<Chapter 8>
‘What the hell is this bracelet?!’
Her eyes quivered in shock—not because she realized the holy magic embedded in the bracelet was teleportation, but because of the scene that unfolded beneath her.
‘He still hates being bothered while sleeping!’
In the split second she was falling onto Killian, who was lying peacefully on his bed, Elshunain wondered why her twelve-year-old friend was shirtless and uncovered by even a linen blanket.
She also considered that suddenly appearing and crashing into his firm body might get her killed by his reflexes.
Killian really hated being disturbed in his sleep…
“Eek!”
Though her body was in midair for only a moment, Elshunain had quite a few thoughts in that short time.
But gravity, uncaring and persistent, dragged her down without pause.
She landed right on top of Killian.
Thud!
“……”
“…H-Hiiieek.”
What would someone think if they woke up to find their mortal enemy straddling them?
Perhaps: How should I kill her so thoroughly that it becomes legendary?
As soon as she landed on him, his tightly shut eyes flew open.
Elshunain gulped as she met his sharp crimson gaze, glowing like fire under the hazy moonlight.
“Um, uh, well…”
She nervously wiggled her fingers.
She could feel the tight, solid muscles of his flat chest brushing against her fingertips.
Yikes. She froze.
If those muscles tensed even a little, she’d probably find herself embedded in that wall.
Yikes!
“Y-Yeah. I didn’t realize the bracelet had a teleportation spell on it…”
As she desperately tried to form a smile, Killian’s eyes slowly scanned her from bottom to top.
“…Good judgment.”
Surprisingly, what came out of his mouth wasn’t something murderous like “I’ll kill you.”
Elshunain’s eyes widened.
“Huh?”
“You used the bracelet right after the Bloodfiend appeared, didn’t you?”
“O-oh, yeah.”
It seemed his gaze had only been to check if she was injured.
Whew, and here I thought he was figuring out where to cut me first.
Elshunain relaxed slightly. Her body went limp, and she sank a bit more against Killian.
Killian, whose face had been frozen like a statue, twitched ever so slightly.
Elshunain, silently thanking every deity from God to Allah, didn’t notice.
“Ahhh?!”
In the blink of an eye, she was lifted and thrown aside. She suddenly found herself standing dazedly beside the bed.
Wait. When did I gain teleportation powers?
While she was lost in her useless thoughts, Killian jumped out of bed and drew the sword from the scabbard beside it.
“Gasp.”
The sound of the blade sliding out made Elshunain instinctively flinch. It was the very sword he had used to instantly eliminate Helena earlier.
Guess this is it for me. Goodbye, Elaim.
While she wistfully said goodbye to the Spirit King in her mind, Killian walked right past her without a second glance.
“W-wait, where are you going?”
“Bloodfiend.”
Clack. The door shut behind him.
Left alone in Killian’s room, Elshunain blinked in a daze.
* * *
“Sniff… Sir Killian must not trust me anymore, Lady Elshunain…”
“W-Why not?”
The next day, Elshunain found herself listening to an unwanted counseling session.
She tilted her head as she popped another cookie in her mouth.
Mikhail had looked gloomy since morning.
“Didn’t Sir Killian ask me yesterday to handle the Bloodfiend? As the knight in charge of the Hauenbert estate’s security! As his most trusted knight! It was a grave responsibility!”
Did Killian actually say that much?
Elshunain grabbed another cookie as she pondered. Regardless of her doubts, Mikhail continued pouring his heart out.
Despite it being their first conversation since she lost her memories, he didn’t hesitate to confide in her.
“When that demon appeared and discovered you, Sir Killian said the Bloodfiends would likely target you too… So I was waiting outside your room.”
“Ahh.”
So that voice I heard during the teleportation must’ve been Mikhail’s.
“O-of course, I didn’t expect the Bloodfiends had already snuck into your room. That’s entirely my failure.”
“Mmm.”
Mikhail let out a long sigh.
“Then suddenly, Sir Killian appeared, clearly fresh out of bed, and single-handedly eliminated all the Bloodfiends hiding in the mansion.”
“Hmmm.”
“And he hasn’t even fully recovered his strength… He must’ve completely lost faith in me.”
“I’m sure that’s not it, Mikhail. Don’t worry so much.”
Elshunain offered an awkward smile, knowing the full story.
“He looked so angry though… Sniff sniff…”
“There, there.”
Patting his broad, trembling shoulders, Elshunain scratched the back of her head. This is all my fault, isn’t it… for body-slamming him out of nowhere.
Since he couldn’t kill me, he probably took out his fury on the Bloodfiends.
From the sound of it, Mikhail had been assigned as Elshunain’s personal guard since last night.
So that’s why Killian never came back to the room until morning.
After being left alone in Killian’s room, Elshunain had waited quietly in the corner with a face that screamed “I know nothing.”
She had braced herself for him to barge in any moment—but he never did.
Instead, Mikhail had shown up early in the morning and escorted her back to her room, which is why she was now enjoying a lazy tea time with him.
But wait… in the original story, the demon was supposed to be Class 3. Why was it Class 2?
Elshunain recalled the demon she’d encountered the previous night.
In the demon realm, rank equated to power, and class distinctions were crucial.
A Class 2 demon was ten times stronger than a Class 3.
Wasn’t it that a Class 3 appeared first, and later a Class 2 came…?
In the original, Arwen had detected the demons immediately and driven them out.
Maybe circumstances on the demons’ side had changed since then.
Elshunain sipped her tea and blinked.
I’ll have to keep watching.
Killian would soon regain his spiritual sense, and the next event Elshunain had to intervene in was the New Year’s Festival.
There were about two weeks until then.
“Come to think of it, the New Year’s Festival is just around the corner, isn’t it?” Mikhail muttered, nibbling on a cookie.
Elshunain simply nodded. Her mouth was too full of cookies to speak.
These cookies had arrived in her room without her even asking.
The chef must still be the same.
These were the cookies she’d been obsessed with in the past.
She had loved them so much she nearly turned yellow from overindulging, which led Killian—who normally never interfered with her life—to place a strict daily limit on cookie production.
So while a cookie-filled day was a happy day for Elshunain… it was also a sad one.
Because it usually meant she’d been through hell and was being rewarded afterward.
Life really was rough back then.
Around ten years ago, during the height of the monster invasions, death had become a daily sight. That was when cookie days became more frequent.
Though Killian, Arwen, and two others had been by her side…
Life had still been tough—even for a soul who’d been reincarnated into this world.
So is this yesterday’s compensation gift?
Killian didn’t like sweets, so there’s no way the chef just happened to send them over. He must’ve ordered it himself.
“Elshunain, Killian will be at the New Year’s Festival too, right?”
“Of course. The Guardian of the Continent can’t skip it. The High Pontiff would be devastated.”
The High Pontiff of the Aetherna Holy Empire: Zigheerit.
He was an extremely important figure in the original story, and his life was threatened during the New Year’s Festival.
With wild accusations that Killian—who had secluded himself at home to recover his spiritual sense—was actually plotting to overthrow the regime and assassinate the pontiff to take his place.
Yes, the New Year’s Festival marked the height of conspiracies designed to tarnish Killian’s name and drag him down.
This is crucial.
Naturally, Elshunain intended to attend the festival brimming with determination…
“Wait, what did you say?”
“I said stay in the mansion.”
A few days after her tea time with Mikhail, Elshunain stood dumbfounded, watching Killian sign papers without even glancing at her.
She thought her ears were malfunctioning.
She scratched them and asked again.
“Could you repeat that?”
Killian looked up. His crimson eyes glinted with icy intensity.
Normally, she would’ve cowered—but Elshunain had no time for that.
She leaned boldly across his sturdy oak desk and met his gaze.
Narrowing his eyes, Killian spoke lowly.
“I said: During the New Year’s Festival… stay in this mansion. Do I need to repeat it again?”
