The room was dim when Michael pushed open his door, but the sounds from the bathroom were lively and chaotic, like a playful splash fight.
The moment he entered, the splashing subsided into a gentle, almost silent trickle. Clearly, whoever was inside had paused, caught in a moment of indecision.
Michael was equally hesitant.
He instinctively wanted to back out and close the door, but as one foot retreated into the hallway, a voice echoed in his head: "Michael, this is your room. Why are you leaving? Are you planning to sleep on the floor in the corridor?"
"Wait! Is this really my room?"
Michael double-checked the door number, and to make sure Elysia hadn't pulled a prank and switched the plaques, he glanced at the adjacent rooms. Confirmed – this was his. Yet, the thought of stepping back inside felt like heavy shackles binding his legs.
Gradually, even the trickling water ceased, leaving only the occasional drip...drip...
"Michael? Is that you?" Elysia's voice, feigning ignorance, drifted from behind the frosted glass door.
"Y-Yeah... It's me..."
"Well then... Achoo!"
The chill of early spring deepened in the evenings, especially underground. While there was no biting wind, the dampness intensified the cold.
Michael quickly shut the door, not wanting Elysia to catch a cold, but in doing so, he solidified his decision. Alright, fine, he was going in.
Separated by the fogged-up glass, they could both sense the other's gaze. Flustered, Elysia blurted out a clumsy excuse: "Um... My water heater seems to be broken. Mind if I borrow yours?"
"W-Well..." Michael fidgeted, unsure how to respond. Suddenly, inspiration struck. "I'll go fix it for you right now!"
"Pfft!" Elysia giggled, then, embarrassed and annoyed, retorted, "Are you dumb? I don't need you to fix it!"
The splashing resumed, and Michael awkwardly reached for the light switch, then hesitated, chickening out. He fumbled his way to the bed and sat down.
A short while later, the water stopped again. After a brief silence, Elysia emerged.
Click!
The lights flicked on.
Michael instinctively looked up. Elysia stood there, wrapped in a bathrobe, her long hair dripping wet. Dark streaks of water marked the white fabric, and droplets fell from the ends of her hair, splattering onto the floor.
"Cough! Cough!" Michael faked a cough, his mind racing, desperately trying to think of something to say. Why had Elysia been so bold lately? Since he'd recovered from his injuries three nights ago, she'd lingered in his room twice. Was it because spring was in the air?
His heart pounded, but his thoughts were scattered. He opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, mentally composing dozens of sentences – direct, subtle, flowery – but in the end, all he managed was a weak, "Elysia, you should dry your hair. There's water all over the floor..."
"Oh? Is there? Then I'll entrust this glorious task to dear Michael!"
"Don't be so lazy!" Michael grumbled, but his actions betrayed his words.
He hopped off the bed and gently pushed Elysia back into the bathroom. The air inside was thick with steam and a faint, lingering fragrance.
Michael wiped the fog from the mirror and, using the reflection, playfully stuck his tongue out at Elysia. He grabbed a towel from the wall, still warm with her scent, and carefully wrung the excess water from her hair, then started drying her waist-length tresses with a hairdryer.
Elysia watched him fussing around, a smile playing on her lips. She saw him feign burning his finger on the hairdryer and wince dramatically – Dummy! At least try to be convincing! A Herrscher wouldn't get burned by a hairdryer!
But her smile widened until it lit up her whole face. She recalled a conversation she'd had with Aponia earlier that day:
"Oh, dear Sister, I'm sooo distressed!" She'd drawled dramatically, clinging to Aponia's arm.
"What troubles you, beloved fairy of Elysium? Who has caused you such pain?" Aponia had played along, her voice laced with amusement.
"Who else but the proud, bewildered knight? He yearned to bridge the distance between us, but my pride led me to keep him at arm's length. Yet, he persisted, lingering outside the gates of paradise, listening to every one of my joyful laughs. Only then did I realize his sincerity. I cast aside my pride, opened the gates, and invited him to be the master of my paradise...
But why, now that I've done so, does he maintain a distance, neither approaching nor retreating? Does my fairy form frighten him? Does my surrender diminish me in his eyes? Or has his gaze been ensnared by the serpent coiled around the apple tree?"
Aponia had lowered her head. Elysia had thought it was her imagination at the time, but now, recalling the scene, she was sure Aponia's shoulders had shaken slightly. That sneak! She was laughing at me!
"Oh, dear fairy of Elysium, if the knight you speak of is the one who received my...my baptism, then you need not worry. His heart belongs to you, unwavering and unchanged."
"Truly? But what of the distance between us? Dear Sister, tell me, please! Tell me, tell me!"
She'd been acting coy, of course. "Dear Sister" was as stoic as a tree stump and unlikely to offer the answer she sought. Elysia hadn't expected a real answer; she just needed someone to confide in. She couldn't very well discuss this with Michael, could she? This was girl talk!
Eden would have been ideal, but she still hadn't officially joined Fire Moth, probably busy with her thirty-second concert. Talking to Mei? Too embarrassing! Mobius... Well... As for the younger ones like Pardo and Hua, they wouldn't understand. Wait, there was also... Sakura... Who?
But then, Aponia had actually spoken, her voice smoother than ever before, as if she'd rehearsed the answer countless times: "Elysia, the answer is simple."
"Eh?"
"Su once told me of an ancient text from his homeland. It speaks of a lotus flower: 'I particularly love the lotus flower that grows out of the mud yet remains unstained, that washes in the clear ripples yet remains untainted. Its stem is hollow and straight, its leaves neither tangled nor branched, its fragrance is pure and far-reaching, its posture is elegant and upright. It can be admired from afar but not profaned by touch.' The knight admires the fairy of paradise, but his admiration is so profound that he has placed you upon a pedestal, to be admired from afar but not profaned."
Elysia recalled Aponia's words as she felt a warmth on her head. Looking up at the mirror, she saw Michael gently lifting and drying strands of her hair. His expression, reflected in the glass, was serious, almost reverent, like a devout worshipper polishing a shrine.
Her brow furrowed. Had Aponia actually hit the mark?
Suddenly, she felt a sharp pinch on her ear. Michael had quickly glanced up, checking to see if she'd noticed.
Elysia's eyebrows shot up in mock anger, and she glared at him through the mirror. So much for not profaning!
Liar! It's all a lie!
...
"Mmm... hmm..." Elysia murmured in her half-sleep. She was nestled against Michael in the bed, not quite spacious, but not cramped either. Just like the previous night, he held her close, but nothing more.
He rested his chin on her head, inhaling her sweet fragrance. Despite the nervous excitement keeping him wide awake, being close to Elysia gradually eased the restless heat within him.
He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. She truly was a goddess's daughter, the perfect fruit of the World Tree.
Though she had fallen to Earth, held in his hands, until he could change her fate, he couldn't, wouldn't, dared not, deserved not… And for now, holding her like this was enough.
The night deepened. Elysia continued to murmur, and Michael found amusement in listening to her dream-talk.
"Mmm... ah... Michael... Seele... medicine..."
"Huh?"
Michael froze, then remembered he'd forgotten to bring Seele's medicine when he'd visited the Sea of Quanta the previous day.
As Seele spent more time in the Sea of Quanta, her emotional state became increasingly unstable. Two days without her medication... who knew what might happen?
He jumped up, startling Elysia awake.
She opened her eyes to see Michael leaping barefoot into a spatial rift. Before she could process what had happened, he was back, the golden edges of the rift casting his face in a somber light.
But his expression was unreadable.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Seele... she's gone."