Chapter 2

“Sniff, mm….”

Delilah’s body, unable to open her eyes and just crying, was warm. Every time she let out a sorrowful sound, the scent of alcohol drifted from her. Yet, it didn’t feel unpleasant. Maybe it was because of the faintly sweet scent that lingered around her. Her shoulders, trembling in his arms, felt especially small.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Sniff, waaah….”

At first, she seemed uncomfortable with his arm around her shoulders, but now, even as she was held in his embrace, she showed no sign of discomfort. Instead, she reached out and gripped the hem of his white shirt. Then, suddenly, she began apologizing to him.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Sniff, am I your older sister? Hic! But did I, sniff, say I was sorry?”

Ah, so this was drunken rambling. Compared to his own older sister, who would shout and curse when drunk, this was quite a cute kind of drunkenness. Though it was a bit more difficult to deal with.

Eric thought so, but still hugged Delilah’s pink head.

The heat from Delilah’s forehead, which bumped against his chest, spread to his skin. Her breath, broken by sobs, swept over the hem of his shirt.

“You did. So stop crying.”

“Mm, sniff. But I, huu….”

“Alright. I accept your apology.”

“Mm, tha—sniff, thank you.”

Eric held her small, warm body until her tears finally stopped.

Delilah’s sobs slowly faded as she buried her face in his chest and cried for a long time. Eric was relieved, thinking she might cry herself to sleep.

The sorrowful sounds, rough breaths, and tears that fell between them finally ceased, and only the sound of ragged breathing filled the room. Eric thought it was about time to let her go. But Delilah’s small hand still gripped his shirt tightly.

“Um, um….”

Her voice trembled again. Eric’s mind drifted back to when she first stood before his door. She was worried about something.

“Yes, Delilah.”

He answered quietly, and she flinched. The distance between them was infinitely close, and Eric’s voice, calling her ‘Delilah,’ fell directly over her head.

“Are you disappointed?”

“Why?”

“…Never mind. Sorry for suddenly crying.”

The scent of alcohol that had drifted with her breath was now faint. Over the smell of alcohol, the salty scent of tears and a sweet aroma mingled. At last, he felt her grip on his shirt loosen, and he also released his arms around her.

Delilah’s face, after crying for so long, was a mess. Her eyes were swollen red, her cheeks glistened with tears. She rubbed her cheek roughly with a pale hand, and forced the corners of her mouth up into a smile. But her cheek muscles twitched, making her expression awkwardly distorted.

“If nothing happened, that’s good. Um, can you keep it secret that I came here?”

“Yes, Delilah.”

“Um, then, um… Good night. I’ll go now.”

Before Eric could answer, Delilah hurriedly opened the door and ran out. Thud. The door closed behind her.

Eric stood blankly staring at the closed door, then slowly walked over to the table, where papers and pens were scattered everywhere, and sat down. He glanced down at his chest.

The trembling shoulders, the warmth from her forehead. The faintly sweet scent mixed with alcohol. All of that had vanished, leaving only tear stains and a wrinkled shirt in his arms. He let out a long sigh.

That was the strange first secret meeting on a deep autumn night when even the crickets were asleep.

* * *

“Eric.”

“Yes.”

“Is it fun?”

“Yes.”

“I’m bored.”

“Yes.”

Delilah, rolling around on the bed hugging a pillow, propped herself up on her elbows. She rested her chin and glared at Eric’s back with a mock-serious expression, but he never turned his head. Delilah buried her face in the blanket with a deep sigh.

“Are you some kind of ‘yes’-answering machine?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun….”

Her voice, muffled by the blanket, sounded dull. Eric didn’t even glance her way, yet answered her every word with sharp, short replies.

Ever since Delilah had barged into his room drunk, she would secretly visit his room whenever she felt down. She used the room at the very end of the third floor in the girls’ dorm, so she could climb out the window, descend the emergency ladder, cross the courtyard, and reach the hallway in front of his room. Her conscience pricked her every time she used the ladder, but she ignored it. ‘It’s an emergency for my heart, so it’s fine.’ She rationalized it that way.

People said the problem with getting drunk was doing all sorts of strange things and then forgetting everything the next day. But Delilah could still vividly remember all the embarrassing things she did in front of Eric that night. Luckily, Eric kept his mouth shut, and her drunken crying became a secret no one spoke of.

Strangely enough, after she cried in his arms, her heart felt lighter, as if a lump that had been stuck in her chest for ages had melted away. Maybe it was because she learned that Eric wasn’t bullied by other students, and even if he was, he didn’t care at all. But Delilah felt it was something else—a long-standing weight had finally disappeared.

They say tears wash away bad feelings. But when she cried alone in bed under the covers, it wasn’t like this. Crying alone only made her eyes puffy, her throat scratchy, and her head ache, making her feel worse.

So, it was thanks to Eric.

Delilah decided to think that way. And when another inexplicable sadness crept up on her a few nights later, she couldn’t resist and visited Eric’s room again. Eric silently let her in, and instead of crying, she just sat quietly and watched him write and draw things on paper she couldn’t understand.

That alone made her feel better. After asking several times if she was bothering him and getting a ‘no’ each time, Delilah felt free to come by whenever she wanted. Eric always let her in without a word.

After a few visits, his room quickly became as comfortable as her own. She could sit at the table and write, pull out books from the shelf, or even lie on the bed, and Eric never said anything. Eventually, while the owner of the bed sat at the table scribbling with his pen, the guest took over the bed and rolled around.

It was all Eric’s fault for never saying anything.

Delilah rolled around on the bed, shifting the blame in a meaningless way. She was just too bored. Eric stayed up late every night, but spent all his time scribbling on paper and never started a conversation with Delilah. She liked that, but… boredom was unbearable.

Delilah reluctantly sat up in bed, planning to read a book.

Eric’s room was full of books, both in the bedroom and the parlor. Not only were the shelves packed, but books were stacked everywhere. On tables, on chairs—there were books everywhere.

But after picking up several books, Delilah realized she couldn’t understand almost any of them. As a student in the administrative liberal arts department, she couldn’t possibly grasp the deep magical engineering texts Eric kept. They were full of unfamiliar words, formulas, and diagrams—too much for casual reading.

The only books she could read were a few romance novels. She had found them tucked away in a dusty corner of the bottom shelf, the result of her desperate search for anything to relieve her boredom.

‘He doesn’t seem interested in anything but magical engineering, so to have romance novels in his room is a pretty unique hobby.’

Delilah thought so, but welcomed it. She herself had no interest in romance novels, being busy with her studies, but the book she reluctantly opened turned out to be surprisingly entertaining despite its childishness. For the first time, she found enjoyment in reading not for study, but for fun.

‘What should I read today?’

Humming as she walked to the shelf, Delilah picked a book at random without even looking at the title. Its pale pink cloth cover made it obvious it was a romance novel, so there was no need to check the contents.

Carrying the book, she cheerfully walked to the table and pulled out a chair. She sat across from Eric, who was still busy scribbling on paper. Knowing from experience that trying to start a conversation wouldn’t work, Delilah just quietly opened the book. It was her happy reading time.

Minutes or maybe tens of minutes passed, and Eric finally put down the paper he’d been working on. He didn’t even bother to pick up the fountain pen that rolled off the table and onto the floor.

At last, he was done. Eric proudly looked at his scribbled notes. It was a project that had taken weeks. He had finally organized the method for refining magic potions into candy for portability, an idea he’d had the day Delilah first barged into his room. He hadn’t tested it yet, but he was sure it would work.

As he stretched his stiff neck, hunched over the table, Eric suddenly checked the cover of the book Delilah was holding.

And immediately snatched the open book from her hands.