Chapter 234: Serie is Asleep
She quickly stepped to the side, subtly blocking his path. "Teacher Rhodes, a handmaiden can bring her something later. There's no need to wake her," she said, her own voice a little too fast, a little too eager.
He paused and thought for a moment. She was right. He knew Serie's temper. To be woken up before she was ready... it would not be pleasant. "You're right," he said. "Let her sleep."
A wave of a pure and unadulterated joy washed over her. The first step... is complete. She followed him to the dining hall, her own steps now a little lighter, a little more... bouncy.
The hall was quiet, and a lavish breakfast was already being served. Her own eyes were now fixed on the long table. Serie always sat on his left. And now... with a new and a terrible resolve, she took her place. This... this was a great victory.
"Teacher," she said with a bright and a sunny smile, and patted the seat beside her.
He just raised an eyebrow and, without a second thought, sat down.
The handmaidens served them, but she had no appetite. She just nibbled at her food and watched him, her own heart now a pounding drum. An opportunity. There was a little bit of jam at the corner of his mouth. She took out her handkerchief and, with a casual and a seemingly-unpremeditated motion, she leaned in and gently wiped it away.
"Teacher, you have a little something here," she said.
He froze.
The warmth of her fingers, through the thin fabric of the handkerchief, was a searing brand on his skin. She was so close now that he could smell her own, unique scent, a scent that was a world away from Serie's own, cool and a distant fragrance, a scent of a sunshine and a wildflowers. And her own breath, a warm and a gentle thing, was a ticklish sensation on his cheek.
Something... was not right. He did not know what it was, but... it was strange. To have spent so long with the cool and the distant Serie... he was not used to this kind of a... a warmth. Or perhaps... he was just misinterpreting her own, simple act of a kindness. An innocent and a childlike gesture, nothing more.
But she had not pulled away. She was still close to him, her own eyes now a wide and an innocent-looking thing. "Teacher, what are your own plans now?" she asked, her own voice a soft and a quiet sound. "About the Demon King..."
The subtle and an almost-imperceptible feeling of a wrongness was now gone. "He is a great and a terrible problem," he said, and his own voice was now a serious and a grave one. "We must deal with him soon." And then he told her everything, the whole and a terrible story of the Demon King's own, twisted and a tragic origin.
And as he spoke, she just listened, her own gaze a fixed and an unwavering thing, and her own body, with a subtle and an almost-imperceptible motion, she leaned in, a little closer.
And when he had finished his story, and he had turned to her to gauge her own reaction, he saw it. Her face was so close to his own that he could see his own reflection in her own, now wide and a shimmering, eyes. And he could feel her own warm and a gentle breath on his own neck. It was a closeness that was far beyond the bounds of a normal and a teacher-student relationship, a closeness that was now a new and an uncomfortable thing.
His own words caught in his own throat. He leaned back a little, and a frown now came to his own face. "Flamme? What are you doing?"
Her own mind was now a whirlwind of a pure and a frantic thought. Don't panic! Don't let him see! And in a flash, a perfect and a flawless excuse was now formed. A look of a pure and a childlike contrition now came to her own face, and her own voice was now a small and a quiet sound. "Teacher, I was just thinking... about what we did. And how you and Teacher Serie had to save us. I just... I feel so terrible."
She looked down, and then up at him again, her own eyes now a wide and a shimmering pool of a pure and an unadulterated remorse. "And I just... I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. Have I... made you uncomfortable?"
It was a plausible excuse. And her own, small and a wounded, expression... it was a thing that was a very and a very difficult thing to disbelieve.
"It is not a thing that you need to be concerned with," he said, and his own voice was now a gentle and a soothing sound. "You were just trying to save a life. And in the end, no great harm was done." He was just trying to be a normal and a rational person.
But she... she now knew. He does not suspect. He does not even see how... strange this is. A new and a different kind of a gratitude now welled up in her own heart, a gratitude for the very thing she had once so resented: his own long and an almost-inhuman life. It had made him... obtuse, to the subtleties of a human emotion.
"Thank you, teacher!" she said, and her own face was now a bright and a sunny thing. She leaned back a little, but her own, now slightly-less-intrusive, presence was still a far and a more intimate thing than a normal social distance. "Then... have some of this," she said, and took a small and a sweet cake and placed it on his own plate. "It's delicious."
The look of an eager and a hopeful expectation in her own eyes... it was as if his own acceptance of the small and a simple gift was a sign of a true and a final forgiveness.
He looked at her, at her own, now pure and an innocent-looking, eyes, and the last of his own, now faint and a lingering, suspicion was now gone. "Alright," he said with a small and a helpless smile, "I'll try some."
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