The cat’s tail gradually calmed when he tilted the umbrella to block the raindrops falling from above. Then, as if it had never been agitated, the creature leaned against the pillar and began licking its wet tail.

Its meow became gentler.

Only the color resembles her.

Just as Gopher let out a hollow sigh, the door suddenly flew open without warning. Instinctively turning his head, he saw a woman with an urgent expression.

Ah.

Bleria.

His suppressed emotions surged, and his heartbeat quickened as if about to burst. He could hear the pounding in his ears, and the darkness that had shrouded the world seemed to dissipate instantly.

Gopher stood frozen, staring at the figure he had longed for. The snowy white hair that once flowed down her waist was now a tawny shade, barely brushing her shoulder blades. The pale, thin cheeks that had once reflected stress and exhaustion were fuller and flushed with healthy color.

Though the pouring rain dimmed the surroundings, her round eyes seemed even brighter than before. It was unmistakable—Bleria. Bleria Haven was alive.

A flood of relief washed away the filth accumulated in his heart, leaving Gopher euphoric.

Then, in the next moment—

“Who are you?”

Ah.

Gopher was left utterly speechless.

***

The Bleria who didn’t know him.

The one who called Mixel Luke familiarly and said she’d welcome him into her home without hesitation but wouldn’t even open the door for Gopher. The one who had served him warm tea but refused a handshake, indirectly urging him to leave—Mel Slopey.

If she were pretending to be someone else entirely, he might understand. But what could the reason be if she knew Mixel and still acted as if she didn’t realize Gopher?

Had the shock erased only her memories of him? If not—

The moment he left the house, Gopher broke into a near sprint.

He headed for an alley near the house, which seemed perfect for surveillance. As expected, two men blinked at him in surprise.

Grabbing one by the throat, Gopher slammed him against a tree as if to break his neck.

“L-lord—!”

“Did you drug her with Dreamer’s Bloom?”

The throat under his grip bobbed up and down in panic.

“Answer me. Did you tamper with Bleria’s memories?”

The other informant answered in place of the man being choked.

“On the way to meet the young lady, the count prepared something. We can’t confirm whether she consumed it, but it’s likely as you suspect.”

Really. So they did give Bleria something like that.

Gopher’s grip tightened. Any more complicated, and the man’s neck would snap. His patience was quickly nearing its limit.

Sensing the danger, the other man hastily added, “The intelligence division has handled this substance often. The count measured the precise dosage, so there shouldn’t be any side effects.”

“You call memory loss not a side effect?”

“It only suppresses memories people don’t want to recall. If she doesn’t take more, her health will remain unaffected.”

“What does she not remember?”

“As far as I know… only you, my lord.”

Gopher hesitated momentarily before asking in a subdued voice, “How do I reverse it?”

“You likely already know. The effect isn’t as potent on healthy individuals. Now that she’s recovered, she could remember at any time if she tries.”

That was as good as saying she would never remember him again.

Gopher loosened his grip, letting the man collapse to the ground, coughing violently. Watching him, Gopher ran his trembling hand through his rain-soaked hair.

In Bleria’s world, where Mixel Luke remained, Gopher alone had been cut out. Just as he had abandoned Bleria, she had abandoned him in turn.

To her, the countless events they had shared likely felt like they had never happened.

Even while Gopher had foolishly clung to the illusion of Bleria.

…It doesn’t matter.

He hadn’t come here expecting a warm conversation.

All he had wanted was to see Bleria alive, and now he had. She looked healthy and happy. That she didn’t remember him was of little importance.

Rational questions briefly surfaced—had Mixel Luke really taken Bleria hostage? If so, why had he not mentioned it? But the thoughts dissipated almost immediately.

Gopher looked down at the men before him.

“My lord, if I may—”

“Does Grandmother know about this?”

They remained silent.

Of course, she didn’t. Hiding Bleria was clearly Mixel Luke’s personal endeavor.

It was laughable for agents of the Allnightt Intelligence Division to grovel to a middle manager instead of their true master. But perhaps it was the wisest choice.

After all, Gopher’s current state made Mixel Luke’s succession seem far more likely.

“You’ve chosen your side well.”

With a bitter laugh, Gopher turned away. A sharp pang radiated through his chest.

***

Still, what could he call it, returning to Bleria’s house as soon as the sun rose, even after confirming she was alive and knew nothing of him?

Bleria was letting out the cat he had seen the previous day. With the rain clouds dispersed, the slanted sunlight shone brightly, illuminating her as she stood on the porch.

“If it looks like it’s going to rain, come earlier next time.”

As if understanding her words, the cat responded with a soft meow and turned away. Bleria laughed. It wasn’t a mistake or his imagination; her eyes curved, and her lips formed a deep, genuine smile.

Gopher felt his heart sink and wasn’t sure what expression to make. Yet, the smile that had bloomed on her face disappeared when she noticed him, replaced with something colder. In response, his own expression hardened differently.

“You’re here again.”

She smiles now, does she?

If only she had noticed him a little later. Gopher swallowed his disappointment and answered, “It’s urgent.”

“Mixel isn’t here. There’s no way he’d come at this hour.”

“I see.”

“I forgot to ask yesterday—what’s your business with Mixel?”

Gopher had no real reason to meet Mixel. But he couldn’t just stay silent and appear suspicious. Instead, he chose the most plausible excuse he could muster.

“I need to collect something.”

“A debt?”

The implication didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t want to be seen as a debt collector in Bleria’s eyes, but neither was this the time to dress up his words.

Reluctantly, Gopher admitted, “It’d be a problem if I don’t get it back.”

“Didn’t you call him a friend yesterday?”

“We were friends.”

Bleria’s gaze lingered on him, her skepticism clear. Then she let out a sigh.

“I can’t interfere, so wait as long as you want. Just don’t come inside.”

With that, she turned away, heading for the door. As she moved to close it, Gopher reflexively reached out. His fingertips hovered in the air, unable to stop her.

He wanted to see her face a little longer, to talk to her just a bit more. But there was no excuse. He could grasp nothing until his eyes caught a clue through the narrow gap.

“The chandelier.”

Bleria paused her hand on the door. Gopher suppressed his urgency and asked, “The chandelier looks like it’s about to fall. Shall I help with it?”

“You say that as if you’re good at this sort of thing.”

Bleria murmured as she looked up at the chandelier’s chain. She had replaced the candles and secured them to the ceiling, but the chain holding the light looked less like a proper fix and more like a clumsy, makeshift attempt.

Gopher had no rebuttal.

“You’re strong, but I guess you’re not used to this work.”

“…”

“Still… thank you. What matters is the result.”

At the sound of her dry chuckle, he looked up and met her gaze.

“If you have time, could you help with something else? The window frames are all misaligned and don’t lock properly.”

Gopher nodded without hesitation. He was simply grateful she entrusted him, even after seeing his amateurish work.

He gave it his all.

Just his all.

He had never been told he lacked skill, but his body didn’t cooperate. Was it because it was his first time doing such work? Because he was overly eager? Or perhaps because it was in front of Bleria…

Gopher thought of every possible excuse but couldn’t shake the feeling that the patched-up window seemed rickety. At least it wasn’t broken.

“Finally, one down…”

Bleria’s quiet remark stung his ears.

“Where’s the next one?”

“It’s already lunchtime. Let’s stop here.”

However, the windows not locking properly was a concerning issue. Bleria’s house was isolated; she appeared to live alone, and the weather had been bad lately. The Lord of Conercio didn’t seem concerned with public safety, either.

As he worked, Gopher saw clearly—how Bleria sighed in relief as the living room brightened and how she occasionally flinched at loud noises, glancing anxiously outside.

Although she likely had informants protecting her, anxiety was a separate matter. So when he tried to ask about the locations of the other windows, something flew in from outside—straight toward Bleria.

“Watch out—!”

Gopher intercepted it without knowing what it was. It felt soft and squishy, not the texture of a weapon. His grip loosened, and when he looked down, he met the round eyes of a small creature with dark markings near its gaze.

A sparrow.