Aoyama glanced down at her.
At this moment, her expression betrayed everything.
Shame and panic flickered in her red pupils.
Her eyelashes trembled violently, and her lips parted slightly before closing again, as if she were struggling to form words but had no idea how to begin.
“It’s a towel,” Aoyama replied, his face impassive.
He pressed the folded cloth back into the hot water, wrung it out until it was half-dry, and reapplied it to her forehead.
“A warm compress helps break a fever.” “Ugh…” Kasumigaoka Utaha’s mouth opened, a muffled whimper escaping her throat.
She wanted to protest but couldn’t find a single reason.
In terms of function and practical use, it was indeed a towel now.
But the thought of its original purpose sent a wave of boundless shame through her, making her feel as if she were being burned alive from the inside out.
“That…
that’s my…” She struggled to speak clearly, but the fever had turned her thoughts into a thick, sticky mess.
The words reached her lips only to be swallowed halfway.
“Don’t you…
don’t you know what that is…?” Aoyama replied, his voice calm: “I know.” “But you have a severe fever, and I didn’t have time to find another clean cloth to use as a compress for your forehead.” “It’s been washed clean, it’s the right thickness, and its water absorption and heat retention are excellent.” “Besides, you need to lower your body temperature right now.” “So don’t worry about what it is.
Close your eyes and rest.” Kasumigaoka Utaha’s lips trembled.
She wanted to protest, to ask, Don’t you think it’s strange to use a girl’s panties as a towel?
But the warm, comfortable sensation on her forehead made it impossible for her brain to function properly.
The warmth seeping through the fabric into her skin eased the splitting headache, and she did, in fact, feel a sense of relief.
“Mm~” Moreover, her gaze involuntarily drifted downward.
Aoyama’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close.
The chest she was leaning against felt solid and warm through his shirt, radiating a comforting heat.
“…Alright.” She finally managed a muffled reply, her voice so soft it was barely audible.
Then, she buried her face back into Aoyama’s chest, her ears turning a deep, burning crimson.
She tried to ignore the warm compress on her forehead—the one made from her own panties—and the empty, naked feeling of her own body beneath.
And she tried to ignore the fact that she was clinging to him like this.
“Aoyama-kun…
don’t laugh at me,” she murmured.
“I’m not laughing.” Aoyama indeed wasn’t laughing.
His expression remained calm, his gaze fixed on the curtain of rain falling beyond the stone eaves.
“But using that as a towel…” Kasumigaoka Utaha’s voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.
“Don’t you think it’s strange?” “No.” “Right now, you’re the patient.
Anything I can use is just a tool.” “…Thank you.” The two fell silent for a moment.
The campfire crackled, occasionally spitting sparks that flickered and died in the ashes.
The rain outside showed no sign of letting up.
Instead, it poured even harder, the curtain of water cascading from the stone eaves and sealing their shelter into a semi-enclosed cave.
“Haa…” Kasumigaoka Utaha’s breathing gradually steadied, but her fever remained high.
Pressed against Aoyama’s chest, her body was like a scorching stone.
Sweat seeped from her neck and back, dampening the front of his shirt.
Aoyama could feel the soft curves of her body pressing firmly against him through the two layers of fabric.
Her body heat was so intense that the burgeoning sense of intimacy carried a heart-pounding, feverish quality.
Sigh…
It wasn’t as if Aoyama was completely unaffected.
He was a normal eighteen-year-old man, holding a peer with a curvaceous figure in his arms.
She was wearing only a single shirt and her school skirt—nothing else.
How could he possibly feel nothing?
His breathing was indeed a fraction faster than usual.
And his body had responded with an honest, undeniable reaction.
“…” Kasumigaoka Utaha felt it.
Her entire body went rigid.
Though her forehead was still burning and her mind a feverish haze, she clearly sensed the terrifying presence growing more pronounced.
She was no innocent girl.
As an author of romance novels, she was all too familiar with this kind of scenario.
But when she wrote it, she was sitting at her desk.
Now, she was pressed firmly against the chest of an eighteen-year-old boy, feeling his body’s most honest reaction and throbbing pulse.
The tips of her ears burned even hotter, and her breathing faltered.
“Aoyama-kun, are you…” Her voice was muffled by the damp fabric of his shirt, so low it was nearly drowned out by the rain.
“Yes.” “…Then why aren’t you pushing me away?” “Because you have a cold.
Pushing you away would make you catch a chill, and your condition would worsen.” Aoyama’s voice remained steady, but a careful listener could detect a faint, almost imperceptible tension.
“…So you’d rather…
endure this discomfort?” “…” Aoyama fell silent for two seconds before speaking.
“Kasumigaoka-san, can you just rest quietly now?” Kasumigaoka Utaha didn’t say another word.
She buried her face deeper, her nose pressing into the gap between his ribs, her warm breath fanning his skin.
She could feel the frantic, powerful thumping of his heart in his chest.
And she could feel that—which showed no sign of receding—but she chose to close her eyes.
How could he possibly be so…
The wind howled in from outside the stone eaves as the campfire crackled beside them.
Aoyama took several deep breaths, trying to divert his attention from the soft, fragrant warmth in his arms.
He stared out at the torrential rain.
The downpour showed no signs of letting up.
The sky was a leaden gray, as if a massive, wet cloth had been draped over it, smothering all light.
Once the rain stops, I need to find some fever-reducing herbs.
In a primeval forest like this, there were bound to be wild ginger or bupleurum.
If I’m lucky, I might even find honeysuckle or dandelions—common herbs for clearing heat and detoxifying.
But a more pressing concern gnawed at him: What if I get sick?
In the wilderness, a single person falling ill meant a catastrophic drop in their ability to survive.
He and Kasumigaoka Utaha were now completely dependent on each other; if any link in their chain broke, their entire survival would collapse.
I need a stronger constitution.
What I need right now is immunity, regenerative power, and disease resistance.
After all, his cheat ability was “Eat what you need to supplement.” All I need to do is find creatures with strong vitality and eat them.
The rainforest was crawling with insects.
Snakes, scorpions, centipedes, spiders…
Though the thought was nauseating, these creatures were believed to have medicinal value in traditional medicine.
As long as he found the right species, he could obtain the corresponding physical enhancements.
“Wait for the rain to stop,” Aoyama murmured to himself, pulling his gaze away from the curtain of rain to look down at Kasumigaoka Utaha, who had gradually grown quiet in his arms.
Her breathing had become longer and steadier.
The white “towel” on her forehead, warmed by her body heat, was now half-dry and faintly steaming.
She loosened her grip on the fabric at his waist, her fingers now curled naturally against him.
She looked like a cat curled up by a stove—slightly hunched, shivering faintly.
Aoyama reached out to adjust the slipping “towel,” the edge of the cloth brushing lightly against her temple.
Kasumigaoka Utaha’s eyelashes fluttered, but she did not open her eyes.
After a moment, her lips moved slightly as she mumbled a few incoherent syllables.
“Aoyama-kun…
I’m still cold~” Aoyama added another thick log to the fire, then tightened his arms, pulling her deeper into his embrace.
Through the fabric of their school uniforms, her body heat pressed against him like a small flame.
“Mm, I’m here,” Aoyama said softly.
“Mmm…” Kasumigaoka Utaha murmured groggily, then nuzzled her forehead against his chest, finally falling completely still.
The rain outside fell from the stone eaves in a steady curtain, isolating the shelter from the world.
A few small crackles came from the fire, casting an orange-red glow over their figures.
Aoyama held the feverish girl in his arms, listening to the wind and rain roar overhead.
His gaze pierced through the curtain of rain to the gray, hazy sky in the distance.
He whispered, “I have to find a way for her to live through this, too.”