"Better make a bit more to eat."
With a smile as gentle as violets perfumed in the morning light, Manaka Sajo encouraged herself as she rose early to prepare breakfast.
Though more than twenty years had passed since she last cooked with her own hands, her pale, slender fingers wielded the kitchen knife with practiced grace, movements both nimble and beautiful.
Bathed in sunlight streaming through the window, the blonde "girl" with clear, delicate eyes hummed happily as she made dish after dish, utterly content.
In truth, it was the feeling of wanting to claim victory that spurred her on. Her poise was sharp as a professional chef's, yet beautiful as a fairy tale sprite, all elegance and charm.
"All done. Time to go wake them up…"
Bathed in the glittering morning glow, her lips—soft as cherry blossom petals—spoke with delight.
Casting a glance at a certain bedroom door and hearing no stirrings from within, Manaka's heart lifted with faint satisfaction.
That silver-haired brat—still not out of bed at this hour? So lazy! Not ladylike in the least! Sooner or later, she'll be the one to win.
The more she thought about it, the wider her smile grew.
After they'd left Alcatraz's Seventh Labyrinth yesterday, Novia had suddenly collapsed into slumber, falling right onto her. Manaka had planned to quietly hold him in her arms—only for Melusine to swoop in and snatch him away with a look that said of course he's mine.
Manaka had nearly died of rage. To be robbed of even that… unbearable! Her chest burned as though aflame, and she nearly screamed in frustration.
If only she weren't certain she couldn't beat that dragon-girl in a straight fight, she'd have taught her a painful lesson already.
As for Sion, she'd only sighed softly at the whole scene. She had to return to Atlas Academy to file her report, so she departed first.
All in all, yesterday had been a miserable day for Manaka Sajo. Not least because Melusine had blatantly clung to the sleeping Novia right before her eyes, and most of all—that silver-haired girl's expression, so naturally entitled—was what stung the worst.
No cruelty could have cut deeper. If it went on like this, she feared her distance from Novia would only grow.
Months later—or perhaps mere days—would he smile and say, "Hm? Oh, that one? Manaka Sajo? Sorry, can't quite remember the name…"?
The very thought made her head flush hot. She had to think of a countermeasure—had to!
In the end, through sheer stubborn will, she managed to argue Melusine into sleeping in another room. Three people, three rooms.
At least, that was what Manaka believed.
Carrying a tray of breakfast toward Novia's room, a sudden thought struck her. She picked up the kitchen knife and nicked her finger just so.
When she imagined Novia's gentle concern, his soft gaze, their fingers entwined—his touch delicate as silk, melting her heart—her whole body trembled with giddy excitement.
The thought alone was almost too much.
Finally, she summoned her courage and knocked on Novia's door.
Just a few seconds, but to her it felt like years. Then—at last—the door cracked open.
Lowering her head instinctively, the blonde "girl" blinked her clear eyes and whispered:
"I… made breakfast for you. Please, have some…"
But her voice faltered, grew smaller. Her gaze wavered. Her expression darkened.
Because through that crack in the door, she caught sight of something—behind the unclothed figure inside, there trailed the tip of a dragon's tail.
"Oh." Melusine's hand slipped out through the gap and smoothly took the tray from Manaka. "Thanks. Novia and I will eat it together. Next time, don't wake up so early—we weren't finished sleeping yet. And don't call out to us in the morning."
With that, the door closed again.
Leaving Manaka Sajo frozen, trembling with cold fury.
She had worked so hard, risen early, prepared this meal with all her heart—just for the chance to hear: "Thank you, you worked hard. Let's eat together."
Not this— "Wow, you're so thoughtful, thanks, but don't bother us, okay?"
Damn it, damn it, damn it! Damn you, Melusine! Sooner or later—
"I'll kill you."
Expressionless, she murmured the words, then immediately fumbled out her phone.
"Uwahhh, Ayaka, Ayaka—your sister's being bullied! They're bullying meeeeee…!"
...
"Tch, that girl."
Melusine, having taken the tray, set it on the bedside table, then lay back down. She guided Novia's hand to wrap around her, settling comfortably into his arms once more.
She of course understood Manaka's feelings—but knowing was one thing, acknowledging another. Since Novia hadn't spoken, it didn't count. He wasn't Nero or Shion; if it had been one of them, Melusine might have invited her along.
"Haaah… I love you most, Novia. You're so warm… hm?"
Burying her face in his chest, the dragon-girl suddenly caught a faint scent. Weak, but real. She sniffed deeper, hands and feet searching by instinct.
She didn't need to—but she did it anyway. Habit.
Strange. Why did Novia's body smell faintly of Typhon? Could that monster have tampered with him somehow? But Typhon was supposed to be long dead.
After much sniffing, she caught the barest trace of another primordial dragon's scent. Confused, she frowned. In her memory, Albion—unlike most—was stubborn and rarely took human form. Typhon had once sought Albion's aid against the Olympians, but Albion had ignored him.
Albion was, even among the progenitor dragons, the strongest of all. At least, that's what Melusine always believed.
Ponder as she might, it mattered little. Better to stop thinking and simply enjoy Novia's embrace.
She tilted her head up, ready to kiss him before drifting back to sleep—
When Novia opened his eyes and spoke, face-to-face.
"…Could you bring me some water?"
"Of course!"
Without hesitation, Melusine rose, picked up the warm milk from Manaka's breakfast, and gently held it to Novia's lips.
As she fed him, she beamed and said:
"Well? Well? Novia—this was my cooking! Amazing, right?"
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