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He asked, pointing to my hair.
He did it on his own, but even he was surprised by his action.
“Are you serious?”
“I don’t lie.”
“Well, there certainly is no reason to lie about something like this…….”
I didn’t expect him to touch people out of his own volition.
“Was the shock so great that you turned to a different person for a while….?”
Instead of suppressing the question in my mind, I spat it out.
And I was quite pleased.
Because it was a plausible question.
Caesar glanced at me with his signature, expressionless look.
“Well, given that you’re still harsh and cold, combined with the lack of warmth in your eyes, I believe that you’re still Caesar….”
He didn’t answer my question, probably considering it to be useless even now.
“Do you dislike it?”
“………….No, it’s all right.”
What’s the big deal about touching my hair a few times?
I had no choice but to answer honestly since it would likely be an important matter to him.
With my permission, he immediately took off his gloves and reached out.
Even so, his hand only stretched out.
“You haven’t even touched it.”
He stared at my hair with a look of disgust, when he had yet to touch it.
“Are you going to touch it…. Or not?”
“I will decide soon.”
He gave a brief reply, then continued to stare at my innocent hair.
‘I’ll burn it. I’ll burn you.’
While patting my back with one palm, I asked.
“If you think it’s going to take a long time, can I sit down? My legs have been shaking for a while.”
As if an earthquake had occurred, my legs, which were trembling immensely, couldn’t stand any longer and were about to collapse.
After swallowing a sigh, he wore the gloves he had taken off and nodded as if he wanted to leave.
“What’s with your look? You look at me as if I’m about to fall on my way to the bed that’s right in front of me. It’s only three steps from here! I’ve been walking more frequently so I’ve memorized the number of steps.”
“Why do you keep talking to me?”
He is reticent, so I inevitably became more talkative.
“What? So I can’t talk to you when we’re together?”
“You misunderstood. I’m not condemning you, I’m just curious. People usually don’t talk to me.”
“……Caesar, you don’t have any friends, do you?”
“I have none.”
I don’t even know why it was necessary, I couldn’t gain anything from it.
(QC/N: she’s referring to her own ‘joke’ of him not having friends.)
Is it because I was trying to make the atmosphere brighter instead of gloomy?
Is that why I said something unnecessary and spat it out as if it was a joke?
Because even though I am a human being who couldn’t survive on my own, Caesar loathed relationships to the very end and was suffocating from one right now.
The silence was so chilling that it’d take my breath away if I stood still.
I couldn’t stand it so I’ve decided.
Even though I knew the contradiction that he might simply be uncomfortable, I had to call on Caesar.
“I thought that if I kept talking to you, you’d want to reply.”
“Why do you care about me?”
“You don’t like my attention?”
“…….It bothers me.”
“You don’t hate it?”
There was no response from his tightly closed mouth.
His shaded eyes seemed to be confusing themselves.
It was stupid. I turned around, unwilling to deal with him any further.
Worried that it would be as risky as watching a newborn baby’s steps, he followed closely.
I managed to get on the bed and stretched my legs along with my arms.
It was exactly three steps.
“Why don’t you lie down?”
At times like this, I was too tired to be quick-witted.
I understood what he was saying right away.
Caesar was urging me to lie down because he was worried.
It’s clear that he’s afraid I’m going to move again.
“He’s so mean.”
“I’m talking to myself!”
‘Whoo-hoo. This time I cut him off………. Ugh!’
Why am I being so childish?
He leaned down as if he wanted to see me.
“You’re a strange person.”
“…………Caesar, that’s not what you were going to say.”
I decided not to care about my childish logic that if I respond first, I lose.
“You lie down even though you hate doing so. Why?”
Well. It wasn’t as great of a question I thought it’d be.
Caesar looking out for me because I wasn’t careful, was a type of consideration.
That’s because I’m a sick woman. Use your brain.
“I’m not that insensitive.”
Grumbling ignorance to my answer, he stopped observing and took off his gloves again.
Those dim eyes seemed to display a distant cliff.
He said he would do it, but he looked disgusted again the moment he tried to do it.
I had no other intentions. He saved me a few times, so this is my way of repaying him.
I picked up a wooden comb that had been rolling around on the bed and held it out to him.
“Would you like to try using the tool?”
Caesar reached out his hand without much warning.
Is it because he doesn’t know that he’s bare-handed? Or does he know that I won’t dare to touch his hands bare-handedly?
It felt strange, it felt as though I had tamed a ferocious and fierce beast.
I put the comb down, being careful not to touch him.
“It has a purpose. First of all, It’s supposed to be used for brushing hair.”
Is he saying that the comb is small?
The small comb, suitable for my use, clung to him with the typical wood scent.
‘Normally, someone who suffers from mysophobia would be reluctant to even touch objects that had been touched by others.’
It was awkward, but I didn’t feel terrible about him touching the comb.
“Why are you looking at it like that?”
“Hm. It’s nothing.”
I hugged a pillow and closed my eyes.
“…I will touch you.”
I almost laughed at his tone of dislike for what I said earlier, but I held back.
A shadow fell around my closed eyes, which I was now familiar with.
Srrrrt. The comb swept through Nineina’s hair gently.
The smooth hair, not like that of a sick person’s, was quite rare to stumble upon.
This is probably his most vulnerable moment.
I tried not to wonder, not to observe.
Because I didn’t want to make fun of other people’s traumas.
“Do you trust me?”
“Out of the blue?”
“Closing your eyes means trusting that person.”
“Well………… I had no intention of implying that.”
“Don’t trust me. Not even a single bit.”
It was an aching voice that made my skin tingle.
It belonged to someone who has experienced tragic betrayal.
I swallowed the words that came to mind to refrain from meddling as usual.
“Yes. I don’t trust you.”
There will be constant doubt.
I would not judge everything based on one ‘promise’ he made.
After that, he stayed silent.
Only his hands remained moving to brush my hair several times.
The gesture of him lightly combing my hair was somewhat suffocating.
After a while, I felt something approaching.
It was his hand. He reached out very slowly and patted my hair.
It was a very brief contact, like a drop of water falling into a lake.
Surprised, Caesar immediately felt like his hands were bitten off.
“Are you okay? Do you feel like throwing up?”
I asked the same thing every time, whether the impact of disgust he felt was big or not.
It was like an automatic reflex by now.
“Do you feel disgusted?”
He mumbled something.
Slickly, the sound of knocking had buried his quiet words.
“Master, a letter has arrived for you.”
For a short moment, I paused.
It was to grab the head that was inadvertently going toward that direction.
(QC/N: she wanted to catch his attention.)
I’m afraid I’ll touch him.
He immediately rose up from his seat and walked to the door.
He didn’t forget to put his gloves back on.
It wasn’t until I checked his gloves that I spoke.
The butler entered the room.
“Here it is.”
Then, he quickly left the room.
The butler was always quick because he thought that the reason Caesar bit people was for my own protection.
But Caesar’s business was over.
He was at a loss for words.
I think that’s due to the fact I was shedding tears as I held the letter.
I felt unusually sad.
“……Why are you crying?”
He let go of the doorknob he was holding and walked over.
Caesar’s protection was impeccable. No blemishes, no wounds were tolerated by him.
It was the same with crying and falling down from exhaustion.
I immediately got up and walked over to a certain place.
The bottom drawer of a bookshelf which was rarely used.
The lightweight bookcase drawer swung open.
Caesar, who had been following me, lightly frowned at the number of letters that filled the bookshelf drawer.
It was a neatly written handwriting and a familiar name.