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“……I slept better than I expected.”
The morning after being thrown into an unfamiliar place, with not a single acquaintance in sight, waking up in an unfamiliar bed.
The surprising quality of my rest left me more bewildered than relieved.
If anything, I felt as though I had slept more soundly than I ever had in my original world, where work constantly consumed my days.
Tilting my head at the pleasant sensation, I went to the Adventurers’ Guild with Gil.
After hastily completing my registration and acquiring a large number of books, I spent the next several days completely buried in reading.
I could immerse myself without a single worry, doing nothing but indulging in my hobby.
An ideal holiday—
free from all annoyances.
(…Free from annoyances…?)
That was when I noticed something was off.
It wasn’t just that there was nothing bothersome.
I should have been worrying about the future.
I should have been anxious about what tomorrow might bring.
I was supposed to be standing in a situation entirely opposed to such peaceful leisure—sleeping deeply, losing myself in books—and yet.
What was this bottomless sense of security?
Panicking wouldn’t solve anything.
Worrying was pointless.
I prided myself on being adaptable.
But that adaptability came from choosing not to dwell on anxiety—from consciously suppressing it.
Unconscious instability, however, always interferes with sleep.
Even when deeply engrossed in reading, one’s thoughts are bound to falter now and then.
That’s simply how it works.
And yet—
At present, I had no worries.
Only a few minor concerns, each with a clear path toward resolution.
There were no obligations demanding immediate attention.
No tension from anticipating problems or maneuvering behind the scenes.
It was, quite literally, an ideal vacation.
That wasn’t the issue.
The issue was that I felt completely satisfied with this situation.
Even when I tried to consciously identify my unease, nothing surfaced—not even a fragment.
(…Hmm…)
Idly pondering the mechanism behind it, I headed to the guild the following day to accept my first request.
A new place.
New people.
New work.
Yet none of it inspired any anxiety beyond the fact that it was new.
After spending most of the day together, Gil and I had dinner as well.
When I returned to my room, it finally struck me.
(…Because Gil is here.)
I had to keep the circumstances defining my existence a secret.
Carrying that burden alone versus sharing it with someone—even silently—made an immeasurable difference.
(…Gil, huh…)
His straightforward words and actions, backed by quiet confidence, eased my tension and guarded composure.
There was warmth in how he dealt with others, thoughtfulness woven between his lines.
Yes—despite appearances, Gil was genuinely kind at his core.
Probably without realizing it himself.
Our meeting had been nothing more than coincidence, yet a partner this ideal was not something one could deliberately seek out and find.
(Is this what they call fate?)
Recalling a passage I’d once read, I let out a quiet chuckle—he’d probably make a face if he heard me say that.
Still, “good luck” felt far too light a label for this.
“…………”
Gazing absentmindedly out the window, I felt a strange discomfort for the first time regarding the inexplicable trust I placed in Gil.
There was no anxiety—
but the movement of my heart itself felt restless.
I shook my head and lay down, trying to stop thinking.
But sleep wouldn’t come.
It was the first time since arriving here.
(…Maybe I’ll take a short walk outside. Clear my head.)
It was late, and the street beneath the window had been empty every night I’d observed it.
There shouldn’t be any danger I couldn’t handle alone.
I slipped quietly out of my room.
As I passed Gil’s door, a sound came from behind me—the door opening.
“Hey.”
The low voice made me stop.
The timing was too perfect to be coincidence…
When I turned around, Gil stood there, wearing the same puzzled expression I felt myself.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ah—well, I couldn’t sleep.”
That should have been enough, but his gaze urged me to continue.
“So I thought I’d step outside for a bit. Clear my head.”
“………”
(…Huh?)
I kept my eyes on Gil, but my awareness drifted to my right hand.
His left hand had gently cupped it from below.
(…My hand… he’s holding it?)
“Holding” might be too strong a word.
He wasn’t gripping it—just loosely enclosing it.
There was nothing there but warmth.
(…It’s about a handspan larger.)
That warmth drew my breath deeper, for some reason.
(………?)
It was a strange sensation—my body seemed to accept reassurance before my mind could process it.
My thoughts froze for a moment.
Before I could examine it further, his calm, low voice cut in.
“Walking around won’t magically make you sleepy.”
Gil looked completely normal.
So normal, in fact, that I wondered if he even realized we were touching.
(Could this be… unconscious?)
It wasn’t natural enough to be accidental—but could such careless coincidence really happen with a man who radiated this much composure?
I tested it, pulling my hand back just slightly.
(Whoa—)
With the same gentle force, he held me in place.
The precision of it—soft, yet absolute—made my heartbeat falter.
(…?)
Flustered, I smiled to cover it up.
“I was planning to come right back… but it looks like I’d just be disturbing you.”
He didn’t seem particularly bothered—but if I forced my way out, he likely wouldn’t sleep at all.
Resigned, I turned to leave, pulling my hand again.
Once more, it was stopped with the exact same pressure.
(…!)
My heart raced again, and I didn’t know why.
“Um…”
I looked down at our hands.
Mine was thoroughly warmed now—almost hot.
Gil was staring at them too, frozen.
“Well…”
You’re not about to say you just noticed, are you?
After deliberately stopping me twice.
“I’ll go back to my room and rest.”
I smiled and pulled my hand away properly this time.
“!”
The loosely touching hand suddenly closed around mine.
“You can’t sleep, right.”
As if something had snapped into place, Gil pulled me into his room with businesslike efficiency.
Before I could protest, I was pushed onto the bed, and he followed, turning his back to me.
“Just think of it like a pet or something.”
He muttered it under his breath.
After that—nothing.
No explanation.
(…This is quite the luxury.)
It felt like preferential treatment.
Was this part of the contract?
(…………)
The warmth beneath the covers slowly quieted my overworked mind.
(…Being indulged like this…)
It felt like something I shouldn’t get used to.
The thought lasted only a few seconds.
I quickly corrected myself—indulgence was a far more troublesome word than it seemed—and closed my eyes.
Because the day would come when I would realize that once this sense of security had been planted, there would never be a day I could willingly let it go.
And the one to make me understand that—
would be Gil.