Unexpected Closeness and Darkening Omens

“Good morning, Hizeta~”

Ophelia chirped, addressing Hizeta, who had only just stirred from sleep and appeared somewhat disoriented.

Hizeta remained motionless, her expression blank, as if the reality of her surroundings had yet to register.

‘Hmm…’ Ophelia mused inwardly. ‘What’s the best approach to bridge the gap between us in a moment like this?’ Hizeta, after all, wasn’t one of the novel’s heroines; a simple line from the book wouldn’t suffice to forge a connection. This was a challenge she had to tackle herself.

Reflecting, she considered her past experiences.

With Vina, if memory served, it had been a hug.

A simple embrace could indeed bridge distances.

And then there was Emily? ‘No, that interaction likely wouldn’t provide any useful guidance,’ she thought.

Lastly, Marta.

‘Hmm, I’d grown closer to Marta by praising the flowers she tended, having read about them in the novel. But wait, hadn’t Marta, upon her arrival, immediately pinned me to the bed and pressed her forehead against mine?’

‘Hadn’t my heart pounded then, stirred by her provocative act?’

‘So, for girls, is closeness truly achieved through intimate physical contact?’

Ophelia felt no qualms about such intimacy with the heroines she already knew well. Having immersed herself in their stories, she had, in a way, become their confidante, understanding them deeply. Thus, physical closeness with them was effortless.

But Hizeta, standing before her now, was a complete stranger!

“Hi… Hizeta…”

Snapping herself out of her elaborate internal monologue, Ophelia noticed Hizeta was still lost in thought. A pang of disappointment struck her, prompting her to call out once more.

Hizeta, however, showed no sign of returning to her senses.

Ophelia hesitated to call out again.

An awkward silence descended, thick and palpable.

A faint breeze drifted through, and suddenly Hizeta sneezed, her nose twitching. It seemed she might have caught a cold.

‘Oh, right?’ Ophelia realized. ‘Hizeta had slept on that cold floor for so long last night… a cold would be entirely natural, wouldn’t it?’

Ophelia rose cautiously.

She contemplated emulating Marta’s earlier gesture, leaning in to press her forehead against Hizeta’s, feeling the warmth of the other’s skin. It was a method of intimacy, yet a blush crept up her neck. Such an act, while perhaps acceptable from others, felt utterly mortifying for her to initiate.

Slowly, her hands reached out, gently touching Hizeta’s shoulders.

Those slender shoulders felt far more vulnerable than they appeared.

Then, with deliberate slowness, she gently pushed Hizeta down.

Hizeta, it seemed, had finally awakened from her daze.

“Qu-Queen? What are you doing?” Hizeta stammered, clearly flustered. Though her tone was one of inquiry, her eyes flitted nervously, a deep blush spreading across her face, and her voice was barely a whisper, devoid of its usual strength.

‘Hmm? Why does she seem… a little cute?’

Ophelia swallowed hard.

Hizeta was now fully reclined beneath her. The next step, she knew, was to press their foreheads together—a direct imitation of Marta’s earlier maneuver.

An inexplicable wave of apprehension and shyness washed over her.

‘Don’t panic, Ophelia,’ she silently coached herself. ‘You’re also a girl. This is a perfectly legitimate action. Don’t panic…’

But it was no use; social anxiety, after all, was social anxiety.

‘Never mind,’ she decided. ‘Just go for it! I’ve already come this far!’

She slowly brought her face nearer.

Hizeta’s eyes fluttered shut, her breathing quickening.

Then, Ophelia pressed her forehead against Hizeta’s.

‘Hmm, it truly feels a little warm.’

“Hizeta, you’re a little warm,” Ophelia murmured softly, maintaining their position. “You must have caught a chill sleeping on the floor last night. Make sure to rest well today.”

Hizeta’s eyes slowly opened.

Her eyes, a striking emerald green, now met Ophelia’s. It was often said that royalty possessed golden hair and green eyes, yet Hizeta’s physique undeniably surpassed Vina’s.

So close were those eyes to Ophelia that she could discern her own reflection within their depths. Unlike Vina’s, Hizeta’s gaze shimmered like a tranquil pool of spring water.

“So, Queen, you’re measuring my temperature with your forehead?”

“Indeed,” Ophelia affirmed.

Hizeta felt the warmth radiating from their joined foreheads, a comforting heat that spread throughout her body. Was it the sunlight streaming through the window, or Ophelia’s own warmth?

Forehead pressed to forehead.

‘Hmm,’ she thought. ‘Deep within my memory, there’s a faint silhouette, one I called “Mother.” It seems only that shadow ever offered such a tender gesture.’

It had been an eternity since she had felt such profound reassurance.

The palace, indeed, was a cold, calculating place, where everyone lied for gain and approached her with ulterior motives. Only that distant shadow had truly cared for her.

Her vision blurred.

She remembered a time, when she was very small, and had a fever. That indistinct figure had drawn close to her then, whispering—

“Rest well, my child.”

The two figures seemed to overlap, merging into one.

This present moment, mirroring that distant past.

The palace felt so cold.

‘To garner any attention, I have to be extravagant, for no one here will grant me unconditional love.’

‘But all I truly yearn for—’

Ophelia embraced Hizeta.

“There, there, don’t cry.”

‘I just wanted a hug!’

“Waaah, Mama!” Hizeta wailed, all her pent-up grievances suddenly gushing forth like a torrent. She simply needed to surrender to her tears.

The arms holding her now were as warm and comforting as that indistinct shadow of her past.

Ophelia was utterly dumbfounded.

‘How did I become a mother? This emotional leap is far too sudden!’

‘Never mind.’

‘Even the most detestable individuals have their moments of vulnerability. She isn’t entirely beyond redemption. I’ll ensure she properly apologizes to Marta, and then I’ll begin her re-education.’

‘Incidentally, I’ve learned a new technique today! To forge closer bonds with girls, all it takes is a little physical closeness and a hug!’

‘Well done, Ophelia! You’ve taken yet another stride on your path to conquering social anxiety!’

****

Outside the door, Emily stood.

She watched the scene unfolding within.

What was this emotion, this tempestuous surge within her heart?

Discomfort, agony, a bitter ache that threatened to tear her heart asunder, fury, indignation. ‘I want to eliminate that shameless woman—Hizeta.’

‘She’s merely a captive!’

‘What right does she possess to ensconce herself in the Queen’s arms?’

Emily swayed, her stance unsteady.

‘What are my true feelings for the Queen?’

‘Respect, adoration, dependence?’

‘No, it’s blasphemy (a twisted respect), pathological (a dark adoration), and possessiveness (a far-from-gentle dependence)!’

‘Such feelings are fundamentally wrong. The Queen saved me, and moreover, we are both women.’

‘But—’

Vina had kissed her, even using her tongue.

‘Why hadn’t the Queen resisted?’

‘Why was her face adorned with such an expression? Like one intoxicated, utterly entranced?’

‘You are always this way.’

Emily felt as though she no longer perceived the sunlight itself, but only the shadows it cast.

‘I was captivated by your tenderness, only to discover that your gentle warmth was not exclusively mine—it extended to Marta, to Vina, and even to Hizeta, who ought to be nothing more than a captive!’

‘Her embrace is not a sanctuary reserved solely for me.’

“Emily, as a noble lady, you must understand one crucial truth: your affections must be pursued, not merely desired passively…”

An old lesson echoed in her mind.

‘It had then instructed me to curry favor with the prince—utter nonsense, of course. But the first half of the advice was far from meaningless.’

Emily gazed out the window.

A caged bird resided there.

‘If you simply keep the bird confined to its cage, then it will belong only to you, won’t it—’

****

Within Ophelia’s mind, the System, diligently processing a deluge of information, suddenly received a response from the Central Hub.

[Attention, attention: A super-distortion has been detected in your host’s world. The Central Hub will be unable to intervene from this point forward!]

[All I can tell you is…]

A burst of intermittent electrical static.

The System strained to discern the message.

[In such a world… forget the male and female leads… prioritize your host’s survival… for a distorted world…]

[The 100 Cultivation Value… is merely the beginning… not the end… Strive… to survive…]

[Beep—]

The System then discovered it could no longer establish a connection with the Central Hub.

On the panel before it, the numbers beside the heroines Emily and Marta glowed red: 101 and 115 respectively. As for the heroine Vina, the characters trailing her name were no longer “Uncalculable,” but instead, a clown’s smiling face, a visage that seemed to both weep and laugh.

The taskbar, now crimson, displayed only a single objective.

[Guide your host to survive.]