Extra is the Heir of Life and Death

Chapter 196: MORNING WOOD!

I woke up hard.

Not metaphorically.

Not emotionally.

Physically.

Immediately.

With the kind of ruthless biological enthusiasm that made my brain reboot in sheer panic before anything else could kick in.

For exactly half a second, I lay there staring at the ceiling, utterly still, wondering if this was some kind of divine punishment for happiness.

Then reality hit.

Oh no. Morning wood...

I turned my head slowly.

Carefully.

Like I was disarming a bomb.

Belle was still there.

Asleep.

Peaceful.

Completely unaware of the internal chaos detonating beside her.

I exhaled so hard my soul briefly left my body.

Thank every god, dead or otherwise.

She lay on her side facing me, long black hair spread across the pillow like spilled ink, her blindfold gone, her face fully visible in the morning light filtering through the curtains.

Her violet eyes were closed now, lashes resting softly against her cheeks, but even like this—especially like this—I could see it.

Proof.

Undeniable proof.

The curse was gone.

Her eyes were normal. Healthy. Real.

A stupid, soft smile crept across my face before I could stop it.

I’d done it.

I’d actually done it.

All the pain, the trials, the cave trying to kill me in increasingly creative ways, the existential dread, the philosophical suffering, the drowning, the psychological warfare, the ghost god thing, every last bit of it had led here.

Belle could see again.

And she was here. Sleeping beside me. Breathing softly. Alive. Safe.

And possibly, maybe, my girlfriend?

I stared at her for a long moment, my mind tripping over that word like it was a loose step on a staircase.

Girlfriend.

We hadn’t said it. There hadn’t been a declaration. No labels. No official proclamation involving fireworks or dramatic music.

But we’d kissed. More than once. She’d fallen asleep in my arms. I’d woken up like this, which my body clearly thought was significant.

So.

Probably.

Yeah.

My smile widened.

Then I remembered the very real, very inconvenient situation currently occurring under the blanket.

Right.

Problem.

Carefully, so carefully, I shifted away from Belle, inch by agonizing inch, until I was absolutely certain she wouldn’t wake.

She murmured softly in her sleep and rolled slightly toward the warmth I’d just abandoned, and my heart did something deeply unhelpful.

I froze again.

She didn’t wake.

I moved.

I slid out of bed like a criminal escaping a crime scene, grabbed the blanket, and tactically adjusted it in a way that preserved everyone’s dignity.

Then I stood there for a second, hands on my hips, staring down at the bed like it had personally attacked me.

"Get a grip," I whispered to myself. "You survived worse."

I grabbed clothes and fled to the bathroom.

The shower was cold.

Not by accident.

I stood under the freezing water, hands braced against the tiles, letting the shock rip through me like a hard reset. Steam rose anyway because apparently my body thought now was the perfect time to be extremely alive.

I sighed.

"Traitor," I muttered to myself.

As the water ran, my thoughts slowed. The adrenaline drained. The morning stupidity faded into something manageable. I let myself breathe, really breathe, and by the time I turned the water off, I felt human again.

Still smiling, though.

I dried off, got dressed, and stepped back into the bedroom quietly.

Belle hadn’t moved much. She was still curled into the warm hollow I’d left behind, one hand clutching the blanket, expression relaxed in a way I’d never seen before.

Seeing her like that, unburdened, unguarded, hit me harder than any trial ever had.

I swallowed.

Then I quietly left the room and headed for the kitchen.

If I couldn’t sleep anymore, I could at least do something useful.

Breakfast.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the kitchen like it was a battlefield.

Alright. Think. What do people make for breakfast after emotionally life-altering events?

Eggs seemed safe.

Eggs were neutral.

Eggs were comforting.

Eggs didn’t require advanced culinary expertise or emotional preparedness.

I cracked a few into a bowl, whisked them with practiced ease, and started heating a pan. The familiar sounds, the sizzle, the clink of utensils, settled me. This, I knew. This was grounding.

While the eggs cooked, I made tea.

Belle liked tea.

I remembered that with a quiet sense of triumph, like I’d passed some invisible test.

I set everything out neatly. Plates, cups, bread, and butter. Simple, warm, and real.

Then I waited.

I leaned against the counter, arms folded, glancing toward the hallway every few seconds like an idiot.

She didn’t come immediately.

So I waited.

And waited.

And thought.

About the cave. About the power. About the cost. About how close I’d come to losing everything. About how none of that mattered as much as the fact that Belle was here, alive, seeing, free.

I thought about the future.

Which was terrifying.

And exciting.

And completely undefined.

A soft sound came from the hallway.

Footsteps.

I straightened immediately, heart jumping like I was about to be caught doing something illegal.

Belle appeared in the doorway.

Her hair was a mess. Her posture relaxed. She blinked once, twice, violet eyes adjusting to the light—and then she looked straight at me.

Actually looked.

Not toward my voice. Not vaguely in my direction.

At me.

She smiled.

And I forgot how to function.

Just completely.

Utterly.

Brain empty.

She took a step into the kitchen, eyes moving around like she was cataloging the world all over again. The sunlight through the window. The steam rising from the pan. Me, standing there like a stunned idiot with a spatula in my hand.

"I can smell breakfast," she said softly. "So I’m guessing I didn’t imagine everything."

I laughed, the sound a little breathless. "Nope. All real. Eyes included."

She blinked again, then looked at me, really looked, and her smile softened into something warm and genuine.

"Good," she said.

I gestured vaguely at the counter. "I, uh. Made eggs. And tea. I wasn’t sure what people do after... you know. Everything."

She walked closer, boots quiet on the floor, and peered at the food with exaggerated seriousness. "Eggs are an excellent post-trauma choice."

"Thank you," I said solemnly. "I trained for years."

She laughed.

And just like that, the world felt right.

We ate together, talking about nothing important at all. The weather. The taste of the tea. How weird it was to wake up without impending doom.

I watched her see things. Really see them. The way her eyes lingered on small details, the way she tilted her head when something caught her attention. I didn’t interrupt. Didn’t comment. I just let her have it.

I could wait.

I’d waited this long already.

And for the first time in a very long while, I wasn’t afraid of what came next.

I was just... happy.