Standing close behind him, Stella wrapped her arms around his waist in a warm embrace.
"Thank you..." she whispered, her breath soft against his back.
"What for?" Dexter asked, his voice unusually gentle.
"For staying with me... for saving me... for everything."
He turned in her arms to face her, his hands sliding down to hold hers as their eyes met.
"You shouldn't thank me," he murmured. "If anything, I'm the one who's grateful — you're the only thing keeping me sane these days."
Stella's cheeks dimpled as she smiled.
"You know... after all these years together, we almost feel like husband and wife."
Dexter choked on air, completely unprepared for her bold declaration.
'How could you be my wife? I've never even considered... And yet, I do care for you. If you weren't an AI, I would have loved you properly.' The thought ached in his chest.
"Stella, I don't know if you understand... but I can't love you." The words tasted bitter as he spoke them.
Stella's face crumpled. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the floor.
"I know... You keep calling me AI. I don't even understand what that means." A sob caught in her throat.
"Is it so wrong to love me? Just because I'm this... 'AI' you speak of? What's so terrible about being me?"
She swiped at her tears furiously, but they kept flowing. Dexter reached out helplessly, his hands hovering.
"Hey... don't cry. I'm sorry—"
"It's fine. I understand." She turned away, voice breaking. "I know I'm not worthy of your heart."
The words struck Dexter like a physical blow. Before he could think, he caught her wrist.
"That's not true." His thumb brushed her trembling hand.
"I do... care for you, Stella. It's just—" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I know one day you'll disappear. And that... that would destroy me."
Stella froze, then slowly turned to face him. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she searched his face.
"So... you have feelings for me, but you're too afraid to act on them? Because I might disappear someday?"
Suddenly, her small frame trembled with unexpected intensity as she shouted,
"BE A MAN, DEX! Won't you regret it even more if I'm gone — knowing you deliberately denied yourself happiness?"
Her voice cracked as she continued,
"This is always how it goes... Seeing you so vulnerable makes me want to protect you, but I can't. I don't have a power same as you." A bitter laugh escaped her.
"Did being Archmagus make you too proud to love someone as weak as me?"
Dexter crushed her against his chest, one hand cradling her head as she buried her face in his cloak.
"That's not it," he murmured into her hair. "I have to be strong... to protect what matters most."
"Then..." Stella's muffled voice trembled, "am I not important to you?" Her fingers clutched desperately at his sleeves.
Dexter's mind flooded with memories — their chance meeting in the Starting Area, Stella's infectious laughter that once made his world stop, the meals she painstakingly prepared, all those simple gestures she'd done into their daily life.
But most of all, he remembered her constant presence, her unwavering companionship that had become his anchor.
'Is loving an AI truly wrong?' The question twisted in his chest, blurring the lines of his reality.
'To hell with consequences! Why obsess over tomorrow when I'm immortal anyway? Better to seize happiness now and deal with regrets later.'
With sudden determination, he cradled Stella's face in both hands and kissed her — not gently, but with all the pent-up longing he'd denied for so long.
…
Dexter awoke to find his arms still wrapped around Stella's naked body. He reluctantly loosened his embrace, his skin tingling where it had pressed against hers.
'Does this make me an "experienced man" now?' he wondered with quiet amusement.
Leaning down, he brushed his lips against Stella's forehead. The gentle contact stirred her awake, and when her eyes fluttered open, she greeted him with a smile so radiant it could outshine the morning sun.
"Good morning, Dex~" Stella chirped, stretching like a sunlit cat.
"Morning, Stella..." Dexter replied, his voice still rough with sleep.
After changing into his default clothing loincloth, Dexter helped Stella dress with deliberate care — each movement measured, uncertain where the line fell between courtesy and intimacy.
Yet Stella only smiled, reminded of her royal maids' ministrations back home, though now it felt different. Special. Because it was her man tending to her.
Once dressed in her flowing white gown, they visited an upscale restaurant where breakfast cost more than most earned in a month. When Stella eyed the prices nervously, Dexter just winked and tapped his forearm.
"My treat," he murmured.
What followed was Stella ordering enough food to provision a small caravan — not that Dexter minded. Watching her eat with unrestrained joy was worth every coins.
As he watched Stella's joyful eating, Dexter's chest tightened.
'This is exactly what I want to give my sister back home — the freedom to enjoy life without worries.'
After breakfast, they walked to the North Gate together.
"Remember," Dexter said, adjusting Stella's hood,
"whisper me immediately if anything happens. And stay inside the Safe Zone." His voice softened. "Once I buy that island, you can plant whatever gardens you want. Your own paradise."
Stella rose on her toes to peck his cheek.
"Stop fussing, Dex~ I'll just explore the plaza today. Go do your little hunts — I'll be right here waiting."
Their lingering embrace and forehead kiss drew envious glares from nearby players.
"Tch. Lucky bastard with his premium waifu," someone muttered.
Dexter mounted his mule with final glance at Stella. As the gates closed behind him, his expression hardened — the North's PK Zone awaited, and newbie hunters always made easy prey.
Upon entering the Tier VI zone, Dexter immediately headed for the nearest dungeon. With a flick of his wrist, he stored his mule inside his bracers — along with the sabertooth he'd forgotten to show Stella after last night's... distractions.
The dungeon's mouth yawned before him, dark and hungry.
Dexter leaned against the stone archway, a predator patiently awaiting prey that would never see death coming.