The weight of those words hung in the air, solidifying the unspoken bond between them. For a brief moment, the room seemed to grow warmer, the flickering light from the fireplace casting long shadows that danced across the walls.
Lawrence exhaled deeply, releasing the tension in his shoulders. His determination remained steadfast, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of calm. "I'll stay here for a bit," he said, his voice softer now. "Just to make sure he's alright."
Arlon nodded. "Take your time. I'll check in later."
Without another word, Arlon turned and quietly left the room, the soft click of the door signaling his departure.
Despite the warmth of the room, Arlon stood near the window, his gaze distant as raindrops slid down the glass.
He couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was far from coincidence. The image of the battered wagon and the man's wounds painted a troubling picture.
"My lord."
Dimitri's calm voice broke through his thoughts, drawing Arlon's attention. Turning slightly, Arlon met Dimitri's concerned gaze.
"My lord, your bath is ready," Dimitri said, his tone measured but laced with quiet insistence. His gaze flicked briefly to the rain-soaked edge of Arlon's cloak before stepping forward. "It would be wise to rest before the cold takes its toll."
For a moment, Arlon hesitated, his mind still wrapped around the puzzle of the injured man. But Dimitri's unwavering expression reminded him of the importance of maintaining his strength.
With a quiet nod, Arlon replied, "Very well. Keep an eye on him and inform me if there's any change."
Dimitri bowed slightly. "Of course, my lord."
Arlon, with Ace perched on his shoulder, made his way into another room. Ace immediately leapt onto the bed, circling once before curling up in a relaxed position.
Meanwhile, Arlon removed his mask and set it aside, his movements deliberate and unhurried, before heading to the adjoining bath.
As the rain continued to pour outside, the room was filled with a calm stillness. Ace lay sprawled on the bed, his tail flicking lazily as he yawned, eyes half-closed in contentment.
Yawn—
Suddenly, a soft towel draped over him, and he jolted slightly in surprise.
"..!-"
"Hold still," Arlon said with a teasing lilt, his lips curving into a faint smile as he draped the towel over Ace's drenched fur. "You're just as soaked as the rest of us. I'd rather not deal with a sniffling companion."
Ace bristled, his ears flattening as he squirmed under the towel. "I don't get colds!" he retorted, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "And stop treating me like a kitten!"
Arlon chuckled softly, unfazed by the black cat's protests. "You're right. You're not a kitten. But you are a companion, and I take care of my companions."
Ace let out a disgruntled huff, muttering under his breath as Arlon worked with deliberate care. Yet, despite his protests, a quiet purr rumbled in his chest—a traitorous sign of comfort that he tried, and failed, to suppress.
Arlon raised a brow, his lips quirking into an amused smirk as he caught the soft purr.
"Hmm... and here I thought you didn't purr," Arlon quipped, his tone light but edged with amusement. The corner of his lips lifted as Ace froze for half a second, his tail giving an annoyed flick.
Ace's ears twitched, his eyes narrowing in indignation. "It's not a purr! It's… it's just a reflex!" he snapped, his tail flicking in irritation.
"Oh really?," Arlon replied, clearly unconvinced. He chuckled softly, finishing with the towel before placing it aside. "Well, reflex or not, I'll take that as a thank you."
Ace glared at him but didn't move from his comfortable position on the bed, letting out a small huff of defeat. "Don't get used to it," he grumbled, though his tone lacked any real bite.
Arlon observed him quietly, the corners of his lips softening into a faint smile. I'm glad he's not dwelling on what happened earlier with the Master of the Land, Arlon thought. For a moment back there, I worried he might overthink my perspective—wonder if I doubted him, if I feared betrayal.
His gaze lingered on Ace, who now looked more like a relaxed, pampered companion than the fierce guardian he had been during the battle. Maybe this is better. Let him rest without the weight of those thoughts.
"You're still at it," Arlon remarked, his hand brushing lightly over Ace's fur. "I thought you said you don't purr."
Ace bristled immediately, his ears flattening. "It's not a purr! It's—" He cut himself off, glaring at Arlon's smirk.
Knock— Knock—
Click—
A soft knock interrupted their exchange, the door creaking open to reveal Dimitri. He stepped inside, the warm scent of a freshly prepared meal wafting in with him as he balanced a tray laden with steaming dishes.
He straightened, his tone becoming professional as he explained, "We'll need to dine here tonight. The common room is packed with customers seeking shelter from the rain."
Arlon nodded, his gaze shifting briefly to the steaming dishes. "That's fine. Where's Lawrence?" he asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.
Dimitri adjusted his gloves with practiced precision, his expression composed. "He's still with the injured man, keeping watch and waiting for him to wake up," he replied evenly.
A thoughtful hum escaped Arlon as a faint flicker of respect softened his features. "Of course he would," he murmured, the hint of a subtle smile playing on his lips.
Lawrence really can't help himself, Arlon thought, his mind lingering on the young man's unwavering concern. Always so earnest—worrying over everyone, even a stranger. It's just who he is.
Dimitri stepped back, bowing slightly. "If there's nothing else, my lord, I'll leave you to your meal. Rest well."
"Alright," Arlon replied, his gaze following Dimitri as he exited the room and quietly closed the door behind him.
Arlon's gaze shifted to Ace, who sprawled lazily across the bed, his tail flicking idly. With a subtle nod toward the table, Arlon said, "Come on, Ace. Dinner first, then sleep."
Ace stretched with a lazy yawn, hopping down from the bed to join Arlon at the table. The two settled into their meal, the quiet patter of rain against the window creating a soothing backdrop.
For a while, there was only the sound of clinking utensils and the occasional soft sigh of contentment. It was a rare moment of peace after the day's events—a moment where they could simply eat and rest without worry.
As they finished their meal, Arlon leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "You should get some rest, Ace. I need to check on Lawrence before turning in."
Ace flicked his tail lazily, a hint of curiosity flashing in his golden eyes. "Alright," he replied, hopping back onto the bed and curling up in his usual spot. His tone was casual, but there was a subtle undertone of trust in his compliance.
Arlon stood, glancing toward the door. "I won't be long," he added, his voice steady as he reached for his mask.
Ace let out a small huff, resting his head on his paws. "Just don't take all night," he muttered, his tone half-scolding. "You'll need rest too, and don't forget that your recoil is—"
Click—
Before Ace could finish, Arlon had already slipped out the door, his quiet steps fading into the hall. Ace's ears twitched, his tail flicking sharply in annoyance.
"He never listens," Ace grumbled, settling back onto the bed with a sigh of exasperation.
Step— Step—
Arlon moved quietly through the dim hallway, his figure blending into the shadows cast by the flickering lanterns. Reaching the door, he hesitated for a brief moment before turning the knob and stepping inside.
Click—
"Lawrence, are you not going to rest—" The words caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the scene before him.
Slumped in a chair beside the bed, Lawrence's head tilted at an awkward angle, his arms crossed tightly as though shielding himself even in sleep. The faint furrow in his brow betrayed the tension he carried, refusing to fade even as he rested.
Arlon's gaze softened, his lips twitching into a faint smile. Always like this, he thought. Carrying burdens you won't share.
He closed the door quietly behind him and moved further into the room, his steps measured to avoid disturbing the silence. Lawrence's steady breaths filled the space, a calm contrast to the faint tapping of rain against the window.
Arlon's attention shifted to the man on the bed. The stranger lay still, his face pale and drawn, but the faint rise and fall of his chest confirmed he was clinging to life. Arlon studied him closely, searching for any subtle clue to the events that had left him battered and unconscious.
"..."
As he lingered, Arlon's gaze flicked back to Lawrence. A familiar curiosity stirred within him. The narrator never activates for him, he mused. Even now, when his thoughts seem heavy, there's nothing.
Still no sign.
The golden screen—constant in Arlon's world, always revealing the inner workings of those around him—remained silent when it came to Lawrence.
An anomaly. The one person this world revolved around, and yet, untouchable by the system that should have centered on him.
Arlon exhaled softly, setting the thought aside for now. His eyes returned to the injured man just as the stranger's fingers twitched.
"...!"