Chapter 77
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The next morning, it was as if nothing had happened. A calm, peaceful morning greeted them. The first thing Dante did upon waking was check the spell on the door.
“I don’t know why it’s broken.”
Despite examining it several times, he couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t that the spell had been damaged—it was as if it had never been cast in the first place. The door had reverted to being an ordinary wooden door.
A breach in the spell was a warning sign, though, and he would need to investigate further, even if it took some time.
Hansel, clinging to Dante’s back, stood on tiptoe and craned her neck forward.
“So, what happens now?”
“I removed the attack spell.”
He explained that he had disabled the attack spell to ensure she wouldn’t get hurt even if she forced the door open. The spatial transfer spell remained intact, so she wouldn’t be able to leave the corridor anyway.
“The spatial transfer spell is still active, right? So now I can open the door?”
“Yes.”
If she could manage to open it, that is.
There was a reason Dante didn’t forbid Hansel from touching the door. He didn’t need to.
The week after Hansel’s escape marked the beginning of Dante’s near-maniacal obsession with her.
On the first day, Hansel didn’t notice anything amiss.
At mealtime, Dante naturally seated Hansel on his lap and personally spoon-fed her soup.
“Open wide.”
“I can eat on my o—”
Before she could finish, a spoon slipped into her open mouth. The soup, as always, was rich and flavorful. While Hansel chewed and swallowed, Dante prepared another spoonful, waiting patiently.
Hansel glanced around nervously, stealing glances at Dante.
This is because I came back, right? He’s just glad to see me.
I’ll play along for today. Sure.
She was briefly distracted by her thoughts, and a bit of soup dribbled down her lips. Reflexively, she reached up to wipe it, but Dante was faster.
“Mmmp!”
Dante’s lips pressed against hers. He didn’t invade her mouth—instead, his soft tongue licked away the spilled soup from her lips and chin.
That familiar sweet scent, coupled with his warm touch, flooded her senses. Hansel’s toes curled involuntarily.
After carefully cleaning her lips, Dante pulled back as though nothing had happened. He scooped up another spoonful of soup.
“Open wide.”
“……”
An ominous feeling crept over her.
This won’t end in a day, will it?
And sure enough, it didn’t.
Dante stuck to her like glue. Whether she was sleeping, dressing, bathing, or eating, it didn’t matter. Awake or asleep, he was there.
He didn’t leave her to do anything on her own. Dressing her was a given. He fed her every meal while she sat on his lap, scrubbed her thoroughly during baths, and ensured she fell asleep after being so overstimulated that she often fainted.
Strangely, Dante never demanded anything for his own satisfaction. Every time, he focused solely on Hansel’s pleasure.
At night, he wouldn’t close his eyes until Hansel was fast asleep. When she woke up, he would already be watching her from beside the bed. Every single day.
Even when nature called, he insisted on accompanying her, which left Hansel flailing and shouting in protest each time.
She was on the verge of developing a neurosis.
I was wrong, okay? Leaving the house was my fault.
But even so…
I can’t live like this.
One day, unable to endure it any longer, Hansel grabbed her hair in frustration and screamed like an angry cat.
“I’m twenty years old! Even a shadow would respect my privacy more than this!”
But no amount of whining, shouting, or tantrums worked. It was like arguing with a bear—or perhaps a moving boulder.
Worse, Dante seemed to find her antics endearing. He would pat her soothingly, like calming a fussy child. It was impossible to win against him.
After a particularly exhausting day, Hansel finally stood in front of Dante, blocking his path as he sat on the bed.
It has to be now. If I miss this chance, I’ll end up being dragged to another bath.
“Dante. Look at me.”
Dante gazed up at her quietly. Hansel raised an eyebrow.
“Listen carefully. Leaving the house suddenly—that was my fault. I admit it. I’m sorry for making you worry. And about the… that unpleasant incident with the damn werewolf—I understand it bothers you. It bothers me too. But…”
But. However. Yet.
What followed was the real issue.
Hansel tried her best to speak in a soothing tone, as if coaxing him.
“But this situation, where I have to worry about your gaze even when I’m answering nature’s call, isn’t this just a little unreasonable? Yes, I was wrong, and I know we’re close. But we’re still different genders, and even if you’re waiting outside, knowing you’re there makes it hard to… concentrate.”
Dante blinked, listening attentively.
His innocent expression made Hansel realize.
He doesn’t understand.
Hansel bit her lower lip hard.
I guess there’s no other choice.
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