After an unknown amount of time passed, faint sounds drifted from beside the bed.
The rustling of pages turning.
The soft scratching of a pen moving across paper.
Soren’s heart suddenly clenched, nearly leaping out of his chest.
What was she writing?
Recording his “condition”?
Or planning out future arrangements for his care?
Carefully, he cracked open his eyes just a sliver.
Through the hazy light, he saw Jean seated in the chair beside the bed.
A thick leather notebook rested open across her knees.
Her head was lowered, golden hair falling beside her cheeks.
Under the soft lamplight, her profile looked unbelievably focused.
The feather pen in her hand moved smoothly across the page.
The scene appeared warm and peaceful.
Yet to Soren, it carried bone-deep coldness.
He couldn’t stop himself from imagining what might be written inside that notebook.
Perhaps it contained records of his daily life.
Like a meticulous caretaker, who carefully documented every detail about him.
Every moment proving that he “needed” her.
“Awake?”
Jean’s gentle voice suddenly sounded out.
She had precisely caught the instant stiffness in his body.
Closing the notebook and she gently placed it aside before standing and walking back to the bedside.
Looking down at him, her eyes overflowed with concern.
“Did you sleep well?
Does anything hurt?
Is your leg hurting badly?”
Soren no longer dared pretend to be asleep.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and met those gaze-filled eyes of “care.”
His throat dry, he forced out a difficult word.
“…Water.”
“Alright.”
Jean immediately turned away and briskly poured a cup of warm water.
She didn’t hand it to him immediately.
Instead, she first took a small sip herself to confirm the temperature was right.
Only then did she carefully bring the cup to his lips.
“The temperature’s perfect.
Drink slowly.”
Soren stared at the rim of the cup only inches away.
And at Jean’s intensely focused eyes.
A complicated emotion surged through him.
The cool water slid through his dry throat, yet it did nothing to ease the tension knotted inside his chest.
He could feel her fingertips occasionally brushing against his chin.
Every touch carried cautious tenderness.
After he finished drinking, Jean still didn’t leave.
She picked up a clean damp towel and began naturally wiping his cheeks and neck.
Her movements were careful and gentle, as though tending to some fragile object.
Warmth seeped through the towel with every touch, carrying a seriousness impossible to reject.
“See?
Without me, even drinking water is difficult for you now.”
Her voice remained low and soft.
A strange sense of satisfaction lingered beneath it.
“But it’s alright.
I’ll always take care of you.
Soon enough, you’ll get used to it–used to my care, used to depending on me…”
Her fingers slowly slid down along his neck before stopping near his collarbone.
The pressure was neither light nor heavy.
Yet it carried a firm sense of guardianship.
“Used to becoming a child who needs me.”
He wanted to pull away.
He wanted to express his own thoughts.
But the intense pain in his leg and the unmistakable seriousness in Jean’s eyes formed an invisible barrier that trapped him firmly in place.
All he could do was grit his teeth and silently endure this meticulous care.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Jean seemed to sense his tension.
Suddenly, she let out a soft laugh.
The sound was clear and pleasant.
Despite that, for some reason, it only made Soren more nervous.
Her gaze fell upon the tail that had gone rigid from extreme tension.
Instantly, her expression softened even further, filled with completely undisguised fondness.
“Your tail is beautiful.”
She reached out.
However, rather than touching it immediately, she first brushed it with her fingertips in an incredibly slow, testing motion.
Soren trembled uncontrollably.
Jean’s eyes gleamed.
A trace of delighted surprise entered her voice.
“So it reacts like this.”
Her fingertips didn’t withdraw.
Instead, they began moving even more gently.
“Your reactions are adorable.”
“D-Don’t… don’t touch it!”
Panic tinged Soren’s voice.
He wanted to curl up and protect his tail.
Still, the agonizing pain in his leg left him unable to move.
“Why can’t I touch it?”
Jean tilted her head.
Confusion appeared on her face, though her eyes remained filled with seriousness.
“It’s part of you too.
If I’m taking care of you, then naturally I should take care of every part of you.”
Soren closed his eyes.
At last, tears slipped uncontrollably from the corners of them.
“Why are you crying?”
Jean’s voice carried a trace of pity.
Finally, she stopped touching his tail and instead used her fingertips to gently wipe away the tears from his eyes.
Her movements remained tender.
Her gaze overflowed with concern.
“Does something hurt?
Or do you feel wronged?”
Lowering her head, she pressed a feather-light kiss against his tear-damp eyelashes.
“Don’t worry.
I’ll stay with you forever.
Eventually, you’ll understand that only I can care for you this much.
This is how I feel about you, Soren.”
She returned to the chair and picked up the thick notebook once more.
Opening to a fresh page, she dipped the feather pen into ink before beginning to write attentively, a gentle smile resting on her lips.
[Soren displays obvious reactions to contact with his tail and experiences severe emotional fluctuations.
Future care methods should account for this.
Gradually help him adapt to detailed affection and reinforce mutual trust…]
The scratching of the pen echoed clearly throughout the silent room.
And Soren lay on the bed listening to it, feeling only that the future ahead resembled an endless fog…
Directionless.
Helpless.
Utterly uncertain what awaited him beyond it.