Chapter Six: A Ghost's Quiet Plea
The ruined streets stretched out in front of them, broken glass crunching underfoot as Crow led the way.
Nine-Tails and Queen Bee floated behind him, the undead hound pacing at his side.
Seraphina followed silently, her body half-fading into the mist like a phantom.
But something was off.
Crow felt it — a small, persistent tug at the edge of his awareness.
He stopped without turning around.
"...What is it?" he asked.
Seraphina flinched — almost imperceptibly — then stepped closer, her head bowed slightly.
Her hands, normally resting calmly at her sides, fidgeted with the hilt of her blade.
Her voice, when it came, was almost a whisper.
"...M-master," she said, her words stiff, awkward, as if unused to speaking desires aloud.
"May I... may I have more...?"
Crow raised an eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder.
More?
He waited, amused.
Seraphina's cheeks — or at least the ghostly echo of them — tinted faintly blue with embarrassment.
She pressed on, voice barely louder than the crumbling wind:
"...More head pats... please."
The words were so soft they almost vanished.
Crow blinked.
The mighty Ghost Blade, the one who had butchered armies, was asking for pats like a scolded puppy.
He turned fully toward her now, studying the way she fidgeted, the way her misty tails drooped slightly — no, wait, those were the fragments of her ghost cloak, reacting like a living thing.
Crow smirked.
"You fought well," he said casually, even though they hadn't fought anything yet.
Her ghostly figure stiffened with pride.
"Come here," he ordered, voice firm.
Seraphina stepped forward immediately, standing before him, hands folded behind her back like a disciplined knight.
Yet the anticipation in her eyes betrayed her.
Crow raised his hand again — and gave her another slow, steady series of head pats.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six this time.
Seraphina practically melted, her ghostly form shimmering brighter with each touch, her legs trembling slightly as if struggling to stay formal and dignified.
After the last pat, Crow let his hand fall.
"Earn more later," he said, his voice low, almost teasing.
Seraphina nodded sharply — but her eyes shone with an unspoken vow.
She would.
She would fight armies, tear through monsters, burn the world itself if it meant earning even a few more of those gentle, precious touches.
Crow turned back to the path ahead.
Behind him, his ghost knight followed with silent, glowing joy.
END OF CHAPTER SIX