The Night We Fall Asleep Together
That night, I grabbed a pillow and headed to Liriet's room. I'd said I'd share a room with her just for four days, and surprisingly, not a single person batted an eye. If anything, Edmund nodded approvingly and urged me on. "Yes, it'll give her strength if you're there with her."
"Did you brush your teeth properly?"
"Yes."
Liriet, sitting demurely on the bed like a little bride, twisted her still-damp hair as she answered. The teddy bear on her pajamas made me chuckle despite myself. Kids will be kids, I thought.
"Alright then, time for bed. When you're sick, the best things are plenty of rest and regular meals."
"Alalready? It's not even nine yet..."
Normally, she'd have nodded and lain down at my words, but tonight she was pouting unusually, cheeks puffed out. Was this her way of acting spoiled? Well, nine o'clock was early even for kids.
"Is there something else you want to do?"
"I want to hear a story from you, Uncle."
"Mine won't be very entertaining."
"I still want to."
My story, huh. I wasn't one for sharing in front of others, so I hesitated a bit. Nothing shady about it—just pure, unadulterated boredom. But looking into her bright, eager eyes, I couldn't bear to disappoint her. I'd tell her one as white noise and a lullaby.
"Fine. Lights out, then lie down, and I'll tell you a story. If you get bored, just sleep."
"I'll listen to every single word."
"Heavens."
I wondered why she was so curious about my past. Then I remembered my own childhood—curious about my great-uncle or other relatives' tales. For my determined niece, I turned off the light myself and lay beside her on the bed. It was plenty big for two, leaving ample space. Too close, and she might feel uncomfortable. Or maybe she'd hate the bachelor stink on me. I kept a polite distance.
"...?"
Liriet, nearer the wall, kept wriggling closer. When our eyes met, she'd pause, then creep nearer if I looked away. It wasn't like some game of red light, green light.
"Liriet? If you keep coming closer, I won't have anywhere else to go."
"Just stick to me, then."
"Won't that bother you? I'll smell."
"Didn't you just bathe?"
"Some body odors don't wash off completely."
Hers carried a faint baby lotion scent. Mine? Years holed up in the workshop meant reagents, ink, and old paper at best.
Squeeze.
But my worries were short-lived. Liriet stretched out an arm and hugged me fiercely, like she was tying me down. Sword trainee through and through, I thought. For a ten-year-old girl, her grip was shockingly strong. Arm-wrestling her bare-handed, I might even lose.
Having secured me, she buried her face in my chest and nuzzled like a contented cat.
"Hee, you smell nice in your arms, Uncle."
"Not sweat?"
"No. A really nice smell. Or rather, a fragrance."
"Fragrance, huh."
As if. I wasn't the cologne type. I was touched by my niece's generous flattery, even inventing compliments.
"It makes me feel safe and relaxed."
"Glad to hear it. But it's hard to tell a story like this."
Whispering in her ear made volume control tricky. When I voiced my reluctance, her eyes sparkled with an idea.
"You're right. Uncle, could you lie on your back looking at the ceiling?"
"Like this?"
As I straightened out, a smack—something big clung to me. A cicada? No, Liriet had slapped her hand on my stomach and draped herself over me like a sloth on a branch. The size difference made pillow placement awkward; she ditched hers entirely. Her neck'll hurt like that.
"Use my arm as a pillow."
"Really? Thank you!"
What was with that eager reaction? Anyone would think she'd ditched the pillow on purpose. Her movements were swift and precise.
Anyway, with our bedtime pose set, time to speak.
"What part of my story first? How I became a mage? Why I left home? Meeting my master? Or reaching 7th Circle?"
"...Have you ever had a lover, Uncle?"
"...Pardon?"
Totally out of left field.
So, my love life. She was that age, maybe.
"No. Never even considered it."
"Why?"
"Too immersed in magic. Back home, I'd stay in the workshop for over two months straight."
"You're amazing. I couldn't do that..."
Nothing amazing—just did what I wanted. If someone had pushed dating then, it'd have been torture.
"At your age, they say it's time to consider engagements."
"True."
Did "your age" sound like a polite way of calling me old? Overthinking?
"No one in mind? Not even arranged meetings?"
"None. I'd refuse anyway."
I'd gotten a few proposals, even at 6th Circle. Promising mage from a great house—queue formed. But it never appealed.
"Why?"
"I'm old-fashioned. Blind dates or sudden meetings for that purpose? Not my thing."
Self-arranged matches. Natural encounters. That was me. Even in my past life, high school and college setups? Never went.
"So you dislike contrived meetings."
"Yes. I prefer someone I've watched grow over time. Starting as close friends, feelings deepening to lovers."
Spouting love theory to my much-younger niece felt oddly embarrassing. She hung on every word, though.
Fun as that?
"Like that person earlier?"
"Who?"
Her voice dropped an octave. Air felt chillier—imagination?
"The one who came to fetch you. You seemed close. Do you... like her?"
"...Ah."
Her words hit, and my mind went cold. Not stabbed, just crashing reality and self-loathing.
Why didn't I think of that?
"Liriet, you're misunderstanding. Ern... he's a man."
"............Pardon?"
I dropped the truth bomb I hadn't wanted to face. Her face went blank, like she'd been clubbed from behind. Less shock, more What nonsense is this, Uncle?
Having heard the utterly unexpected truth, Liriet gaped blankly.
What is Uncle saying?
That person—a man? Like Uncle, a sturdy guy?
Why?
Why was the only word.
She hadn't met many people, but Ern's beauty was striking. Street guys would catcall for sure.
Is Uncle tricking me?
No way he'd do that, but suspicion sprouted, and her mouth moved.
"Uncle, even if I'm young, I won't fall for such a lie..."
"No, really. If you don't believe me, ask him yourself tomorrow."
"...Really?"
Her snappish tone softened to calm denial.
"Natural to misunderstand. Anyone would—hundred percent, no one'd peg him for male."
"R-right...?"
Seeing her uncle get it eased her. His frame, slim face—all womanly. But oddities nagged.
She noticed late and sighed.
His voice was kinda low.
Not Uncle's deep baritone, but too low for female. And crudely—curves? None. Flat as a board.
Acceptance dawned, birthing a question.
"But Uncle, why was a man dressed like that?"
"Mm... circumstances. Promise not to tell others, and I'll explain."
"I promise."
No hesitation; pinky out. She'd toss and turn without knowing.
"He has a fiancée. Childhood friends since birth, nearly twenty years."
"Wow..."
Twenty years? Pure awe.
No biggie—in ten more, I'll have that with Uncle.
Odd rivalry bubbled. Two years apart? Irrelevant.
"But she has a complex."
"What kind?"
"Not feminine enough. Famous knight—imposing lady knight."
"Impressive."
Renowned young in knight order? Elite.
"Ern was frail since childhood, always indoors. Small, delicate—people called him girly."
"Yes."
"Then she confessed her worry: manly woman, hives from skirts."
"Pfft."
Hives? Imagining it cracked her up.
"So Ern schemed: if she gets flak for looking manly, him dressing girly shares the hits."
"That far?"
Sweet, but clothes too?
"Sharing pain. Joy doubles shared, sorrow halves."
"Ah..."
"And show solidarity: 'I'm like you, don't sweat it.'"
"Cool guy."
Made sense. Best part: not forcing change on her, but changing himself to say, We're the same.
"So asking if you had prospects...?"
"Probably offering to introduce someone. He nags about it."
Puzzle solved.
"Believe me now?"
"Yes...!"
He smiled, seeing her relief. She nodded vigorously.
Good... Wait?
Hand on chest, she blinked at her subconscious mutter.
Why 'good'?
And that sticky, unpleasant feeling in her chest? Gone.
Why? Unknown.
Poof.
For now, just sleep in his arms. Tension snapped; drowsiness flooded.
"...Sleep well, our Liriet."
In fading awareness, she thought of the faint voice.
Once. Calling me that when you think I can't hear. I'll collect tomorrow.
And sleep took her. Somehow, she felt she'd get along with Ern starting tomorrow—baseless hunch.