Cross-posted on Fanfiction, Spacebattles, AO3, Wattpad, and Quotev
(A/N) I've changed Emiya's name to just Emiya Dare, instead of Shirou Emiya Dare. This has to do with in-universe mechanisms. As CG Emiya's true name on the wiki was EMIYA, not Emiya Shirou, I will be removing the Shirou part of his name. Apologies for the retconning.
Anyways, as always, thanks for all the support.
This is the new chapter.
I hope you all enjoy it.
Break time at the elementary school was always a cacophony of sounds and a kaleidoscope of movement. As children spilled out onto the playground, Rachel sat on a bench with a plastic box perched on her lap. The girl swung her legs gently, gazing upon her energetic peers from afar.
Unlatching the container, she retrieved a golden egg tart, its flaky crust giving way to a perfectly caramelized top. Rachel hefted the dessert in her palm, feeling its comforting weight and gentle warmth. Her mouth watered at the aroma.
Emmie had baked this for her.
Despite what had transpired a few days ago, Rachel couldn't help the silly smile that pulled at her cheeks until dimples danced into existence and her eyes squinted into happy crescents. A giggle escaped her lips as if it were a secret she couldn't keep.
The girl was still confused about the entire situation. Rachel was certain that she had been there to celebrate every one of Emiya's birthdays. She remembered hopping from store to store, searching for the perfect gift for him, spending entire nights, sprawled on the floor and surrounded by ribbons and wrapping papers. She had peered through all those glass cabinets, her palms pressed against the cool surfaces, eager to pick out his cake. She was the one who counted his candles and carefully placed them, all the while trying to ignite the lighters with shaky fingers.
There was no way she wouldn't have known his true age. After all, she loved him the most! Therefore, she knew him the bestes—
The redhead cringed.
—the best! The best!
But her mind has been filled with doubts since then. Her mother was unmoving regarding the issue. Her brother also did not refute those claims. Rachel had been scared. At that moment, once again, the girl had felt like everything she knew was turned against her. And she was left all alone, abandoned.
In her fear, she lashed out and fled the scene. By the time the wails had turned into sobs, her brother had already slipped into her room. That night, she had fallen asleep, wrapped around in a blanket and with her face snuggled into Emiya's stomach.
Rachel groaned silently at the thought. Her image as the elder sister—one which she had so carefully sought to maintain—has been completely ruined. It didn't help that Emmie's headstrokes made her insides feel all warm and fuzzy.
After that night, neither of them breached the topic of his age. Emiya continued to behave as his usual self, while Rachel's mood seemed to take a noticeable dip.
She still didn't know if she should ask Emmie about his age. What if he reacted just like her mom? What if he, too, starts thinking that she is crazy?
The girl sighed. Her mind circling the same worries for the past days.
Unconsciously, she took a bite out of the egg tart. In an instant, rich, custardy filling melted on her tongue—a small, delectable escape from her tangled thoughts.
Emmie definitely noticed her sour mood.
He had been baking her desserts every day and packed all of her lunchboxes. Rachel didn't know if she should feel happy or defeated by this fact. On one hand, she gets to taste the most delicious food, and on the other hand, her baby brother seems to be gaining more leverage as the more mature and capable of the two.
She huffed. As the big sister, she cannot allow this to continue—she will not give in! This was a war she could not lose!
Rachel took another bite of the soft, warm custard, feeling it fall apart, melting into blobs of flavor in her mouth.
A content hum escaped her nose.
…Maybe, just maybe, it was fine to lose this battle…
The girl lifted the egg tart to her mouth again, and a delightful giggle tickled her nose. Regardless, even if it was all so confusing with Emiya, she knew that her brother cared for her dearly.
With the treat in her hand, Rachel turned a page of her book, her mind half on the dessert, half on her persistent thoughts. That's when the sudden rush of motion caught her eye.
She squinted.
A… boy—a very pretty looking boy, with lush black hair and sea green eyes—was making a beeline for a teacher. The egg tart paused mid-air as Rachel's attention shifted, now fully engaged in the unfolding drama.
"There's a man," he panted, "a tall man with one eye, and he keeps looking at me from outside the fence!"
The teacher knelt to his level, trying to mask her initial disbelief. "A man with one eye?" she echoed, maintaining the patient tone used for humoring the fanciful stories children sometimes came up with. But the boy's next words gave her pause.
"He's real tall and keeps standing there, staring. It's scary."
The teacher exchanged a quick, uncertain glance with her colleague. Rachel could almost sense the mirthful atmosphere melting away as the two adults conversed in a hushed tone.
Her curiosity was piqued. She'd seen things herself; things other people wouldn't believe. The redhead closed her book, her gaze shifting towards the school's perimeter. Slipping off the bench, the girl made her way to the fence line, her box of desserts still held tightly in her arm as her eyes scanned for the figure the boy had described.
There he was—a man, undoubtedly tall and imposing, in a dark trench coat. From this distance, she could just barely make out his face. There was no mistake in the boy's words. Centered above the nose of the towering figure was a single, unblinking eye.
Rachel swallowed… and took another bite of custardy goodness.
She lingered there for a moment, watching, the man unaware of her scrutiny. Her heart beat a little faster—not out of fear, but recognition. She had seen men like him before—
The girl plucked another egg tart from her snack box.
—men who were more than they seemed, with features that defied logic or explanation. Rachel knew the world was full of wonders and terrors that most adults had forgotten how to see.
With a quiet breath, she turned away. The man was still there, but the teachers would handle it now. She'd done her part in confirming the boy's story, even the part about the eye that no one else would believe. Perhaps she could even try to talk to the boy.
Rachel frowned, her hands feeling nothing but the cold, empty bottom of her plastic container. She pouted at the empty box.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the break, the girl slipped back into the flow of children returning to their classes. She strode towards her homeroom just as the dark-haired boy rushed to his own on the other end of the corridor.
Gentle hums of nine-year-olds' industriousness filled the classroom when the teacher was quietly pulled aside. With an air of subdued concern, the principal's assistant relayed a peculiar tidbit: a very tall man in a dark trench coat had been seen lingering near the school grounds, seemingly watching one particular student.
Quirking a skeptical brow, the teacher considered the source. The informant was a… special child, one whose imagination often leaped into realms of fantasy and who found academic excellence elusive. Nevertheless, protocol demanded attention, and her primary role was to ensure safety, not to dismiss potential risks without proper consideration.
She thanked the assistant and excused herself for a moment to peer through the classroom window. It was an unspoken rule that teachers should trust but verify. And verify she did. Across the street, the described figure stood like an out-of-place lamppost, tall, dark, and stationary.
Returning to the classroom, she kept the day's lesson rolling, her attention split between her students and the figure outside. The woman enlisted the help of a fellow teacher, asking them to observe the man under the guise of yard duty.
As the day progressed, the man remained, an unblinking sentinel. The teacher's scrutiny intensified, but she maintained a calm exterior. She made a discreet call to the local non-emergency number, describing the situation with a reasoned tone. "He's probably harmless," she conjectured, "but he's been there quite a while, and it's a bit unusual."
The operator promised to send a car around to check—routine procedure. The teacher agreed, satisfied with the measured response.
In the meantime, she orchestrated the day's activities to keep her class inside. No alarm, no fuss, just a subtle rearrangement of the schedule.
As the end of the lunch break neared, the man's presence finally elicited a response. A police cruiser idled by, and an officer chatted with the trench-coated figure. Motionless throughout the entire interaction, the man eventually ambled off. The officer waved up at the teacher, a silent signal that all was well.
She let out a breath of relief.
The teacher made her way to the corner of the classroom where the child sat, his pencil drumming an eager beat against the open notebook. "I just wanted to say thanks," she began with a casual tone, "for being alert about the man outside. It's good to keep our eyes open."
He looked up, a curious spark flickering to life in his eyes. "So, was he a bad guy?"
She laughed, the sound light and encouraging. "I don't think so, but the police made sure he won't come back. You were very helpful today."
As he beamed, pleased with the acknowledgment, she couldn't help but take note again of the incongruities that she'd observed before—the slightness of his frame and the gentleness of his features that were more delicate than any girls in the class, and the mess of black hair that fell just a bit too perfectly. These peculiarities had become familiar over time, little details that didn't quite fit the typical rough-and-tumble boy's image.
"Well, if he comes back, I'll tell you again," he declared with a child's confidence, almost as if he wished for another brush with excitement.
"Let's hope he doesn't, but I'm glad I have you on the lookout," she said with a gentle smile.
"Oh, okay!" The child nodded before receding into a pause, green eyes wavering just a little before he peered up at her. "…Did you happen to see his face? Um, it was kind of weird looking… I-I think he only had one eye. Like, a really, really big eye…"
And there goes the child and his imagination, again. The teacher sighed. "No, Percy, he looked perfectly normal to me… Why don't we get back to tackling these math problems?" She tapped at the blank worksheet on his desk.
The child groaned and slumped face-first into his table.
The classroom, with its walls adorned in pastel hues and hand-drawn posters espousing love and friendship, was alive with the gentle din of children's laughter and soft-spoken words. The teacher, the heart of this little haven, sat cross-legged on a plush blue rug, encircled by a mosaic of tiny, attentive six-year-olds.
"Gather around, my little helpers," Her voice was a soothing melody that rolled over the bustling room. "We're going to reflect on what we've learned today. Who would like to share how they showed kindness?"
Eager hands waved in the air like a field of flowers in a gentle breeze.
Emiya's pale gaze drifted to the window, the voices around him a distant tide, even as his hearing honed in on each syllable.
"—In our last minutes today, we're going to create a 'Kindness Chain.' Each of you will get a strip of paper. I want you to write down one kind act you want to do at home, and we'll link all our strips together and—"
A cascade of sharp taps grew louder, and the disjointed clicking of heels on the hard floor echoed down the hallway. His gaze shifted to the wall of window separating the room and the corridor.
The clattering footsteps slowed to a halt. A small crowd of three stood beyond the classroom walls, observing the children through the glass panel.
One of the adults gestured behind the window, her lips moving as she turned and addressed her company.
"…And over here, we have the Yellow Sunflower class. They're a bunch of great kids." The tour guide was met with a pair of amber orbs. "Oh, would you look at that? Do you see the child with red hair—"
The movement of their mouths continued, but the glass had barricaded any noises that would have transgressed. Their exchange failed to disrupt the children and their teacher.
Emiya returned to staring out into the streets. Conversations on both sides of the wall continued unperturbed.
"—his name is Emiya, one of our brightest."
"He does seem quite different from the rest."
"Indeed… he doesn't talk much, but I think he's a really nice kid. Smart, composed, and organized. He'll be graduating with this class in a few days, and by this time next year, he'll be eight years old. I am certain every one of the staff here will miss him."
There was a pause in the air.
"Eight? Wouldn't that mean he is currently seven and in a class of six-year-olds?"
"Oh no, you've got it all wrong, Emiya is six. He is exceptional, truly beyond his years."
"…I must have been mistaken then, so he will be seven next year. I thought you said he would be eight."
"No, no. You were correct, he will be eight next year."
The uncertainty returned. An empty lull hung between the group. Soundless imagery of excited children continued to move behind the glass.
"…I'm sorry, I am a bit confused as to how that works—"
The world seemed to inhale, and with it, Emiya felt the subtle shift. He caught the scent before it took effect—a delicate veil of fragrance that carried a clean, moist earthiness, reminiscent of dew-covered grass at dawn. Like all the instances that came before, the air permeated with the faint touch of morning freshness—of mist.
Across the wall that divided the classroom from the hallway, the peculiar void of awkwardness evaporated. The cracked reality was filled and mended by the mystery in effect.
"—Ah, our mistake," the visitors chuckled, interrupting their own comment. The earlier dissonance now smoothed into a chorus of embarrassed laughter. "I don't know what came over us."
"No worries at all, it happens to the best of us. Why don't we move on, let me show you the cafeteria…"
The cascade of footsteps and conversation faded away, and the din of the classroom flooded the vacuum of silence.
"—everyone, time's up. I need you to stop your writing and make a line. And then, I need you to place your paper in the basket on the right and return the markers to the basket on the left, understood?"
Each waving a strip of colorful paper, the kids jostled playfully as they shuffled into a crooked line. Their buzzing chatters were spliced with the occasional squeals.
"Alright children, those of you who have turned in everything can go to their cubbies and pack up. After you do, please form a line at the door."
Little by little, the line whittled down to less than a handful of students. The rest of the children were busy sorting through their belongings. Those who had everything wrapped up clustered into their own groups, bouts of giggles and exclamations erupting from childish games of competition.
As the teacher swiftly collected the strips of paper and stacked them within the tray, the last of the students hurriedly slipped by, racing towards their cupboards.
Emiya stopped in front of the woman, handing in his red slip and silver marker.
The teacher methodically accepted his assignment, just like how she did so with every student before him, but stopped short as she looked up and realized who it was. She gently lifted the piece of paper from the rest, her eyes running over the words.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "Wow… this is amazing, Emiya. I didn't know you were a little master chef!" She smiled at him. "I'm sure your sister will love it. I wish you the best of luck in making it!"
"Thank you."
The bell rang throughout the building. The hallways were flooded with swarms of children squeezing out of their classrooms, the sound of excited chatter and scuffling shoes bounced off the walls.
Rachel found herself swept along in the sea of students as she tried to navigate the crowded corridors.
Finally breaking free from the lively throng, she made her way to the library, the scent of old books and the silence enveloping her like a comforting shawl. The redhead lingered among the shelves, fingertips grazing the spines of countless adventures and secrets bound in paper and ink.
She would have Emmie know that she was capable of reading not picture books just as well.
Selecting a few volumes that whispered promises of distant lands and thrilling escapades, she checked them out, her heart buoyant with the anticipation of proving herself.
Upon leaving the library, the once vibrant halls had dulled to a quiet stillness, the bustle of students replaced by the faint pattering of her footsteps. Most of her classmates had long since departed, their laughter and energy lingering like ghosts in the now-empty space.
As she passed by a series of classrooms on her way to the exit, a loud bang erupted from one of them, causing her to jump. It was a sharp, disruptive noise in the otherwise quiet hall. Heart thumping, she approached the door, peering through the small glass window.
There he was, the pretty-looking boy from break time, with his head down, buried in his arms atop a desk. He was the one who warned of the one-eyed man. He was also able to see the one-eyed man. He was like her.
Around him were scattered papers, the neat rows of word problems visible even from her vantage point.
She watched for a moment as he attempted to solve the questions. The boy had a peculiar system set up: for every question, he would close his eyes tight, spin around in his chair, and jab his finger down onto the page. If his finger landed anywhere near some numbers, a look of triumph would fleetingly cross his face before morphing into confusion.
Rachel had to hold back a giggle. She pushed the door open, its creak sounding loud in the stillness, yet her presence went unnoticed by the boy, too engrossed in his struggle.
After a while, perhaps realizing the ineffectiveness of his previous method, the boy moved on to a new approach. She watched as he ruffled around his pockets and carefully pulled out a small, battered coin. He eyed it with a solemn intensity that bordered on reverence.
"Need some help?"
A girlish yelp escaped the boy as the token fell out of his fumbling hand. Startled green eyes met another pair of vibrant emeralds.
The girl had to press her lips together to keep from laughing outright. "Here, you dropped this." Rachel picked up the coin that rolled to a stop at her foot.
"Wha— Oh… um, thank you." He quickly pocketed the item. "It's not what it looks like, by the way! I was just… uh… practicing how to flip a coin! Like in 'Pirates of the Caribbean'!"
Rachel couldn't contain her laughter anymore.
"R-really!" The boy's lips began to tremble. His neck flushed a deep red almost instantly
"S-sorry," wheezed out the girl between breathless heaves of giggling. "I-I've jus— I've just n-never seen someone try to t-toss—" She interrupted herself with another snort.
"Hey!"
"—for m-math homework." She picked up a piece of paper from his desk. "Hey, why don't I help you with these problems?"
"I don't need help." He blurted out while looking to the side.
"Are you sure? You'll never be done at this rate."
He groaned and slumped into his desk. "O-okay, yeah, y-you are right…" His eyes remained glued to worksheets. "…Please help me with these problems."
"Okay! Great!" The girl dropped her books on an empty desk with a slam and shook off her backpack.
The boy jumped a bit in his seat.
"I'll be right back! Let me tell my driver—" With that, Rachel dashed out of the room.
Finally, she found someone else who could also see weird things like she did! It couldn't have been a more perfect chance. Plus, Emmie was wrong, she was definitely smart. Just look at the difference between her and the boy. Rachel would never struggle with problems like that herself.
"Wait," she halted and ran right back, poking her head through the doorframe. She stared at the bewildered gaze of the dark-haired boy. "How long do you think it would take us to finish your homework? How many pages are there? Are they all math problems? I need to tell my driver the exact time. Also, my name is Rachel, what's yours?"
The boy opened and closed his mouth. A string of incoherent stammer tumbled out of his lips as he stared at her dumbly. "Uh… um… oh… it's, uh, P-Percy?"
An awkward pause passed between the two kids as they stared at each other.
"Okay, I'll just say an hour, then. Don't go anywhere! I'll be right back!"
The chauffeur stood beside the sleek black sedan, his posture straight and professional as the clamor of the preschool's dismissal time unfolded around him. He was a fixture of the scene, as much a part of the school's landscape as the aged oaks that lined the driveway.
Between the gentle sway of the foliage and the undulating waves of families, the chauffeur's eyes remained fixed on the school's doors. There was a rhythm to the chaos, a familiar dance of departure he had observed many times before.
He nodded at the redheaded figure emerging from the flood of parents and children, the streams of people seemed to part around him, his demeanor as collected as if he were strolling through a quiet park rather than a bustling New York sidewalk.
"Good afternoon, Emiya. How was your day?" He pulled open the door for the preschooler.
"It was fine, thank you," the boy removed his backpack and slipped into the sedan.
The chauffeur closed the door gently behind him and settled into the driver's seat, catching Emiya's gaze in the rearview mirror. "Where to today?"
"Let's stop by the grocery store."
"The same as before, or should we try a different store this time?"
"A different one please, it's not ideal to limit my options before exploring everything first." The boy broke his gaze.
"Alright. I know the downtown store has a wide selection." The sedan hummed to life. "Would you like to try that one?"
"That will be perfect."
The sun slanted through the classroom windows, painting everything with a lazy orange hue as Rachel and Percy sat huddled over the last of the worksheets. Crayon boxes lay open beside them, their contents spilled out like a rainbow gone rogue.
"Okay, Percy, this is super easy-peasy," Rachel pointed to the picture of apples and bananas on the math problem. "Just pretend you're shopping. How many pieces of fruit do you have if you have three apples and two bananas?"
Percy squinted at the page, his tongue poking out in concentration. "Um, one, two, three..." he counted on his fingers, then looked up triumphantly. "Five! I'd have five fruits!"
"Exactly!" Rachel cheered, clapping her hands. "You're totally getting this!"
His grin was wide and filled with gaps where baby teeth had given way to empty spaces. "This is kinda fun," Rachel noted the boy looking less convinced about the 'fun' part but going along with it anyway. "Like a game."
"Yeah, like a treasure hunt, but for numbers!" Rachel's voice was bright with encouragement. She scribbled a big, happy star next to his correct answer, her red crayon leaving a waxy sheen on the paper.
He nodded. "Right! So, what's next?"
They worked through the last problem with giggles and groans, the numbers finally making sense as they colored the worksheets in fruit, cars, and other shapes that tickled their imagination.
When they were done, Percy looked at the neat pile of finished homework and then at Rachel. "You're really good at this."
Rachel beamed, feeling a swell of pride. "Thanks, Percy. You're not too shabby yourself!"
The boy giggled before shifting his gaze towards the girl. His fingers played with the hem of his shorts."Rachel, can we do this again? Even without the homework?"
"Of course!" Rachel exclaimed. "We can be homework buddies and adventure buddies!"
Percy's face broke into a bright smile. He held out his pinky, and Rachel locked hers with it. "Deal!" Once again, the girl couldn't help but notice how… pretty… the boy looked.
With the utensils returned to their trays and her belongings tucked neatly away, Rachel stood, her backpack slung over one shoulder. "I gotta tell my driver I'm ready. But I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
Percy nodded as he remained seated. "Yeah, see you! And, um, thanks again. For everything."
"No problemo! Homework is easier with friends!" Rachel waved as she started skipping out of the room. The girl stopped at the door. "Hey, Percy, aren't you leaving? Wait, don't tell me, do you have more homework?"
Percy glanced up at the round clock above the door, its hands inching towards the hour. "Nah, I've got a bit of time. Mom picks me up a little later. She's got lots of grown-up stuff to do first."
Rachel considered this for a moment, her eyes tracing the lengthening shadow that the clock cast on the faded bulletin board. She studied the lone figure of her new friend sitting among the empty desks, the backdrop of the early afternoon lift illuminating the windows behind him.
The girl hummed to herself for a bit. "Well, I can wait with you. It's more fun than waiting by yourself, right?"
Percy's face brightened like someone had just flipped a switch. "Really? You don't mind?"
"Nope, not at all!" Rachel plopped back down on the chair, her legs swinging. "We can talk more about math problems, or I can show you one of the cool books I got!"
"That'd be awesome." A contented sigh escaped him as he relaxed back into his chair. "I always just look at the pictures in the big atlas they have here. I like finding all the places I wanna visit."
Rachel beamed. "I can totally help with that! And when you visit those places, you'll have to count all sorts of things, like tickets and souvenirs, so it's still kinda like math, right?"
Percy laughed, nodding in agreement. "Right, like math but all over the world!"
The sedan gleamed under the afternoon sun, its curves reflecting light in sharp, clean lines as it glided through the bustling streets of Manhattan. Like a calm vessel sailing on still waters, the vehicle parted the busy traffic like a boat cutting through a slipstream.
From his vantage point behind the wheel, the chauffeur watched the throngs of tides of people ebbing and flowing on the sidewalks. The cityscape was a canvas of towering steel and glass, casting shadows over the streets they cruised on.
He glanced at the rearview mirror. In the backseat, an auburn-haired boy sat with an air of laid-back contemplation, a fist propping up his chin as he stared out the windows languidly. Despite his casual posturing, the chauffeur noted the boy's focus on the scenery whizzing by.
As they approached downtown, the buildings stretched higher, the shadows they cast growing longer in the late afternoon light. The man felt the shift in the atmosphere as they delved deeper into the heart of the city, the air charged with the electric buzz of commerce and the promise of endless possibility.
He made a turn onto a street lined with high-end boutiques and gourmet eateries, the sidewalks here bustling with well-heeled shoppers and busy professionals on their late lunch breaks. The grocery store they were heading to was nestled between a towering office complex and a sleek modern art gallery, its façade unassuming but elegant.
"Are we almost there?" The silent hum in the car was broken by the boy.
Looking into the mirror with slight surprise, the man nodded to his passenger, "It's right up ahead, just one more block. Do you need something?" It wasn't often that his ward would speak up out of—if he were to make a guess—a sense of… restlessness? The preschooler simply did not share the childish impulses of his peers.
"Perfect. Would you mind dropping me off at this intersection?" The boy was focused on something along the sidewalk. "I can walk the rest of the way."
"Are you sure? It wouldn't make a difference if I just stopped in front of the store."
"I could stretch my legs a bit, maybe enjoy the streets of Manhattan." Amber eyes locked onto the man's inquiring pair. "I insist, please. I'll call you when I am done."
"Alright." Pulling up to the curb, the chauffeur parked with precision. "I'll be circling around if there are no parking spaces. It might take a few minutes for me to arrive."
"No problem." The child opened the door, stepping out. He took one last glance inside, "It won't be too long. Thanks."
As he watched the small figure of his ward fade in and out of the pedestrians, retreating further away as the sedan cruised on once again, the chauffeur couldn't help but frown at the oddity of this situation. Emiya was not one to engage in unnecessary actions. For as long as the man had known him, the boy had always been precise, to the point, and efficient. It was unusual for him to "take a walk" in the spur of the moment—
His vision darkened for a moment.
—the boy almost never deviated from any… plan…
He turned his head. The man blinked before quickly refocusing on the road again. His eyes, however, flitted back to the mirror, even as the car pulled further away.
Black flap cap and billowing trench coat draped to the ground. It swayed with each of his stride, strides that spanned twice as wide as a normal man's as he moved well above the others. Yet, in spite of that, his movements were slow, slumbering, trudging away with a mindless beat.
Surely, that had to be the tallest man he had ever seen.
Oh, and the implications of Percy's gender should be quite clear, hopefully, no one is confused. But yeah, since most people have been asking for a fem-Percy, so here it is. Despite Percy being a girl, the romance/pairing for this story is still undecided.
To be honest, I feel like because the mc is EMIYA, it is reasonable that the romance in the story could be one-to-one, a small harem, a large harem, or no romance at all. In fact, it might cycle through these different phases of romance throughout the story. Regardless, I'm just putting this information out there so that y'all are warned(?) in advance that the romance can go all these different ways.
Cheers.