TBR CH117

3. A Whimsical Minuet

The wedding went remarkably smoothly—so much so that both humans and monsters found it surprising.

As guests took their seats one by one, Asta stood at the altar of the chapel, looking down at the pews where all the new friends they’d made over the past few months were seated. Their neighbors, full of excitement, sat in the front row, whispering to those around them about how sweet and blissful this couple was, and how it had been their suggestion to have Father Peter officiate a traditional church wedding.

Though the number of guests was relatively small, it was just the way they liked it. Everyone there was warm and kind, and it let them focus more fully on each other’s eyes.

Isidor tugged slightly at his collar; the suit made it a bit hard to breathe.

But he quickly regained his composure and smiled, his emerald eyes meeting Asta’s. His breath was slightly quickened from nerves. Reflected in those green eyes was the figure of a suited monster. Asta looked excellent in a suit—the elegant lines paired perfectly with his courteous demeanor, outlining his tall, slender frame.

A white rose was pinned to his left shoulder.

“Asta,” Isidor whispered amid the quiet murmur of guests, “we haven’t synced the connection yet, but I think it should work. If not, we still have the backup plan.”

Most of the guests were already seated; it was time to invite the relatives to take their places. But neither the monster nor the human could just conjure up family out of thin air.

“We ran away to elope,”
Isidor said with a straight face.
“Kept it from most of our family. Sorry, I know it’s kind of a mess, but maybe we can still manage to get a witness.”

Given that they had moved from a big city to this place—and it was a same-sex marriage—the priest organizing the ceremony hesitated, but eventually agreed to their slightly unorthodox request. Still, a wedding with no family from either side felt a bit too unconventional. While such matters no longer stopped weddings from proceeding, it was better to at least make the effort.

Asta curled his lips into a faint smile. His eyes were dark, like an abyss that held magic.

“My ‘relative’ is about to enter, Isidor.”

At his words, a figure appeared at the entrance of the chapel. The room fell silent, all casual chatter instantly vanishing. Everyone turned their heads with curiosity to see the wedding’s important guest. The moment they saw his face, no one doubted he was Asta’s kin.

There was something about Asta—an impression of perfection that felt beyond human at times.

The “relative” drew the same attention. But he was unexpectedly quiet, almost stiff. He walked forward step by step, and if one looked closely, they’d notice a faint awkwardness in his gait. But that hardly mattered. Along the way, when someone stepped aside to let him pass, he stared at them blankly for a few seconds.

Asta on the altar let out a barely audible sigh.

But the “relative” soon recovered and said in a clear, correct tone, “Thank you,” before continuing his slow, determined walk toward a seat.

He sat down without another word. The people around him looked at him in reverent silence, somehow sensing that silence might be best. And so, he remained in place like a silent ornament.

But no one held any ill will—in fact, people strangely felt a kind of inexplicable warmth from this stranger.

“Perfect,”
Isidor visibly exhaled in relief.
“We only taught it a few phrases, but it’s working out. After the vows, it can leave. We’ll say your ‘relative’ had to catch a flight.”

There was no doubt: the creature now sitting quietly among the human guests was that very “guardian spirit” monster.

It had been roped in to make up the numbers—and wasn’t particularly bright.

Just as Asta was about to respond, the small communicator on the pulpit suddenly lit up. Father Peter stared at it like it was a bomb that had suddenly appeared in his church. But he had personally approved this madness, and this chapel hadn’t seen anything like it in a hundred years.

He cleared his throat.

“Thank you all for coming. Today, under the will of God, two hearts bound in love shall vow themselves as lifelong partners.
Before we begin, we are honored to have a speech from Mr. Isidor’s… brother, who will deliver a vital family address. But first, I ask everyone to remain calm—”

He tapped the communicator.
In that instant, the dimly lit chapel flashed with modern brilliance.

A man with gray eyes appeared projected onto the pulpit.

There were gasps among the guests—this was high-tech equipment often seen in big cities. But Garden City residents weren’t familiar with such cutting-edge tech. Their surprise, however, was friendly curiosity, and the commotion quickly died down.

“Mr. John,” said the priest with a look of mild reproach, seemingly satisfied the crowd had quieted again.
“I understand you’re busy with work and could only attend virtually.
You are a blood relative of the groom—it is truly a pity.”

John, meanwhile, was clearly just as bewildered.
A chapel. Rows of seated guests. A priest. These elements were like something from a completely different world.

In his shock, he looked pleadingly toward the newlyweds on the stage.
Isidor gave him a calm, casual smile—
but those emerald eyes sparkled with a deeper message.

Something like:
“Pull it together. You have to finish this mission.”

The Black Hawk—head of the research facility’s Special Armed Unit—nodded reflexively.
“Kingfisher” had always trained him this way.

“Very well,” the priest said, not intending to dwell on John’s demeanor.
“Mr. John, please proceed with your speech.”

A wedding speech?

This was more painful than ten incident reports put together.
Black Hawk’s superior brain kicked into overdrive—but no matter how he racked it, nothing in his training had prepared him for this.
In battle, not even a second could be wasted.

But now, he stood awkwardly silent, counting the seconds with growing alarm.

“The, uh, the preparations for this operation have been… thorough,”
John said, full of skepticism.
“The guest list was carefully chosen and, clearly, all targets were acquired efficiently. There have been no major breaches so far, which suggests the planner’s, um, comprehensive skillset is… commendable.”

As he spoke, his sharp gray eyes scanned the room.

And yet—people laughed.

Isidor laughed too, this time with genuine delight.
The problem was, now John couldn’t read any further meaning in those green eyes.
He was the all-capable captain of the Special Forces, already holding a seat at the Round Table of the core leadership—
but at this moment, sweat started to gather in his palms.

“It’s okay,” Isidor finally said kindly.
“Don’t be nervous, John. You’re doing fine.”

The priest gave the mischievous newlyweds a stern look, then sighed and offered John the only real assistance he could:

“Just speak about your impression of the couple, Mr. John.
Relax a bit.”

In John’s world, it had been a long time since “relax” had even existed in his vocabulary.
The priest’s words felt like rain after a drought.
He took a deep breath and turned his sharp gray gaze to the human and the monster at the altar.

It was only now that he felt the full impact of the wedding.

His teacher stood there in a formal suit—unlike anything worn in the institute’s high councils.
It was elegant, distinguished. A dewy lily was pinned to his shoulder.

Though he had already known of their relationship, John had never really seen it for himself until now.

He knew what he had to say, but his mind was still a chaotic mess.

“Asta,” he said dryly,
“Uh… we’re kind of friends, I guess. He’s a pretty good… person. Very reasonable, and friendly to most people—most of the time. He’s got a strong presence. Good ideas too. And I think, if something were to happen, he’d be… very reliable.”

“So you’d say Mr. Asta is someone responsible in your eyes?” the priest asked gently.

John blinked in surprise at the question—but then realized, yes, that’s exactly what he had said.
In his experience, the monster who had escaped the institute with his teacher had been, surprisingly… responsible.
Hardly any trouble at all, really.

“Yes,” he admitted.
“And I guess… I’ve never really had the chance to thank him.
Asta—you know which time I mean.
Thank you. Things… they’ve gotten a lot better since then.”

Asta, ever polite, gave a small bow.

“You too, John.”

John nervously swallowed a mouthful of saliva, then turned to the teacher standing beside Asta.
“As for Isidor… I honestly didn’t expect you—you would make me speak on an occasion like this. I’ve done some foolish things in the past. Not that I’m unhappy with this assignment, of course—”

More chuckles echoed from the audience.
People looked kindly upon the young man fumbling his way through a speech on the virtual stage. He wore a neatly pressed suit, looked like an executive from a major corporation, but even someone like him appeared visibly flustered in front of his “older brother.”

“Alright,” John seemed to steady himself a little.
“I’ve always thought he was the most outstanding person I’d ever met. He was my lifelong goal to chase after. He’s perfect—but because of that impression, I ended up overlooking what he really wanted. His true decision was to break free from everything that once confined him, to live freely and happily, just like he is now.”

Isidor smiled again, his emerald eyes reflecting the vivid stained glass behind the altar.

“So I’m truly grateful,” John said, glancing around at the setting and all the guests who had joined the wedding.

He clenched his fingers, feeling like a child speaking in public again.
“Grateful to everyone here. I may be meeting all of you for the first time, but I know just how difficult it was to make all this happen.”

“You forgot to thank yourself,” Isidor said.
“John, you’re part of what made all this possible. No matter what, you deserve thanks too. You’ve done better than I ever expected. I might’ve been a little too harsh at times. But I really do mean it.”

It was hard for the guests to imagine how someone as approachable and gentle as Isidor could ever be strict—but Asta, of course, knew better.
The monster placed a hand on Isidor’s shoulder and smiled at John as well:

“Maybe someday we’ll have time to grab coffee together—”

John knew his turn at the mic was almost over. He didn’t have much spare time anyway, and even if he wanted to stay longer, the institute’s work wouldn’t allow it. He had already missed three call alerts.
But just as the priest was about to begin wrapping up, John opened his mouth again, driven by a sudden impulse.

“I mean, you two… you really suit each other.”

The timing was perfect. Even the priest paused and looked at him, surprised yet satisfied.

That, however, was the peak of John’s performance.
He was still struggling to figure out how to phrase the idea of a one-to-one pairing between humans and monsters when the call panel on his desk lit up again. He sighed and bowed his head in resignation, signaling the end of his speech. Soon, Isidor’s “brother” left the scene as quickly as he had appeared.

Things hadn’t gone that badly, had they?
At the very least, he now owned a holographic communication device.

The stage now fully belonged to the two newlyweds.
They had been standing and listening to everyone’s speeches—usually a tiring experience. But for two beings beyond ordinary humans, it wasn’t difficult at all.
In fact, they could even sneak in some subtle interactions no one else would notice. Like Isidor’s collar.

High-end suits weren’t immune to mishaps.
Isidor had carefully selected the perfect suit for Asta, but he hadn’t paid much attention to his own. It wasn’t until the last minute—when he was already getting changed—that he noticed a portion of the seam had come undone.

And they were due on stage immediately.

As a creature with numerous tendrils, Asta had the perfect solution.
While Isidor was fumbling for a safety pin, the monster quietly looped one of his limbs around the torn collar, seamlessly sewing the black fabric back together.
Isidor had been startled, but when he met Asta’s black eyes, he simply tugged at the collar awkwardly—and decided to walk out like that.

Asta didn’t move again at first.
But under the public gaze, Isidor still felt a bit constricted. Every time he adjusted his collar, he could feel the soft tendrils clinging gently to his neck.
He tried to ignore it—but the more he tried, the more impossible it became.

Finally, noticing Isidor’s stiffness, Asta simply repositioned the tendril so it draped around his neck like a scarf—and even gave it a little affectionate nuzzle.

Isidor actually let out a quiet breath of relief.

Compared to uncertain touches, that warm, steady pressure was far more comforting.

The priest now stood a few paces in front of them and declared that Mr. Asta and Mr. Isidor were about to complete the most important part of the wedding: their vows.
Then Father Peter stepped back, leaving the altar—and the magnificent stained-glass backdrop behind it—to the two grooms.

Soft beams of light filtered through the colored glass.
The church was dim, but the air felt safe, warm.

The audience collectively held its breath, quieting perfectly on cue.

The silence was so deep, you could’ve heard a pin drop.
Asta turned his gaze—those inhuman eyes visible only to Isidor—gazing at him like a bottomless abyss, holding within it countless magnificent dreams. Or perhaps more like a black lake too dark to reflect anything at all—except for the ripple caused by one pair of emerald-green eyes.

And the human had always been like that.

That vivid green, always chasing his star.

He looked toward it once again—just as he had so many times before.

“You may begin your vows,” said the priest.

4. The Final Movement of the End

“Asta, do you take this person before you to be your lawful wedded partner, to—”

“I do,” said Asta.

The priest blinked—he hadn’t even finished listing the conditions.
But that was alright. Some newlyweds were just too eager, couldn’t even wait for the end of the sentence before reaching out to hold each other’s hands.

He was about to turn to Isidor—when Asta continued speaking, his voice slightly raspy but fluent and rhythmically distinct:

“Through laughter and tears, through secrets and honesty, through every doubt and every fear, I take you as my partner. Until the end of time. Just like the moment I reached out to you, Isidor—half of my heart now belongs to you forever.”

He had, it seemed, slightly revised the standard vows.

At least Father Peter was glad Asta still remembered the procedure.

“And you?” the priest asked.
“Mr. Isidor, do you take him to be your other half, to marry and stay loyal no matter how time passes or the world changes, until death do you part?”

“Even at the end of life, this love will not fade.”

Isidor spoke with rare solemnity, emotion thick and raw in his voice. His emerald eyes burned like twin flames.
“I do. My star—you are the most singular miracle I’ve ever known.”

Though both the human and the monster had clearly added their own flair, the battle-hardened Father Peter was unfazed.
Smiling, he stepped forward and motioned for them to join hands.
His silver hair looked immaculate and dignified, and his deep voice echoed throughout the little chapel, reaching every corner:

“Then, the marriage between Mr. Asta and Mr. Isidor is hereby formalized.
May the Lord bless your sacred vow.
May the road ahead be forever smooth.
And may the stars shine their light upon you, always.”

“I love you,” Isidor whispered amid the roaring applause.

“I love you too,” Asta replied, taking his hand and stepping down from the altar, “And I love you the same way you love me.”

They passed through the cheering crowd.
Anna, their neighbor’s daughter, squealed with joy and scattered handfuls of confetti.
“Kiss!” she yelled.
The others laughed and echoed the chant.

Isidor blushed—but still rose onto tiptoe, rested a hand on Asta’s shoulder, and gently kissed him.

The kiss was like honey.

And in front of so many eyes, that kiss felt like staking a claim to the rarest treasure.
Isidor’s breath trembled slightly, his long lashes fluttered, and Asta watched it all intently, not blinking once.

He knew his heart was pounding in the human’s chest like a bird on the verge of flight.

Everyone around them smiled.
Every pair of eyes was filled with kindness.

Isidor thought—maybe one day, they would leave this place.
Across his long lifespan, he might meet countless others, just as the monster would.

But he would never forget these people.

Like thanking every ordinary soul for being part of the miracle—each encounter a diamond beyond price.

The banquet began.

Guests poured out of the chapel and took their seats at lace-trimmed white tables in the garden. Asta’s “witness” vanished silently amid the crowd, replaced by a sleek black cat who claimed the best seat first, its tail flicking with delight.

A “guardian spirit” brings good luck—everyone believed that.

Isidor mingled with ease, chatting with every well-wisher. Asta, meanwhile, shared a plate of cream cakes with the black cat.

The garden buzzed with warmth—amid chaotic greetings and clinking glasses, a quiet kind of happiness lingered in the air.

John wrapped up his post-wedding duties in record time and called again.
He chatted awkwardly with Isidor at first, clearly unused to this gentler, friendlier version of his former teacher.
Then somehow the elderly neighbor lady joined the conversation, and before long, she was animatedly trying to set John up with someone—his name now added to her matchmaking shortlist.

Father Peter squeezed through the crowd—orange flower petals clung to his silver hair, making him look far less stern and more approachable than before.
He had come to lead Asta and Isidor to the seaside.

The ritual to honor the Sea God was simple:
light a white candle by the shore, and together, make a wish to the ocean.

The couple was to help each other, hand in hand, to touch the wet, salty water.

The sea here was gentle, like a great dark jewel, free of any danger.
White seashells lay quietly in the sand.

Asta stood by the sea. The sky was bright, the sun softened behind a veil of thin clouds. It gazed at the endless expanse of water—this was the real ocean, a place where no matter which direction one walked, they’d never reach an end. The world was never meant to have edges, just like the future.

The candle flickered slightly in the sea breeze, but its flame only shone more brilliantly.

It was a special windproof candle made by local fishermen—there would be no awkwardness of a sacred flame blown out by the elements. But even if it were an ordinary candle, Isidor would have made sure it stayed lit.

The offering to the sea god was also a chance for couples to declare their devotion and enjoy a moment of seclusion. So Father Peter had only brought them to the shore, briefly explained the procedure, handed them the necessary materials, and then left the two entirely alone. Asta and Isidor walked side by side along the long cape, the shadows of man and monster drawing closer with every step.

“Asta,” said Isidor, his eyes glinting strangely, “do you think the sea god will actually bless us?”

He knelt down, pushing the white candle gently into the sand. The wax dripped in a smooth sheen, like mother-of-pearl glowing faintly. Then, solemnly, he offered his prayer to it. When he turned his head, he saw a sly glint in Asta’s black eyes as it silently raised a finger and gestured for silence.

Something seemed to stir in the monster’s shadow.

At that very moment, the distant sea began to churn with a quiet swell. The windless ripple didn’t fade like the other waves—it gathered, darkening the water into shades of moss green and deep indigo. Isidor stared at the phenomenon, a grin playing at his lips.

“I think that’s the sea god,” he said, barely suppressing his laughter.

And indeed, it was. The ancient deity, long thought to have vanished for centuries, returned to these waters again—countless black stars rose with the tide, sharp and gleaming, soft and full of blessing. They shimmered like murals in a cathedral, swimming with impossible brilliance, like a miracle being drawn together.

“The sea god says, ‘Congratulations on your wedding,’” Asta said, feigning seriousness as it interpreted the divine message.

“That’s what I got too,” Isidor answered just as solemnly.

They looked at each other and laughed.

The sea god’s appearance lasted only a brief moment, enough for anyone to understand it had come solely for this joyful, pure couple. When Father Peter returned to the shore, he saw only Asta and Isidor chatting and laughing, their candle still burning gently beside them.

“Thank you, Father,”

said Isidor. “I think the sea god already gave us its blessing.”

Father Peter’s eyes softened, and he joked,

“Indeed. That wave on the horizon must have been its farewell.”

As night fell and they bid farewell to the last of the wedding guests—even the black cat had leapt off its chair and disappeared—Asta and Isidor finally returned to their home. The monster opened the door without touching it, its tentacles slipping it open before they arrived. The house welcomed them quietly and peacefully.

Or so it seemed—until Isidor, while changing his shoes by the cabinet, glanced up and noticed something moving in the darker corners.

Asta didn’t often release all of its limbs, but now they were oddly active. Isidor instinctively turned around, only to see the monster still calmly looking at him—though even the shadows beneath its feet had begun to writhe.

“Asta?”

“Mm,” it replied quickly, but its voice was a little hazy. Isidor let out a sound of realization.

“You’ve never drunk this much before, have you? At least… not enough to get drunk.”

Asta hadn’t. The strongest thing it had consumed before the wedding was bitter coffee. Once, it had found some old sealed beer in a sunken ship, but the sour, bitter taste made it steer clear. The wedding wine wasn’t exactly refined, but the sweet cherry liquor suited its tastes far too well.

Asta narrowed its eyes slightly, and for a brief moment, golden light flickered in them.

The human didn’t recognize the danger. He stepped forward without hesitation, trying to smell the scent clinging to Asta. It carried the sweetness of cake and salt of sea air, with a lingering alcohol tinge.

“I can make you a sour fruit juice to sober up,” Isidor said with concern.

He had no experience with drunk monsters, but Asta had acted rational and composed in public. It was only after returning to the villa that the signs began to show—its tentacles moved uncertainly, coiling near him in a dangerous dance.

A normal person would have run screaming.

But Isidor remained calm. Even if a slight mishap on the wedding night wasn’t ideal, if it was something Asta needed, he never saw it as a burden. He turned toward the kitchen, only to find the hallway blocked entirely by a flood of dark, smooth limbs.

Asta’s voice came from behind:

“No need.”

Its tone was oddly composed, like the alcohol had sharpened rather than dulled its awareness. It took a step forward, and Isidor’s instincts whispered of danger—not the kind that threatens life, but something else entirely.

And then came the worst part. That suit—the one hastily patched up by Asta’s limbs before the wedding—now came alive. The tentacles that made up the seams shifted naturally, tightening around Isidor’s neck and brushing lightly against his skin, leaving faint red trails.

His ears flushed. Lowering his lashes, he bit his lip, eyes misting as he stammered:

“Asta, do you… want me?”

“I do,” the monster replied.

His ankles were caught next. The entire villa seemed to awaken, every shadow blooming into dark limbs. They followed Asta’s will, wrapping around every part of the human’s body. It gently kissed his eyes, expression tender, and politely explained:

“The alcohol seems to have triggered my mating cycle—or something like it. But I think this timing is perfect, Isidor. I know on a human wedding night, people usually want to make a lasting memory.”

It kissed away his tears, but new ones welled up again, dyed red by sensation. Tentacles left no room for escape—he was bound completely, with no way to resist. Unlike last time, he was fully conscious.

“…Mm,” he murmured, voice muffled. “Star…”

It truly would be unforgettable. The alcohol-induced episode made Asta calmer but its methods more unruly. The tentacles, scented with cherry wine, seemed determined—intent on overwriting the human’s scent with sweetness.

And the black-haired, black-eyed form that held him remained gentle throughout. Even when Isidor was overwhelmed, he found himself offering more, wanting to satisfy Asta.

The lights of the villa went out early that night.

The pastry shop hung a “Closed” sign the next day—it was Friday. The weekend was a scheduled break, and everyone respectfully avoided disturbing the newlyweds.

Each of their stories, taken alone, was like a spiraling symphony.

The wedding was no different. Nor would the honeymoon be.

Just days later, the green-eyed human had already started browsing travel ads, with Asta participating too. They were planning to head somewhere by the sea, though the specific destination was undecided. The monster suggested strolling around a sunken ship—it would be quiet and safe.

No human corpses, Asta assured him. It had rescued everyone from that wreck, and since it entered the institute, the area had been sealed off with no further accidents. They could also try the well-reviewed restaurants nearby, meet new humans, and maybe visit a few monster friends.

The story of the Star and the Green Bird—and their journey—was far from over.

Because a love this radiant would forever light their way forward.