Chapter 152: Your name

Faced with her blunt accusation, San seemed to reach an emotional breaking point. Tipping his chin up, he fired back in a raised voice, "Fine, yes, I’m a child!"

"Taking you stargazing was childish! Wanting you to hold me was childish! Stealing a lick of your lollipop was childish! Losing my temper and walking out when I saw Astin crying in your arms was childish, too...!"

"Because you don’t care about me, every single thing I do to get closer to you just looks like childish nonsense in your eyes!"

Among all the Sentinels she had encountered since arriving in 616, San had been the very first to openly declare his affection—even if she had initially dismissed him as a frivolous flirt.

His voice dropped abruptly, turning quiet and hollow. "Just like right now—you probably think this whole thing is pathetic, don’t you?"

He buried his face in his knees. "Go ahead and laugh if you want. I’m just a joke to you anyway."

Gazing down at his shock-red hair, Bunny couldn’t help wondering: For an older boy, why is he infinitely more childish than his brother?

She shuffled over to sit down right beside him. "Can you tell me why you hate Astin so much?"

She had only ever caught fragmented whispers of their feud from the other squad members, vaguely knowing it tied back to the grievances of their older generation.

"If I told you... would you actually believe me?"

Bunny offered gently, "You don’t have to look at me as Astin’s Guide right now. I’m just here to listen."

San cast a long, searching look at her. He was naturally reluctant to drag his past out into the open—after all, the vast majority of his memories were drenched in bitterness.

His childhood had fractured at the tender age of five; half of it lay buried in sunlight that would never return, while the other half stretched endlessly into the shadows of the present.

San didn’t elaborate much, brushing past the long-term abuse inflicted by his father in just a few sparse sentences. Fixating on grievances with a dead man was a fool’s errand.

"So... is that the real reason why you have such a deep terror of electric shock collars?"

Bunny’s sharp observation caught San completely off guard. He immediately hardened his tone. "I’m not afraid of it."

It was pure disgust.

Bunny let out a soft chuckle. "Exposing your past wounds to me like this—aren’t you afraid I’ll use them to mock you?"

In their cutthroat world, laying bare one’s vulnerabilities to another person was akin to handing them a blade that might one day be turned against you. It was completely out of character for a Sentinel.

San clearly hadn’t anticipated her question. A beat of silent hesitation passed before he looked back at her with a thoroughly blank, bewildered expression:

"Would you?"

Though he loathed Astin with every fiber of his being, as the old adage went—sometimes nobody understands you quite like your sworn enemy.

Astin had been every bit as hostile and paranoid toward Guides, yet he had dissolved into a weeping mess in her arms. San had been stunned, but it served as irrefutable proof: she was someone who could truly be trusted, wasn’t she?

Bunny didn’t directly answer his question, changing the topic instead. "Was your name given to you by your mother?"

He nodded slowly. "I never understood why she chose it for me. It sounds terrible."

In his mind, proper names were longer and distinguished—like Cyrus, Brandon, or Liam. San felt like a lazy, haphazard afterthought.

"Why would it sound terrible?"

"Tracing the stream against the current, the path is long and fraught with hazards; drifting down the river, she seems to stand right in the middle of the waters."

"Your mother named you San because she wanted you to be lucky—to hold fast to your true self, no matter how treacherous the path becomes."

Bunny reached out, gently patting his head. "Your name is far more special than any of theirs."

A woman’s touch seemed to carry a strange, quiet magic, dissolving days of accumulated resentment and bitter angst into thin air.

His mother had spent her whole life embodying the essence of San—searching for her roots—whereas he had remained trapped in the fog of past grievances, sinking into the mud alongside Astin, unable to break free.

He leaned into her hand, obediently accepting her touch like a broad, handsome wolfhound basking in his master’s affection.

San offered a low, quiet apology. "I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have thrown a tantrum with you."

"It’s fine. Just stop calling me ’Little Dinosaur’ from now on. I have an actual name."

To her surprise, San fired back instantly, "No way!"

"You are my Little Dinosaur. My Little Dinosaur!"

With that, he shoved his mop of bright red hair right into her chest, nuzzling frantically until the tickling sensation made her burst out laughing. As the two tussled playfully for a brief moment, San suddenly froze, pinning his intense gaze straight onto her eyes.

Bunny had an immediate gut instinct that he was up to no good.

Sure enough, the very next second, he lunged in for another stolen kiss.

"Get off—mff...!"

The man’s kiss was blistering and unyielding, echoing the exact shade of his hair—a wild, fiery passion like a patch of burning brambles.

Scorching hot, laced with a prick of sharp sting.

Her lips were aggressively crushed beneath his, blooming as red as fallen peach blossoms.

Unsurprisingly, San earned himself another crisp slap—leaving both cheeks perfectly symmetrical.

He extended a soft, pink tongue, slowly licking away the lingering sweetness from the corner of his mouth. Kissing Bunny tasted infinitely sweeter than anything he had ever imagined.

Addiction took hold in a split second.

He offered a completely shameless grin. "One slap for one kiss. Fair trade."

During evening drills, Brandon—who was in the middle of a heavy bench press set—stared at San as he walked shirtless into the training facility, utterly baffled.

"What happened to your face? Stung by a hornet?"

San turned around with a triumphant smirk. "Bitten by my Little Dinosaur."

He strolled casually over to the barbell rack, beginning his sets with smooth composure. Brandon narrowed his eyes, his handsome young face a picture of sheer confusion.

Exchanging a quick glance with his spirit guide, Brandon wondered: Does Bunny like playing that rough?

Well, he was only a month away from coming of age anyway. Sister could play however she wanted.

Meanwhile, San tapped his wrist comm, tapping into Central’s local network to access its largest online shopping portal.

Except this time, instead of browsing deep-V tops, fishnet undershirts, or low-cut tanks for himself, he added an exquisite, elegantly minimalist white dress to his cart.

The neckline was delicately inlaid with a ring of smooth, lustrous pearls.

Subconsciously, he knew Bunny would look breathtaking in it.