Lost You Forever: Unwritten Fates

The Bath of Revelation

Beggar's POV:

The water sloshed softly in the tub as the beggar washed himself, his movements deliberate but slow. He had long grown used to this routine: the warmth of the water easing his aching muscles, the presence of his mysterious savior nearby, always ready with calm words and gentle hands to tend his wounds.

Today, though, felt different. There was an odd tension in the air that the beggar couldn't quite place. He felt it in the way his savior handed him the cloth, in the way their soft voice carried just a hint of hesitation when they said, "You wash yourself. Your hair isn't fully grown back yet, so don't scrub too hard."

The beggar began to scrub his skin carefully, his eyes closed as he focused on the soothing sensation of the warm water. As he washed, the familiar sounds of his savior moving around the room kept him grounded—until, abruptly, there was a loud crunch.

The beggar opened his eyes and glanced toward his savior, who was now sitting nearby, nibbling on a snack and looking oddly tense. The sunlight poured in through the window, bathing his savior in soft, golden light. 

His hand moved lower, absently following the motions of washing his body as his mind focused elsewhere—until he reached between his legs.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his savior's entire posture change. Xiao Liu, normally composed and calm, suddenly stiffened, his face growing even redder as he looked away hurriedly.

The beggar stilled for a moment, piecing together the scene before him. His savior, who had been watching him in silence for weeks, always keeping close but never too close—was now visibly embarrassed.

He was staring at the ground, his eyes darting anywhere but his body. His hands, normally so steady, fidgeted awkwardly at his sides. His face flushed deeper, and he seemed to struggle for composure. Then, without saying a word, he abruptly stood up and walked away, not even bothering to finish the thought that had clearly been on the tip of her tongue.

His retreat was quick, almost as if he was fleeing the room. The beggar blinked, still processing what had just happened.

That embarrassment wasn't the reaction of someone who had merely been uncomfortable with the scene. No, this was something else—something deeper. His instincts, honed by his ancestry and sharpened by years of survival, told him that the person who had been caring for him all this time wasn't the man he had assumed.

No ordinary person could deceive him for so long. His bloodline—descended from the legendary nine-tailed fox deities—was sensitive to magic and illusion. Now, for the first time, he noticed a faint disturbance in the air, like a veil slipping just slightly out of place.

His savior wasn't a man.

The beggar felt his breath catch in his throat as understanding dawned on him. The magical barrier that hid her identity had concealed her from most eyes, but not from his. The truth was suddenly clear: the one who had tended to his wounds, brought him flowers, and kept him company with stories and soft words, was not a man at all.

She was a woman.

The beggar remained still in the tub, his mind racing. Xiao Liu—his healer—had been hiding her true identity all along. He could see now why she had avoided looking at him, why her hands had trembled slightly when he began washing himself. Her embarrassment, her flustered retreat—it all made sense.

She had saved him, healed him, and kept her secret buried beneath layers of illusion. But now, her secret was exposed, at least to him.

As he leaned back in the warm water, a strange feeling settled over him. Gratitude, curiosity, and something else—something softer—mixed within him. He didn't know what this revelation meant, not yet. But for now, he would keep her secret, just as she had kept him safe.

For now, he would stay silent. But the truth hung between them, waiting for the day it would be acknowledged.