I lay in bed that night, staring at the dark ceiling of my small room, unable to stop my mind from circling endlessly.
*Why am I like this?*
After the nightmare, Whenever I see Sir Kaito, I feel… strange.
It's hard to describe. There's this pull, this urge to be near him. To stay close. To protect him. When I'm around him, something settles
inside me—like I'm where I'm supposed to be. But at the same time, there's this constant anxiety, this need to make sure nothing bad happens to him.
*Is it love? Or is it just my duty influencing me?*
I can't tell the difference anymore. I've trained my entire life for this role. To serve the hero. To protect him. Maybe I've just internalized that duty so deeply that I can't separate what I feel from what I'm supposed to feel.
But then there was Sister Maria's question.
"So, who is your type?"
My face had stayed perfectly controlled—years of training had given me that much. But something had shifted inside me at those words. A sudden warmth, spreading from somewhere deep in my chest, radiating outward in a way I couldn't stop. My skin had prickled with awareness, heat blooming somewhere I couldn't quite pinpoint. It felt like being caught in a lie I hadn't even told yet.
And Sir Kaito had been right there.
Grey had teased me before, made comments about Sir Kaito and me. I'd brushed those off easily. They hadn't made me feel anything—just mild embarrassment at the impropriety of it. But when Sister Maria said it, when *she* asked that question…
*Why was it different?*
I pressed my hands to my face, feeling the warmth in my cheeks now just from remembering it.
Sister Maria is everything to me. She raised me. Taught me. Showed me kindness when others only showed me duty. Her opinion matters in a way that Grey's teasing never could. When she asked that question, it felt…
real. Like she was seeing something in me that I hadn't wanted to acknowledge.
Maybe that's why it affected me so much. Because if Sister Maria noticed something, then maybe it's not just my imagination. Maybe it's real.
*Do I… like him?*
The question felt strange even thinking it. I'd read about attraction in books, studied human emotions as part of understanding the heroes
I was meant to support. But experiencing it was different from reading about it.
But it didn't feel like what I'd read about in books. Not entirely. There was something else mixed in, something I couldn't quite identify.
During the walk to the training ground yesterday, I'd been carrying my research materials when Grey had asked if I was a bookworm. Grey turned to Sir Kaito with that teasing grin, mentioning that Kaito liked books too—that we'd get along great. When I asked Sir Kaito about it, hoping to start a conversation, he just nodded awkwardly, scratching the back of his head without meeting my eyes. The conversation died right there.
Then I heard Grey lean close to him, whispering something I couldn't fully make out, though his tone was disappointed. Something about "…won't be able to become a wingman any time soon."
Grey had seemed genuinely frustrated about something.
Grey had mentioned something about "eavesdropping" being wrong in their world. I'd assured him I would never do that deliberately—I'd only caught pieces of conversations by accident, not the full context.
But those fragments stuck with me anyway. The teasing tone. The wingman comment. Something about shared interests. I didn't fully understand what Grey had been trying to do, but I knew it Involved me and Sir Kaito somehow.
Is that why I felt that heat? Am I attracted to him?
Then there was the test.
"Grey, attack Sir Kaito."
I'd told myself it was to confirm what I'd read in the books—that the holy sword only activated against demons and magical beasts. A
practical test. Necessary information.
But deep down, I'd had another reason.
I needed to know how I'd react.
And my body had moved on its own. The barrier appeared before I'd consciously decided to create it. Instant. Powerful. Absolute. The protective instinct had been overwhelming—not a choice, but a compulsion. Something deep inside me screaming to keep him safe at all costs.
When I'd looked at him afterward, kneeling beside Grey but with my eyes on Sir Kaito, I'd felt it so fiercely it scared me.
"Until I am alive, I won't let you get hurt either. I promise."
The words had come out with an intensity I hadn't intended. I'd seen the surprise on both their faces.
What was that feeling?
Not quite like attraction. Not exactly like anything I'd read about. Something deeper, more primal. The need to protect. To shield. To stand between him and anything that might harm him.
I'd tried to rationalize it quickly. *It's just duty. I've trained for years to protect the hero. Of course I'd react that way.*
That made sense. That was logical. Reasonable.
Except…
I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling.
*So what is this feeling? Is it attraction? Love?*
But it didn't feel like what I'd read about romance. It was too fierce. Too consuming. Too focused on protection rather than… whatever people felt when they were in love.
*Then what is it?*
My hands clutched the sheets, frustration building.
*Am I just confused? Projecting something that isn't real?*
Maybe I was just exhausted. Maybe the stress of training the hero, the weight of responsibility, the pressure of everything was making me see things that weren't there.
But that didn't explain my body moving on its own. That didn't explain why protecting him felt more important than proper training
methodology. That didn't explain why that sudden warmth had flooded through me
at Sister Maria's question.
*Why am I like this?*
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Tomorrow I'd be more objective. More professional. I'd train them both equally,
maintain proper distance, stop letting whatever this was influence my judgment.
But as exhaustion finally began to pull me under, the questions remained unanswered:
*What is this feeling? Why does it feel so different from anything I've read about? And why does it feel so right even though it makes no sense?*
I had no answer.
Sleep claimed me with those questions still echoing in the darkness.
And then—the nightmare came again.
The burning town. The screams. Houses consumed by flames reaching toward the darkened sky. And at the center of it all, a small girl—no older than five—with purple light crackling in her tiny hands.
*Please… stop! I don't want this!*
The desperate plea inside her mind, while her face remained blank. Expressionless. Empty.
"Alisia! Finish them!"
The cruel command. The crystal orb pulsing with dark purple light.
"Ice Blossom… burst!"
Frost devouring flame. The deafening crack as thousands of ice shards exploded outward, piercing through everything—wood, stone, flesh. Beautiful and terrible.
The same nightmare. Alwayss the same.
But then—something shifted.
The scene wavered, like ripples on disturbed water. The frozen destruction began to blur and fade.
Warmth.
Soft, gentle warmth unlike anything in that nightmare.
The burning town dissolved. The ice shards melted into nothing. The screams faded—not into the terrible silence of death, but something peaceful.
I wasn't standing in destruction anymore.
I was… somewhere else. Experiencing something else.
No—experiencing someone else.
Soft candlelight. The scent of herbs and something sweet. A gentle rocking motion.
And a baby.
Tiny fingers curled peacefully in sleep. Small, perfect features relaxed in innocent dreams. Wisps of soft hair barely visible in the dim light. The most precious thing in the world.
The feeling that flooded through me—through *her*—was overwhelming.
Love.
Pure, unconditional, all-consuming love that made everything else fade to insignificance. The kind of love that would burn the world down to keep this small life safe. The kind of love that would sacrifice anything, everything, without hesitation.
Gentle hands—not mine, but I felt them as if they were—cradled the baby with practiced care. A voice, soft and warm, whispered
words that resonated through my entire being.
"I love you, my child…"
The words wrapped around me like safety itself. Like home.
The warmth intensified. Not the burning heat of destruction, but the gentle warmth of comfort and belonging. It filled every empty space inside me, soothed every jagged edge of pain I'd carried for so long.
For the first time in years—maybe ever—I felt what it was like to love someone completely. To have someone so precious that the entire
world faded to nothing. To feel that protective fire burning bright and fierce and right.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, my chest tight, my body trembling beneath the thin sheets. But this time was different.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, but they weren't the harsh, choking sobs that usually followed the nightmare. These tears were.... gentle. Warm.
My hand moved to my chest, pressing against the unfamiliar feeling there. Not the crushing weight of guilt and horror I always woke with. Something else. Something softer.
"I love you, my child…"
The words echoed in my mind, and fresh tears spilled over.
I'd never felt anything like that before. Never loved anyone. Never been allowed to. My whole existence had been about destruction,
control, being used as a weapon.
But for those brief moments, I'd felt what it was like to love completely. To feel that overwhelming protective warmth. To have purpose that wasn't about pain.
And it had felt… comforting. Like finding something I didn't know I'd been missing.
My hands clutched the sheets as the warm tears continued to fall. A strange cocktail of emotions swirled inside me—comfort from that gentle warmth, but also something darker.
Jealousy.
*Why can't I have this?*
The thought came unbidden, sharp and painful. Not wanting to be loved—wanting to love. Wanting to feel that overwhelming protective warmth as my own feeling, not borrowed from someone else's memory. Wanting to hold someone and know that fierce, unconditional love was truly mine.
Why couldn't I experience that for real? Why couldn't this feeling belong to me, instead of being some fragment of someone else's life?
*It's definitely not mine.*
The reminder settled over me like a cold blanket, extinguishing some of the warmth. Those feelings, that memory—it belonged to
someone else. I was just… witnessing it. Experiencing it secondhand.
But whose memory was it?
And why was I seeing it now?
I sat there in the darkness of my small room, tears drying on my cheeks, trying to make sense of what had just happened. The nightmare had always been the same—always that terrible day, that destruction, those screams. Never anything else.
But this time, something had changed.
Someone had shown me something different.
The warmth lingered faintly in my chest, like embers that refused to die completely. It wasn't enough to chase away all the cold, all the guilt, all the pain I carried. But it was something.
Something to hold onto.
I lay back down slowly, pulling the thin blanket up to my chin. My breathing had finally steadied, though my thoughts remained a tangled mess.
*I love you, my child…*
Whose child? Whose love?
And why did experiencing it make me feel both whole and empty at the same time?
Sleep didn't come easily after that. But when it finally did, for the first time in years, the nightmares stayed away.