STVWDTD Chapter 8

Are We Disturbing You?

"Wha—mph!"

Diana squirmed against his chest, the wet shirt clinging to her skin. The harder she wriggled, the tighter his hands held against her back.

"Rodrick?"

"..."

Diana glanced up at his silence, then gave up, resting her head on his chest instead. Well, now that they were like this—might as well absorb some curse.

"What's this supposed to mean? You sleep and wake up different? You hated it when I was the one clinging to you."

"So."

His voice grated like velvet, cracking at the edges.

"You hate this?"

"No. Who said I hated it?"

She pressed closer, and Rodrick let out a small laugh.

Impossible woman. Upgraded to: impossible woman, but not unwelcome.

Her weight against him didn't feel bad.

'This warmth. This nearness. Is this what peace feels like?'

He'd never found it before—not in killing sprees, not raging in battlefields while his cursed body screamed. This was new. First time in his life he'd felt it.

He stared at the bright moon, then frowned.

Something's wrong.

"Diana?"

"..."

She'd been chattering just a second ago. Now—silence.

He stood, checking her. Her damp body was cooling down, fever rising.

Shivering in sleep, her face flushed crimson.

Tsk. He pulled the pendant from the cord around her wrist, ripping off its charm. A location tracker. Emergency protocol—signal his soldiers.

They'd arrive soon.

Rodrick chose a safe-looking tree and positioned Diana against it, then started a fire.

Building a fire in the dark forest crawling with monsters was suicide. But monsters had never been a threat to him.

His shirt was somewhere. Coat too. No sword. Weaponless and unbothered, he stripped off the thin wet shirt he wore. Wrung it out. Draped it over Diana's body.

How did she get out of that castle alone? If she'd somehow dragged his unconscious body out—

He looked at the blue-glowing lake, eyes distant. The water's depth was unknowable. Does it connect to the castle?

Wet clothes. Her story. Easy to deduce. If he was in water, he could move easier.

"Commander!"

Familiar voice. Armor clanking. His soldiers arrived.

The moment they saw Rodrick, they froze.

Their eyes went wide at the scene in front of them.

"U-uh. Th-that is—"

One of them stammered. Another swatted him aside.

"Are we disturbing you, sir?"

Rodrick pushed back his dark hair with its blue shine. The revealed eyes were sharper than they'd been in years.

His glare said: what bullshit is this.

"N-no way! If the commander's standing around half-naked, misunderstandings are natural!"

Half-naked man. Fire. Woman asleep in his shirt. They looked like intimate lovers.

Except the man was their commander.

Their ruthless commander. The knight commander of Düberg who matched imperial knights. Rodrick Schwartz.

And he was stretching out one leg, offering his thigh as a pillow to the woman.

A lap pillow? His soldiers collectively lost their minds. This was huge news.

"Wow, so spring comes even to our commander."

"Thought he'd stay alone forever."

"Damn. I'm jealous."

"I haven't even seen my wife lately."

"Quiet."

The word dropped like a blade. Silence crashed down.

Rodrick raised a hand. His vice-commander stepped forward immediately.

At the same time, Noel—clutching the vice-commander's hand—came trotting up.

"Big sis!"

Before the child could reach Diana, a large hand scooped them up.

"Quiet. Who are you?"

"... Sis's brother?"

The child's face shifted from stunned to pouty, staring up at Rodrick with threatening red eyes. Chubby cheeks. Tiny frame. Not remotely threatening.

"Beatus would only have one youngest. Did they have a bastard child?"

The vice-commander, hanging back quietly, added: "We believe this is a Beatus bastard. Our previous investigation noted that the bastard never registered with the household upon entry. Seems they were trapped here."

"Was the Beatus noblewoman also missing?"

"Was this lady the Beatus heir?"

"Yes."

"Our reports before departure mentioned no anomalies."

Beatus's four siblings were famous in the empire. Three had notoriety; the youngest had fame for the opposite reason. A noblewoman who'd supposedly never left the estate. Rumors about her lack of beauty compared to her siblings. Incurable illness. Disability. Endless gossip, never addressed, which only made it worse.

But this woman was objectively beautiful. Sharp features, nothing wrong with her appearance.

Maybe she really was trapped here all along.

Better investigate once they got back.

"Old man."

Rodrick's eyebrow twitched at a title he'd never heard before.

"Let go of my hair."

The child had somehow been held by the head the whole time without him noticing. Rodrick's frown sharpened with annoyance.

"Daren."

The vice-commander quickly offered black gloves. He handed them over, then the spare coat. Rodrick snapped an order with a tilt of his chin.

Noel was already checking Diana's condition.

Small hand on her cheek. The raging fever cooled instantly. Her breathing steadied.

Red eyes traced the mana flowing through her body.

'She seems to have overextended herself absorbing unstable mana.'

The child looked pointedly at Rodrick.

'One deeply cursed human.'

He was necessary for Diana—but Noel didn't like him. Couldn't put it into words, but discomfort sat there.

"What's wrong, brat?"

"I'm Noel. Big sis needs warm shelter. Rain's coming."

Cold wind picked up. Storm clouds rolled in, swallowing the moon.

The rain woke Diana in fragments. No pain. She'd always woken braced for pain. Now there was none, and fear came first instead.

How much will this hurt?

Just days ago, she'd cried from shapeless dread.

Right. I died and came back.

But who was the castle's master? Red eyes. The empire only had that trait in Beatus.

Diana's eyes opened. She looked around, confused, then lifted her head.

Solid arms held her stable.

"Rod... rick?"

Sharp jaw. Impossible beauty. The man sat with her cradled in his arms, utterly composed.

"Big sis!"

"Noel?"

Focus sharpened. Details came into place.

"Where are we?"

"Is your body okay, big sis?"

"Yeah. Doesn't hurt..."

Her body wouldn't move. Diana looked down, confused.

"Wait. Rodrick. What is this?"

He just looked at her like—what's wrong?—with zero explanation offered.

She was wrapped in blankets. Like a newborn. Bundled in his arms.

What is happening. Someone explain!

She locked eyes with the man who'd just walked into the cave—dignified looking, dark-haired.

"Ah, you're awake, my lady. I'm Vice-Commander Daren Rolph of the Düberg Knights."

Right. Ask him.

"So."

"Yes, we've finished setting up camp. We'll maintain watch rotation."

The uniformed man left with crisp military bearing.

Diana stared after him, frowning.

"Rodrick. Explain. What's going on?"

"Well, noblewoman just woke. Want to explain why I'm still holding you?"

'Every time he talks, the conversation dies.'

Diana pressed her lips shut.

Rodrick and Noel were having a stare-off.

"Because the sir needs big sis's curse. If she doesn't absorb it, she'll die. You'd die too if the curse got stronger, right?"

"..."

'Noel. That's an abbreviated explanation. You need more detail.'

"... I see."

He's accepting this? Wait, Rodrick, your curse is supposed to be secret. It's known publicly as a hereditary illness. The knowledge felt suddenly fragile.

"That's why you cling so much?"

"Big sis passed out because of your curse."

Rodrick's mouth curved slightly interested.

"And?"

"We can erase your curse if she stays with you."

Rodrick laughed—a dry, humorless sound.

"You believe that, noblewoman?"

Diana, having managed to wiggle her arms free from the blankets, rested her head on his broad chest comfortably.

"I believe what I see."

"What?"

"I can see the mana leaving my body. And I can see the curse you're carrying."

"Beatus trait? So the brat's a mage?"

"Yeah, the kid healed me with magic. Saw it myself."

Noel nodded readily.

'Huh. He already knew.'

"So?"

"So?"

"Why would I need you if you're going to leave tomorrow?"

Light fractured through her wonder. Diana bolted upright.

"You heard that right?"

"And?"

"Don't you need me? I need you too."

He tilted his head at an angle, and his eyes—that blue so cold it seemed almost colorless—shifted.

"Why would I?"