The warm sensation of morning light brushed against my face, coaxing me from the depths of sleep. My eyes fluttered open, greeted by a gentle glow spilling across the room.
Where… am I?
The question barely formed before the memories returned in a sharp rush—homosetis attacking us, the chaos, the sound of steel, the flash of movement—then nothing. A void where consciousness should have been.
I tried to push myself up, but the sharp pain near my right shoulder stole my breath. My balance faltered, the room tilting around me. I would have fallen if not for the steady grip that caught me.
"Whoa… easy there," a voice said.
A voice I knew.
My gaze lifted, and the moment my eyes met his, the breath caught in my chest. The morning light caught his crimson eyes, turning them into burning rubies.
"Young master?" My voice trembled more than I intended, widening my eyes in disbelief.
"Good morning," he replied, his grin widening with that casual ease only he could carry.
"Have you… been here all this time?" I asked, almost hoping the answer was yes.
"Nope," he said lightly, "just got here to check on you before heading to my morning practice with Master."
"Take some rest, Clara. I will send someone to look after you."
He gave me a warm smile, the kind that always seemed to slip past my composure.
I could only nod, still caught in the haze between relief and confusion. Master?
Before I could gather the courage to ask, he turned and left the room, leaving behind only the fading echo of his footsteps… and the lingering warmth of his presence.
A minute after he left, the door burst open and a familiar small frame rushed in.
"Ah—!" I gasped as I was suddenly hugged, her tiny body almost tipping me back onto the bed. Her long, delicate ears twitched as she pressed her face into my shoulder.
"Sister Clara! You finally woke up!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with joy.
"Finally?" I echoed, still groggy. "How long have I been out?"
"Two days," she said, already busying herself with the wound on my right shoulder.
Two days…
My gaze fell to the injury—the one Homosetis had left me with. If their claws had been poisonous… the thought alone sent a chill down my spine. My condition would have been far more than just critical.
"I'll bring you something to eat," she said with a playful smile. "The blonde-haired lord has already set your menu for when you woke up. He said not to change it even if you throw a tantrum."
Spinach. I'm sure it's spinach. I could almost see Lord Hugo's sly, twisted smile as he scribbled my meal plan, no doubt pleased with himself.
She slipped out to fetch the food, leaving me with the soft rustle of curtains in the breeze.
A gentle knock followed soon after.
"Please, come in," I said.
The door opened, and in stepped Lady Sylvia—elegance made flesh. Her silver hair danced lightly in the wind from the open window, each movement a painting in motion.
"Good morning, Lady Sylvia," I greeted, bowing my head slightly.
She crossed the room without hesitation and sat beside my bed, taking my hand in both of hers.
"Clara… thank god," she whispered, her voice filled with relief. "I'm sorry I was no use to you back in the dungeon."
I immediately shook my head. "Not at all, Lady Sylvia. I am just glad you are safe."
We spoke quietly for a while, the morning light shifting across the room. I mentioned, almost idly, "I didn't think I'd been out for two days."
Lady Sylvia's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Yes… Lord Hugo said he misses your tea the most."
I let out a small sulk. "Yes… he never misses people."
"That's not true," she said, shaking her head. "According to the cleric, you were expected to wake up last night. And Lord Hugo…" her smile softened, "he did not leave this room since yesterday evening until you woke up."
…But he told me he'd just arrived.
"Besides," she continued, "he spent at least four hours a day watching over you. He just doesn't show that he cares."
A quiet laugh escaped her. "He thinks he's some tough guy."
Without meaning to, I smirked. The corners of my lips lifted on their own, and a warmth bloomed in my chest — gentle, steady.
"Ah!" I suddenly remembered. "Young master mentioned something about… a master. What is he talking about?"
Lady Sylvia's eyes softened. "Lord Hugo, along with His Grace, went to the capital of Elvia. There, they met the head of the Magic Guild. Since she is an aquaintance of the Gyrfald family, she accepted Lord Hugo as her disciple, upon Lord Everard's request."
My eyes widened. "That's right… His Grace saved us from the dungeon." A pang of guilt shot through me. I should greet him before this becomes any more disrespectful.
Without thinking, I began to slip off the bed, but Lady Sylvia's hand pressed firmly on my shoulder.
"His Grace is not at the mansion at the moment," she said gently. "He went to meet some aquaintances."
"I… see," I replied, lowering myself back against the pillows. Still, the thought gnawed at me — not greeting His Grace as soon as I woke up is beyond discourteous.
Lady Sylvia's next words, however, pulled me from that train of thought.
"Do you know," she said with a small smile, "you will be calling your young master His Grace soon?"
"What?" The word left me before I could stop it.
"Lord Everard said he will be made Duke soon," she explained, "and Lord Everard himself will retire to the position of family head."
For a moment, joy filled me—pure and bright. The young master, Duke… the title seemed to suit him so naturally. I should have felt nothing but pride.
But then… something darker crept in.
If young master became Duke… wouldn't he have someone else by his side? Someone far more capable than I am… someone like Sir Sebastian? The thought clawed at me before I could push it away.
I forced a small smile to mask the tightening in my chest. I knew I should be happy for him — overjoyed, even, but somewhere deep inside me, something bitter began to sprout.