24. A respite between the storm

Seiito stirred awake, the plush softness of a queen-sized bed beneath him—a luxury he hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. His expression was flat, though beads of sweat dotted his brow. "How did this happen?" he muttered, trying to piece together his current situation.

As his eyes drifted down his torso, he froze. Something—or someone—was sprawled across his chest.

A wave of disbelief hit him. A beautiful woman was resting against him, her expression content, as if she had found the most peaceful sleep imaginable. Her long blue hair spilled over his chest like a cascading river, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air.

It was Irene.

"Irene...?" The word left his lips as a whisper, but the weight on his chest confirmed what his eyes saw.

She had barged into his room at some point—without permission, of course—and fallen asleep right on top of him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

His body tensed instinctively. "Get off me, Irene..." he growled under his breath, though his voice lacked the usual sharpness.

The Seiito of old might have panicked, his heart racing at the absurdity of the situation. But the new Seiito—the one tempered by betrayal and hardened by suffering—was different. He wasn't flustered. He wasn't even embarrassed...yet.

Still... it stirred something unsettling.

He tried to suppress the thought, shifting beneath her to no avail. The weeks of sleeping on cold stone had made him long for proper rest, and the sensation of Irene's delicate form pressed against him was…irritatingly comfortable.

A soft, involuntary blush crept up his face despite his best efforts. His mind betrayed him with an intrusive observation: Her chest...it's soft. Like pillows...

Seiito's eyes snapped shut in frustration. "What the hell am I thinking?!" he scolded himself internally, forcing the thought away like it was poison.

He exhaled sharply and shifted again, half-expecting Irene to stir and offer some playful, mischievous excuse for her behavior. But she remained blissfully asleep, her serene smile lingering.

The warmth of her body against his was undeniable. It had been so long since he felt anything other than cold isolation, and as much as he hated to admit it...part of him didn't want to move her.

Get a grip, Seiito. He clenched his jaw, his hand twitching as if debating whether to push her off. You're a Lord now. Focus.

And yet, as he lay there, his mind a battlefield between reason and comfort, he found himself sinking deeper into the bed. Maybe—just for a moment—he could let his guard down.

Just this once.

The thought was fleeting, but it lingered, like a whisper at the edge of his consciousness. And before he could fight it, the exhaustion of weeks spent on hard rock began to pull him under once more.

His eyelids grew heavy, and soon, without another word, he drifted back into sleep...with Irene still resting soundly on his chest.

Occasional moments like these were becoming almost normal to Seiito—strange occurrences, strange dreams, strange thoughts. But now, he decided to take a moment to rest, regroup, and grow stronger. Leveling up, after all, was more than just power; it was preparation. Knowledge was strength, and he needed both.

As Seiito made his way out of the castle's gates, ready to explore the mysteries waiting beyond, a gentle tug stopped him in his tracks.

He glanced down at his sleeve.

Irene's delicate fingers clutched the edge of his newly acquired coat. It was a regal black garment, sleek and refined, the kind that whispered both nobility and danger. The intricate stitching along the lapels shimmered faintly in the light, resembling arcane symbols. The coat hung over a sharp ensemble—tailored trousers, a high-collared white shirt, and polished boots.

He looked like a character pulled straight from a dark fantasy manga—a fallen noble or an anti-hero ready to tread the path of shadows.

"Irene?" Seiito called out, his brow slightly furrowed as he turned to look at her. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, though the subtle weight behind it lingered.

She hesitated, her lips parting slightly before she asked, "Thou'rt...not leaving yet, art thee?"

Seiito frowned. "I'm just heading out to level up a bit. I'll be back before dinner."

Her expression softened, and the glimmer of relief in her eyes didn't go unnoticed. She smiled, the kind of smile that was quiet and genuine. "I'll be waiting. I'll cook something for thee."

Seiito blinked, taken off guard by her unexpected warmth. "A-alright..." he muttered awkwardly, quickly turning on his heel to leave.

As he descended the steps of the castle, he couldn't help but sigh to himself. A proper meal after weeks of eating garbage...finally.

Hours passed, filled with the dull repetition of slashing through monsters he had already fought countless times. Blood splattered, steel clanged, and bodies fell—yet nothing about it felt fulfilling.

There was no XP. No growth. No progress.

But something else gnawed at him—a thought that refused to leave his mind. Why was Irene so concerned about me leaving?

He remembered the look in her eyes—like she wanted to say something more, to follow him out. There was a loneliness there, one that felt ancient, like it had been carved into her very soul over centuries...perhaps even millennia.

I get it now... She's been alone for so long.

For a brief moment, his expression softened. The smallest flicker of sympathy began to rise in his heart. Maybe I should spend more time with her...

But the softness was fleeting. His expression hardened once more, grim and resolute. "No," he whispered to himself. I'm not here to make friends, let alone pamper an old lady.

Yet, despite his best efforts to dismiss her, the image of Irene's lonely, desperate face lingered in his mind like a thorn under his skin.

"Tch." Seiito clicked his tongue in frustration, feeling the weight of strange guilt pressing down on him. Am I still weak? Am I...too soft?

He tried to drown the thought in battle, but the monsters around him didn't offer what he needed. Even after slaughtering them by the dozens, his stats didn't budge.

"So how the fuck am I supposed to level up?" he growled under his breath.

No answers came, only more frustration.

With a sigh, Seiito began the walk back to the castle. He needed to find another way if the monsters weren't giving him XP.

Maybe Irene knows something...

The heavy, ornamented doors creaked open as Seiito stepped inside. The dim light from the grand hall cast soft shadows across the stone walls, but there, standing quietly at the entrance, was Irene.

Her eyes brightened the moment she saw him, the slightest curve of her lips forming a smile so genuine it momentarily took Seiito off guard.

"Thou'rt returned! And so early too..." she said, her voice filled with warmth. Then, catching herself, she coughed lightly, attempting to regain her usual composure. "Ahem. Welcome back, Lord Seiito."

Seiito's brow furrowed slightly. "Were you…waiting for me the whole time?"

There's no way she stood here for hours, right?

Irene met his gaze without hesitation. "I was waiting for thee, yes."

No way…!?

A pang of guilt spread through Seiito's chest. She'd been standing there, alone, just waiting for him to return. The thought hit him harder than he expected—how many centuries had she spent in silence, waiting for someone, anyone, to be by her side?

He sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her loneliness settle on his shoulders. For all the times she'd saved him, he figured the least he could do was be there for her.

"Come on," he muttered, softening just a little. "Let's sit and talk for a bit."

The two sat together in one of the castle's grand lounge rooms, the air heavy with quiet comfort. Irene curled up on a velvet armchair across from him, her elegant presence contrasting with the weariness on Seiito's face.

At first, they talked about simple things—mundane thoughts that came to mind. But before long, their conversation drifted to deeper topics: life, magic, and the strange, fragmented pasts they carried.

Seiito spoke of his world, describing it in vivid detail. A world without magic but overflowing with technology—machines that could connect people across vast distances, skyscrapers that scraped the sky, and cities that never slept.

Irene listened with wide, curious eyes that glimmered in the dim light, her hands resting gently in her lap. She hung on every word, absorbing the strange realities of a world she could only imagine.

"Could I one day visit your world?" Irene asked with a hopeful smile.

Seiito blinked, surprised by her enthusiasm. A faint, rare smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah… If I find a way back, I'll take you with me. We'll see everything—every city, every place worth visiting."

The excitement in Irene's expression was genuine, a spark of joy that made Seiito's chest ache. For the first time in who knew how long, she looked…happy.

Days passed, and a week followed. Somehow, time flowed differently in the castle, softening the edges of Seiito's usual tension.

One morning, he awoke in the grand bed to a familiar warmth against him. With a sigh, he glanced down and saw Irene nestled comfortably on his chest, her silver hair spilling like silk across him.

Again…?

Seiito let out a long, resigned breath, careful not to disturb her. He wasn't as embarrassed as the first time this happened—he'd gotten used to her presence, though it still stirred something strange in him. What a troublesome woman…

That afternoon, Seiito wandered into the castle's vast library, its towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and forgotten knowledge. If there was anything he valued more than strength, it was information. In a world like this, survival was impossible without it.

He scoured the shelves, thumbing through books on magic, world history, and artifacts. There was a certain calmness to the search, a welcome distraction from his tangled thoughts.

Irene sat beside him on a low chaise, her gaze quietly fixed on him. She rested her chin on her knees, as if content just to watch him work.

Her presence made him uncomfortable—not because she was annoying, but because it was hard to focus with her sitting so close. It was as though her very existence tugged at the edges of his attention.

"Could you…stop staring at me?" Seiito muttered without looking up from the book in his hands.

Irene gave him a playful smile, not moving an inch. "No."

Seiito groaned under his breath. She really is impossible...

But, for some reason, he didn't mind as much as he thought he would.

While sifting through an old tome in the castle's library, Seiito discovered something intriguing: artifacts could amplify magic far beyond natural limits. A staff in the hands of a mage, a magical sword for a knight, a cloak for an assassin—each item was more than just a tool; it was a catalyst, a weapon of unparalleled power.

The concept sparked something in him—a need to push beyond his limits.

"If artifacts enhance magic, then I need one... but something that fits me," he muttered, flipping through the pages.

The idea of carrying a cumbersome staff didn't sit well with him. He needed something more practical.

Deep within the castle's treasure vault, hidden beneath layers of dust and forgotten relics, Seiito found what he was looking for—a staff. It was ancient, worn, and cracked, its wooden surface stained by time. Yet, at the top of the staff, an orb glimmered with a radiant red hue, glowing as if filled with the pulse of life itself.

Seiito held it up, inspecting the orb as it shimmered in the dim light.

"This thing... it's powerful. But I hate carrying stuff like this," he grumbled, gripping the staff with irritation.

Then, an idea struck him—a brilliant, reckless idea.

Seiito summoned Irene to assist him. The plan was dangerous, perhaps foolish, but if it worked, it would make him a force to be reckoned with.

"Thou'rt really going to do this?" Irene asked, her silver brows knitting together in concern.

"I need the power, and I refuse to be bogged down by something as annoying as a staff."

Irene sighed but didn't argue. She knew Seiito too well—once his mind was set, there was no turning back. "Very well...But embedding the orb into thy body is no simple task. If it fails, thy body might reject it—or worse."

"Just do it." Seiito's tone was cold, unwavering.

Irene nodded, reluctantly preparing the tools and magic needed for the procedure. Her magic expertise was vast—if anyone could help him with this dangerous experiment, it was her.

The room was silent, save for the hum of magic in the air. Seiito sat on a chair, his shirt discarded, exposing his bare chest and arm. He extended his right hand, palm up, steady despite the looming danger.

Irene placed the glowing orb beside his hand. The magic within it thrummed, as though it were alive, waiting to bond with him—or devour him.

"Brace thyself," Irene whispered.

Seiito gave her a curt nod. "I can handle it."

The process began. Irene muttered incantations under her breath, ancient words filled with power and precision. With a delicate touch, she pressed the orb against Seiito's palm. His skin burned where the orb made contact, the magic searing into his flesh.

Seiito clenched his jaw, the agony was unbearable. His veins glowed red, mana coursing violently through his body, rejecting and absorbing the foreign magic all at once.

"Don't resist it, Seiito. Thou need to synchronize with it!" Irene urged, her voice tight with focus.

His hand trembled, sweat dripped from his forehead, and the orb fought to overpower him. It felt as if his body was being torn apart from the inside. But Seiito wasn't about to lose—he refused.

"I...will...control you." The words escaped through gritted teeth, barely a whisper beneath the roaring power of the orb. His body trembled, every fiber rejecting the magic with a vengeance. But there was no turning back. Seiito focused every ounce of his will, bearing down on the orb's energy as if taming a wild beast that would tear him apart at the first sign of weakness.

Seconds felt like hours. The red glow burned brighter, then began to dim as it yielded to Seiito's will. Finally, with a sharp pulse, the orb sank into his palm, fusing with his flesh.

The room fell into silence.

Seiito stared at his hand, now marked with a glowing red insignia where the orb had embedded itself. He flexed his fingers, feeling the magic stir within him—raw, potent, and entirely his.

"It worked," he whispered, more to himself than to Irene.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Thou'rt insane...but it worked."

Seiito clenched his fist, feeling the pulse of the magic now fused with his soul. It was no longer just an artifact—it was part of him. And with it, his power had taken a terrifying leap forward.

He glanced at Irene, his brown eyes burning with quiet intensity. "This is only the beginning."

Irene offered a small, tired smile. "You'll have to get used to it...It's not just power you've taken on, Seiito. It's a burden too."

Seiito gave a faint, humorless chuckle. "I've been carrying burdens my whole life. What's one more?"

Without another word, the two settled into the quiet comfort of each other's presence. It wasn't a moment of grand gestures or dramatic exchanges—just a fragile peace that neither dared to break.

Seiito leaned back against the lounge, closing his eyes as if the weight of the world had finally loosened its grip, if only for a fleeting moment. He felt the warmth of Irene beside him, her delicate aura brushing against his own like a calming breeze amidst the storm raging within him.

Irene, too, rested quietly, her blue hair spilling over the cushion as she relaxed, stealing glances at Seiito from the corner of her eye. His presence grounded her, warding off the loneliness that had gnawed at her for centuries.

Neither of them spoke, but in the silence, there was an unspoken understanding—a bond forged in suffering, survival, and fleeting solace.

Seiito shifted slightly, letting out a soft breath. "Irene," he muttered, not bothering to open his eyes, "thanks...for being here."

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, her heart swelling with a warmth she hadn't felt in eons. "Thou don't have to thank me, Seiito."

A silence fell between them once more, but this time, it was a peaceful one—not the oppressive quiet of loneliness but the kind born from shared understanding.

For now, there were no battles to fight, no enemies to vanquish. Just two souls, scarred by the weight of their pasts, resting together in the small sanctuary they had carved out within the chaos.

And in that fleeting moment, it was enough.