The heavy oak door was gently pulled shut, letting out a dull thud as it closed, sealing off that small world filled with hope and determination.
Klein turned around, and a familiar figure came into view within the shadows of the corridor pillars.
Ophelia had stood there at some point, quietly leaning against the handrail of the stairs leading to the second floor, her gaze fixed on him.
The magic lamp at the end of the hallway cast a hazy glow like a thin veil, softly covering her long golden hair and dyeing the tips with a warm, honey-colored halo.
She seemed to have been waiting there for a long time.
She didn't ask what he had done; her gaze moved past his shoulder to the heavy wooden door that had just closed.
“Is she alright?” Ophelia's voice was very soft, as if afraid of disturbing the soul that had just been carefully put at ease behind that door.
“She's stabilized for now.” Klein exhaled a long breath of turbid air, leaning his weight against the wall behind him. This exhaustion didn't stem from mana consumption, but from a deeper weariness that came from constantly reading the human heart.
“I gave her something to do,” he added.
Ophelia's golden eyes, bright even in the dim light, turned toward him, filled with a frank curiosity.
Klein briefly explained his arrangements, from grinding the moonseed flower to separating the soul-quieting grass.
“...Compared to ten thousand empty words of comfort, having something she can do for Karen will help her find her footing again.” Klein's voice sounded low in the quiet hallway. “What she needs isn't pity—though in the end, I only did this out of sympathy.”
After listening, Ophelia fell silent.
She didn't say “you did the right thing” or “you're very kind.”
She simply stepped out of the shadows, stood before Klein, and looked at him with that familiar, scrutinizing gaze of a knight. Then, she said something seemingly unrelated.
“When I was on the west coast, I would occasionally observe the soldiers in the legion.”
“In the legion, when faced with overwhelming sea monsters, recruits on the battlefield for the first time would piss their pants in fear.”
Her voice was calm and clear. “At times like that, the experienced veterans wouldn't pat them on the shoulder and tell them not to be afraid. They would kick them, roaring at them to grip their swords tight and check the gaps in their armor.”
Klein was stunned for a moment, then understood her meaning and couldn't help but chuckle.
“So, I've essentially taught myself the secret to stabilizing morale in a knight order?”
The corner of Ophelia's mouth twitched upward ever so slightly, so fast it seemed like an illusion.
“You always find strange but effective methods.”
Ophelia suddenly reached out.
Klein instinctively recoiled, but his feet remained nailed to the spot.
She was too close.
That fragrance unique to her—a scent mixed with wind and sunlight—drifted into his nose without warning.
Her cool fingertips lightly brushed his collar, picking off a small bit of herbal debris he had picked up in the storage room.
It was a trivial gesture, yet that faint touch made Klein feel as if his heart had skipped a beat, a wave of heat rushing from his neck to the top of his head.
“This is just to give her something to hold onto.” He composed himself, forcing his thoughts back on track, though his voice became much softer. “The truly troublesome part is still waiting for me upstairs.”
Healing Karen's soul wasn't something that could be accomplished just by grinding herbal powder.
That required fighting against the whispers from the deep sea, an alchemical miracle regarding the soul that needed to be precise to the extreme, allowing for no errors.
“I'll accompany you,” Ophelia said succinctly.
She said those three words as naturally as saying “I'll go get my sword.”
Klein looked at her, looking into those golden eyes that reflected his own image.
There wasn't a hint of hesitation or retreat in them; they were as calm as a piece of amber warmed by the sun.
With her there, those shadows lurking in the depths of knowledge, ready to swallow one's sanity at any moment, didn't seem so terrifying anymore.
He let out a long breath, exhaling the gloom that had built up because of Lyra.
“I have a plan for Karen's condition... and we've also found a way to research the evil god of the deep sea. It's just that the method...”
Klein's voice was very low, as if talking to himself or seeking final confirmation.
Ophelia didn't interrupt; she just listened quietly. Her patience was always his best sedative.
Klein paused before finally uttering that forbidden name: “I might... need to use the ‘Siren’ soon.”
The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
“Siren.”
That was the name Klein had given it.
Though Ophelia didn't know why he called it that, she didn't object.
That name represented an unkillable monster, a terrifying physical entity manifested from the will of the deep sea, possessing substantial offensive capabilities.
Ophelia's expression didn't change, but something settled deep within her golden eyes, like the last flicker of light before molten gold solidifies.
“Mhm,” she responded.
A single sound, nothing more.
But Klein knew that this one sound contained a complete promise.
On the carriage ride back to the manor, the two had made a pact: this thing belonged to both of them. If either side wanted to use it, they had to obtain the other's permission, and both had to be present.
This was the final line of defense to prevent either of them from being seduced by it.
Ophelia's “mhm” was her permission, and her vow.
Looking at her calm profile, Klein couldn't help but explain, “The whispers of that thing can directly erode the soul. I need an absolutely sober ‘anchor’ by my side to ensure I'm not dragged into the abyss during the procedure. Alone... I'm not confident.”
Ophelia turned her head. There was no surprise in her golden eyes, only a “rightfully so” calmness.
“I know,” she said. “So, we do it together.”
Her words were always so direct, like a knight's charge—crisp, clean, and piercing through all unnecessary worries and concerns.
Klein was stunned for a moment, then smiled as the final weight on his heart was lifted.
He felt that his previous concerns were indeed redundant.
Before this Knightess, honesty was always the best choice.
“Alright.”
Klein nodded heavily, as if hammering the word into the ground.
A rare moment of quiet fell between the two.
The silence didn't last long.
Klein let out a long sigh, feeling as if every bone in his body was letting out a groan of being overwhelmed. He turned, intending to head upstairs to rest.
However, just as he stepped onto the first step leading to the second floor, a figure flashed out from the shadows nearby, blocking his path squarely.
Ophelia.
She stood tall and straight, completely obstructing his way upstairs. This posture was less like a husband and wife's nightly chat and more like a border knight interrogating a suspicious person.
“Are you going back to your room?” Her voice was unreadable.
Klein thought she was worried he would dive straight into his research without rest, and he gave a somewhat helpless smile.
“Yeah, I'm exhausted. I need to recharge.” He pointed upstairs. “Don't worry, I know when to stop. I won't touch that troublesome thing immediately.”
To his surprise, Ophelia shook her head firmly, her tone carrying the unquestionable authority of a knight issuing an order.
“You cannot go back to that room.”
Klein was taken aback.
“Why?”
“Your room has been used as an alchemical workshop.” Ophelia's gaze was sharp enough to pierce through walls and see everything in the room upstairs. “This afternoon, Karen lost control in there. His blood splattered on the carpet. Even though you cleaned it, the influence of that sinister power won't dissipate easily.”
She paused, seemingly organizing language that was too complex for her—a rare occurrence.
“And those herbs you handled, the materials in the storage room... you're covered in their scent right now. These things mixed together will form a weak but persistent field of contamination. Not to mention, you'll be facing the ‘Siren’ in that place next.”
She said a great deal in one breath, her logic clear and rigorous, as if analyzing a battlefield filled with hidden traps.
“Conclusion,” she summarized at last, her eyes exceptionally serious, “that room is absolutely unsuitable for someone needing mental relaxation to rest in until it has undergone a thorough alchemical purification. The air inside is dangerous.”
Klein didn't react for a moment.
He looked down and sniffed his sleeve; there was indeed a faint, complex scent of herbs mixed with a bit of metal.
It was just that... the Knightess seemed to have other intentions?
He looked up, carefully observing the Ophelia before him.
This usually succinct knight had just delivered a speech comparable to a pre-war mobilization just for the sake of his bedroom's hygiene and safety.
This was really... so cute it left him with no choice.
He couldn't hold it back; the corners of his mouth curled up uncontrollably, eventually turning into a light chuckle.
Seeing him laugh, Ophelia's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of confusion and dissatisfaction appearing in her golden eyes. “This is very serious.”
“Alright, alright, my Knightess.” Klein quickly raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, his tone full of helpless indulgence. “You're right. I fully accept your arrangements.”
He moved around her, making a move toward the guest room on the other side.
“In that case, for the sake of my physical and mental safety, I'll endure a bit tonight and go to the guest room...”
“Stop.”
Ophelia's voice came from behind, carrying a hint of imperceptible urgency.
Klein obediently stopped.
“The guest room hasn't been stayed in for a long time; the bedding is damp.” Her reasons were always so sufficient and impossible to refute. “The weather has been turning cold lately. Sleeping in damp bedding makes it easy to fall ill.”
Klein was completely out of options.
He slowly turned around, spreading his hands with a teasing smile, watching her with leisure as he deliberately threw the problem back at her.
“Then you tell me, where should I sleep?”
The magic light at the end of the corridor flowed quietly, stretching their shadows very long.
Only the sound of each other's shallow breathing remained in the air, as ambiguity quietly grew in the silence.
Ophelia's gaze unconsciously and very quickly flicked toward her own room on the second floor.
That look lasted for less than a second, so fast it was almost impossible to catch, but Klein saw it.
Klein found it both funny and heartwarming, but he kept his face expressionless, even putting on a troubled expression of serious thought to perfectly match her performance.
“This really is the problem of the century.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I can't exactly sleep in the hallway. If Raymond sees his master curled up on the floor tomorrow morning, he'll be terrified, thinking the manor has been ransacked.”
Ophelia's lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, no sound came out.
Those golden eyes, usually calm and rippleless, now held a rare trace of panic, like a beautiful and helpless deer cornered by a hunter.
Seeing her like this, Klein knew he couldn't tease her anymore.
This Knightess's skin was far thinner than the armor she wore.
He reined in his teasing thoughts and took a step forward, the distance between them instantly closing until they could hear each other's breath.
“In that case,” he lowered his voice, his tone exceptionally clear in the quiet hallway, carrying a gentle magnetism that made one's heart race, “there's only one place left.”
Ophelia's breath hitched, and her heart skipped a beat.
Without waiting for her to react, Klein turned around as if nothing had happened and walked straight toward the washroom.
“But before that, I need to wash up first.”
His back was to her, his voice containing a hint of doting laughter he hadn't even noticed himself.
“Being covered in the scent of herbs would disturb the Knightess's rest.”
With those words, he had already turned into the washroom, and the door was gently closed.
Ophelia stood frozen in place alone, like an exquisite statue frozen by magic.
The washroom door sealed off his figure, but it couldn't seal off the burning warmth left in the air by his final sentence.
Klein's voice echoed repeatedly in her mind. Every word was like a feather, lightly scratching her eardrums and bringing waves of numbing itchiness.
She could clearly hear her own heartbeat—one after another, thumping against her chest like a drum, making her entire body feel a bit weak.
The blush that had started at the base of her ears spread uncontrollably, climbing up her neck and turning her fair skin into an alluring pale pink.
She instinctively raised her hand, her cool fingertips touching her burning cheek. The startling temperature difference made her snap back to her senses.
What... what had she just done?
Those clumsy, loophole-filled excuses—he must have seen through all of them.
Ophelia slowly leaned against the cool wall, trying to use the coldness of the stone to calm her nearly boiling blood.
In the end, she couldn't help but bury her face in her hands, her golden hair sliding through her fingers.
Under the corridor lights, unseen by anyone, the always calm and self-possessed knight was now so overwhelmed with bashfulness over an unuttered invitation and a tacit understanding that she wanted to disappear.
...
Rate on N.U.
