TSMA 14

The Day His Obsession Began

Knock knock—

I knocked on the attic door again when I returned.

In my hands was the Libero tea Douglas had prepared for me.

There was no answer from inside.

‘He wasn’t in the room earlier, so he must still be here…’

I quietly opened the door. A figure sleeping on the small cot came into view.
It seemed Renard had fallen asleep here again after class.

Even though he couldn’t drink tea while sleeping, I still stepped inside the attic.
I wanted to check whether he truly had nightmares every time he slept.

I carefully placed the tray on the bedside table and looked at him.

Under the flickering lamplight, his eyebrows twitched just like before.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, I stared down at him with a pitiful expression for a while.

‘If we can’t find Castina… he’ll have to suffer from nightmares like this for the rest of his life.’

I now had one more reason to find Castina.

I also began thinking about changing the information guild I had hired to search for her.

The one I was currently using seemed completely useless.

Just then—

“Ugh… mm…”

Renard let out a groan.

Cold sweat began forming across his forehead.

Not knowing what else to do, I gently placed my hand over his heart and began patting him.

There, there.

I hoped the gesture might help, even just a little.

Truthfully, it was the kind of comfort I had always wished to receive myself.

Whenever I had nightmares in the real world, I used to wish I had parents who would soothe me like this.

Then Renard’s tightly furrowed brows slowly relaxed.

His expression gradually became peaceful.

W-what…?

I felt both surprised and happy.

Did Renard also need a warm touch like this?

Just like I had when I was a child plagued by nightmares?

Soon I stopped patting him and instead began gently stroking him.

Trying to imagine what it would feel like for a mother looking at a beloved child.

Tenderly.

And as warmly as possible.

Then I saw it—

Renard, still asleep, softly smiled.

The sight was so angelic that I stared blankly at him.

Only afterward did I realize that I had been smiling along with him.

Flustered, I tried pulling down the corners of my mouth with my finger.

At that moment, Renard’s long eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly briefly landing on a flower.

Soon his hazy reddish-brown eyes appeared beneath the flickering lamplight.

“El… loz…?”

He called my name in a voice sweet like candy.

“I… had a good dream…”

Still sounding half-asleep, he smiled gently as if proudly telling me.

He looked so much like a child that I gazed at him warmly and smiled.

Moonlight quietly settled between us.

When Renard fell asleep again after Eloz left, he dreamed of the time he had been kidnapped.

More precisely—he dreamed of the madam who had taken him.

If she had only wanted money, Renard thought she might have been slightly less horrifying.

But the madam wanted him for reasons beyond business.

A woman who even had a son older than Renard.

If his magic had awakened back then, he often thought he would have torn her to pieces.

After his magic awakened, he went looking for her.

But by then, she was already dead.

A woman who repeatedly carried out kidnappings like that naturally had many enemies.

Usually, his nightmares were either about that horrifying woman or about his time in the gladiator arena.

In truth, Renard didn’t like cutting people.

He hated being cut even more.

After his magic awakened, he no longer needed to be cut by blades.

Even when he was injured, the wounds healed quickly thanks to magic.

The scars left on his body were all from before his magic awakened.

But that didn’t mean he could forget the pain of being slashed by a blade.

Whether he was cutting or being cut—

It had happened every single day.

He also hated the constant smell of blood that clung to him.

That was why, after using a sword, Renard had the habit of bathing for a long time.

If he ever ended up covered in blood, he would scrub his entire body in the water as if trying to peel his own skin off.

And yet, all those horrifying moments he wished to forget vividly replayed in his nightmares.

Why did this keep happening?

But he couldn’t simply stop sleeping.

Unless he turned into some sleepless monster, even a magician had to sleep.

At the very least, he wanted to reduce how often he dreamed.

Because of that, Renard rarely took short naps.

But avoiding even those naps meant he had recently become extremely exhausted.

‘If I weren’t taking lessons with Eloz, things might be easier…’

In truth, most of the knowledge Eloz taught him was unnecessary.

He already knew most of it.

Ever since being appointed as Olendo’s bodyguard knight, Renard often spent entire nights in the imperial library.

He had taught himself a vast amount of knowledge there.

Of course, that didn’t mean Renard knew everything Eloz knew.

Whenever she mentioned something he truly didn’t know, his eyes would light up like someone finding an oasis in the desert.

Then Eloz would become excited and teach him even more.

But except for those few moments, Renard wasn’t truly concentrating during her lessons.

He only pretended to.

Faking expressions, behavior, and attitudes was Renard’s hobby—and his specialty.

While Eloz taught her lessons, Renard focused not on the lesson—

but on her.

She always carried a fragrant floral scent.

A scent reminiscent of yellow flowers.

Wanting to learn from Eloz was simply the best excuse to spend time with her.

In the first place, the story about doing Olendo’s homework was a lie.

Whenever he became absorbed in Eloz’s scent, Renard sometimes asked himself:

‘Have I… fallen for this woman?’

The answer was always the same.

‘No. That’s impossible.’

Renard had grown far more cunning than the boy who once liked Eloz in childhood.

To him now, Eloz was simply the most useful person to take advantage of.

Nothing more.

Of course, her appearance sometimes stirred small ripples in his otherwise calm heart.

Because of Olendo’s womanizing habits, Renard had seen countless beauties across the empire.

Many stunning women had even pursued him.

But Eloz was just as beautiful as any of them.

She looked like a finely carved sculpture of ice.

Sometimes Renard would simply stare at her during lessons.

Especially when she glared at him.

He liked that.

Sometimes it made him want to tease her and make her angry.

She was also beautiful when watching falling stars.

When expressionless, she had her own kind of charm.

‘Aesthetic satisfaction.’

That was how Renard defined his desire to keep looking at her.

The satisfaction one feels when filling their sight with something beautiful.

The respect one naturally has for a well-made piece of art.

That must be it.

Renard also liked the noble elegance ingrained in her.

He disliked nobles, but he liked Eloz, who was like a living book of etiquette.

Simple gestures that would seem ordinary when others did them looked like the fluttering of an elegant butterfly when she did them.

‘And that antique atmosphere she carries…’

Whenever he started thinking like this, Renard would shake his head.

Even so—

he wasn’t in love with her.

He only wanted to use her.

Nothing more.

Fortunately, physical contact with Eloz didn’t bother him.

If it had, seducing her would have been far more troublesome.

Perhaps it was because he had first met her when she was still young.

The ones Renard disliked touching were adult women.

‘But strangely… Eloz…’

With her, it didn’t stop at simply not disliking touch.

He often wanted to touch her more.

It was the first time in his life he had ever felt such a thing.

‘Still, it’s not love.’

He repeated the thought to himself.

Then, in the middle of a nightmare, he felt someone gently patting him.

“Elo…z…?”

Forcing open his heavy eyelids, the figure filling his vision was unmistakably her.

A pale woman with silver hair flowing down to her waist.

Her skin was white, and her small figure made her resemble a tiny snowman.

When Renard first felt her touch, the madam from the brothel in his nightmare began to fade away.

The blood that covered the ground disappeared.

Instead—

a field of colorful flowers spread before him.

The sky above it was filled not with clouds, but with soft white light.

‘If heaven exists… maybe it looks like this.’

Renard thought in his dream.

Then he felt fingers stroking his hair.

‘…Mother?’

A ridiculous thought crossed his mind.

His real mother, Elly, would never stroke him so gently.

But sometimes Renard imagined it—

Being treated like her fragile son.

Her young son.

That touch was sweeter than anything he had ever imagined.

He felt like chocolate melting in the summer heat.

He was helplessly melting away.

He didn’t even realize he was waking up.

Then, when he finally opened his eyes—

Eloz was right in front of him.

…A snowman.

No.

Looking again—

maybe an angel.

“Yes… maybe.”

“Elo…z…?”

Renard called her.

“I… had a good dream…”

Eloz smiled warmly at him.

And at that moment, Renard suddenly thought:

I wish she would look at no one else like that.

No one else should see those eyes.

If anyone other than him did—

he would gouge their eyes out.

It was a thought that surfaced completely unconsciously.

Renard raised his hand and grabbed Eloz’s small hand that had been stroking his hair.

Startled, Eloz flinched.

“…Keep stroking me.”

Still half-asleep, Renard whispered quietly.

Holding her hand, he guided it along his soft black hair.

“Should I stay until you fall asleep?”

“Mm.”

“Alright. If you let go of my hand, I’ll stay beside you until you fall asleep.”

“….”

Renard did not release her hand.

“…Then I suppose I’ll have to lull you to sleep again. There, there.”

Following Eloz’s soft, sing-song voice, Renard’s eyelids slowly fluttered.

Soon the hand that held her slipped down.

Eloz gently covered it with the blanket and smiled faintly.

Clear moonlight slipped quietly into the warm attic where the two of them sat close together.

It was the day Renard, the scheming man, first became obsessed with Eloz.