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《episode 1》
He couldn’t remember exactly when it began.
The first time, it had only been a thought—maybe I’ll just touch him, a little.
It had come so naturally, so easily, that he hadn’t even realized it was a desire.
He’d only reached out when the moment allowed—brushed a sleeve, a strand of hair, a cheekbone in passing.
Each small contact left behind a faint warmth, a quiet satisfaction that smoldered without smoke.
Everything about it felt ordinary.
Too ordinary to question.
⸻
When he returned to the inn after morning training, Lizel was sitting in the dining hall, still in front of a half-finished breakfast.
He wasn’t eating—just idly staring at his plate.
“Good morning,” Lizel said when Gil approached.
He wasn’t exactly concerned, but walking past in silence felt stranger, so he sat across from him.
Lizel smiled, as usual. His hands rested around his utensils, but they didn’t move.
No real appetite, then.
Gil listened to his small talk without paying much attention, until finally he reached across the table and took the fork from Lizel’s idle hand.
(…Not eating anyway.)
He speared the last of the sausage and egg and lifted it toward his own mouth.
Lizel froze, eyes widening a little.
Blink.
Blink, blink.
Gil raised a brow. “What, you want it back?”
If that was the case, he’d return it—so he flipped the fork around and offered it to him.
Lizel shook his head quickly, smiling with a touch of embarrassment.
“No, I’m full. Thank you.”
⸻
After that, Gil found his eyes following him.
At first, it had been habit—keeping sight of the person he was supposed to protect.
But that wasn’t really it anymore.
There was no harm in looking.
But once he looked, he wanted to touch.
And once he touched, he wanted to see what came next—what kind of face he’d make, what kind of sound would slip out.
He pretended not to notice any of it.
⸻
“Eh—Gil?”
He brushed his thumb over Lizel’s cheek, wiping away a splash of mud.
That was all. Nothing unusual.
And yet his finger lingered, tracing the curve of Lizel’s ear before he could stop himself.
A small movement, harmless on its own.
But Lizel stiffened. His shoulders rose, breath caught, eyes blinking as if unsure what had just happened.
It wasn’t fear, not exactly.
More like confusion—soft and defenseless, tinged with something too gentle to name.
Gil had never seen that look on him before.
And for a fleeting moment, he almost forgot to breathe.
⸻
Later, alone, the thought circled in his mind.
(…This is getting strange.)
Once he’d noticed, there was no way to unsee it.
If he could—
he wanted to push him a little. Confuse him. Draw out expressions no one else could make him show.
Maybe even tears, if that was what it took.
Now that the wish had shape, he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there.
He exhaled. The sound came out soft, almost amused.
Come to think of it, everything had been off-balance since the day they met.
Maybe this unevenness was what it felt like to move in someone else’s rhythm.
(So it really started from the beginning, huh.)
He sighed again, quieter this time.
(Still… he never looks displeased.)
Confused, yes. Startled, sometimes. But never unwilling.
(Then maybe…)
Maybe it would be all right to test how far he could go.
He’d never been good at pretending—or at restraint.
So sooner or later, it would show anyway.
It sounded much simpler, and much more interesting, to find the edge instead.
If he could, maybe he’d draw him in—
slowly, gently—until he couldn’t be let go.
Gil smiled faintly.
(Not bad at all.)
And for the first time that morning, he felt oddly at ease.
《episode 2》
He couldn’t quite remember when it started.
At first, he’d definitely thought Huh?
But he’d told himself there must be some reason for it, and said nothing.
He’d glanced up, half-questioning, but Gil hadn’t even looked at him—just that usual calm, unreadable face.
And so Lizel had assumed that was how things were supposed to be.
Now the moment had passed completely.
Too late to ask, too strange to bring up.
And maybe, that was where it all went wrong.
⸻
He’d been sitting there, staring at the last few bites of breakfast, unable to convince himself to eat.
There was no rush today.
Maybe if he waited a bit, his appetite would return.
That was when Gil appeared across the table, clearly back from training.
“I thought you’d already gone out. Taking it easy today?”
“Need to stop by the weapons shop.”
“I see.”
They traded casual words. Then, without warning, the fork in his hand was taken away.
(…Huh?)
Before he could react, the sausage and egg left on his plate were neatly speared and lifted to Gil’s mouth.
He froze. Stared.
Gil seemed to mistake the look for protest.
“What, you wanted to eat it yourself?”
Lizel shook his head quickly, flustered.
“No, I’m full. Thank you.”
It wasn’t unusual for Gil to finish what he couldn’t eat.
If anything, Lizel was grateful.
But—
(Has he ever just… used the same fork before?)
The scene replayed in his mind again and again.
For some reason, it wouldn’t leave him alone.
(Why am I even dwelling on something like this now?)
He tried imagining what Eleven would’ve done instead.
He could almost see himself smiling and saying, “You really shouldn’t do that.”
Or maybe Eleven would just tilt his head and open his mouth—
as if to say, “Feed me.”
Completely pointless thoughts, all of them.
(What’s wrong with me…?)
It wasn’t unusual for Gil to notice his mood. He always did.
But maybe that was exactly what unsettled him this time—the gesture had felt too ordinary, and yet somehow too special.
(But… this isn’t new, is it?)
He already knew Gil treated him differently.
He’d known it from the start.
He was the one who’d drawn that attention on purpose, after all.
So why now—
why did it suddenly feel like something again?
“…”
Oh well.
As long as he could stay special to Gil, that was enough.
He let the thought settle there and didn’t chase it further.
He never imagined Gil had done it intentionally.
And honestly, at that point, Gil probably hadn’t realized it himself either.
If he had, Lizel would have known.
He always did.
⸻
After that, Lizel found himself reacting to every small kindness Gil offered.
Nothing obvious—just a beat of hesitation before answering, or a delayed smile.
But Gil was too perceptive; it was only a matter of time before he noticed.
Lizel tried telling himself it was nothing.
That he was imagining it.
But the more he told himself that, the more unnatural his reactions became.
And then came the next worry—
what if Gil misunderstood?
To put it simply, he was thoroughly thrown off balance.
⸻
(…You’re a little close, aren’t you?)
He’d been standing at the guild’s request board when Gil came up behind him and spoke.
It wasn’t even something that needed to be whispered—yet his voice brushed close against Lizel’s ear.
Without thinking, Lizel leaned in slightly, as if to listen better.
It wasn’t the first time Gil had stood too near.
In fact, thinking about it now… it happened often.
(He’s always this close, isn’t he?)
Gil wasn’t like this with anyone else.
He kept his distance from everyone—everyone except Lizel.
Close enough that even a small movement would make them touch.
And sometimes, they did.
But because Gil always acted as if it were natural, Lizel couldn’t say anything.
Eventually, he stopped feeling strange about it at all.
And so—
Whether it was Gil leaning in, or Lizel drifting closer—
the distance between them kept shrinking, little by little,
until there was hardly any space left at all.
And that was how they ended up here.
《episode 3》
Maybe it’s not a map of the whole city after all.
I stared at the piece of paper in my hands, still trying to figure it out.
It must’ve slipped from one of the new books I’d bought earlier.
(Maybe it’s just part of the town…)
It fell when I was stacking today’s spoils — a tower of books waiting on my desk — and before I knew it, I was standing there, absorbed in the map.
I couldn’t even tell which book it had fallen from, and after a while of searching, I began to suspect I wouldn’t find out.
(Guess I’ll have to read them all before I know for sure.)
I was just about to give up when a voice came from behind me.
“A map, huh?”
“Gil,” I said, startled.
“I called a few times,” he replied easily. “You didn’t answer, so I let myself in.”
“Sorry,” I murmured, not particularly sorry, but he didn’t sound annoyed either.
(Oh— maybe he’ll know.)
I held up the map for him to see. If anyone could recognize it, it’d be Gil.
“Do you know where this might be?” I asked, adjusting the paper so he could look over my shoulder.
Before I could say another word, an arm slipped around me.
One wrapped loosely over my shoulder, the other circled my waist.
The warmth of his body pressed against my back, and for a moment I froze—
then relaxed without meaning to, comforted by his steady heat.
Only my heartbeat refused to calm down.
“Pretty detailed,”
he murmured, his voice brushing my hair like a touch.
His breath tickled my ear, and I shivered before I could stop myself.
He said something else—something about the markings on the map, I think—
but the sound of his voice, that low rumble right next to my skin, drowned everything else out.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been this close, and yet…
my body didn’t seem to remember how to handle it.
When I didn’t reply, Gil turned his head slightly, eyes shifting from the map to me.
Whatever he saw in my face made him pause.
“I… what were you saying?” I managed, and his lips curved in a quiet laugh that brushed against my hair again.
(Wait… did he just—?)
His lips grazed my hair a second time, deliberate this time.
Not quite a kiss, but close enough to send a restless tremor down my spine.
I didn’t pull away.
Maybe I should have, but all I could do was stay perfectly still, breath caught somewhere between my ribs.
Each time his lips touched, I twitched, and each time, he came back a little slower, a little more certain.
“Do you even realize you’re tempting me?”
“Wh—what?” I turned my head just enough to look at him, stunned.
The question didn’t make sense. Not when my brain had been switched off the entire time.
(Tempting? Me? How?)
Before I could think of an answer, he pressed a slow, breathy kiss just behind my ear.
A startled sound escaped me, small and helpless.
I bit my lip, mortified, but Gil only chuckled against my skin.
“G—Gil?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t—”
I meant to scold him, but my voice broke, trembling instead.
All I could do was turn halfway, trying to protest with my eyes.
(That… that’s unfair.)
As if hearing that unspoken thought, he drew back—barely.
I sighed, half in relief, half in confusion.
But his gaze lingered, heavy, unguarded.
“…You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you.”
“Wha—no!” I protested weakly.
He didn’t answer, only tilted my chin up with one finger.
“Your sensitivity isn’t my fault.”
“Then stop touching me like that!”
I meant it to sound firm, but it came out soft and breathless.
His hand, still cupping my jaw, slid up to rest against my cheek. His thumb brushed my lip—
and that alone stole what little composure I had left.
He leaned in.
For a heartbeat, I thought I’d stop him.
But then our lips met—lightly, carefully—and my world stilled.
When he drew back, his expression was unreadable, maybe even unsatisfied.
“If you don’t hate it,” he said quietly, “then open your mouth.”
(I don’t… hate it. That’s the problem.)
Gil would never push if he thought I wanted him to stop.
He didn’t need me to say yes; he only needed me not to say no.
And I hadn’t.
“Gil… you shouldn’t be saying things like that,” I whispered.
He exhaled a short laugh.
“You’re the one doing the tempting.”
“Wha—how?” I started, flustered, because he wasn’t wrong, and that realization made my face burn.
He looked at me again, his voice lowering.
“Then when?”
“Huh?”
“If not today—when?”
I stared at him, cornered by his patience more than his insistence.
My thoughts scattered, and I dropped my forehead to his shoulder with a small groan.
“…Tomorrow,” I muttered into the fabric of his shirt.
He didn’t answer. For a moment, I wondered if he hadn’t heard.
Then his arms tightened around me, and a rough, quiet sound left his throat.
“Don’t forget,” he murmured into my hair.
And just like that, he was gone—
leaving me standing there, map in hand, heart still pounding, wondering how on earth things had turned into this.