"Do not touch. It is dangerous."
Fenrir's gaze, which had been fixed on the wad of papers, smoothly shifted to Presepe. As if he hadn't even looked in that direction from the beginning.
"Just leave it alone..."
Before he could even finish speaking, Fenrir's face contorted.
It was because, in that brief moment, blood was seeping from Presepe's finger, as if she had been pricked by a piece of glass.
"..."
When no further words followed, Presepe instinctively looked at Fenrir.
However, Fenrir's expression as he looked at her was somehow strange. His face was stiff and quite distorted.
...Is that the teacup you cherished?
In the midst of that, Presepe had a thought that even a passing dog wouldn't laugh at.
"...You're hurt, aren't you?"
"Yes?"
"Finger."
Ah.
Only then did Presepe realize that she had been stabbed by a piece of glass and muttered loudly.
"It's not a big deal."
Presepe smiled bitterly and kissed her finger.
"And I've been hurt much worse than this so many times that a scratch like this is nothing at all...!"
...It doesn't hurt.
Presepe could not forget the last words. It was because of Fenrir, who had suddenly snatched her hand away.
"..."
Fenrir furrowed his brows as he looked down at the blood the same color as his pupils.
Presepe was right. The wound wasn't serious at all. It was just a simple scratch. Moreover, that would be even more true for someone who had hanged herself, experienced freezing to death in an ice prison, and had their entire body bound in iron shackles.
However, it was annoying. It wasn't annoying to Presepe, but to him.
He didn't want this woman to get hurt in any way.
Because he had already seen that far too often.
"..."
Fenrir's hand, which had been carefully holding the finger with the protruding knuckles, slowly wrapped around Presepe's slender wrist.
Faint blue veins were visible on skin as white and transparent as snow, and slender arms that looked like they would leave a mark at the slightest touch.
Is that why, even with it right in front of him and having smuggled it out of the Imperial Palace, it feels so precarious, as if it keeps returning to the very beginning?
The feeling that the past, where she couldn't speak to anyone or even approach them, is going to repeat itself.
Anxiety kept sinking Fenrir. It was always the same, even after Presepe came to the mansion.
Perhaps that was the reason. No, that was a wrong thought. The desire to get a little closer to her, to touch her, and to feel her warmth—at least to confirm that Presepe was by his side right now.
It was around the time Fenrir's hot hand traced his way up Presepe's wrist and invaded further inside.
"Um... Grand Duke..."
"..."
"I am really fine. And getting blood on the Grand Duke..."
He belatedly came back to his senses at the sound of a low voice. Before he knew it, Presepe had carefully withdrawn her hand.
With slightly unfocused eyes, Fenrir silently looked down at his hand, which was gripping only empty air.
Just as Presepe said, there was blood on his hands.
He remained like that for a moment. He quickly changed his expression and looked at Presepe.
"I will call a doctor. Even though it is a small wound, it could be a big problem if it gets infected."
"No! It's fine. I'll just ask Hannah to treat it. I just need to apply some medicine, so there is absolutely no need to call a doctor."
Presepe muttered with a face that was subtly flushed compared to earlier.
"And there was something I wanted to ask you..."
"Ask?"
"It's nothing big! I asked Hannah too, and she said it's probably in the study."
Fenrir's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Um, may I use the study for a bit?"
At Presepe's cautious voice, Fenrir nodded and replied.
"That doesn't matter. Didn't I tell you last time? That you can use it however you want. Whatever it is."
“Ah, thank you..."
"But why are you doing this?"
Since she said she asked Hannah as well, it can't be just some ordinary book. Besides, given that she went so far as to make a special request like this, it must be even more so.
"I’d like to have a map of Ateloia."
"...Map?"
"Yes. Um... It's not for any particular reason..."
Presepe, who had been lost in thought for just a very brief moment, continued speaking as if she had thought of a suitable excuse.
"I've been trapped in the tower all this time... so I'm curious about the outside world."
"..."
"Of course, I am well aware that I cannot wander around outside as I please. The culprit hasn't been caught yet, and I came here because I'm in danger. However, I thought that if I could at least look at a map, my curiosity might be satisfied a little."
Ever since she was possessed, the game took place exclusively within the Imperial Palace without missing a single moment. Since the main setting was the Imperial Palace, she was familiar with its geography. The map displayed by the game system was also limited to the Imperial Palace.
However, it was not outside the Imperial Palace. Before this bug occurred, even when pursuing other characters, she always had to accompany them, and since movement consisted solely of choices, there was no way for Presepe to know the geography of Ateloia.
So, she thought it would be a good idea to start by examining the maps one by one and looking for places where there might be at least a little clue about the real male protagonist.
"I see. I understand."
Fenrir, who had been listening silently to Presepe's words, slowly began to speak.
"First of all, feel free to use the study as you please. You may look at maps or read books. Of course, if you need them, you may bring them to your room as well."
“Ah. Thank you.”
"Second, as Lady Presepe said, it is dangerous to go outside right now. I have a duty to protect Lady Presepe."
There were still male characters left.
Dietrich, Ivan, Siegfried.
The two, excluding Dietrich, hadn't even met Presepe yet, but they were already interested in her. This was due to the settings assigned by the system.
In this situation, running into them would do absolutely nothing good. He had to prevent that at all costs.
“And the third.”
"..."
"Do you remember the bet we made last time?"
Bet?
Presepe, who had been wearing a puzzled expression, paused involuntarily.
"Then, shall we make a bet?"
Ah. You mean that thing they did on the day the stone statue broke.
"If this causes you trouble, Lady Presepe, I lose; but if you let it slide quietly as I say, you lose. So, the loser grants the winner's wish. How about it?"
Back then, she had no idea something like this would happen. She didn't think Fenrir would win, and even if he did, she didn't think she would have the time to grant his wish. After all, the event of being imprisoned in the ice prison was right around the corner.
So Presepe had completely forgotten about it.
"I had visited because of that bet, anyway."
"..."
"In the end, I won, and you now have some time, Lady Presepe. So, I think it is now your turn to grant my wish."
What on earth are they trying to borrow by laying the groundwork so meticulously?
... She had that thought, but Fenrir must already know. That Presepe's situation is not favorable at all.
Besides, someone who had so much wouldn't possibly make a burdensome wish. Well, even if he did—though even if he did, it wouldn't be granted.
So, Presepe nodded as if she understood and asked back.
"Yes. Of course. I have to keep my promise. Please feel free to speak. I'll do my best."
“Whatever it is?”
"Well... yes, shouldn't we? If it's something I can make happen for you."
Fenrir smiled lightly.
"Alright. Then I will make that wish today."
"So, what kind of wish is it...?"
"I will come back to pick you up in the evening."
"Yes?"
"Hannah will get everything ready for you, so you don't need to prepare anything separately."
Fenrir continued speaking.
"Why? You could just tell me now."
"Because my wish can only be fulfilled when night falls."
...What?
Presepe tilted her head at Fenrir's words, which were difficult to understand.
"Then I'll see you later."
That was the end. Fenrir left her room, leaving Presepe behind, who still wore a puzzled expression.
However, he did not leave the place just like that.
"..."
Fenrir, standing with his back against the closed door, slowly raised his hand.
In Fenrir's red eyes, staring at the bloodstain on Presepe that was imprinted like a seal, were countless emotions that were not visible in front of Presepe.
Pitifulness, old, musty anger directed at someone, and vivid obsession.
Fenrir looked down at his palms in silence, then clenched his fists tightly.
He could feel the metallic blood sticking to him, but it didn't really matter.
With the trace of Presepe held in his hand like that, he began to walk slowly.
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