ISTV 13

Seila headed to her room, caught in a whirlwind of inner conflict.

“I’m about to meet the heads of the three great powers. If I can leave a good impression there, it’ll greatly improve my chances of survival.”

But on the other hand, she was worried that participating would mean “constantly dancing on the edge of death.”

“My, even when our young lady walks while deep in thought, she’s so lovely.”

There was a strange voice from behind, but Seila pretended not to hear it.

She glanced sideways and saw Mary following her, hands clasped together in a gesture of admiration.

“Mary. You should be leading the way.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, my lady!”

Mary gave her own head a light smack and quickly moved to the front to guide Seila.

“I’ll open the door, my lady.”

“Alright.”

As Mary opened the door, she nearly stumbled back in shock.

“Oh my goodness!”

A man was standing inside the room.

“Who are you?!”

Bravely stepping in front of Seila, Mary clenched her fists.

She had no martial arts training whatsoever, but at that moment, the only thought in her mind was protecting Seila.

Seila recognized the man first.

“Brother Demian?”

After the appointment ceremony, several days of social events usually followed.

She had assumed he’d be participating in them, but somehow Demian had already returned home.

“Why did he come back so soon?”

Demian spoke.

“Are you hurt?”

“Hurt?”

Seila tilted her head at the unexpected question.

“What? Did some weird rumor go around that I’m sick or something?”

She kept her composure and answered calmly.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thanks to your concern.”

“Then why…”

“Pardon?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

His expression just now seemed a bit dark. What’s going on?

Seila found it difficult to read Demian’s thoughts.

“Well, he’s always been the kind of character who’s hard to read.”

Outwardly, he was the perfect eldest son of the Dvernon family.

But he lacked certain emotional expressions, rarely showing highs or lows, and almost never revealed what he was truly thinking.

“So you’re definitely not sick.”

“No.”

“Good. I suppose you weren’t sick on the day of my appointment ceremony either?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“I see.”

Then Seila noticed Demian’s right hand.

Something was wrapped in white cloth, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

“Smells like mint.”

There was also a hint of herbs mixed in—similar to the scent you’d find in an herbal medicine clinic.

“Brother, what is that?”

“It’s nothing.”

Demian gave a faint smile.

And then Seila realized something.

“His right eyebrow is twitching slightly.”

This was a sign that he was feeling uncomfortable.

“Ugh, now what?”

That tiny discomfort could at any moment turn into a deadly threat.

“Brother, would you like to have a glass of milk with me?”

* * *

Originally, Demian hadn’t paid much attention to Seila.

She was a polite and well-mannered child, kind to everyone, never causing trouble.

She lacked ability and was timid, but not to the point of being annoying.

To Demian, Seila was just that—nothing more.

But then one day, Seila began to change.

“What an interesting child.”

Unlike himself, who found every moment of life boring, Seila was always striving for something.

“It’s rare to see someone work so hard and still be so bad at it.”

Demian was naturally good at everything.

If he learned one thing, he’d understand ten. If he learned ten, he’d master a hundred.

Even new things, he picked up quickly and mastered easily.

He never had to try that hard at anything.

That’s why Seila’s fierce determination struck him as both amusing and adorable.

It reminded him of a little chick waddling around, peeping energetically.

“Swordsmanship, really?”

Demian’s life was predetermined.

Like a steam engine following its tracks, it was designed to move in one set direction.

But Seila was different.

And that made her intriguing.

“At the very least, she seems to have a talent for swordsmanship.”

Then one day, Demian succumbed to a mermaid’s lure and walked into a lake of his own accord.

Even as his breath shortened, he remained captivated by the mermaid’s song.

In those final moments, through his dimming vision, he saw a child.

“Seila?”

He didn’t know why, but Seila’s expression was desperate.

He could feel her sincere desire to save him.

That desperate urgency—something he had never seen in his own reflection.

“What is it that makes this child so desperate?”

That sincerity stirred something in him.

Seila had something he lacked.

Clinging to his fading consciousness, he reached out—and Seila took his hand.

“Still clumsy, huh.”

It didn’t seem like Seila was particularly good at swimming.

She was trying hard to drag him out of the water, but it wasn’t going very well.

“And yet you jumped in anyway?”

At some point, her presence helped him break free of the mermaid’s spell.

He started breathing again using his magical energy, and his consciousness grew clearer.

Suddenly, he could feel Seila’s hand.

“So small.”

She was much smaller than he’d vaguely thought.

Of course, she hadn’t had her coming-of-age ceremony yet, so it made sense.

Still, that small body was struggling to swim with all its might.

Demian quietly gathered his magical energy and pretended to be unconscious, helping her without her knowing.

After somehow making it out of the water, Seila laid Demian down and—who knew where she learned it—started pressing on his chest and shouting,

“Please wake up, brother! You have to live. You must live. That’s the only way I’ll survive!”

Water dripped from Seila’s face.

It looked almost like tears.

“Why is she so desperate?”

Wouldn’t it be better for her if he died? She could inherit more.

And yet she said she needed him to live so she could survive. It made no sense.

“What a ridiculous thing to say.”

Her hands pushing on his chest were frantic, but her face strangely composed.

It felt like her body and emotions weren’t in sync, and he realized something.

“Has she been forcing herself to act this way for so long it’s second nature now?”

Though he wasn’t sure, it seemed she always tried to maintain a dignified appearance—wearing a mask, so to speak.

In a way, Demian was the first person in this world—The World Where She Fell—to notice something strange about Seila.

She kept saying odd things.

“Brother, you have to live so I can live. Please open your eyes.”

Still incomprehensible, yet something about those words tickled his heart.

“I have to live so you can live, huh.”

He had never considered himself someone who could mean that much to anyone.

Nor had he ever thought of anyone else that way.

Eventually, Demian asked,

“What is it that makes you so desperate?”

“Thank goodness…”

But he never heard her answer.

Panicked, Demian sat up and checked Seila’s condition.

“Why is she so cold?”

He didn’t know when it started, but Seila’s body temperature was worryingly low.

He channeled his magic to warm her up, then quickly lifted her onto his back and ran.

“You tried to save me, and now you might die.”

He wasn’t a physician, but he could tell something was seriously wrong.

Her face was ghostly pale.

“You did all that in this condition?”

It hadn’t even been long since he used magic to dry her soaked body, but now her back was already drenched again.

“Why is she sweating so much?”

It didn’t make any sense.

He’d thought she was a sturdy child—healthy enough to go ten years without seeing a doctor.

But maybe he’d been wrong.

“How could one fall into water and end up like this?”

If she was sick, she should have said something.

Why did she keep quiet until it got this bad, worrying only about him?

“Her pulse is too weak.”

How did it come to this?

Demian was in utter confusion.

He ran without pause.

“Don’t die.”

He had never seen someone throw away their life for him before.

Not once in his entire life. He hadn’t even imagined it.

He didn’t believe such selflessness existed.

But that day, Seila showed him.

That the world he thought he knew wasn’t everything.

The world of a self-assured genius began to crack.

* * *

“Brother, would you like to have a glass of milk with me?”

Those words somehow felt unexpectedly warm.

Seila drank milk; Demian had tea.

“You’ve gotten good at brewing tea.”

“I’ve practiced a lot.”

Seila sat in her chair, sipping her warmed milk.

Without anyone noticing, Demian cast a spell on her cup to keep it warm.

“Seila. Tell me honestly. You weren’t sick, right?”