76
Compared to the hellish summers of South Korea, summer in Blake was far from scorching. Instead, with the last of the winter snow melting away, the air carried the warmth of late spring.
Poking my head out from Kyle’s pocket, I lazily hummed as I watched the summer sunlight streaming through the window.
As his steps made a faint creaking sound, Kyle stroked my head with his index finger. Even when I tilted my head up and nudged him with my nose, he just continued.
Fine. I’ll let it slide today since I’m in a good mood.
[♪(´▽`)]
Ignoring the system, which had gotten excited alongside me, I checked my miracle gauge.
A solid 60 percent. Considering how recklessly I had burned through it during the war, this was a commendable recovery.
The one who had helped restore my depleted miracle gauge was none other than Belial.
[Belial Serena Meinhardt. Estimated time of death: ? days remaining.]
Belial wasn’t dead.
According to the letter Sen had sent, he had faced several critical moments, but now his wounds had healed, and his breathing had stabilized. However, he had yet to regain consciousness and remained lying in bed, as if in a deep slumber.
Regardless, it seemed that his mere survival was recognized as a form of “miracle,” and since I had played some role in that, my miracle gauge had been gradually increasing as well.
Of course, Belial’s condition was a closely guarded secret known only to me, Sen, Kyle, and a select few in her household. To the Meinhardt Empire, he was officially dead.
That had at least allowed us to avoid Lorenz’s attention, but the problem was that Sen had to care for Belial in secret. Although Kyle had sent people to assist her, it was far from enough.
More than anything, the burden of watching over him, as if holding onto a withering plant, might have placed Sen’s heart in its own kind of hell. And yet, she hadn’t given up on him. From Sen, I sometimes learned the true power of love.
“We’re here.”
Arriving at the study, Kyle placed me on top of the desk.
In one corner, a lavish hamster-sized sofa stood in full display. Decorated with sapphire and silver, it had even been meticulously crafted by an artisan, stitch by stitch.
‘No matter how many times I see it, it’s ridiculously extravagant.’
The first time I saw it, I had mistaken it for a throne.
Not that I minded being spoiled. I sprawled onto the sofa, locked eyes with Kyle, and gestured toward the food.
—Squeak. (Eat.)
Kyle let out a small chuckle and began eating his slightly cooled seafood stew.
Six hours a day. That was how long I could live as a human. Depending on how you looked at it, it was either a long time or a short one.
Those six hours weren’t enough to turn me into some remarkable figure, but they did give me enough leeway to ensure my lover didn’t go hungry.
Even now, I could at least shove food into that bastard’s mouth as he alternated between taking a bite and reading the report beside him.
‘His hands are still soft, though…’
Over the past three months, there had been another demonic invasion. Yet, I still hadn’t managed to accomplish anything significant. I had only been able to carry the wounded and transport supplies.
Desperate to be of some use, I had practiced archery every single day without fail, but I still wasn’t satisfied with my progress.
Because the person I wanted to stand beside was none other than Kyle Blake. The ruler of the North, the lord of this land. The most formidable pillar upholding the North… and my fated partner.
Even if he still acted like a hopeless hamster fanatic, sewing my shirts, pants, and even underwear with the utmost care whenever I used Reload.
“Hmm.”
A low hum sounded. Lost in thought with my eyes closed, I peeked through one eye to glance at him. Kyle had once again forgotten to eat, his attention buried in the towering stack of documents.
Administration, security—he insisted on personally overseeing everything. Thanks to that, the pile of paperwork only ever grew, never shrinking.
‘I’m sure every one of those is a headache.’
Blake territory was rich in talent, gems, and minerals, but its farmland wasn’t exactly ideal. Trade had to be a priority.
Until now, small-scale transactions had somehow sustained us, but from this point on, we needed to engage in trade on a territorial scale. And that meant breaking through Lorenz’s reign of terror.
Easier said than done. Right now, Kyle’s mind was probably a tangled mess, chaotic enough for him to forget to eat while glaring at those documents.
Of course, I wasn’t about to sit back and watch.
—Squeak. (Eat when you’re eating, dumbass.)
How does one lose their train of thought in front of food? Huh?
Sliding down from the sofa, I nudged the edge of his plate with my foot in protest. Kyle was practically burying his nose in the paperwork.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me finish this.”
—Squeak! (You think I’ll believe that?)
“I’m serious. Trust me.”
Wait, he understood me? What the hell?
So the saying was true—if a mutt stays in school for three years, it’ll learn to recite poetry. I guess if a northern duke spends three months with a hamster, he’ll…
—Squeak. (Not bad.)
“Yeah, I like you too.”
He didn’t understand. He didn’t get it at all.
—Squeeeeak! Squeak! (Quit the bullshit and just eat.)
When I aggressively kicked at his plate, Kyle burst into laughter and finally took a spoonful of stew. It must not taste as good as when it was hot, but he ate without complaint.
At last, he seemed to have reached the very reasonable conclusion that finishing his meal first would help him avoid my nagging.
The occasional clink of utensils against the dish, the faint brush of his fingers against the table, and the quiet gulping of food filled the silence, but for someone eating in a hurry, his table manners remained flawless.
“That was a good meal, Shu. Thanks again today.”
Seeing the plate wiped completely clean without a single drop left, I clapped my tiny hands.
What do they call this these days? Oh yeah, a ‘clean plate.’ He finished everything. Not that I expected anything less—he rarely leaves anything I give him. It makes feeding him feel worthwhile.
Kyle called for someone to clear the dishes and then finally got down to reviewing the documents in earnest. I debated whether to join him but ultimately decided to stay sprawled out on the sofa a bit longer.
I had been running around all day and was feeling a little tired. Besides, if something important came up, he would let me know anyway.
[( ︾▽︾)]
I basked in that drowsy comfort for a while.
‘Huh? Why is it so quiet?’
It was silent.
No sound of pages turning, no pen scratching against parchment, no chair scraping, no fingers tapping the table. Just complete stillness.
There was something cold about that silence, making me open my eyes despite myself.
‘What now?’
Kyle was frozen in place, like a painting.
Arms crossed, he was staring at a single document, as if determined to memorize every word of it.
I hopped down from the sofa to take a look at the document. Or at least, I tried. But it was too big compared to my tiny body, making it difficult to read.
—Squeak. (Ah, geez.)
Letting out a deep sigh, I leaped onto Kyle and climbed up his body with some effort. Finally settling onto his shoulder, I could see the contents of the document properly.
[“A few days ago, the condition of the workers who participated in the exploration of the new northern mine deteriorated. Out of ten workers, eight have shown symptoms, and three are in critical condition. Nine of them are gathered in the southern barracks under medical supervision, while one has refused treatment and is in seclusion. It is unlikely he will open the door without direct orders from Your Grace.”]
Now that I thought about it, I had heard about how they had opened a new tunnel in the largest mine and got caught in a blue-tinged explosion. When I returned a few days ago, I remembered that even the Blake knights who had gone as escorts had suffered injuries.
I quickly skimmed through the medical section at the bottom of the document and continued reading.
[“The symptoms appear similar to those caused by one of the forbidden spells—’Frost Poisoning.’ Given the possibility of magical contamination, we request Your Grace’s consideration and assistance for the affected workers. A standard physician will not suffice; a Blake-affiliated mage is required.”]
Magical contamination.
It was too soon for me to grasp the full weight of that term. I hadn’t even lived here for a year.
But I did understand that this was no trivial matter. At the very least, the term ‘Frost Poisoning’ carried enough significance to ignite Kyle’s murderous intent.
“……Hah.”
Kyle let out a short sigh and pulled out another report.
It was related to the northern mine expedition—details on the knights who had escorted the workers, their symptoms, and even the records of the preliminary reconnaissance before the exploration.
“The shadow they claimed to have seen back then… might not have been a beast but rather… those bastards.”
The mere thought of it made him grimace. His scarred hands traced the dense writing on the page…
Frost.
His finger stopped at that word. Then, he clenched his fist tightly, as if just seeing the word itself was enough to make him sick.
‘No wonder he harbors such hatred toward mages.’
Because of the mutant creatures sent by lawless mages, countless people had died. To remember them, a communal graveyard had been built on the outskirts of Blake territory, where the air was perpetually heavy with grief and sorrow.
I had been there once. Blake’s people never forgot their grudges. Kyle clearly believed that this incident was linked to the extreme northern mages, who had remained quiet throughout the entire spring.
‘A reasonable assumption, but…’
Getting angry wouldn’t change anything. What we needed was more information. At the very least, we had to meet the afflicted workers in person.
So.
—Squeak. (Calm down.)
I planted my butt on his shoulder and slid down his arm. The smooth fabric of his shirt made it feel like I was riding a slide.
I landed on the back of his hand and lightly tapped my feet against it. It was supposed to be a firm stomp, but given my size, it probably just looked like an insignificant little pat.
But the strength didn’t matter. As long as it made him snap out of it and acknowledge my presence, that was enough.
“Shu.”
Yeah, dumbass. I’m right here.
Instead of answering, I just stared up at him. Since he couldn’t understand me anyway, there was no need for unnecessary movement. I simply looked at him, waiting for him to calm down.
Eventually, the cold stiffness in his expression softened, and a faint smile appeared.
“Alright. I’m calm now.”
Three months.
It wasn’t enough for perfect understanding, but it was enough time for him to occasionally comprehend a hamster’s words.