Chapter 48: Switching Roles
That night, Ivaline did not sleep.
She lay on her back, eyes open, watching the ceiling of her half-destroyed home. A spider crawled along its web, paused, then began spinning a new thread.
She noticed everything.
The faint tremor of the web.
The direction of the air.
How the spider adjusted its legs before anchoring silk.
[Perception — Lesser] was working wonders.
“…I want to look at him more,” she said quietly.
Chronicle answered after a moment.
“To study?”
“To get stronger.”
“I see.”
No name was spoken. None was needed. They both knew who the other was thinking of.
“Then observe him,” Chronicle said, careful with his words,
“in a way that does not make him feel bothered.”
“How?”
Chronicle stalled.
He was a Historian.
Not a spy.
Not an assassin.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Certainly not experienced in… this.
“…He’s been following you during the day,” Chronicle said at last.
“Why not try to mimic him?”
“…Okay.”
Simple.
Decisive.
Yes. You did that to me, didn’t you?
Then I’ll do the same.
No hard feelings.
You reap what you sow.
And chronicle silently pray in his heart.
“…Please forgive me in advance, O Brave.”
Sneeze.
Ray E. Shine turned in his sleep, brow furrowing.
“…Huh?”
The room was quiet.
He pulled the blanket tighter and went back to sleep, unaware that somewhere in town, a girl was planning very carefully.
Morning came.
Ray woke in the rented room of the inn, stretched, and walked to the window. He opened it to let in the cool morning air, and froze.
Down below.
Too close.
Too exact.
A small figure stood in the street, looking straight up.
Gray-and-blue eyes met his.
The window snapped shut.
SLAM.
“…Must be the wind,” Ray muttered.
Yes.
That made sense.
Fifth floor.
Morning haze.
Adrenaline leftovers from last night.
He inhaled, steadied himself, and opened the window again.
“…”
“… ”
She was still there.
Looking up.
Unblinking.
Perfectly calm.
Ray shut the window again.
SLAM.
“…No,” he said firmly to himself.
“That’s not possible.”
Plenty of girls had similar color hair.
Blue eyes too.
Coincidences happened.
He was overthinking.
So, just to be sure,
he opened the window one last time.
“…”
“…?”
The girl tilted her head slightly, confused.
Her expression clearly asked:
Why do you keep opening and closing the window?
Silver hair.
One blue eye.
One gray.
Recognition hit him like a thrown stone.
SLAM.
This time, Ray leaned his back against the wall, inhaled sharply, and shouted to the empty room—
“WHY?!”
Far below, Ivaline continued to look up at the closed window.
“…He noticed,” she said calmly.
“Yes,” Chronicle replied, with what might’ve been the faintest trace of amusement.
“You are… very bad at subtlety.”
She nodded once.
“…I’ll improve.”
And somewhere above her, the Brave of the Holy Church seriously reconsidered his life choices.
