Sadly, your jest earned you an unimpressed stare and was received with jarring silence rather than the charming laughter he graced you with earlier.

"Is that so..?" His expression contorted with dubiety at your humorous, or lack thereof, words.

"That's right." The lie fell through your teeth with unbecoming ease.

It was a bad habit you decided you quickly needed to become acquainted with if you wanted to survive this strange world full of unknown variables. A couple of white lies wouldn't hurt once in a while, not if you told them with beguiled caution.

Plus, this guy was one of your many love interests, going along with his whims, as bothersome as they may be, was far better than receiving the wrath of negative love points.

In short, you didn't really have a choice in the matter at hand.

Loki eyed you for a moment, noting the slight change in your disposition. Much like last night when you spouted jargon about a mouse on the run, your response just now was curt, blunt and left no room for furthering questioning.

It wasn't exactly uncharacteristic of you, per say, but there was something— something strange about it…

The observation lingered with an afterthought, and then, after meaningful pause, Loki cast the man who'd accompanied you a sideway glance.

"Rodin, would you brew us some of the imported tea her Ladyship enjoys?"

Rodin — the middle aged man with a completely receded hairline and an impressive beard — guarded the both of you with a respectful curtsy in response. "Yes, vice-commander."

"Tea?" You perked up unceremoniously at the familiar word, nodding with quiet acknowledgement as Rodin politely excused himself from the study.

'Tea' was a word briefly commented on in one of your numerous diary entries, and with that incriminating thing being just about the only thought on your troubled mind right now, it was only natural you grew taut with fear at the mere mention of it.

Did someone catch a glimpse of it whilst you made your way down to the study and tattle on you to the scary vice-commander?

Damn it! I knew I should've hidden it somewhere else!

At that moment, when Rodin made his presence be known outside your chamber and informed you of Loki wanting to see you, you were overrun with frenzied panic.

It was just one thing after another to constantly worry about, and thus, finding an appropriate hiding spot for the diary was the last thing on your mind.

Mentally resisting the urge to drag a hand across your face at your blunder, you inwardly cursed your past negligence, praying with ardent desperation to whatever higher being out there that your frustrations didn't bleed out across your expression.

For all you knew, Loki could have very well been trying to gauge your reaction!

Ugh!

How could you be so stupid and leave the diary back in plain sight knowing damn well that it's existence would be the deciding factor of your survival?!

There was just nothing worse than this.

Well, maybe being burned alive was a tough competitor, but still!

Your brows furrowed against your will, Loki's curious stare going unnoticed in your state of deep pondering.

In that short time between you getting dressed in appropriate garments and your journey towards the vice-commander's study, was it really likely that someone would've noticed the dodgy diary and ran their way over to snitch on you?

The chances were slim, sure, but not exactly zero either…

"Lady [Name]?"

"Huh- what?" You blinked, snapping back to reality when your name rung tumultuously with question.

Fuck, had you been so out of it that you couldn't even hear his words? So much so that he caught on to your silence that tethered the line of your guilty conscience?

Schooling your expression into one of soft innocence, you let out a self-deprecating laugh and tucked the loose strands of hair behind your ear. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Returning your query with an amicable smile, his honeyed gaze crinkled softly as he slowly lifted his hand out before you. "I asked if you wanted to take a stroll in the garden while we wait for the tea, my lady."

The garden?

That promptly piqued your curiosity. The interior of this castle was unbelievably impressive, just how much more impressive could the exterior and surrounding land get?

You needed desperately to know!

Worrying about whether the contents of your diary had been leaked was one thing, but figuring out the layout of this labyrinth disguised castle was a whole other thing. If the worst case came to be, and you needed to leave this place to ensure your survival, the routes to take for a successful escape needed to be engraved into your mind.

"I'd love to, vice-commander!" You quickly accepted the inviting gesture with unbridled eagerness, revelling in the immediate warmth his calloused hand brought to you.

STATUS UPDATE:

[Julian Loki is pleased to receive his invitation with your enthusiasm.]

[+10 love points.]

[Current progress: 20/100]

Besides, a breath of fresh air and a cup of fancy tea to clear your mind enraptured with turmoil might've been what you truly needed after enduring hardship upon hardship.

Or so you thought.

The walk was pleasant.

Really. Truly. You had no complaints whatsoever.

Though, dear God, the extravagance of this residence?

That, was something you were not exactly prepared for.

Sure, you'd half expected it considering your jade ring of wealth and fortune, but goodness— seeing the landscape first hand was just an absolute insult to your puny imagination.

Your current place of residence, or as you've come to recently know it as per Loki's casual commentary, Le Château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, was disgustingly grand.

And unforgivingly so.

As if the interior architecture of stained glass, striking pillars and ornate plaster wasn't enough for your awe, the exterior structure and natural landscapes left you aghast, at a great loss for words.

The endless rows of planted flowers that have reached the stage of their mid spring blooms, along with the acres of land that stretched lengths and widths beyond the realm of your naked eye, that, paired with the maze like structure of meticulously trimmed bushes which framed the pathway you were currently taking — it was safe to say you were leading a rather comfortable life.

Still, somehow, despite having everything between wealth and beauty, your fate was cruelly predetermined.

Whether it was being burned alive for the accused crime of witchcraft, or failing to gain the affection of your love interests and facing the system's cryptic penalties as a result of it, nothing good seemed to await you in the near future.

The grim truth of your reality steeled your resolve far better than anything else ever could. You had a lot to do, from forming romantic relations with unnamed people and learning about your current world.

For starters, mapping out the entire plot of land and the floor plan of the residential castle took precedence. And what better way to do that than to do it with one of your love interests?

There was no better way—

"Penny for your thoughts, my lady?"

"…."

You blinked, your ambition driven thoughts coming to a sullen pause as he presented a gold coin towards you.

Huh?

Right, you were still on your leisurely stroll with the vice-commander, one of your hands resting on his escorting forearm as the other tentatively ghosted over.

If he noticed your silence from before, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, his gaze lingered on how your hands chose to embrace his arm with zero signs of aversion. No attempts made to collect the coin of thought he offered you with his free hand.

"Or," he started again, watching your expression carefully as you curiously tilted your head at him with question. "Do they all lead back to a special someone."

"S-special?!" You spluttered, your hands finally leaving his arm and flailing about with frenzy as your ears heated up from the implication.

Just who was he referring to with such a teasing tone?

Loki chuckled softly at your flustered response, finding quaint amusement in your fluster. "I jest with you, my lady."

"Right…" Embarrassed, you turned your head away to avoid him, hoping that would help collect your thoughts.

Ugh, and your reaction to his comment was no better! They would only fuel whatever misinterpretation he had of you, the silence that followed was clearly a telling sign to the strange conclusion he was sure to have drawn!

"My lady." He called out again, still very entertained by you.

You didn't turn to face him again like he thought you would, still insistent on evading him at all costs. But alas, Loki wasn't the sort of man who gave up easily.

"My lady, the world will be upset if you continue to avoid me."

That, promptly snapped you out of your silence, the eerie connotation not going unheard by you. What could he have possibly meant— the world will be upset?!

"No- I was just—" You quickly returned his gaze, a chill crawling up your sign as your mind ran haywire.

"Frowning at the fountain as if it owes you its grace?" He answered for you with an impish grin, your ruffled feathers the source of his mirth.

"Huh— well, I just," you glanced at the regal fountain that you had both stopped in front amidst your walk, taking in the marble focal point with befuddlement. "I just thought the cuckoo in the centre was a rather nice edition!"

"The cuckoo?" He raised a brow, utterly unconvinced that you would find such a strange thing pleasant to the eye.

"Vice-commander, you don't think so?" You quickly turned against him, putting on a faux expression of disapproval.

"Ah, well," he hesitated as he stared at the meticulously carved bird that was spitting out water rather distastefully. "No, I think so too."

Sure you do…

STATUS UPDATE:

[Julian Loki doesn't understand your sudden change of character. He doesn't want others to experience them too.]

[-10 love points.]

[10/100]

Huh? What?!

What's with the abrupt drop in love meter?! You hadn't even done or said anything to offend him!

Ugh!

And what was with the whole aversion to others experiencing your change or whatever??! What did that even mean?

Damn it!

Or was it just the stupid cuckoo?! Did it offend him to say that it looked pleasant?

Oh my God!

You were sure Julian Loki, the vice-commander who protruded the air of maturity was the better love interest compared to Vivian Hugo who blamed you for something out of your control, but fuck!

This guy was a sensitive guy! Forget mature! He got butt hurt about having to say something he didn't want to say!

"O-on second thoughts, the cuckoo is rather unsavoury…?" You pointed out with a finger on your chin, buckets of sweat accumulating all over you.

"I suppose."

What a dry response!

You cringed at his lack of enthusiasm.

Just earlier, you were doing so well in regards to building up your relationship with Loki, but now, because of this stupidly ugly bird, it looked like your efforts were all in vein!

"Vice-commander," you called out sullenly, covering the side of your mouth with one hand and beckoning him over with the other as if telling a secret. "You can be sincere with me…!"

Loki blinked at your childish nature, mildly surprised to see you encourage him over to gossip about the ugly bird. He took in the sight your furrowed brows and comical dismay, an expression that eased his tense shoulders into one of inquisition.

"Do you not have anyone to speak ill of this cuckoo?"

"Only you, vice-commander..." You sighed pathetically, shoulders sagging with despair at your solitude.

He laughed again, unrestrained and with honest delight.

It seems, that the vice-commander enjoyed every bit of your ridiculous antics.

"My lady," he drawled out with ardent affection, tossing up the gold coin and catching it with practiced ease.

Brows shooting up to your hairline with awe at the display of his expertise, your amazement urged him to continue.

"If you have no one to share your troubles to, then I say, offer this fountain the coins of your thoughts, and let your hardships fall to ease."

Then, as if on cue, the sun reflected its beam off of him, the light of its rays glowing aureate against the warmth of his dark complexion. Loki flashed you a soft smile, not before gently placing the 'coin of thought' into your outstretched hands.

You eyed the coin with curious endeavour, fingers gently tracing the patterns etched onto the precious metal. It was of a bird, the phoenix, both majestic and exalted in its quaint beauty, and just above it, the engravings read in perfect cursive, the Pifa Empire.

The Pifa Empire, huh?

So that was the name of this empire…

You flipped the coin and examined the other side, where a wreath of thorns and roses greeted you with its eccentric charm.

"Roses and a phoenix…" you mumbled absentmindedly, making mental note to research about the coin's motif and the empire's official currency in the near future lest you wished to be the fool of ignorance.

"Mhm, it was the coin handed out to the eleven fledglings of the Pifa Empire during the Imperial Crown Prince's coronation." He commented vaguely before gesturing to the fountain. "You should make your first wish with it, my lady."

"Huh— Is it okay? You mentioned that it was—"

"Hush," he silenced you by bringing a finger to his soft-curved mouth. Then, with the mischievous nature of a minx, he winked at you with quiet approval. "It'll be our secret."

Your cheeks heated up with fluster at the suggestion. To think he'd return your gesture of honesty through inside jokes and secrets, him, the vice-commander that you were convinced was both scary and immature.

"Hah…" You exhaled with relief, your focus returning back to the gold coin he was insistent on giving to you in spite of its priceless worth. "Well, if you're so adamant, then I suppose I haven't a choice."

"I suppose you don't." He agreed cheerfully.

A smile slipped past you despite yourself, the small quirk of your lips not going unseen by the keen eyes of the vice-commander.

The Pifa Empire, its currency and its Imperial Crown Prince, along with the eleven fledglings of the empire.

Indeed, there was so much you needed to learn about, and many more questions you needed to sate to live at peace.

With endless tasks to complete, the only way to begin was to set your resolve straight.

I want to shed my old ways and be reborn.

Eyes closed, you held the coin close to you, clasped in your praying hands that embraced it reverently. Then, with ardent hope, you threw the coin into the fountain, watching with bleary eyes as it splashed to a stop in the stillness of the water.

I have to live.

I have to—

"So," his voice pulled you out of your inner monologue, urging you to meet his gaze.

"So?" You tilted your head, loose strands of hair framing your face.

"What did my lady wish so ardently for?"

"I'm not telling you!" You crossed your arms, outraged at his inquisition. Did he not just tell you earlier to send the fountain your wishes if you had untold thoughts?

"Even though I gave you the special coin?" He pouted with faux sadness, leaning down to meet your appalled countenance head on.

"You- but you— you said I could have it!" You whined, taken aback by his sudden curiosity. "And plus, saying the wish out loud reverses its effect! It won't come true anymore!"

"Really? That's awfully foolish." He pointed out with a careless shrug.

"It's— well," you battled with yourself, utterly humiliated with his insensitivity. "Is it foolish to wish for frequent morning strolls with the vice-commander?!"

"…."

You watched, eyes growing wide in disbelief as Loki rubbed the back of his neck with quiet embarrassment to your 'wish', your brazen admittance something he never would have dared dreamt to see.

Oh.

That worked so much better than you could have ever imagined!

STATUS UPDATE:

[Julian Loki is caught off-guard with your sincerity. He can't get your wish out of his mind.]

[+20 love points.]

[Current progress: 30/100]

See?

Little white lies like these shouldn't hurt once in a while.

"My lady… your wish won't come true now that you've revealed it to the world." He teased, honeyed gaze landing on you with fervour.

"What?" Raising a curious brow, you guarded him with mock offence. "Do you not wish to join me on leisurely strolls every morning?"

"That's not true, my lady."

"And… what about tea right afterwards?" You tested your luck with mild caution.

"It would be the greatest honour, my lady." He placed a gloved hand over his chest and curtsied with grace.

"So my wish has already come true?" You hummed thoughtfully.

"I daresay it has." He chuckled, pearly whites on display.

"Perfect!" You squealed with unbridled joy, utterly elated to have killed two birds with one stone.

Morning walks with Loki meant that you could survey the land adequately whilst also scoring love points with him. A great stepping stone towards your survival!

"My lady," he called out again, reverence weaved in the way he addressed you.

You hummed in response to his call, eyes scrunching briefly when a sudden gust of wind brushed past you.

"Please excuse me."

The warmth of his coat encased you, a welcomed embrace that you accepted with quiet gratitude.

"Though it is mid spring, the weather still tends to be frigid." He explained in tandem, something you found yourself nodding at.

Now that he mentioned it, it was rather cold.

Yeah, it was… really cold… actually.

Were you just imagining it now that Loki brought up the weather, or were you just really cold—?

"[Name]!"

It— everything happened all too quickly.

Way too quickly.

One moment you were playfully bantering with the vice-commander, making naive wishes over the fountain whilst admiring the mid spring blooms. And the next, you're losing your balance from sudden fright and falling straight into the fountain like a bad omen.

You don't hear anything over the noise of your palpitating heart. Not the shrill neighs of a startled horse that approached you without showing any signs of stopping, nor the young boy's yells to move out of the way, not even Loki's uncharacteristic yell of concern — you hear none of it.

None at all.

The world goes deathly quiet. All you do is feel.

Cold. Humiliated. And worst of all, exposed.

It's cold…

"Rodin! Her Ladyship needs warmth! Have the maids prepare a warm bath and in the meantime have her warm up near the firepla—!"

The somatic memory of something distant rose, but it falls as quickly as it surfaced.

"No!" You shake your head adamantly, finally finding your voice in your perturbed state of stupor. Your drenched garments clung to you like second skin, its cold weight heavy against your hyperventilating figure.

The look Loki flashes you at your abrupt refusal is nothing short of incredulous, dancing the line between offence and hurt.

A pang of unease gnaws at your stomach, whispering you the cruel reminder of your fate of death if you were to make a mishap.

The thought of your impending penalty strikes you, prompting a visceral response out of you. You're urged to explain yourself, and whilst it does not placate the vice-commander's expression, you rejoice quietly when the love meter remains unchanged.

"A— a change of clothes and a warm bath will be enough, it's just water. A fire is not needed for this."

You had no need for the unforgiving roar of flames.

It was better to be cold than be reminded once more of the cruel fate you've endured.

Despite his disapproval born from his rare concern, the vice-commander quickly agreed to you wishes. The choice of the matter out of his hands and entirely in yours.

The incident wrapped up with no further complications.

You're bathed in warm water, quickly changed into dry clothes, and given heart-warming tea.

The rest, you don't remember much. Not when all you feel is cold.

Every house servants notice, of course they do, but they don't dare bring it up. The last time someone brought up warming up near the fireplace, it didn't end well. Your refusal was absolute, and no amount of convincing would change your mind otherwise.

You could also remember the brief conversation you had with Loki, albeit only faintly.

He told you what happened from his perspective, and then inquired of your approval regarding the boy's appropriate punishment.

Apparently, Charles Chevalier — a young knight of the house's military — hoping to impress the vice-commander, had rode a horse known for its untameable nature.

The rest of the story was self-explanatory, anyone with sense could fill in the gaps.

The horse grew out of control. Charles was left helpless. And somehow, you, were caught in the middle of it.

It was stupid, yes, but it happened.

And as Loki narrated to you the awful events, you mindlessly nodded to whatever he said, hearing every word but not quite listening to any of them.

Everything hurt, your head especially. And most of all, you were cold, and regrettably, still ignorant of the world around you.

That's why, despite Loki postponing your routine of leisurely walks in the garden with his incessant nagging of rest and warmth, you snuck your way out your room and into the castle's impressive library.

The delay of your morning promenades meant that your secret means of learning about the castle's layout were also put on pause. Hence why you were here. If you couldn't actively gather information through physical means, at least you could passively educate yourself through these books.

Well, that was the original plan, but now that you were actually here, it seemed like a far fetched endeavour.

There's book, you note after a careless observation.

Many, many books. You affirm with certainty as you took in the grand library.

So many books that the mere thought of reading them all made your head spin and your stomach queasy.

It's been a couple of days since then, and still, a chronic coldness seemed to follow you in tandem, lingering a phantom step behind you much like a tethered spirit.

Cold.

You shook off the somatic memory, it was most likely a trick of the mind. Perhaps, you were still not over the humiliation you were put through.

And perhaps, that may have been why your irritation grew tenfold at the mere sight of the guilty boy.

"Lady [Name]! I'm Charles, Charles Chevalier! A knight under the Commander!"

Unlike your past few encounters, where he'd lingered from afar, hidden behind the tall shelves of books as he burned holes into the back of your head whilst you tried to research, this time, he seemed to have grown a pair and finally approached you.

You didn't answer him when he addressed you, as per usual, choosing to ignore his presence like you did before when all you could see in your peripheral was tuffs of pale blond hair peeking through the empty gaps between books.

He may have considered this a fortuitous meeting, but you begged to differ. As far as you were concerned, his actions bordered the fine line of stalking and harassment.

"My lady… may I speak with you..?"

"…."

"My lady?" He asked again, clearly not taking the hint. "Lady [Name]!"

What an audacious little boy, you thought with clenched teeth. Extremely persistent too.... And still, despite your evident contempt weaved in your tense expression, he remained at your side, steady and unwavering, yelling right up in your ear.

The boy, Charles as you've come to know, was of average height. A few inches shorter than Loki, but still a bit taller than you.

You guarded him with a passive glance, gaze lingering curiously to see if he still had that book he continuously carried with him.

Whilst following you around like a baby chick attached to its mother's hip, you noticed he often perused an encyclopaedia of plants and flowers.

The sight nearly had your neck snap in half with disbelief.

Was he seriously trying to fool you into thinking he actually was reading a book instead of stalking you? Only a fool would think that. And it pissed you off indescribably to think that he thought you, of all people, would be so easily fooled!

At the very least, he could've hidden behind a more believable book. But an encyclopaedia of plants and flowers?

Seriously?

Just who was this idiot trying to fool?

"Cut to chase." Your words were curt, blunt and unforgiving.

Perhaps you could've been kinder to him, he was still young. It really wouldn't have taken a big effort to be patient and listen to what he had to say. But you were growing excessively irate, you were fatigued beyond your capacity and troubled with a pounding headache that throbbed harder with every word he hollered at you.

"Uh- I wanted to apologise and—"

"Did the vice-commander put you up to this?" You cut him off coldly, eyes narrowing at him with distaste.

A glint of surprise flashed across his round face, pale kyanite eyes widening at your clearly unexpected outrage.

"I don't need an apology that stems from your insincerity."

Then, your gaze flew past Charles and settled onto the book shelve behind him where you could briefly make out the silhouette of another annoyance hidden in the back.

"And that man who accompanies you frequently," you started off with a low tone, expression growing icy with every passing moment. "Tell him to stay out of affairs that don't regard him."

With that, you wasted no time lingering around them any further. Choosing the flee and slumber away the exhaustion of your suffering.

Something you didn't realise would last longer than planned.

It's cold…. and dark… I can't see anything…

A bleak darkness greeted you with its frigid embrace, blinding you of your sight and rendering you immobile.

You lay there helpless, delirium induced, and motionless. The only thing tangible in your dormant state was the tenebrous haze of obscurity.

"Her Ladyship's body is as cold as ice! Quick! Light up the fireplace—!"

No… No! Not the fire… it's too hot— I hate it! I hate the fire, it's so hot it burns…!

You tried to move, to free yourself from the weight of your sins that bound you unforgivably— but the motion was in vein, your endeavours consistently futile against the fate of your destiny.

Cold sweat clung to your heaving figure, violating you with its grimy touch, a force that hounded your writhing figure into coerced submission.

Your body stilled against your will. Every nerve becoming taut with paralysing fear as you became despairingly aware of your debility.

Ah—! It hurts…! Everything hurts…! I- I can't move—!

"Bring in the knight her Ladyship calls for! Only with him around does she allow the fire to be lit…!"

No… not the fire again… I can't stand its heat…!

Your objection, silent and suppressed, went unheard to those around you.

Heat consumed you with its vigour.

It's soft, you note offhandedly, tense shoulders easing after a moment of dubiety. The touch slowly welcomed despite your scepticism.

You hear hushed whispers in the back, though they go ignored against the steady pings of that unusual system you've come to hate.

That noise, that had once been a testament to your fear, became a guiding light in the darkness of your solitude. And the heat's contact, that defiled you with its terror, softened the slightest, caressing you with its mellow warmth.

Is this what death feels like…?

"Please… please don't die [Name]…"

You blink awake, eyes immediately scrunching shut at the blinding light that flooded your sight.

Eugh…

It took you a good moment to adjust to the dazzling sunshine, and when you did, your eyes flittered around you with bleary vigilance.

The setting was awfully familiar: regally painted walls, ornate plastered ceiling, and the nest of cobwebs that seemed to spread across the whole area with its invasive nature.

You were in your room, most likely laying on your bed after sleeping for God knows how long because of your fever.

The silence of your mind stretched painfully as you tried to form a coherent thought. It felt like so much had happened in that passing time, and yet, you couldn't recall a single thing.

A yawn left you in tandem, the noise of your fatigue echoing off the stagnant air with soft tranquility.

You pulled your arms back, stretching the taut muscles to your heart's content. A satisfying pop sounding from your joints as your upper limbs dropped back down with a soft thud.

Then, you tried to extend your legs to continue with your post slumber stretch, only to still abruptly when you couldn't feel anything below.

Huh?

You tried again, hoping this time round you'd feel something— but much like before, your limbs felt intangible.

Something's… wrong! I can't— move…!

The realisation promptly snapped you out of your peaceful daydream.

Elbows digging into the mattress, you pushed yourself up to identify the unknown weight that hindered you mobility.

Did— did somebody—?!

Panic surged in your chest as you considered the countless possibilities. Though they quickly came to a sullen pause when you finally discerned the cause behind your limp legs.

"Charles…?"

There, slumped over you, or more precisely, over your legs, was Charles— the boy responsible for all this.

He slumbered away peacefully, none the wiser to the heart attack he'd nearly cost you.

"Hah—"

You heaved a shaky sigh, shoulders sagging with instant relief at the sight of him deep in his sleep.

Fuck, for a good second there, you really thought your legs had been amputated!

Your movements came to a soft halt, before they resumed again with extra caution, a smooth motion to avoid startling him awake.

Sitting up more comfortably on the bed, your gaze naturally fell on him again, a childish bout of envy clawing up your throat as he snoozed away with not a worry in the world.

You weren't sure how, but somehow, despite being in the most awkward position, he seemed to be enjoying his nap on your lap. The patch of drool beneath his gaping mouth a telling sign to his quiet delight.

He mumbled nonsense under his breath, something about a smiling cat eating pastries, you didn't bother understanding, not when you were completely rapt in the shared gentleness.

The boy moved in his sleep, the tuffs of his pale hair sprawling over your sheets and concealing his face, a sight more bothersome than you'd like to admit.

And on instinct, your hand moved with a will of their own, fondly tucking the locks behind his ear, a gesture which revealed his expression to you once more.

The moment lasted an eternity, and your hand lingered near his hair with want, buzzing at the sweet warmth he radiated.

Was he… seriously a knight..?

Brows creasing with thought, you carefully traced the swell of his rounded cheeks, a pudgy softness that had your lips purse with quaint satisfaction.

This cute boy, was he really… a swordsman? This young boy?

The morbid realisation brought your hands to a momentary pause. Charles was the one to blame for your illness, sure, but somehow, you felt inclined to—

Ah—

He moved again. This time, however, he brought a hand to scratch his face, the tiniest distance away from his cheek that was a victim to your hand's ministrations.

That was close…

You sighed, releasing the breath you'd been holding at the nerve-wracking moment as you eyed his hand that moved with possessed consciousness.

Hm..?

His nails were caked in mud, a sight that would've normally repulsed you had it not been for the lone flower clutched tightly within it.

You blinked, heart sinking with disbelief. Then, your gaze shifted to his other hand that rested carelessly on his thigh.

There, on his lap, lay an unfinished flower crown made primarily of purple hyacinths. A piece he'd been clumsily working on before succumbing to the realm of fatigue.

A pit grew in your stomach as the cogs in your brain whirled with recognition. That encyclopaedia he was reading…!

He was reading about floriography: the language of flowers!

And purple hyacinths, as far as you could remember, they symbolised sorrow, regret, deep grief and— and a plea for forgiveness…

Moved by his ardent efforts, your chest trembled with the guilt of your discourtesy. You moved before you could consider your thoughts, your hands encasing his with the fervour of your reverence.

The prayer was weaved with silent gratitude, quiet forgiveness, and a hushed apology of your own.

Charles' hands were calloused from his sword, you thought, but they remained soft with his conscience.

The boy is strange, you conclude with a bitter laugh.

One moment he is not sincere, and the next, he is.

A contrarian at his heart, but a child in his soul — an innocent child, still untouched by the impurity of the world.

You don't notice, but the realisation of his nature has your tense heart ease into solace.

For the first time since awakening into this strange world, you don't feel on edge, you don't feel like any little mishap could be the cause of your death. Not in the presence of this boy whose candour has touched your soul.

Charles isn't bound by the system like Hugo or Loki is. He sought you out because he simply desired it, and the truth of the matter is that his genuineness has captured your affections.

You don't wish to approach him with ulterior motives like you do the rest, you wish to return his honesty with your own.

"Charles I forgive you, and I'm sorry too—"

"Uh…"

"Huh?" You head snapped towards him, ears heating up with mild embarrassment at the notion of having disturbed his sleep.

"Y-You…" He struggled to find his words, eyes unmoving from your face as his complexion grew pale with the passing minutes.

"What?" You urged him with a tilt of your head, a patient glint in your eyes as you awaited his response.

It's almost like he's seen a ghost—

"You're alive?!" He shrieked, eyes going wide with mortified incredulity.

"…."

You blinked. Once and then twice, disbelief written all over your expression.

What the hell did he just say—?

But before you could grow cross and rebuke him for his misleading words, he abruptly stood up, the chair he'd been sitting on falling to the ground with a clamouring thud.

Then, in a split second, he was fleeing your room with skilled haste. And not out the main door like a normal human being, but out your damn window.

Huh?

You had no time to process the events that took place, not when a strong gust of wind immediately blew at your thinly-dressed figure and snapped you out of your stupor.

Ugh! He could've shut the window on his way out at the very least!

comment to be added to taglist!