Sarah hesitated as she eagerly fed what appeared to be important documents into the fire.
Should I really be burning these?
Even as she questioned herself, a nagging feeling told her she probably shouldn't.
But still…
The warmth of the fireplace was far too desperately needed to give up.
Ah, whatever. He can deal with it himself.
Dismissing her concerns as trivial, Sarah pretended she hadn't noticed anything and carried on.
Crackle. Crackle.
The fire burned steadily as Sarah gazed absently into the flickering flames, basking in their warmth.
With her eyes fixed on the fire, she looked deep in thought. Whether those thoughts were particularly profound was another matter, but she was certainly thinking about something—namely, when she would get her revenge on Enoch's backside and how she might escape this wretchedly cold house.
“Uh…”
Before she knew it, she had burned through every last sheet of paper.
Only then did Sarah understand why people preferred to use wood as fuel. The wonderful warmth vanished almost as quickly as it had arrived.
Perhaps because she had briefly experienced warmth only to lose it again, the cold now felt even more bitter than before.
Ugh. At this rate, I'm going to freeze to death.
Just as Sarah was about to get up—
“Cold?”
“Ah! You scared me!”
Enoch had approached without a sound and leaned in to whisper in her ear at precisely that moment.
Oblivious to his presence, Sarah turned her head, only to feel his skin brush against hers. For an instant, she thought their lips had touched, and she sprang up in alarm.
“Ugh! What are you doing?! When did you get here? Again?!”
Caught in the middle of plotting something decidedly unpleasant for him, Sarah reacted irritably, turning the blame on Enoch instead.
How long has he been standing behind me?
The thought of him silently approaching and watching her sent a chill down her spine.
“I asked if you were still cold.”
Enoch stared at her as though he couldn't understand why she was making such a fuss.
Realizing she had overreacted, Sarah cleared her throat awkwardly before answering.
“Well, I wouldn't exactly call it warm.”
“Ah, I see.”
Despite being the one who had asked whether she was cold, that was all Enoch had to say.
“That's unfortunate.”
Are you cold? Yes. Oh. Too bad.
After this thoroughly pointless exchange, Enoch straightened and motioned for Sarah to follow him.
“If you're finished here, come with me.”
With that, he started up the stairs to the second floor.
Sarah rose a moment later and hurried after him.
The second floor, which contained the bedroom and bathroom, was even more desolate than the first. By now, the bleakness of the house barely surprised her.
At the far end of the upstairs hallway, Enoch opened a door.
“This is where you'll be staying from now on.”
“…”
Sarah peered inside.
The room Enoch had assigned her was a tiny cubbyhole, barely large enough for one person to lie down in.
A welcome shaft of sunlight streamed through its single unboarded window.
“Go on, lie down. It's about time you got some rest, isn't it?”
Just as Sarah finished surveying the room, Enoch unexpectedly offered her a chance to rest without making any demands.
“…! That sounds wonderful.”
Delighted at being allowed to rest so soon, Sarah hurried inside.
She practically bounced over to the bedding and curled up in it, pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it felt.
“Good. Sleep well.”
Watching her move with such uncharacteristic enthusiasm, Enoch gave a dry chuckle and shut the door.
…From the inside.
“…?”
Why isn't he leaving?
Sarah had naturally assumed Enoch would leave her alone, but instead, he turned around and approached her.
“Excuse me…? Why are you—”
Before she could finish asking why he was coming toward her, a click interrupted her.
The lock had turned.
He had locked the door from the inside.
With the door securely locked, Enoch continued toward her.
“Move over. There's not enough room.”
And with that, he slipped into the space beside her as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Unable to refuse, Sarah reluctantly shifted to make room for him.
Realizing he intended to stay, she asked,
“…Don't tell me we're sleeping together?”
“…?”
Enoch seemed equally puzzled by her question. He explained his reasoning as though the answer should have been obvious.
“I promised you a reward if you completed the job.”
“A reward…?”
Did I agree to that?
Sarah, who hadn't paid much attention to their earlier conversation, racked her brain for what he might be referring to.
“If you come back safely, I'll let you sleep in my arms as a reward.”
Come to think of it, she vaguely remembered him saying something along those lines before they went to rescue Seiyen.
“Ahhh…”
Recalling that thoroughly unwelcome promise, Sarah gave a reluctant murmur of acknowledgment.
She had dismissed it as an empty remark meant to manipulate her, never imagining he would actually follow through.
Awkwardly scratching her forehead, she waved a dismissive hand.
“I don't need a reward, so you can leave.”
“No.”
Enoch's refusal was immediate and firm.
“I'm a man who always keeps his promises.”
As if to make it clear that he had no intention of going anywhere, Enoch edged closer.
Then he spread one arm toward her and gave a simple command.
“Come here.”
“…”
“You said you were cold.”
It wouldn't be so bad for you either, would it?
There was a subtle urgency in his voice, yet he sounded utterly confident.
Ha. Seriously. Unbelievable.
Does he really think I'll give in just because he's dangling something like that in front of me?
Sarah scoffed at his attitude, at the way he seemed to assume everything would go his way simply because he wanted it to.
Even if she hadn't known Enoch before, the notion of willingly crawling into his outstretched arms would have been absurd.
After all, this was the man who had stolen her first kiss without permission.
Granted, the kiss had healed her injuries, but his practiced tongue and suspiciously quick hands had left her thoroughly wary of him.
A locked room. A man and a woman beneath the same blanket.
The entire situation was suspicious.
Anyone would have thought so.
Sarah wanted nothing more than to shout at Enoch for trying such an obvious trick on her.
Do I look like I've lost my mind? You think I'd fall for such a cheap stunt?!
…But it was simply too cold.
“Ah, so warm!”
Without a moment's hesitation, Sarah rolled straight into Enoch's arms, sighing contentedly as his warmth enveloped her.
Strangely enough, although Enoch himself had shown no sign of feeling the cold, his body radiated heat like a blazing furnace.
It melted away the bone-deep chill that even the fireplace had failed to dispel.
“Mm… Mmm…”
A soft groan of relief escaped Sarah as she pressed her back firmly against Enoch's chest.
Despite all her earlier objections, she was now eagerly soaking up his warmth.
Behind her, Enoch chuckled quietly.
“What's so funny?”
Embarrassed, Sarah snapped at him.
“Nothing, really.”
Enoch continued to laugh softly as he slipped his arms around her waist.
“It's just… you're really nothing like the person I know.”
“…”
The unexpected remark came so suddenly that Sarah's ears practically pricked up.
The person he knows?
He must mean Sarah Rosenbaum… right?
“Why do you think that?”
Suddenly curious about what had led him to that conclusion, Sarah pressed him for an answer.
“That woman…”
Was the question really so difficult?
Enoch hesitated, seemingly unable to answer at once, and let his words trail off.
After a moment of silence, as though he had finally gathered his thoughts, he spoke again with certainty.
And what he said convinced Sarah that Enoch genuinely regarded her as someone entirely different from Sarah Rosenbaum.
“She isn't the kind of person who would quietly let someone hold her like this.”
Otherwise, he could hardly have said something so rude with the very person he was talking about right in front of him.
“Well, that's—”
Unsurprisingly, the woman in question—Sarah herself—let out an indignant scoff.
“You never know.”
I mean, I wasn't that terrible, was I?!
Admittedly, she had never been the sort to go out of her way to help others.
But she wasn't so heartless that she would simply ignore someone freezing to death.
As she had argued even before God, she wasn't fundamentally evil.
She simply placed a little less importance on morality and justice than most people did.
But doesn't everyone end up that way when they're too busy trying to survive?
Sarah certainly didn't consider her behavior exceptionally wicked.
Which meant Enoch's assessment was completely wrong.
Why wouldn't I have enough humanity to hold someone? It's just that no one's ever begged me to save them.
If someone had pleaded with her for help, she would have been perfectly willing to lend a hand.
…Provided she received suitable compensation, of course.
Still, Sarah wasn't so mercenary that she would never help anyone without expecting a reward.
There had even been a time when she had saved someone without asking for anything in return.
Even after all these years, Sarah could vividly remember the boy she had saved back then.
“Excuse me.”
“…?”
“Could you open the door for me?”
The boy had appeared before her in the middle of winter, during a raging snowstorm.
In that magnificent palace, where everything was abundant and splendid, he alone looked cold and miserable.
“Who are you?”
Sarah had been gazing out at the winter garden from the warmth of her room when she noticed the boy standing outside like an abandoned child.
Despite the bitter cold, so severe that even layers of clothing offered little protection, he wore nothing but thin summer clothes.
And he was barefoot.
Ten? Eleven?
She couldn't tell his exact age, but he looked to be somewhere around that.
His feet, frozen from walking through the snow, had turned red, almost blue. His lips trembled as he asked for help, so numb with cold that he could barely move them.
“If I tell you, will you open the door?”
Yet his expression remained calm, as though the deadly cold had no effect on him whatsoever.
“Hmm.”
Although it was obvious that the boy desperately needed help, Sarah feigned hesitation and deliberately drew out her answer.
By then, she had already grown thoroughly disillusioned with humanity.
So, pitiful as the boy looked, she had no desire to take care of him.
She was sick and tired of helping people.
“At the very least, I can think about it, can't I?”
But of all things, the boy was barefoot.
It reminded her of someone, which irritated her a little.
Whenever that person came to mind, she found herself unable to act cruelly, no matter how much she wanted to.
“…Enoch.”
At that slight encouragement, the boy readily told her his name.
“Enoch. That's my name.”