"Selene..." My voice trembled. "If you’re lying—if you’re just saying this to—"

She tilted her head slightly, as if weighing my fear.

"Would it hurt less if I lied?"

I didn’t answer.

Nope.

I couldn’t.

The silence stretched, raw and unbearable.

Finally, she leaned back, the air between us snapping like a drawn thread cut loose. Her smile returned—gentler now, but no less dangerous.

"Then draw again," she said. "Don’t hide. Show me what you’re so afraid of."

The ledger lay on the floor, closed and mocking. My hands itched to reach for it, to tear it open, to drown its blankness with the truth I’d buried. But I stayed frozen—back pressed to the wall, chest hollow.

She rose gracefully, her shadow spilling over mine.

"I’ll be waiting," she murmured, and for the first time, her voice was entirely hers.

When the door clicked shut, the silence left behind was worse than any accusation.

I pressed my forehead against my knees, fists trembling.

Piece of shit, I thought again. But I no longer knew if I meant her—or myself.

"Drawing?"

Nope. I’ve long since stopped doing that sort of mundane thing.Though, perhaps once... I found joy in it.

Selene, meanwhile, was gone. Disappeared to nowhere.As in—I had no idea where she was now.

Wait. That’s... eerie. Could it be—?

That dumbass.

Of course. She must’ve cloaked her presence using Helena’s mirror concealment from her pocket. No wonder I couldn’t sense her whereabout anywhere nearby.

Meanwhile, despite the earlier chaos, those two overly clingy sisters—Helena and Azalea—were still fast asleep, arms tangled around each other.

Yikes.

That sight alone stirred a nauseated sort of feeling and emotional trauma—not just from the implied intimacy, but from the fact that they were actually sisters who have done it.

Incestuous, and utterly oblivious to how wrong it looked.

For a moment, Azalea’s earlier confession flickered back into mind—a broken whisper I’d tried to forget.

Something about boundaries blurred, love misplaced, and guilt she couldn’t name.

I hadn’t wanted to hear it at all.

And seeing them being like this now, I wished I still hadn’t.

Great. What now? Wake them up?

I wasn’t even sure at this point. They were probably too drained after that long, tedious, and downright exasperating discussion we’d had earlier—not to mention Selene’s infuriating, error-riddled behavior during it all.

Then, a knock came from the inn’s door.A calm, deliberate rhythm.

And before I could move, she opened it herself.

"Greetings."

It was a gracious smile. A well-calculated smile. A courteous smile.

A smile that looked at me as if I were something divine, if not holy or just ideal.

Milena.

Her demeanor was entirely different from the first time I met her—eerily composed, almost soothing.What threw me off, though, was her attire... a maid’s dress?

To be fair, it suited her disturbingly well.Perhaps too well for the Archon of Geflügel.

"Good morning," she said, stepping forward with serene precision. "Is everything alright? I hope you’re feeling better."

I nodded silently, unsure if I wanted to speak in front of her at all.Not that I didn’t want to—just that her first impression had been so dreadful, so unnervingly heavy, that my throat refused to trust my own voice.

Seriously, what was this?How was she acting like this now?

It was both creepy and mysterious—and I wasn’t sure which unsettled me more.

"Are you... perhaps, afraid of me, Kairi?"

I swallowed hard, forcing the words out.

"Nope. Not really. Not at all."

Somehow, I managed the most nonchalant tone I’d ever faked.

Terrifying.Someone as powerful as her being this gentle toward me.

Oh, right. I almost forgot—she was holding two plates, balanced perfectly on her palms.Food. Expensive-looking, ornate even. Medieval in presentation, like something from a forgotten age of royal dining.

Way fancier than anything a normal waitress would ever serve.

Then again, back then, everything was expensive—before we learned the art of minimalism.Before we discovered that efficiency, not extravagance, was the real luxury.

And yet... something about her—about this moment—felt off.Not wrong, exactly. Just... familiar in the worst way.

The way Milena smiled, gentle and composed, was almost the same expression Azalea wore the night she confessed.

That quiet kind of smile that hid too much tenderness. Too much guilt.

A look that said, "Please, don’t hate me for what I’ve done."

The nausea returned, subtle at first, then sharp.

My chest tightened as her voice drew me back to the present.

"Will you eat with me?" Milena asked softly. "You look pale."

My brain, still lagging from that emotional whiplash, misheard her completely.For half a second, I swore to God she’d said, "Will you eat me?"

...Oh, wait. Right, I’m an atheist.

My soul almost left my body.

"Wait—what!?"

Her brow lifted, perfectly polite, as if nothing happened.

"Uh, will you eat with me?" she repeated, careful and slow.

"As in... food. Together."

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Of course."

I coughed, pretending to admire the plate instead of my own collapsing dignity.

What a smooth operator you are, Kairi. Real smooth.

Milena’s lips curved—just barely—but I caught it. That ghost of amusement hiding behind her eyes.

She knew. Of course she knew.

Still, she only nodded, setting the plates down with almost ritualistic grace. "Then, let us dine," she said, as if she hadn’t just watched me short-circuit over basic human speech.

The aroma hit next—something sweet, faintly spiced, the kind of scent that made even exhaustion step aside for hunger.

"Looks... fancy," I muttered, poking at the dish like it might explode.

"A simple breakfast," she replied. "Though I did have to improvise with what remained in the pantry."

Her tone was polite, but there was an undertone there—a quiet satisfaction that said, I saw everything, and I’m being merciful.

I sighed, resigning myself to both the meal and the humiliation.

Milena leaned in without a word, spoon in hand, the picture of composure.

"Say ’ah.’"

I froze.

No, she wasn’t actually—

Oh, right. She was. I hope my eyes were deceiving me.

The spoon hovered dangerously close, steam curling between us like some unholy omen of embarrassment.

My brain completely short-circuited.

Wait, what?!

Isn’t this like your ordinary scene in any yuri anime basically? Or just GL manhwa?

Because if it was, then congratulations, universe—you’ve officially turned my life into one of those absurd slow-burn setups.

Milena, meanwhile, didn’t so much as blink. "You should eat before it cools," she murmured, tone as calm as if she weren’t performing a scene straight out of a romance cliché.

I opened my mouth—more out of social panic than obedience—and instantly regretted existing. Or maybe I should have just killed myself at this point.

I swallowed, trying not to choke on either the food or my pride.

Milena set the spoon down neatly, folding her hands in her lap like a saint.

The silence between us stretched just long enough for my brain to reboot.

"...Why are you suddenly so nice to me?" I asked, half wary, half suspicious.

Her eyes flicked up, unreadable. "Shouldn’t I be?"

"What do you want, then? Would you rather I act like a monster who’s about to eat you instead?"

"That’s... not what I meant," I said quickly, words tripping over each other. "You weren’t like this before. Back then you were terri—"

I caught myself before finishing my sentence.

Terrifying.

Milena’s smile didn’t waver, but something colder flickered behind it—like she’d just shut a door in my face without moving at all.

Maybe she only acted that way around Selene.

Or maybe this was the act.

Either way, it didn’t comfort me.