Demeter bit her lip as she watched Genichi, who had clearly fallen asleep.
Uncertainty churned within her.
Moonlight streamed through the window at an angle, spreading a silvery glow across the floor.
The room was so quiet that she could clearly hear Genichi’s slow, even breathing.
Moonlight traced a soft outline around his sleeping figure.
He was not a particularly tidy sleeper.
He had kicked the blanket aside, and one arm dangled over the edge of the bed, his fingers slightly curled as though he were still gripping something in his dreams.
His usually playful face appeared unusually peaceful and innocent beneath the moonlight.
Without all his masks, he looked like nothing more than an ordinary, exhausted young man.
Demeter lay beside him.
This was the first time since they began sharing a room that she had studied his sleeping face from such a close distance in the middle of the night.
She normally maintained the dignity and distance expected of a goddess.
Even while sharing a room, she deliberately faced away from him or read manga on his phone until late at night, only closing her eyes once he was asleep.
Tonight was different.
Something seemed lodged inside her chest, leaving her restless and suffocated.
Demeter knew perfectly well that Genichi had no intention of taking her with him when he left this world.
Although he had revealed his secrets with almost disarming honesty that afternoon, she understood better than anyone that it did not mean he trusted her.
He had only laid his cards on the table because he knew he could not escape yet.
Once the Transmigration Gate finished cooling down, he would open it without hesitation and leave without looking back.
He might not say goodbye or leave behind a single parting word.
He would disappear just as quietly as he had arrived.
When Demeter awoke the following morning, she might find only an empty bed and the faint remains of his scent lingering in the air.
Genichi appeared carefree, shameless, lustful, and cowardly, but deep down, he was more clearheaded and coldhearted than anyone else.
He felt no attachment to this world and no genuine affection for its people.
His jokes, arguments, and seemingly intimate interactions were merely masks used to put everyone around him at ease.
In his heart, he had drawn a clear boundary long ago.
Everyone in this world stood on one side, while he remained alone on the other.
If Demeter wanted him to take her along, she first needed to earn his complete trust.
Yet that was precisely what made the situation impossible.
Genichi would never fully trust anyone.
She could imagine exhausting every possible method and even sharing the most intimate relationship with him, leaving a mark on his body that no one else could ever replace.
Yet he would still maintain a calm emotional distance.
He would enjoy her body, her tenderness, and every passionate moment they shared, but none of that would persuade him to surrender his trust.
Demeter extended one hand, her fingertips hovering just above Genichi’s cheek.
They came so close to touching his skin.
She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and catch the familiar, clean scent of soap clinging to him.
Her hand trembled faintly.
In the end, she pulled it back.
Demeter rolled over and turned her back to Genichi.
Burying her face in the pillow, she released a soft sigh that was almost impossible to hear.
“What must I do to make you trust me completely?”
Her voice was as light as a feather landing upon water.
Even she could barely hear it.
The night breeze slipped through the gap in the window and stirred the oil lamp on the table.
Its dim yellow flame flickered, making the room’s shadows sway as though something unseen were moving through the darkness.
…
Beyond Demeter’s awareness, deep within Genichi’s consciousness, he entered Riveria’s dream once again.
This dream was completely different from the last.
The first time he entered Riveria’s dream, a gorgeous and seductive sea of stars had appeared around him.
Ambiguous starlight and flowing ribbons of light filled the air, lending even the atmosphere a gentle sweetness.
Riveria had discarded every defense in that dream.
She had been passionate and uninhibited, like a flame suddenly set ablaze.
This time, however, the dreamscape was far colder and more solemn.
Genichi’s consciousness slowly took shape within a sea of pale gray mist, like a bubble rising from the depths of sleep.
He sensed the air around him—cold, damp, and filled with the quiet emptiness of a forest’s deepest reaches.
Soft moss and soil lay beneath his feet, while ancient branches blotted out the sky above.
Thin streams of cold moonlight slipped through the gaps, casting scattered patterns across the ground.
Looking around, Genichi discovered that he was standing within an ancient forest.
The trees were astonishingly tall, with trunks so broad that several people would be needed to encircle them.
Thick moss covered their bark, as though they had stood upon this land for thousands of years.
The scents of soil, decaying leaves, and dew filled the air.
Somewhere in the distance, he could faintly hear the gentle flow of a stream.
Not far ahead, Riveria stood beneath an especially massive ancient tree with her back to him.
Her clothes were completely different from her usual attire.
Instead of her modest, dignified mage’s robe, she wore a long silver-white dress whose hem trailed across the grass like tassels woven from moonlight.
Her emerald hair was not tied up.
It cascaded naturally over her shoulders and down to her waist, glowing softly beneath the moonlight.
Even her bearing was nothing like that of the calm and imposing deputy captain she normally was.
During his previous visit to Riveria’s dream, everything had proceeded under Genichi’s guidance.
He had woven the dreamscape, chosen the setting, and led her consciousness into those seductive fantasies.
This time was different.
Riveria’s subconscious was directing the dream.
Genichi had only used his magic to enter it.
He approached her without making a sound, wrapped his arms around Riveria from behind, and rested his chin upon her shoulder.
Riveria’s body stiffened for a moment, then quickly relaxed.