SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 498: In Good Hands

Trafalgar sat in the middle of the room while Mayla stood behind him with a comb in one hand and the scissors in the other, drawing the black strands forward with slow, practiced movements.

"Don’t cut too much."

Mayla smiled at that without stopping. "You can relax. You’re in good hands." She ran the comb through his hair again, neat and patient. "Who do you think has been cutting it your whole life? I know exactly how you like it. Long enough to tie it back, short enough that it doesn’t start annoying you every morning."

Trafalgar let out a faint breath through his nose. "It sounds like you know me very well."

"I do."

That answer came so simply that he did not even try to argue with it.

After a moment, he said, "You told me earlier that you wanted to talk to me alone. Was there something specific?"

Mayla adjusted a section near his shoulder before answering. "Not really. I just wanted time with you." Her voice stayed easy, but softer than before. "You look tired, Trafalgar. I thought being here and resting a little might do you good." The comb moved again through his hair. "And when you said you’ll finally be focusing on the academy, I was glad."

Trafalgar’s eyes lifted slightly. "You don’t want me putting myself in danger again."

The scissors gave their first clean sound.

"Do you really need to ask that?" Mayla said. "Why would I want the most important person in my life throwing himself into danger every time something goes wrong?" She gathered another lock between her fingers. "You don’t like it either when I’m somewhere you can’t keep an eye on me. Not when something might happen and you’re not there."

Trafalgar tried to turn his head to look at her.

Mayla caught it at once and held his head in place with one hand. "If you move, you’ll end up bald. So sit still."

That earned the faintest trace of a smile from him. "Fine."

Mayla’s own smile deepened a little as she kept working. The scissors moved again, light and precise.

After a few seconds, Trafalgar said, "You’re right, though. I got into something big in the last war. Now everyone is watching me."

"And that’s a bad thing?" Mayla asked.

He thought about it. "Not entirely."

"Then I suppose that part is good for you," she said. "Even if I still prefer having more of you to myself."

Trafalgar glanced at her through the mirror, catching the quiet honesty in her face. "That sounds a little possessive."

"It is." She did not even try to soften it. "I don’t see the point in pretending otherwise with you."

That drew a faint breath from him that almost passed for a laugh.

Then Mayla’s hands resumed their work. The comb moved through his hair once more, and the scissors followed after it with soft, measured cuts.

A moment later, her voice changed slightly.

"What Rhosyn said before... about the Void Creatures. Is that really possible?"

Trafalgar’s expression flattened a little at that. "Yes."

Mayla watched him through the mirror.

He went on after a brief pause. "Worst case, something like that happens in a decade. Best case, we get a few more decades than that. Either way, it means the same thing for me. By then I need to be strong enough to protect you, Aubrelle, and the others."

Mayla’s hands slowed for half a second.

"The others?" she asked.

Trafalgar looked at her reflection. "I mean the people important to me."

Mayla moved around the chair then, coming to stand in front of him so she could fix the front properly. She lifted the comb, gathered part of his fringe between her fingers, and studied it with that same concentration she always had when doing something with care.

"I know what you mean," she said. "Your friends. The people close to you. The ones you would never leave behind." Her eyes lifted to his for a moment. "But I also understand perfectly well that some girls would fall for you. We already talked about that."

Trafalgar went quiet.

Mayla noticed and smiled faintly. "See? That silence tells me enough."

He clicked his tongue softly. "You’re making it sound as if I go around collecting people."

"No." Her fingers adjusted another strand before the scissors moved again. "I’m saying you’re the kind of person people end up following, whether you mean to or not. Sometimes that becomes loyalty. Sometimes admiration. Sometimes something more troublesome."

Trafalgar looked at her for a second longer. "And you’re surprisingly calm about that."

Mayla’s smile stayed where it was. "I have to be realistic if I want to stay beside you. Besides, I know you." She trimmed the last bit of hair hanging over his forehead and added, quieter now, "You would never keep someone near unless they are truly important to you."

A few seconds later, Mayla lowered the scissors and stepped back.

"There. Done."

Trafalgar ran one hand lightly through his hair, testing the length. It sat where he liked it now, clean enough to tie back without the extra weight that had been bothering him.

"Good," he said.

Mayla smiled. "Of course it’s good."

He rose from the chair, leaned in, and gave her a short kiss before saying, "Thanks."

Mayla’s eyes softened at that. "You don’t need to thank me for something I’ve always done."

"Maybe not. I’m still doing it."

She let out a quiet laugh and bent to gather some of the cut hair from the floor. "Then at least stay tonight. I want you to rest properly." She glanced up at him for a second. "Tomorrow you finally go back to your peaceful academy routine. It would be nice if you reached it looking like someone who actually slept."

Trafalgar gave a small nod. "Fine. I’ll stay."

Mayla smiled to herself and reached for the broom.

Then his voice stopped her.

"There is one more thing."

She looked over her shoulder. "What is it?"

Trafalgar stood where he was, watching her. For once, he did not circle around it.

"I probably should have asked this earlier," he said. "But I want to ask it now." A brief pause followed. "Mayla, do you want to marry me?"

The broom slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a soft wooden sound.

She just stared at him.

For a second, then another.

The words had clearly reached her. They simply left her with nothing to answer them with.

Trafalgar waited.

Mayla’s lips parted, but no sound came out. In the end she only nodded, once, then again, more firmly this time, her eyes already saying more than her voice could manage.

That was enough.

A faint breath left Trafalgar through his nose.

He had kept the promise.

Aubrelle had asked him to do it, and now it was done. Valttair would hear about it later through Caelum. He could deal with the old man’s opinion when the time came.

Mayla finally found enough breath to speak, though it came out almost as a whisper. "Yes."

The word was late, but it still reached him.

After that, the rest of the night turned quiet again.

They cleaned up together, put things back in place, and when at last they lay down, Trafalgar found sleep coming easier than it had in a long time.

That night, for once, he rested well.