Chapter 15 – D―5
“Hic, I just came to see her face, hic!”
“She’s asleep.”
“No… It’s not like I have any other intentions, I just wanted to see her face, hic, I have something to say…”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Then at least let me see her sleeping… But why have you been speaking informally since earlier?”
“You’re hopeless.”
Amber woke to the sound of a quarrel mixed with the rain. She must have slept a long time, since it was already dark outside.
“Hopeless? Was that aimed at me?”
“Who else is here but you?”
“Rude bastard!”
Both voices were familiar to Amber. One was George, and the other… Well, the only visitor who’d come to this house and get on George’s nerves was obvious. Gavin, apparently drunk, grumbled with slurred speech.
“You acted all polite in front of my mom… This is as far as I’ll treat you as Amber’s cousin!”
“You don’t know anything.”
It was a voice full of mocking laughter, as if asking who was doing whom a favor.
“You have to be worth respecting to even pretend at it, right?”
Gavin shouted something angrily. If left alone, either George would get hit, or Gavin would get hit for hitting George—one or the other. Amber sighed.
“Ha…”
As long as George stood his ground, Gavin wouldn’t get inside the house. Why would he come all this way, braving the rain at this hour?
Still, Amber felt she had to do something, so she started to get up—then something dropped onto her forehead.
“Ah!”
Before she realized it was a wet towel, a sharp pain struck her lower back. It was so stiff, the dizziness came next.
‘Is this like a cold just from getting wet once?’
Of course, calling it ‘once’ was an understatement. She’d fallen on the ground kissing, worn wet clothes, and rolled around the house. At the time, her body was so hot she hadn’t felt cold at all.
‘But just me?’
George was fine because he wasn’t human, but Amber couldn’t help feeling wronged.
Either way, in this state, she couldn’t break up a fight, let alone move from bed.
‘And…’
There was another decisive reason she couldn’t face Gavin. She looked down at her body. She was completely n*ked except for a sheet. No wonder she felt so free.
Amber lay back down quietly. Thankfully, the situation seemed to have settled; there were no more sounds of fighting, just Gavin banging on the door and shouting.
“Phew…”
She hadn’t noticed at first, but lying down made her nose stuffy. After tossing and turning, she sat up. Just then, George came into the room.
“When did you wake up?”
“Just now. Ah, my voice sounds weird.”
George touched his forehead to Amber’s, checking her temperature with surprising naturalness.
“Did you wake up because of the noise?”
“Uh… a little?”
Amber blushed at his close face. After what they’d done, she shouldn’t be embarrassed, but still…
“You still have a bit of a fever. Wait here.”
George left the room, apparently to fetch something.
Meanwhile, Amber pulled up the blanket and checked herself. She was clean, as if she’d been washed while asleep, but the reddish marks hadn’t faded. She’d better avoid going out for a while, especially if Gavin saw her—who knows what rumors would spread…
George returned, carrying something in both hands. Amber pulled the blanket up to her chest and checked what it was: a steaming teapot and cups.
“I made it just like the recipe said.”
He must have used a cookbook.
Was this really drinkable? Amber held the cup as far from her body as possible, just looking at it. George raised his eyebrow.
“What? Don’t trust me?”
“Mm.”
Wouldn’t it be strange to trust him? Amber smiled, remembering the burnt smell that had hung in the kitchen for hours.
“Aren’t you going to drink it? It’s good for colds.”
George didn’t back down, but gently urged her. In the end, Amber brought the cup to her lips.
“Huh?”
Amber’s eyes widened. She’d expected him to mess it up, but the lemon and ginger scent was just like tea she knew well.
“The aroma’s nice.”
“The taste too.”
“Fine. I’ll drink it. See, I’m drinking.”
“Are you being punished, Master?”
“No!”
The aroma was good, and she figured tea couldn’t be that bad, so Amber bravely tasted it.
“Huh? It’s fine.”
It was bland, but not undrinkable. George’s expression relaxed, as if he’d been worried.
“Just rest and drink your tea. I’ll take care of things.”
“…Even cooking?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, I’m just happy you’re offering.”
George looked at her as if to say, ‘Of course.’ He didn’t want his efforts to go to waste.
“I made you like this, so I have to take responsibility. Like a madman, I just kept… pounding…”
“Okay, okay, I get it, you can stop saying it.”
Amber reached out to cover his mouth. George stared at her, his lips moving against her palm. The sensation made Amber try to pull her hand away, but George was quicker.
“Why did you do it?”
“Huh?”
George grabbed her wrist and asked,
“It wasn’t even nighttime. We never did it so many times before.”
His lips tickled her hand, and Amber shrugged. She knew everything had been unusual lately, and that George was asking to check if she regretted it.
“Were you serving me, Master?”
“Why would I serve you? Serving is…”
“I’m supposed to serve you, right?”
“Yes! I wanted it, so why are you saying it like that?”
Amber took the chance to pull her hand away. Of course, George’s thinking made sense. But he’d overlooked how much Amber actually knew.
Amber had noticed his changes the day after they watched the sea together. When she saw his sleeping face that morning, she thought he was teasing her, but George himself hadn’t realized he’d slept.
That was when it started—George dozing off or falling asleep.
He lost his composure quickly. He seemed to realize it too, and tried to fight off sleep by biting his lip or digging his nails into his palm—the kind of thing Amber had only seen during exam periods at the academy.
Yesterday was the same. George looked especially anxious, so Amber had suddenly suggested going out in the rain, wanting to help him however she could.
“I thought I was the only one who wanted it.”
And she didn’t want him to think otherwise.
“…I liked it too. Drawing lines between us doesn’t seem right…”
“So you’re not drawing lines anymore?”
“As long as we’re not reckless, and we both want it… I guess it’s okay?”
Instead of just liking it, George showed a look of wonder.
He didn’t know. It wasn’t just him who’d had a realization at the beach.
When he realized his worth was in being an object, for Amber, that moment made her see him as someone else entirely.
For the first time, she’d read a very different emotion from him…
“Just drink, before it gets cold.”
“At least for now, not again! I need to rest, I have a cold…”
“Do I look like that much of a jerk? I don’t touch sick people.”
Amber quietly finished her tea. Only after a few sips did she remember the uninvited guest who had left so easily.
“Right, didn’t Gavin come earlier?”
“He was drunk and making a scene, so I sent him away. Has he done that before? He never did while I was around.”
“He’s never made a fuss…”
He didn’t have anyone to get riled up over. Amber swallowed her next words and asked,
“But why did he come?”
“To see your face.”
“No message for me?”
“No. By the way, aren’t you hungry?”
George changed the subject, apparently hating cooking. Amber decided not to press further, suspecting it was related to Gavin’s feelings.
“I’m not hungry, but I’d like some peach… Do we still have any at home? Ah, but I don’t know how to peel it.”
“You can practice.”
“No, I’ll do it myself.”
She didn’t want to rain on George’s confidence, but she couldn’t trust him with a knife. He didn’t seem to realize it.
“Just rest.”
“How can I not worry? I’m afraid you’ll burn the kitchen down… I need to get better soon.”
“You want to get better quickly?”
George asked seriously.
“What?”
“If you want to, I’ll help you recover as fast as possible. We have a lot to do, don’t we?”
He swept the hair from her forehead and gave her a sultry look.
“So just tell me what you want to eat.”
He liked caring for Amber, but he liked s*x just as much. Now that he was free from his sleep-only purpose, how could he not look forward to it? Even if he wasn’t confident in cooking, he planned to feed her well and get her back on her feet quickly. He was eager for her to recover so they could do plenty together.
Whether she knew it or not, Amber made a simple wish.
“As long as you don’t burn the kitchen, anything’s fine.”
“Ah.”
“Hm?”
“I haven’t burned it yet.”
“Yet…?”
Amber’s face paled as George told her to wait and disappeared. Soon he returned with a tray. Worried he’d burned something, Amber sniffed, but George playfully tapped her nose and showed the contents.
“It’s fine.”
“Soup?”
“Taste it.”
It looked as neat as the tea, and since he’d gotten good results before, Amber picked up the spoon.
The result:
“Tastes like the soup my dad made.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“It’s bland. Not bad, but… well, not tasty, but sort of good…”
“So you mean it’s not tasty.”
George tried the soup and muttered, “It’s disgusting,” then decided not to give her any more and put the bowl away, lying back down.
“Go back to sleep. You need rest to get better.”
“How do you know that?”
“You think I don’t know basic stuff?”
If d*ldos had common sense, that was more surprising, but Amber let it go.
“I mean it, though.”
After her mother died, Amber usually did the cooking, but it wasn’t always her.
She’d get sick three or four times a year. Every time, her father would put off work and take care of her himself. The soup was always thin and bland—not sure if it was soup or just powder in water—but she liked it.
“It’s been a long time since someone cooked for me. I like it.”
Amber watched George tuck the blanket under her chin as she crawled back into bed, then closed her eyes. The last thing she saw was George, as if about to say something, closing his lips instead.
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