Chapter 56
Cynthia did not wake up until about seven hours later.
Perhaps because she had finally gotten a good night’s sleep for once, her complexion looked much better. Maybe it was because she dreamed of eating something sweet during the night, but she found her appetite returning and tried to share some food she took out from her inventory with Segleninde.
But as soon as she placed the food on the table, Segleninde suddenly scooped her up and brought her over to his seat.
He sat down first, then placed Cynthia on his lap, and, from the food on the table, tore off a piece of bread into an appropriate size and held it up to her mouth.
“Eat.”
“…I can eat by myself, you know? What are you doing, all of a sudden?”
Cynthia protested, raising her eyebrows, but the piece of bread pressed insistently against her lips showed no sign of retreating. Segleninde replied coolly.
“Didn’t you say you wanted me to protect you? This way, you’re a lot less defenseless than if you were sitting alone.”
“This is a safe room, though. Just because I cried a bit yesterday, do I suddenly look fragile to you? Like if the wind blows, I’ll just fly away, or if I pick up a fork I’ll hurt myself, or the chair will collapse and I’ll get crushed to death?”
“Yeah. You’ve got it exactly right.”
“……”
“If you get it, just eat up. Oh, is this a little too big for your mouth?”
Even sarcasm didn’t work on him, and Cynthia finally gave up trying to win against him with words. Meanwhile, Segleninde, unsatisfied, tore the already small piece of bread into something the size of a bean and only then, looking pleased, popped it into her mouth.
Not only that, but he took up the knife and fork himself, slicing the meat and feeding it to her directly.
He cut the meat into pieces so small he wouldn’t even give that much to a child, and put them into her mouth, so Cynthia chewed and glared at him at the same time. But Segleninde, overcome by a strange sense of satisfaction, became even more enthusiastic about slicing the meat into tiny bits and ferrying them to her lips with the fork.
In fact, not everything he said about Cynthia was correct. As much as he cared, he didn’t worry about her that much. But if you asked if she would really fly away if the wind blew, well. She was already so tiny, so why not? If she were made of cotton, a hole could be poked in her and she’d scatter like a feather.
And why would he give her a fork or knife? If he did, she might accidentally poke her finger or wrist, burst into tears and, scared, toss them away, then burrow into his arms for comfort. Oh, that actually didn’t sound so bad.
As for sitting alone in a chair, would she really break it? Probably not, she was too small and light for that. But the chair might be so big it could just swallow her up whole. With so many strange things happening here all the time, it was a distinct possibility.
If that happened, he’d erase the concept of a ‘chair’ from this place entirely and make it so that only his lap was the safest and most comfortable seat for her.
“You’ll cut your lip on the cutlery. I know your mouth is small, but open wider.”
“Why do you keep saying such nonsense— nom.”
Cynthia looked at him in disbelief, as he treated her like a little child despite her being a grown woman, but every time he brought a spoon or fork to her lips, she could only obediently open her mouth. After all, she was hungry.
But whether it was meat, bread, fruit, vegetables, or even mashed potatoes, every piece was so tiny she had no time to savor any flavor.
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