Chapter 391: Confessions

Chapter 391: Confessions

“Come on, Diana!” Kelvin said, practically bouncing on his feet as they stood in the palace’s main courtyard. “We’re on an alien planet—well, technically a human colony planet, but still—and you want to spend our time going to their military base for sightseeing?”

Diana adjusted her cloth, trying to maintain her composed demeanor despite the way Kelvin’s enthusiasm made something warm flutter in her chest. “I was suggesting we familiarize ourselves with local defensive capabilities. It’s practical.”

“Practical is boring,” Kelvin declared, turning to their assigned guard—a young man named Marcus who looked like he was trying very hard not to smile. “Marcus, my good man, where do the locals go for fun? And I don’t mean royal fun. I mean real, actual, normal people fun.”

Marcus glanced between them uncertainly. “Well, sir, the district markets are quite popular. There’s gambling, street food, entertainers…”

“Perfect!” Kelvin grinned and grabbed Diana’s arm before she could protest. “Lead the way!”

Despite herself, Diana found herself smiling as Kelvin dragged her through the palace gates and into the bustling streets beyond.

Their first stop was a gambling hall that Marcus assured them was “perfectly respectable, though perhaps a bit energetic for royal guests.” The moment they walked through the doors, Diana understood what he meant. The place was loud, crowded, and filled with the kind of boisterous energy that came from people having genuine fun with no pretense.

“What’s that game?” Kelvin asked, pointing to a table where people were cheering around what looked like a three-dimensional chess board that moved on its own.

“Quantum positioning,” Marcus explained. “The pieces phase in and out of different dimensional layers. You have to predict where they’ll manifest and plan your moves accordingly.”

Kelvin’s eyes lit up. “That sounds incredibly complicated and probably impossible to master.”

“It is,” Marcus confirmed.

“I’m in.”

Diana watched as Kelvin threw himself into learning the game with the same intensity he applied to everything else. Within minutes, he was engaged in animated conversation with the other players, gesturing wildly as he tried to explain some technical point about probability matrices while simultaneously learning the basic rules.

“Your friend is… enthusiastic,” Marcus observed.

“That’s one word for it,” Diana replied, but she couldn’t keep the fondness out of her voice. This was the Kelvin she knew—brilliant, curious, completely unguarded in his excitement about new challenges.

When Kelvin inevitably lost his first three games spectacularly, he took it with good humor, high-fiving his opponents and immediately demanding a rematch. By his fifth game, he was starting to understand the deeper strategy, and by his seventh, he’d won his first victory to the cheers of the small crowd that had gathered to watch the off-worlder’s rapid improvement.

“Diana, you have to try this!” he called out, flushed with victory and grinning like a child.

“I don’t gamble,” she said automatically.

“It’s not about the money—well, okay, it’s a little about the money, but mostly it’s about the challenge! Come on, one game.”

Before she could refuse, the other players were encouraging her, making room at the table, explaining the basic rules with the patient enthusiasm of people who loved their game and wanted to share it. Diana found herself sitting down almost against her will, trying to focus on the shifting pieces while hyper-aware of Kelvin leaning over her shoulder to offer advice.

“See, the knight-class piece can phase through the blue dimensional layer, but only if you’ve positioned your anchor correctly in the previous turn,” he explained, his breath warm against her ear. “It’s all about thinking three moves ahead while accounting for quantum uncertainty.”

Diana tried to concentrate on the game, but found herself distracted by Kelvin’s proximity, the way he got so excited about explaining things that he forgot about personal space. She managed to win her first game through a combination of natural tactical thinking and beginner’s luck, earning a cheer from Kelvin that made her cheeks flush.

They spent the better part of an hour at the gambling hall before Kelvin declared they needed to “sample the local cuisine.” This led them to a street food market where vendors sold everything from recognizable fruits to things that Diana was fairly certain were still moving.

“Try this,” Kelvin said, offering her something that looked like a purple dumpling but smelled like cinnamon and starlight.

“What is it?”

“No idea! Marcus says it’s a local delicacy. Could be delicious, could be poisonous. Only one way to find out!”

Diana stared at him. “You ate something without knowing what it was?”

“Living dangerously!” Kelvin declared, then immediately started coughing as whatever he’d eaten proved to be significantly spicier than expected. “Okay, maybe not that one. But this!” He held up something that looked like crystallized honey. “This is amazing.”

Despite her better judgment, Diana found herself trying various street foods under Kelvin’s enthusiastic encouragement. Most were actually quite good, though she drew the line at anything that glowed or moved on its own.

Their next stop was a sports arena where some kind of aerial competition was taking place. Players equipped with personal flying devices competed to score goals through hoops that moved in three-dimensional patterns high above the arena floor.

“Oh, we have to try this,” Kelvin said immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Diana replied.

“Come on, it’s just flying! How hard can it be?”

“Kelvin, neither of us has any experience with personal flight devices. We could get seriously injured.”

“That’s what makes it exciting!”

It took some negotiating, but they eventually convinced the arena operators to let them try a beginner’s version of the sport with safety equipment and close supervision. Kelvin, predictably, threw himself into it with reckless enthusiasm, crashing into walls and other players with cheerful apologies. Diana, on the other hand, approached it with her usual calmness.

“Damn, she’s good,” one of the other players commented as Diana executed a perfect spiral maneuver to score her third goal.

“Natural athlete,” another agreed. “You sure you haven’t played this before?”

Diana found herself enjoying the physical challenge, the way the sport required both tactical thinking and split-second reactions. When she landed after a particularly complex scoring sequence, Kelvin was waiting with a grin that made her heart skip.

“That was incredible!” he said. “How did you even think to use the wall bounce like that?”

“Basic physics,” Diana replied, trying to sound casual despite her breathlessness. “Angular momentum conservation combined with optimal trajectory calculation…” She said and noticed the shocked look on his face.

“Is what I’d have said if I was a certain boy who was a genius!” She laughed it off.

In truth, she’d shocked kelvin with her response because majority of the time, the big thinking and clever solutions to problems came from either Noah or Kelvin when their team faced a problem. So she understood why he was shocked.

‘You wouldn’t be so shocked if you had accompanied Noah on that raid to my school when I gave him a lecture,’ She thought very briefly.

“You made it look easy.”

“It wasn’t,” she admitted. “But it was… fun.”

Kelvin’s grin widened. “See? I told you we needed to get out and experience the local culture.”

As the afternoon wore on, they visited several more venues—a music hall where local artists performed with instruments that created light as well as sound, a artisan market where crafters worked with materials that Diana was fairly certain defied several laws of physics, and a park where the trees grew in impossible geometric patterns that somehow felt completely natural.

It was at the artisan market that they overheard a conversation that caught Kelvin’s attention.

“The underground workshop is getting ridiculous,” one vendor was saying to another. “They’re claiming they can improve on thousand-year-old beast core technology with their ‘revolutionary’ approaches.”

“Probably just off-world tourists who think they know better than our master crafters,” the other replied dismissively.

Kelvin’s head snapped up. “Beast core technology? Like, actual beast cores from the creatures?”

The vendors looked at him with surprise. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Earth Defense Force,” Kelvin said proudly. “We’ve encountered some beast core tech, but nothing like what you’d have here. I’d love to see how your crafters work with it.”

The first vendor’s expression shifted to something more respectful. “EDF? Well, that’s different. You’d probably appreciate the real artistry. The underground workshop isn’t some tourist attraction—it’s where our best inventors push the boundaries of what’s possible with beast core integration.”

“Underground workshop?” Diana asked, though she could already see where this was heading.

“Old mining tunnels beneath the city,” the vendor explained. “Converted into workshop spaces for experimental projects. Not officially sanctioned by the royal tech guilds, but they do some of the most innovative work on the planet.”

Kelvin’s eyes were practically glowing. “Could we… I mean, would it be possible to visit?”

The vendor studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Ask around down in the lower districts. Someone will point you in the right direction. But fair warning—they don’t much like people who waste their time.”

Two hours later, after following a series of increasingly vague directions through progressively more industrial sections of the city, they found themselves standing before what looked like an abandoned mining facility. Marcus looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Sir, I’m not certain this is wise. These underground areas aren’t exactly… regulated.”

“That’s what makes them interesting,” Kelvin replied, already heading for the entrance.

The underground workshop was unlike anything Diana had ever seen. Converted mining tunnels stretched in multiple directions, each one filled with workbenches, experimental equipment, and projects in various stages of completion. The air hummed with energy—not just electrical, but something deeper, more organic.

Beast cores of various sizes were embedded in devices that ranged from recognizable tools to completely alien constructions. Crafters worked alone or in small groups, their hands moving as they shaped metal, crystal, and organic components into seamless wholes.

“Incredible,” Kelvin breathed, moving toward the nearest workstation where a middle-aged woman was integrating what looked like a pearl-sized beast core into a device that resembled a cross between a wrench and a musical instrument.

“Excuse me,” he said politely. “I’m fascinated by your work. Would you mind explaining how you’re managing the energy harmonics between the core and the resonance chamber?”

The woman looked up with surprise, then narrowed her eyes. “You’re not local.”

“EDF tech specialist,” Kelvin said. “I’ve worked with beast core technology before, but nothing as sophisticated as this. The integration work is beautiful.”

The woman’s expression softened slightly. “EDF, huh? What kind of beast core tech do you work with?”

“Mostly weapons applications,” Kelvin admitted. “Power sources for plasma rifles, energy amplifiers for defensive systems. Basic stuff compared to this.”

“Basic is right,” the woman said, but not unkindly. “Here, look at this.”

She demonstrated how the device worked, showing how the beast core’s natural energy patterns could be shaped and directed through carefully crafted crystal matrices. Kelvin listened with rapt attention, asking intelligent questions and making observations that showed he understood the underlying principles.

“That’s brilliant,” he said when she finished. “But have you considered using a feedback loop here?” He pointed to a section of the device. “If you routed a portion of the output back through this crystal junction, you could probably increase efficiency by twenty percent.”

The woman frowned, studying her own work with new eyes. “Show me.”

What followed was a technical discussion that quickly drew the attention of other crafters. Kelvin’s suggestions were insightful and practical, based on his experience with similar systems in completely different applications. Soon, half a dozen inventors were gathered around, debating modifications and improvements with the enthusiasm of people who lived and breathed their craft.

“You know,” one of the crafters said, “we’ve been working on this stabilization problem for months. Your approach might actually work.”

“It’s not my approach,” Kelvin said modestly. “I’m just applying principles from plasma containment systems. The underlying physics are the same.”

“No, they’re not,” another crafter said firmly. “Beast core energy isn’t the same as plasma. The organic component changes everything.”

“Well, yes, but the electromagnetic fields still follow standard models,” Kelvin replied. “If you account for the bio-electric resonance patterns…”

The discussion that followed became increasingly technical and increasingly heated. Diana watched with growing concern as Kelvin, in his enthusiasm, began pointing out what he saw as obvious flaws in various projects, offering solutions that the crafters clearly found presumptuous.

“Look,” Kelvin said, examining a device that had clearly taken months to build, “this is nice work, but you’re overcomplicating the power distribution matrix. If you simplified the crystal array and used a direct-feed system instead of this branching network…”

“That’s not how beast cores work,” one of the crafters said, his voice tight with offense. “You can’t just apply off-world engineering principles to our technology.”

“But the energy dynamics are universal,” Kelvin insisted. “Physics doesn’t change just because you’re on a different planet.”

The temperature in the tunnel seemed to drop several degrees. Diana could see that Kelvin had crossed a line from helpful observer to condescending outsider, but he was too caught up in the technical discussion to notice.

“Maybe,” one of the crafters said coldly, “you should stick to making weapons for the EDF and leave real innovation to people who understand what they’re working with.”

Kelvin blinked, finally registering the hostility in the room. “I didn’t mean to imply… I was just trying to help…”

“Help?” another crafter laughed bitterly. “By telling us everything we’re doing wrong? Thanks, but we’ve been working with beast cores since before you were born.”

The situation deteriorated rapidly from there. What had started as friendly technical discussion devolved into a confrontation about off-world arrogance and local expertise. Diana could see Kelvin trying to backtrack, to apologize and explain that he hadn’t meant any offense, but the damage was done.

It was Marcus who ultimately saved them, stepping forward with the calm authority of someone accustomed to defusing tense situations.

“Gentlemen, ladies,” he said politely, “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. Mr. Pithon is a guest of the royal family, here on diplomatic business. Perhaps we could arrange a more formal exchange of knowledge at a later time, through proper channels?”

The mention of royal connections changed the dynamic immediately. The crafters backed off, muttering among themselves, while Marcus smoothly guided Kelvin and Diana toward the exit.

“Time to go, sir,” Marcus said quietly.

As they emerged from the underground workshops into the night air, Kelvin was unusually quiet. Diana could see that he was processing what had happened, trying to understand where things had gone wrong.

“I didn’t mean to offend them,” he said finally.

“I know,” Diana replied. “You were just excited about the technology.”

“But they were right, weren’t they? I was being condescending. Acting like I knew better than people who’ve been working with this stuff their whole lives.”

Diana considered this. “Maybe a little. But your suggestions were good ones. They just didn’t like how you presented them.”

“I do that, don’t I?” Kelvin said, his voice unusually subdued. “Get so caught up in the technical aspects that I forget about the human element.”

They walked in comfortable silence as Marcus led them back toward the palace through streets that were now illuminated by the soft glow of evening lights. The day had been longer than Diana had expected, filled with experiences that were completely outside her normal routine.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly.

Kelvin looked at her with surprise. “For what? Getting us kicked out of an underground workshop?”

“For today. For… dragging me along on your adventures. I don’t usually do things like this.”

“I know,” Kelvin said, his grin returning. “That’s why I had to drag you. You need more fun in your life, Diana Frost.”

They were approaching the palace gates when Diana felt her courage finally surface. The day had reminded her of all the reasons she’d kissed Kelvin in the first place—his enthusiasm, his intelligence, his ability to find joy in everything. But it had also reminded her of the gulf between them, the way he moved through the world with a confidence she could never match.

“Kelvin,” she said, stopping suddenly. “We need to talk.”

He turned to face her, his expression shifting to something more serious as he registered her tone. “Okay. What about?”

Diana took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew might be the most difficult conversation of her life.

“About what happened five days ago. On the transport back from the Sirius mission. When I kissed you.”

Kelvin went very still. In the soft light of the evening, his expression was unreadable.

“I know you probably thought it was just… stress, or adrenaline, or grief over losing so many people. But it wasn’t.” Diana’s voice was steady, but her hands were trembling. “I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I’ve wanted to for a while. Because somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing you as just a teammate and started seeing you as… more.”

She took another breath, forcing herself to continue. “I heard you had a girl back on earth, Cora, is it? And I know this complicates everything. But I couldn’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, couldn’t keep acting like nothing had changed when everything has changed, at least for me.”

Diana looked directly into Kelvin’s eyes, her own heart pounding so hard she was certain he could hear it.

“I’m in love with you, Kelvin Pithon. And I needed you to know.”

Kelvin stared at her, his mouth slightly open, his usual quick wit completely absent. For a long moment, the only sound was the distant music from the city.

Then Diana turned and walked through the palace gates, leaving Kelvin standing alone in the street with Marcus, who was trying very hard to pretend he hadn’t heard every word.