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Really? Because it looks pretty... obvious," she murmured, her tone wavering between teasing and flustered.

Mikhailis groaned inwardly, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of a way out of this increasingly mortifying situation.

This can't be happening. But her lingering stare and the soft hitch in her breath told him that neither of them was quite ready to break the moment.

After what felt like an eternity, she broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you want to… continue where we left off?"