I stepped into the room Belle had pointed out earlier.
The first thing I noticed was how well furnished it was. A wardrobe stood along the far wall, already filled with neatly folded clothes.
A desk with fresh parchment and ink rested near the window, and beside it, a small shelf stocked with books, some old, some clearly new. Even the floor had been polished to a faint sheen, with a woven rug soft beneath my boots.
But the centerpiece was the bed. A massive king-sized thing that dwarfed everything else, broad enough for three people, with sheets that looked like they belonged in a nobleman's estate. For someone who had spent most of his life on the cold streets, the sight alone was enough to make me pause.
I collapsed onto it without hesitation. The mattress swallowed me in comfort, my body sinking deep into its embrace. My eyes slid shut, and for a few breaths, I let myself enjoy the quiet.
But rest never came easily. My thoughts drifted back inevitably to the egg.
I'd almost forgotten about it.
The strange, pulsing thing that now lived inside my soul—quiet, still, but unmistakably alive. When I focused, I could feel it faintly, like a second heartbeat buried beneath my own.
I knew what I had to do. Feed it mana every day. That was the instinct that came with it, the same way one just knows when to breathe. But that was the problem.
Alectra's warning about mana still lingered in my mind: "It's not something you play with. Misuse it, and it'll burn you out from the inside."
And death mana… mine… was worse. It wasn't just unstable it was hungry. A living force that didn't flow, but devoured. One wrong pulse, one slip of focus, and I wouldn't just faint or bleed, I'd probably explode.
Still, the more I thought about the egg, the less dread I felt. Instead, something close to… gratitude.
Whatever it was, it was mine. Something born from me. Something that needed me.
For a guy who'd spent most of his life alone, scraping by, that thought hit harder than I wanted to admit.
I exhaled slowly, letting my hand fall over my chest where I could feel that faint rhythm again.
"…Guess it's just you and me now," I murmured. "Try not to kill me when I feed you, alright?"
{Adorable,} Bastard said dryly. {You're talking to your soul like it's a pet.}
'It is a pet,' I muttered. 'Or it will be.'
{You're going to name it, aren't you.}
'Obviously.'
{Gods help us all.}
I smirked faintly, eyes heavy but calm. For the first time in forever, I might have another pet.
Whatever this thing was, whatever it would become, it was a part of me now, and that meant I would take care of it.
And somehow, that made the darkness around me feel a little less empty.
---
Sebastian was deep in sleep, sprawled across the enormous bed like someone who hadn't felt real comfort in years. The sheets were soft, the mattress swallowed him whole, and for once, his body wasn't tense from travel. His breathing was slow, steady—
Then something heavy crashed onto his chest.
The breath was knocked out of him, and he shot awake with a strangled gasp. His tired eyes blinked against the morning light leaking through the curtains. At first, all he saw was a blur of fabric and shadow looming over him. It took his drowsy mind a few moments to process what exactly was happening.
Belle.
Sitting on top of him.
Blindfold in place, head tilted curiously, as if she were studying him like a particularly odd insect.
Sebastian froze, then let out a scream.
"Wha—what the hell?! I know my looks are ungodly, but assaulting me in my sleep is unacceptable! At least let me be awake first!"
{Smooth.} Bastard's voice cut through his panic like a blade dipped in sarcasm. {This only happens in anime. You should be honored.}
Sebastian flailed uselessly against the weight pressing into his chest, glaring up at her with wide, bloodshot eyes. Belle didn't so much as twitch.
"I came to wake you," she said, voice flat and matter-of-fact. "It is almost time for training."
"That's—! That's not what this looks like!" he shot back, choking on his words. "This looks like something completely different—!"
Belle tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable beneath the blindfold. "I tripped," she said simply.
Sebastian blinked. "You… tripped? On what? The air? The floor's empty!"
"I think it moved," she replied after a pause, as though that explained everything.
He stared at her. "The floor moved."
She nodded once. "It does that sometimes."
He buried his face in his hands, groaning. "It's too early for this."
A long silence stretched between them. His chest ached under her weight, and finally the words slipped out before he could stop them.
"Alright, but could you… maybe get off? You're kind of… heavy."
The second the last word left his mouth, his eyes went wide. His hand flew up to clamp over his lips as if he could shove the insult back inside. Idiot! Calling a woman heavy? That was basically suicide.
But Belle only tilted her head at him, expression unreadable beneath the blindfold. She made no sign of offense, no shift in her voice, nothing at all to indicate she'd even registered the last part of the comment.
Belle stood up smoothly, brushing off her trousers though there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen. "You should get ready. Breakfast is on the counter."
"…You cooked?"
"Yes."
"Should I be worried?"
"Probably."
She turned to leave, but paused at the doorway, head tilting faintly toward him.
"…You're smaller than I remember."
Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "We already went over this. I'm six feet tall. Two inches taller than you. Two inches"
"Mm," she said, tone unreadable. "Doesn't feel that way."
{She's got you pegged,} Bastard said, amusement dripping from every word.
Sebastian stared at the ceiling in defeat. "I hate this place."