Chapter 240: Airam Wants To Sleep With Ulrich

After convincing Hermione and Esther to remain at the Estate, Ulrich made his way back toward his room.

The conversation had exhausted him more than the journey from Hiddlestone.

Fighting was simple. There were opponents, risks, choices, and consequences. A sword either struck or missed. A spell either held or broke. Pain could be measured. Injury could be endured.

But speaking to Hermione and Esther had required something far more difficult.

Words and emotions.

The careful choice between saying too little and saying too much.

Ulrich was not good at either.

Yet somehow, despite the medicine clouding his thoughts and the pain still weighing through every part of his body, he had managed to say enough. He had reached them. He had stopped them from leaving.

That should have been a relief.

Instead, he only felt tired.

The treatment had left his body numb and heavy. His mind moved through a faint haze, slow and detached, as though he were watching himself walk through the Estate from far away. He must have looked even colder than usual while speaking to the girls.

Perhaps that was why it had taken them so long to understand him.

Perhaps he truly did look emotionless when he cared the most.

As he walked down the corridor, Ulrich thought again about the words he had spoken while half-conscious.

I should have killed you that day.

Had he truly said that?

The memory was unclear.

He remembered pain, fever, Ashara's face, his mother, the physicians' voices. Old anger rising from somewhere he had believed was long dead.

Maybe those words had belonged to the part of him that still remembered the future Silas had shown him.

The three witches had once been meant to kill him.

Airam.

Hermione.

Esther.

When Silas's memories first came to him, Ulrich had considered many possibilities. He had been cautious and suspicious. He had wondered whether the simplest solution would be to remove the danger before it grew.

The thought had crossed his mind.

But it had not remained.

Not after he met them and saw that they were basically children, especially Esther; she was ten. How could he even think of killing her, witch or not?

He had changed his plans long ago.

The thought of killing them had not returned.

Still, Ulrich wondered something he did not like wondering.

Without Silas's memories, would he have made a different choice?

If he had not known the novel's future, if he had not known what the witches would become, if he had found three dangerous girls without the knowledge that they might one day destroy him…

Would he have abandoned them?

Would he have killed them?

He did not know.

Silas would never have done it.

That much was certain.

Ulrich sighed quietly.

It did not matter.

He was in no condition to think clearly anyway.

By the time he reached his room, the medicine had made his limbs feel like stone. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The chamber was dim.

A single lamp remained lit beside the bed. The physicians had left fresh medicine on a table near the wall, along with folded linen and a note listing the times he was supposed to rest, eat, and allow himself to be examined.

Ulrich ignored the note.

He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, he looked down at his left side.

The sleeve of his dark shirt hung empty from the elbow.

Sacrificing an arm for a witch.

A faint smile curled Ulrich's lips.

It was almost mocking.

The Ulrich who had existed before Silas's memories would have found the situation absurd. Eurich would have called it disgraceful. Risking himself for witches was one thing. Losing an arm for one of them would have been enough to make his father disown him a second time.

Yet Ulrich did not regret it.

He swung his legs onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows.

Then he felt it.

A gaze.

Ulrich turned his head.

Two dark eyes stared directly back at him from the far side of the mattress.

Ulrich immediately pushed himself upright.

For one brief second, a cold chill went through him.

He was not a man easily frightened for sure. Ghost stories, shadows, and strange noises had never bothered him. But finding a silent pair of eyes watching him from the darkness of his own bed after a day of medicine, blood loss, and near-death experiences was enough to weird out anyone.

Then his vision adjusted.

Airam lay beneath the blankets.

She was still wearing his dark coat.

Her black hair spread across the pillow, and her expression was perfectly calm.

Ulrich stared at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sleeping," Airam replied.

She sat up slowly.

"This is not your room," Ulrich said.

"I know."

Ulrich's eyes narrowed.

For a moment, he looked at the coat around her shoulders.

She had not returned it.

Then he looked back at her face.

"Go back to your room."

Airam shook her head.

Ulrich frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Airam watched him quietly.

"On the way back," she said, "I slept with you."

Ulrich's expression did not change though his eyes twitched.

"You slept beside me," he corrected.

Airam nodded.

"I slept well."

"You were exhausted."

"That was not why."

Ulrich looked at her.

Airam continued.

"I did not have nightmares. I did not have visions. I slept deeply for the first time in a long time because you were there."

Her voice remained calm.

But Ulrich could hear the seriousness beneath it.

"I want to see if it happens again."

"If you want sleep," Ulrich said, "I can put you to sleep."

Airam's eyes narrowed immediately.

Ulrich was already considering a simple spell. A controlled sleep charm would not hurt her. He could send her back to the room she shared with Hermione and Esther, make certain she rested, and avoid the strange situation of a fifteen-year-old girl deciding that his bed was now the safest place in the Estate.

"I do not want a spell," Airam said.

"I can make it painless."

"I want to sleep naturally."

"Then sleep naturally with your sisters."

"I cannot."

Ulrich paused.

Airam's gaze lowered slightly.

She did not look embarrassed.

She looked frustrated with herself.

"With Hermione and Esther, I still have nightmares," she said. "I wake up. I listen for danger. I feel like I have to stay awake in case something happens to them."

Her fingers tightened around the oversized sleeves of his coat.

"I am their eldest sister. I have to protect them."

Ulrich said nothing.

She was sure speaking a lot recently, especially to him.

Airam continued.

"But when you were beside me, I did not feel that way."

She looked directly at him again.

Ulrich had not known her nightmares were so frequent.

He knew Airam had bad dreams sometimes. He was aware of nightmares, and she was having a hard times to sleep.

But he had not understood the extent of it. It looked more serious than what he initially thought.

Regardless…

Was she just saying she wanted to sleep by his side because she could sleep at ease or something with his presence beside her?

She sounded like him when he was five years old and snuck into his mother's room to sleep beside her, but Airam was fifteen, and she was certainly not that immature and scaredy-cat girl.

Ulrich understood some of what Airam's words however.

He understood nightmares. He understood sleeplessness. He understood the instinct to remain awake because sleep felt too much like surrendering control.

But that did not mean he could simply allow Airam to stay in his bedroom for the night.

The household was already full of people who watched, listened, and spoke more than they should. Servants noticed everything. Knights noticed more than servants. And if Hermione and Esther discovered that their elder sister had slipped into Ulrich's room in the middle of the night, there would be no end to the questions.

His reputation as the controlled, proper Count Rubenhart would not survive it.

Certainly not with Hermione, who could turn a simple misunderstanding into an argument lasting half a day.

But when Ulrich looked into Airam's dark eyes, he understood one thing clearly.

She was not going to leave, not willingly.

Airam had decided that sleeping near him was necessary. Once she made up her mind, convincing her otherwise was rarely simple. He could order her back to her room. He could summon a servant. He could force the matter.

But he did not have the strength.

And there was an easier solution.

He would let her remain for an hour.

Once she fell asleep, he could carry her back to the room she shared with Hermione and Esther. Or, more realistically, he could call a maid to do it. Airam would wake beside her sisters without realizing when she had been moved.

It was annoying and inconvenient.

But it was the simplest answer.

"Fine," Ulrich said at last.

Airam blinked.

Ulrich leaned back against the pillows.

"You can sleep here."

Airam smiled faintly.

Ulrich lay on his back without adding more.

Airam lay down beside him.

She remained on her side, facing him.

For several moments, she simply watched him.

Ulrich kept his eyes closed.

He could feel her gaze.

It was strange.

The old Airam would have been more likely to sit beside his bed with a knife hidden beneath her sleeve than lie quietly beside him. She had been difficult from the beginning: suspicious, sharp-tongued, and always watching for betrayal. At least that Airam had made sense to him.

This Airam was more confusing.

She wore his coat.

She trusted him enough to sleep near him.

She looked at him as though he were someone she had been searching for.

Ulrich almost found himself missing the version of Airam who had tried to threaten him with hidden blades.

At least he knew how to handle threats.

He did not know what to do with trust.

Still, he closed his eyes and waited.

He would find the right moment.

A few minutes.

Perhaps less.

When Airam's breathing deepened, he would quietly form a small sleep spell. Nothing dangerous. Nothing painful. Only enough to ensure that she did not wake when he had her taken back to Hermione and Esther.

"Nnh…"

Ulrich's breath caught.

Something was wrong.

Drowsiness began to pull at him.

At first, he assumed it was the medicine. The physicians had warned him that the pain-dulling draught would continue to affect him through the night. His body was exhausted. His mana core was still recovering. Sleep should have come easily.

But this was different.

The heaviness fell too quickly.

His eyelids became difficult to lift.

Ulrich tried to open his eyes fully, but the effort felt absurdly difficult. His body had become heavy against the mattress, as though invisible chains had settled across his limbs.

He tried to move his right hand.

It barely responded.

His fingers twitched once against the blankets.

Then stopped.

Ulrich turned his gaze toward Airam.

His vision blurred.

But he could still see the faint threads of mana gathering around her hand.

A small Formula Ring hovered above her fingertips.

Its light was subtle.

A sleep spell.

Airam had cast it on him.

Ulrich stared at her.

Airam met his gaze without looking guilty, a perfect, intense stare.

He tried to speak, but his lips barely moved.

Ulrich's eyes grew heavier.

Airam watched him quietly.

Then she closed her fingers, and the Formula Ring dissolved as the mana threads faded from the air.

Ulrich's breathing deepened.

His eyes closed.

A few moments later, the tension left his body completely.

Airam waited.

She listened to the faint rhythm of his breathing.

Only when she was certain he had fallen asleep did she move closer.

Carefully, so she would not disturb his wounds, Airam rested her head against his shoulder.

The warmth beneath his shirt was faint but real.

Then she closed her eyes