Page 154 of The Wishing Game

"Isn't one enough?" I frown.

"You should always aim for a backup plan," he mutters as he repeats the process with the other plant.

"I see." I nod.

We get a total of three plants, carefully placing them inside our bags.

A foolish smile pulls at my lips, my insides trembling with mirth and happiness and optimism.

"We made it, Ze! We found it. I'm so happy." I jump up and down as I twirl around.

He just stands there, an inscrutable expression on his face as he stares at me.

"That we did," he speaks slowly.

I raise a brow at him, but he simply shakes his head.

"Happiness looks good on you, Luce," he murmurs, walking toward me in that dignified manner of his, spine straight, hands behind his back.

"I bet it would look good on you, too. Come!" I grab his hand and pull him along with me, running around in the field until we reach a portion where the plants are not as tall. Without saying a word, I throw myself on my back, cushioned by the softness of the grass.

I wave my arms and legs back and forth, creating the shape of an angel and feeling the light caress of the grass against my skin. The ground is damp and cool, but I barely register the discomfort. At the moment, the only thing that matters is that we did it. We found the plant!

Ze tilts his head, a frown marring his features.

"What are you doing?"

"Having fun, Ze. You should try it!"

He looks at me, then at the grass, then back at me, the frown on his face deepening.

"Just come," I urge him.

He ponders it for a few moments before he stiffly lies down on the grass next to me. He's on his back, his hands glued to his sides as he stares up at the sky.

I glance at him, noticing he doesn't move a muscle as he lies there as if he were made of stone.

"How do you feel?" I ask as I turn onto my side, propping my head on my arm to look at him.

"It is wet," he replies drily. "And cold."

I roll my eyes.

"I didn't ask how the ground feels. I am very much aware that it's not comfortable. But how doyoufeel?" I inquire anxiously, hoping to spark at least some joy in his barren heart. The more I learn about him and his life, the more I feel sorry for him and the prison he's locked himself in—all in order to excel at his job. I admire him for wanting to do his duty and protect people from demons, but that doesn't mean he cannot take time to himself, relax, and simply enjoy life.

He's over seven thousand years old, for God's sake, and he's never read a book for enjoyment.

If that's not a crime, then I don't know what is.

He seems confused by my question.

"I... I do not know," he blinks.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

He's silent for what seems like forever, his body tensing until the high definition of his muscles becomes visible through his loose clothing. Still gazing at the sky, he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he releases a deep, agonizing breath.

A sliver of anxiety courses through me as I shuffle closer to him, my hand midair as I reach for him. But just before I can touch him, he speaks.

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