Chapter 361: Permutations and Combinations
When Wendy entered her room, she wasn't alone.
Kiana was already there—dressed in loose white pajamas, lying sideways on Wendy's couch, watching TV and munching on potato chips. Her smooth shoulder couldn't seem to hold up the flimsy fabric, leaving one side completely exposed to the air. All in all, if one ignored her natural beauty, she looked every bit like a lazy shut-in.
"Uwah!"
The moment she saw Wendy come in, Kiana jerked upright in alarm. She hurriedly hid the chips behind her, pulled up her fallen sleeve, and straightened her face into a gentle, mature smile.
"Welcome back, Wendy."
"..."
Wendy sighed and pressed her palm to her forehead. Her green eyes shimmered with exasperation—yet also with amusement.
"I saw all of that just now, you know. How could I not know what you're like, Kiana? There's no point hiding it. And really, I'm fine—you don't have to come all the way to my room to check on me."
Wendy smiled softly, a warmth rising in her chest.
Even though their relationship had suddenly turned… complicated—something between rivals in love, or maybe even Sigurd's main wife and his mistress—it didn't seem to have changed how they felt about each other.
After all, they'd grown up together, shared countless memories, and survived life-and-death battles more than once. For either of them, risking their life for the other wouldn't even be a question. How could something like this ever break their bond?
This wasn't some tacky soap opera—there were things far more precious in life than mere romance.
Kiana scratched her cheek awkwardly, then pulled the bag of chips back out and crunched on another piece.
"It's pretty good. Want some?"
"No thanks. Eating snacks this late? Better watch out—Sigurd might show up to check on you! 'Kiana getting strung up and punished for binge eating' has practically become a weekly event."
"Hey! Don't air my dirty laundry like that! I only came because I figured that sharp-tongued Sig must've said something mean again, and I was worried you'd run off to cry alone!"
"I appreciate the thought, but I'm not that fragile, Kiana."
Wendy rolled her eyes.
"Really, if you've got nothing else to do, go get some rest. I'm fine here. Seele's fine too—she's tougher than she looks. Anyway, I'm taking a bath and going to bed."
"Then I'll sleep here tonight. Keep you company."
"...Think about your position for a second. You honestly believe that's comforting and not, I dunno, rubbing salt in the wound? Use your brain a little, Kiana!"
"I don't care! I'm staying here no matter what. You can't stop me!"
"Alright, alright, you win."
Wendy let out a helpless sigh, though she couldn't help but chuckle.
Kiana scratched her head and grinned back with her usual goofy smile.
...
Time rewinds to just moments earlier—when Sigurd was walking back toward his own room.
Ding-dong!
As he strolled down the corridor, a notification sound chimed beside his ear.
A message window popped up before him.
[Kiana: I'm taking Sirin out for some fresh air. Don't wait up tonight. Good night.]
Sigurd rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
He had just gotten back and hadn't yet found the time to check on Sirin's confinement status. That needed to go into his schedule—after all, the Herrscher of the Void's behavior directly affected Kiana's mental and emotional well-being. He'd have to keep a close eye on that situation.
Ding-dong!
Just as Sigurd's thoughts began to drift, another notification tone chimed in his ear.
[Bronya: Got work tonight. Can't keep you company. Remember to rest.]
Sigurd raised an eyebrow.
The incident with the Herrscher of Corruption had only just wrapped up, and the aftermath was still a tangled mess. It made sense that Bronya couldn't spare the time—he didn't think much of it.
Eventually, he reached his room.
When he opened the door, he realized something—this was his first night back, yet neither of them had come to pester him. Spending the night alone… was honestly a bit unexpected.
Then his eyes landed on a suspicious bump under his blanket.
Sigurd stood at the doorway for a moment in silence before walking straight over and lifting the covers.
"Sigurd, hugs~!"
There she was—no mistaking it. Wearing a cute pink nightgown, with arms outstretched like a spoiled princess, was none other than Sin Mal.
"…Why are you here—no, actually, the real question would be why wouldn't you be here."
Sigurd leaned down and flicked her on the forehead, his expression full of helpless amusement.
Sin Mal giggled despite the sting, and as soon as Sigurd got close, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Good evening! Sleep with me tonight, okay, Sigurd?"
Sigurd straightened up again, but Sin Mal didn't let go—she clung tightly around his neck, hanging off him completely. There wasn't a trace of restraint or modesty in her posture; every bit of her closeness radiated childlike affection and absolute trust.
Feeling the soft warmth of the girl pressed against him, her faint sweetness brushing his senses, Sigurd lowered his gaze. Her beautiful mismatched eyes looked up at him—gentle, loving, and utterly focused on his face. In that moment, it was as if her entire world consisted of nothing but him.
Sigurd's heart softened. He wrapped an arm around her slim waist, supporting her light body, and pinched her nose lightly.
"Clingy little thing."
"Hehe~ But you've been gone for so long, Sigurd! I missed you every single day!"
"You… ah, forget it. I guess age doesn't really determine emotional maturity. At least not for you."
Sigurd sat down at the edge of the bed, still holding her, and let out a complicated sigh.
He'd once made a promise with Sin Mal—to wait until she grew older before deciding her feelings. But Sin Mal was… different. Her view of the world was distorted, her childhood experiences extreme, leaving deep scars in her psyche.
She was stubborn to the point of obsession. Once she decided on something, she'd never back down. When she cared, she poured her entire soul into it—utterly, completely. He could say with certainty that time wouldn't change her feelings. And just as surely, rejection or abandonment would destroy her.
"I heard you've been getting reckless lately, pushing yourself until you're seriously injured."
"It's okay! As long as it helps you, I'll keep working hard!"
"That wasn't a compliment. Your determination is admirable, but you need to use your head too. If you end up getting yourself killed one day, you'll never see us again."
"No way! I'm going to keep getting stronger—strong enough to protect you!"
Her voice brimmed with conviction, like she was declaring a truth set in stone. Then she nestled her face against Sigurd's neck, inhaling his scent with a blissful smile.
Sigurd ruffled her hair and sighed again, wordlessly this time.
He did have a plan for helping Sin Mal grow stronger—but part of him worried that more power would only push her further down a dangerous path, until someday, she vanished from a battlefield he couldn't reach.
Sin Mal had staked everything—her faith, her purpose, even her reason for living—on him. And in turn, Sigurd wanted to make sure she could keep living happily for as long as possible.
So, yes—he'd stick to the plan. The stronger she became, the safer she'd be. That much, at least, was undeniable.
He looked down at her again, pinching her soft, marshmallow-like cheeks.
"Are you really planning to sleep here?"
"Mhm!"
"No kicking off the blanket. No wrapping around my neck like Kiana does. And definitely no flipping upside-down so your feet end up in my face. Can you manage that?"
"I can! Sin Mal's not like that tuna—Sin Mal sleeps very properly!"
She nodded energetically, making her promise in that bright, childish tone of hers.
Sigurd chuckled and nodded back. "Alright, deal."
After all, it was his first night back—and if nothing else, he deserved a peaceful night's sleep in his own bed.
<+>
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