LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 601: Heartfelt Gift
Moments later, Kafka returned, a small parcel wrapped in shimmering silk cloth cradled in his hands.
He slipped back into the hot spring with a gentle splash, settling beside her as she watched him with eager eyes.
But before he could speak, Nina moved, climbing onto his lap with a sudden, playful wiggle, her firm ass shifting against his thighs as she sought the perfect spot, water sloshing around them.
She then looked up at him with an impish grin, her voice a teasing lilt.
"Why're you looking at me like that, huh? Got a problem with me sitting on you like this? I wanted to—I like it here, so what're you gonna do about it?"
He blinked, caught off guard, then let out a reluctant laugh, his hands settling on her hips as he smiled down at her.
"My little tigress can sit on my lap whenever she wants—I'm not complaining."
He said, his voice warm with affection as he pulled her closer, one arm wrapping around her neck in a gentle embrace. His cock also stirred beneath her, hardening slightly against her ass, and he grinned mischievously.
"...Especially not when I can feel your sexy little ass on me like this—I don't mind at all."
Nina gasped, slapping his knee with a playful huff, her cheeks flushing a deeper green.
"Kafka! Don't get any dirty thoughts right now I can't handle another round, not with how swollen I am down there!" Her voice was stern, but her eyes sparkled with amusement as she wagged a finger at him.
He chuckled, raising his hands in surrender, his tone softening to a teasing drawl.
"Fine, fine—it's as my princess says. No naughty stuff, I promise." His grin lingered, but his eyes grew gentle as he handed her the silk—wrapped parcel, his fingers brushing hers.
She took it eagerly, her curiosity piqued as she held the small, light package in her hands, its sturdiness intriguing her.
"What's this?" She asked, turning it over with a puzzled frown, her voice bright with wonder. "What's it for—what's the occasion?"
Kafka sighed, his expression shifting to something deeper, more somber as he leaned back, his hand resting on her thigh.
"Well, I know how much you loved your parents, Nina—how much they took care of you, how much they meant to you." He said, his voice low and earnest, his gaze locking with hers.
And at the mention of her parents, her er eyes lit up, her voice bubbling with excitement as she clutched the parcel tighter. "My parents? They were the best, you know—the ultimate parents!"
"They loved me so much, Kafka—you wouldn't believe how they'd dote on me, teach me everything. I was so lucky to have them and without them, I'd be so lost in this world that's always hated me for being different."
Her smile faltered, a shadow creeping into her expression as she looked down at the silk in her hands, her voice softening with a pang of sorrow.
"A-Actually, you know...Today's the day my mother passed away from that awful illness. And all day, because of that I've been feeling so lonely without her. She was the one who shaped me gave me this fierce personality I've got."
She paused, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she traced the cloth with her fingers, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper.
"I used to hate it, you know—how aggressive I can be. It's why people always butted heads with me, why I felt so out of place. But now...I can't help but appreciate it. It's her gift to me—her strength, her fire...It made me who I am, a strong woman who can stand up to anything."
She looked up at him, her gaze tender yet aching.
"And you've told me before—it's one of the reasons you fell for me, isn't it? That strength. So, I owe her so much I wish I could see her again, just once, to tell her how grateful I am."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with love and loss, and a pitiful, sad look settled on her face, her lips trembling as she clutched the parcel like a lifeline.
Kafka's heart broke at the sight, his chest tightening as he watched her eyes glisten with the weight of her grief, her fierce spirit softened by the tender ache of memory.
But Nina quickly shook her head, a small, determined motion as she pushed the sadness aside.
Kafka was here—her anchor, her light—and she didn't want to dim their moment with tears. She tilted her head up at him, her pout softening into a curious smile as she refocused on the gift in her hands.
"Okay, enough of me being gloomy—what's this, Kafka? What's it got to do with my parents?"
Her voice lifted with a playful lilt, her ears twitching as she added with a giggle.
"Did they come to you as ghosts and hand it over? That'd be funny—ridiculous, even! 'Here, Kafka, give this to our little sapling!'"
Kafka chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled her into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around her slender frame as if he needed her warmth to steady himself.
"It's not like that, Nina—no ghostly visits, I promise."
He said, his voice soft but tinged with a nervous edge as he buried his face briefly in her damp hair, drawing strength from her closeness. He then pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his expression shifting to something more serious, almost shy.
"The thing is I...I already knew that today was the day your mother passed away...Camila told me about it."
Nina blinked, her playful grin faltering into surprise as her ears perked up.
"Camila? She told you?" She asked, her voice tilting with curiosity as she glanced across the pool at her sleeping friend, sprawled beside Abigaille in exhausted bliss.
He nodded, his hands resting on her hips as he continued, his tone gentle but hesitant.
"Yeah—she mentioned how you get really sad and somber every year on this day. She said you'd sit there, all quiet and pitiful, missing your mom so much it'd break her heart to see you like that."
"...She was worried about you, you know—told me how you'd curl up and just...fade away for a bit."
Nina scoffed, rolling her eyes with a faint smirk, though inside, her heart swelled with a warm ache.
"Ugh, she's such a busybody—always sticking her nose in my business." She muttered, her voice laced with mock annoyance as she crossed her arms over her chest.
But beneath the surface, a quiet gratitude bloomed—Camila cared, truly cared, enough to confide in Kafka, and that meant more than she'd ever admit out loud.
"Still...It's sweet of her, I guess." She added under her breath, her smirk softening into a tender smile.
Kafka shifted, his cheeks flushing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck, his voice dropping to a shy murmur.
"And when she told me, I...I couldn't help but feel bad for you, Nina. I didn't like thinking of you all alone, hurting like that I couldn't just leave it alone."
"...I wanted to do something, anything, to cheer you up. So, I-I made you this gift."
He gestured to the parcel in her hands, his eyes darting away as if embarrassed by his own earnestness.
Nina's breath caught, her eyes darting to the parcel as her mind reeled.
"Wait—you made this?!?!"
She asked, her voice rising with excitement as she leaned forward, nearly toppling off his lap in her eagerness.
"You mean with your own two hands? Not something you bought—you actually crafted it yourself!?"
He ducked his head, a flush creeping up his neck as he rubbed the back of it, his voice sheepish.
"Yeah, I did, I wanted it to be sincere, you know? Something from me to you. But don't expect too much, alright? It's just...something I put together. I'm no expert or anything."
She shook her head frantically, her ears flapping so much that they looked like they would fly away as she clutched the gift tighter, her voice bubbling with joy.
"No, not at all—I'm so happy, Kafka! A handmade gift? From you? I don't care what it is it could be a lumpy rock, and I'd still love it because you made it for me! My heart's so warm right now—I can't believe you did this!"
Her green eyes sparkled, her whole body practically vibrating with anticipation as she turned the parcel over in her hands.
"What is it, though? I can't figure it out—it's so light but sturdy. Can I unwrap it? Please? I can't handle the suspense I need to see what's inside!"
Kafka's smile faltered, a sudden wave of embarrassment washing over him as her eagerness hit him full force.
"Wait—uh, maybe not yet." He stammered, his hands reaching for the parcel as if to snatch it back, his voice tinged with panic. "I'm not sure it's good enough—I want to redo it, make it perfect."
"...Give it back, Nina—I'll fix it first, hide it away till it's better—"
"Never!" She cried, yanking it out of his reach with a stubborn grin, her voice firm as she held it aloft. "I want this gift—the one you made right now! No take-backs, Kafka—I'm unwrapping it, and you can't stop me!"
Under his reluctant, wide-eyed gaze, she tore into the silk with quick, eager fingers, the fabric falling away to reveal the treasure within and the moment she did, her hands stilled, her breath catching as her eyes widened, fixed on the object now cradled in her palms.
It was a wooden sculpture, intricately carved a younger version of Nina of the past, her green skin and long ears unmistakable, standing alongside her parents, their figures captured mid-laughter as they emerged from a hot spring, each chugging a bottle of cold sasfra juice with satisfied, carefree expressions.
And even though Kafka said it was his first time, the detail was utterly breathtaking the curve of her mother's smile, the crinkle of her father's eyes, the way Nina's teenage self tilted her head just so, her ears perked with youthful mischief.
The wood also gleamed with a soft polish, every line and texture so vivid it felt alive, radiating the joy of that fleeting, perfect moment.
Unable to see her reaction without cringing, Kafka shifted beside her, his face turned away as a flush burned across his cheeks, his voice a nervous rush as he tried to fill the silence.
"I, uh—I saw that picture on your wall, you know? The one where you and your parents were drinking milk after the hot spring. It looked so wholesome—so happy and I thought it'd be nice to capture it like this, make it real again."
"And your dad was a wood sculptor, right? You had told me he met your mom when he came to work on the woodworking here at the hot spring—said he fell for her the moment he saw her. So, I figured...maybe I could weave that into it too, honor his craft."
"...But it's my first time making something like this, so don't judge it too hard, okay? If you don't like it or if it offends you you can toss it in the trash, and I'll start over, make something better—"
His words tumbled out in pride and embarrassment, but they trailed off as he glanced at her, expecting a laugh, a shout, maybe even a playful critique.
But instead, Nina sat frozen, her wide eyes locked on the sculpture, her face unreadable—expressionless, still as stone.
The silence stretched, heavy and unnerving, and Kafka's stomach twisted, his hand hovering near her shoulder as he hesitated.
"Nina? You okay? Say something—did I mess it up? If it's bad, just tell me"
But before he could finish, a soft sound broke the quiet—a faint sniffle, barely audible over the gentle lap of the water. Then another, louder, trembling, and he froze as he saw it—drops of water sliding down her cheeks, falling into the hot spring below with tiny, shimmering splashes.
His heart lurched, panic flaring as he reached for her, his voice urgent. "Nina—what's wrong? Hey, look at me—"
He gently turned her face toward him, and his breath caught, his chest tightening at the sight.
She was sobbing—quietly, violently—tears streaming down her green-tinted cheeks in a relentless flood, her lips pressed tight as if to hold back the sound, her eyes red and glistening as she stared at the sculpture.
Her shoulders shook, her hands trembling around the carving, and she looked for all the world like she was mourning the most heartbreaking loss imaginable, the raw grief spilling out in silent, wrenching waves.
"Nina—" He whispered, his voice cracking as he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a desperate bid to comfort her, his own eyes stinging with the shock of her tears. "Hey, talk to me what's going on? Is it too much? I didn't mean to—"
But she didn't answer, couldn't—her sobs swallowed her words, her face buried against his chest as the sculpture rested in her lap, a tiny, perfect echo of a joy she'd lost, now brought back to life by the man who loved her...