The Brook mansion stood high above Stonehaven, built from dark stone that seemed to swallow the light. It was large—far too large to feel like a home—its sharp edges and tall structure giving it the presence of a fortress rather than a residence.
Wide white stairs led up to massive doors engraved with the family crest. The contrast was striking—clean, polished steps against the heavy darkness of the mansion, as if every step upward was meant to remind you where you stood.
Inside, the hall stretched wide and tall, supported by black pillars placed in perfect symmetry. Dim golden light from chandeliers reflected off the smooth floor, making every movement feel seen.
Everything was precise. Ordered.
Nothing felt warm.
Behind the mansion were other homes of the Brooks, smaller but warmer.
Arion sighed, walking through his home. There were too many rooms. Enough to get lost in.
Not that he had any plans on getting lost any time soon.
Either way, now he had a singular goal in his mind.
Arion wore a similar dress to what he wore on his birthday, the main reason was that his family wouldn't let him dress as a civilian especially inside their own home.
Now that all the other problems regarding his powers were taken care of-even if poorly, now there was only one thing remaining.
Apart from properly reuniting with his family which won't happen for another two days when all the guest nobles would go back, he had another important task.
Deal with Clara.
"Hey, if you don't mind, can you guide me to Lady Clara's room?" Arion asked a guard who simply nodded.
A few minutes later, he was standing in front of a lavish door.
"Here is your girlfriend's room, Young Master." The guard said before walking away indifferently, leaving behind a dumbfounded Arion struggling to process his words.
'What the actual hell?'
Sighing as he was alone outside his "girlfriend's" room, he slightly pushed the door open and walked in.
The room was quiet.
Not the empty kind of quiet—but a soft one. Curtains drawn just enough to let muted light slip in, painting the space in a pale glow. The air felt…different. Warmer.
There were no harsh lines, no suffocating symmetry. The furniture was arranged without that rigid perfection he was used to. A book lay open on a small table, a ribbon marking its place. A faint scent lingered—something light, almost calming.
For a moment, he just stood there before his gaze shifted.
Then he saw her, Clara. The princess of the Crystals was asleep, laying on the bed, half turned to the side with one arm tucked beneath her head. Her breathing was slow, even. She looked peaceful.
Her hair spilled across the pillow, catching the soft light in quiet strands. There was no tension in her face now, none of that sharp awareness she always carried when awake.
She was calm, not how she regularly looked, actual calmness of sleeping blissfully without a care. He couldn't help but feel pity.
When she wakes up, all this...would go back to her usual sharpness.
He didn't know why she came here, but knew that it was connected to the fact his father had told him to keep an eye on her.
"…You sleep too peacefully for someone like you," he muttered under his breath.
He took a few steps closer, slower this time, as if any sudden movement might break something fragile. His eyes scanned her out of habit—checking, measuring.
There were no threats, or traps. It was just him, and her.
He didn't make any sound while approaching her, he was barefoot after all.
"…Huh." He didn't know what he expected but this, was definitely not something he could have imagined.
He had thought many things. Maybe alertness. Maybe suspicion. Maybe those sharp eyes watching him the moment he stepped in.
But there was nothing like that. Just a vulnerable sleeping girl and a boy watching her.
'Wait, that sounded creepy.'
He exhaled quietly and rubbed the back of his neck.
"So this is the terrifying Lady Clara, huh…"
Arion stood there for a moment longer, then glanced around the room again before looking back at her. "...Now what?"
He stood there for a few more minutes before growing tired of standing and sat beside her sleeping form.
"…You're really asleep, huh."
He leaned back a little, resting one hand behind him for support while the other idly traced the edge of the bedsheet. For someone who always carried herself like she was watching everything, this felt…off.
Or maybe this was the real her, vulnerable and weak.
'No, that can't be...'
A loose strand of her hair had fallen across her face, shifting slightly with each breath. It bothered him. Staring at it a bit longer, he shrugged.
Clicking his tongue softly, he reached out, hesitating for the briefest second before brushing it aside.
For the briefest moment, his hand touched her face. It was light, warm...warmer than he expected. He pulled his hand back almost immediately.
"…Tch."
She stirred. His face went deathly pale but then returned to its usual shade when her face turned calm again. She didn't wake up. Not yet.
'What am I doing? I should come later.' But he didn't go, he stayed beside her. Watching her peaceful face.
"…You don't look that annoying when you're quiet." He chuckled softly. "…Actually, you don't look annoying at all."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. A few seconds later, he exhaled nonchalantly. "Let's pretend I didn't say that."
Arion let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes briefly.
"…Just for a minute."
The room remained still, wrapped in that same soft silence. Outside, the light shifted, slow and unnoticed, stretching shadows across the floor and up the edge of the bed.
Arion didn't notice.
At some point, his posture changed—subtly at first. The tension left his shoulders, his grip loosened, and the hand resting behind him slipped away as he leaned further back.
Unaware, the distance between them closed just slightly as his weight shifted. Not enough to disturb—just enough to blur the space that had been there before.
Clara stirred.
A faint movement, almost instinctive. Her brows knit for a second before smoothing out again as she turned slightly in her sleep.
Her hand shifted across the sheets, brushing lightly against his arm. The contact lingered for a moment before settling—natural, unintentional. Like it had always been that way.
Arion's breathing deepened further, the last traces of awareness slipping away completely. The constant alertness, the edge he always carried—it was gone.
He fell asleep beside her in her own bed.
Time slipped past unnoticed, seconds, minutes and finally an hour.
Clara shifted again. Slower, her fingers curled slightly where they rested against his arm, as if confirming something in her sleep. Her breathing faltered for just a moment—uneven—before steadying again.
Her eyes opened. Not fully. Not sharply. Just enough to let the world seep in. Her vision blurred, unclear and for a second, she didn't move. Who would want to move away from such blissful sleep?
Her gaze drifted, unfocused, before settling…on him.
Arion...was close, too close, closer than he was supposed to be. Somehow, in the past hour, he had somehow made his way closer to her.
Her mind didn't catch up immediately. Sleep still clung to her, dulling the sharpness she usually carried. So instead of reacting, instead of pulling away, she just looked at his face. It was relaxed,
A few seconds passed. Then more...
"..What...?"
The words were soft, quiet and barely left her lips. Her gaze sharpened just slightly this time. Enough awareness returning to notice details. The way his breathing had evened out. The stillness in his posture.
He was asleep.
She stared at him a bit more, and then blinked a few times. Still, there was no immediate reaction.
Instead, her eyes narrowed just a little as she studied him again, slower this time. As if trying to confirm whether this was real or some strange lapse in judgment on her part.
"…He fell asleep?"
She paused, unable to look away from him. A peaceful face, the plain face he wore now was nothing but opposite to the terrifying face of murder he had on that day...
Clara couldn't help but grow a little still at the memory.
Shaking her head, she looked back at the sleeping boy in front of her.
Then, very quietly—
"…Idiot."
But there was no heat in it.
Her gaze dropped briefly to where her hand still rested against his arm. She noticed it, and didn't pull it away. Instead, she shifted—slightly, carefully—so the contact didn't break. So it felt…natural.
Her eyes drifted back to his face. "…You're not supposed to sleep like this," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Clara exhaled quietly, the faint tension in her shoulders easing without her realizing it.
"…Whatever."
Her eyes closed again, not fully but enough. She stayed laying beside him, not asleep, not fully awake. Just there, beside him, with no one to disturb them.
The quiet remained, untouched.
Then Arion stirred.
A faint shift at first. His brows tightened slightly, breath hitching just enough to break the steady rhythm he had fallen into. The stillness around him began to register again, piece by piece.
His fingers twitched.
His eyes opened.
For a second, his vision was unfocused—blurred by sleep, unfamiliar with the softness around him. The ceiling above came into view first, dim light outlining its edges.
Then awareness followed.
His gaze shifted, Clara, the girl was close, closer than ever. His eyes narrowed just a fraction, the last traces of sleep vanishing instantly. He stayed still, scanning out of habit.
He took in their position, closeness, and contact. Her hand...was resting against his arm. Arion blinked looking at it for a second longer.
"…What." He said flatly dumbfounded, confused, he moved his gaze back at her, looking at her properly now. Her eyes were closed, breathing steadily, but not the same way as before.
"…You're awake."
For a second nothing happened, then her fingers slightly moved. Arion's eyes sharpened and he spoke. "...Yeah. You're definitely awake."
Then Clara's eyes opened. Slowly, with no rush or panic, just that same composed gaze returning, as if she hadn't been lying there half-aware the entire time.
She looked at him, then at the distance between them, then at how loose his clothes were almost revealing his bare chest then at her hand which was still on his arm and finally she looked back at him, completely calm and composed.
"…You're heavy."
Arion stared at her.
"…That's your first line?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she lifted her hand off his arm—calm, unbothered—and sat up, brushing a strand of hair away from her face like nothing about the situation was strange.
"You walked into my room," She started. "You sat on my bed." She said before continuing. "And fell asleep right beside me." She completed.
Arion pushed himself up as well, a tinge of something red appearing in the tip of his ear completely covered by his messy hair.
"You didn't move."
"I was asleep."
"…You weren't."
"I was."
"You just admitted you weren't."
"I said I was."
"…That doesn't even make sense."
"It doesn't need to."
Arion exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face.
"…This is why I didn't want to come here."
"Then leave."
"Gladly."
He didn't move, and neither did she. The silence stretched as they looked at each other. "…You didn't wake me," he said, more quietly this time.
Clara didn't respond immediately, her gaze shifting slightly not quite meeting his. Then in a simple, direct and somewhat annoying tone she said.
"…You looked tired."
Arion clicked his tongue and stood up.
"…Don't do that again."
"Do what?"
"…That."
She didn't press further, just watched him. Calm and observant, as he turned toward the door, stopping only for a second to turn back and spoke again.
"Next time lock the door..."
Clara tilted her head slightly, then a small smile appeared on her face.
"Next time, knock..."
Then...he left, his hair still messy, his clothes wrinkled and his face tired and half asleep.
He must have rolled a lot in her bed.
She sighed, standing up her face suddenly as red as a tomato.
'…I didn't even bathe.' The thought struck, and Clara stilled for a fraction of a second, her composure tightening rather than breaking. They had been that close—for that long. Her fingers curled faintly at her side as her gaze shifted away.
"Careless." She muttered
Then another thought made it's way onto her mind.
'Couple room...'
Gritting her teeth in frustration, she walked and locked her door.