Dante was silent for a long time. After staring at the page without meaning for a long time, he eventually turned his head towards me.
âYeah, Iâm curious.â
His voice was full of unexplained injustice.
âLike seeing someone I met for the first time yesterday, I donât know what you are thinking. You donât want to tell me anything about you, and I donât even know if the name you gave me is real.â
I was shocked to see Dante pouring out his words as if he was waiting. Although we lived in the same house and spent most of the time together, she never dreamed that Dante would be thinking like this.
Yet I didnât show any surprise.
âSo you were just asking outright? How old am I?â
My face was still smiling, and Dante seemed to be offended. No, I think heâs rather anxious.
âWhy. Canât I?â
I donât try to get to know others, and Iâm not good at talking about myself. There was no particular reason, it was just a habit of mine after living for a long time.
If other people keep being locked up in the same amount of time as they grow old, they will naturally come to know. How useless it is to get to know and interact with each other..
But I think it was strange in Danteâs eyes that I was doing this. No matter how much we live together, we donât even try to talk about our petty hobbies.
We often lived in the same house and spent time together, so it made him wonder.
I admitted that I was too distracted. And how uncomfortable it must have been for Dante. Come to think of it, he must have been more concerned because he was a guest over there.
Usually, if I show that, âI donât want to get any closer than needed,â this much, theyâll get away on their own, but that didnât go well with Dante.
âItâs not something you canât do.â
A light of embarrassment flashed across Danteâs face as I denounced cleanly.
âBut even if youâre curious about my age, I wonât tell you.â
ââŚWhy?â
âI donât like to tell people my age.â
âThereâs something you donât likeâŚâ
I heard a murmur that was close to a grunt, but I pretended I didnât hear it.
âBut if you ask me anything else, Iâll tell you.â
ââŚâ
âFor real. Donât look at me with such a disbelieving face.â
Isnât one supposed to ask questions when I say something like this? As I smiled and whispered, it seemed that Dante had finally come to his senses.
ââŚI canât think of anything now because itâs so sudden.â
âReally? I wonât answer if itâs not now, thoughâ
It was funny to see him stiffened after saying this one word. As itâs fun to tease him.
âItâs a joke. Ask me later when you remember.â
Dante acted like he was about to get a promise, as if he had gotten nervous about my prank.
âWhat if I let it go and you later pretend you donât know?â
âWhen did I pretend I didnât know?â
âAre you sure you donât know? Itâs what you do best. When I ask, âDo you like sweets?â, you say, âI donât know,â instead of a direct answer.â
No, well. Although I often do that.
âBecause I donât do that anymore.â
Since me trying to draw a line with Dante has failed, thereâs no point in turning a blind eye to the answer in that way. If I really wanted to draw a line, this shouldnât have been said. Dante had to be as cold as he was at first and not talk well.
Itâs all because Dante is more handsome than I thought, because he accepted my words well, and because he communicated well with me. In short, itâs all Danteâs fault.
Now, with more and more chattering conversations, Iâll get to know him more. The more conversations piled up, the more difficult it would be for me, but it was no big deal.
I canât help but hope that I can forget about Dante as soon as Dante leaves.
Itâs nothing else but a friend, so this should be fine.
***
From that day forward, sitting side by side reading each night became our implicit rule.
After all, there were many times when we could hardly read books when we were chatting and arguing, but somehow I wanted to insist that we meet every night because of books.
For the first few days, it was awkward to have a small conversation with Dante, but after a week or so, I quickly got used to it.
When it felt like it was fun to talk at night rather than during the day, a thought came to my mind.
âWait a minute. When you said the last time you looked at me that I was unusual, you also donât go to bed early.â
I always check to see if Dante is awake every time I come out of the living room, but I havenât seen him sleeping lately. There was no sign of him being forced to wake up, so it seemed like he was used to sleeping late at night.
When I asked him why he thought I was unusual, Dante answered as if it was quite natural.
âBecause I can use magic. Itâs no business to light up the surroundings if I want to.â
âReally?â
After hearing his answer, itâs even weirder.
âBy the way, I heard that nobles hire magicians to light the lights. So youâre saying that magic is better than a lamp like this?â
âOf course.â
At this point, itâs so weird. I frowned and Dante looked at me as if he was wondering.
âThen why do you use these?â
What I was pointing to were the lights that were lit around me. A lamp that barely makes you read letters even if you put one on the table and one under your feet.
Hearing my words, Dante made a look of bewilderment.
âIt wasnât even a matter of illuminating the surroundings if you put your mind to it. Arenât you uncomfortable using it?â
âLike you said, it was uncomfortable. At firstâŚâ
Itâs unusual for him to stutter.
âNo way, youâŚâ
ââŚâ
âAre you not well enough to use Light Magic yet?â
âWhat?â
âBut is it harder to use Light Magic than to fix a wall? I donât know much about magic.â
Dante seemed to think about my words for a while, then nodded hastily.
âRight. Itâs more difficult to light the lights, but Iâm not in good shape to do that.â
âI thought you were almost all better because you were doing well, but I guess not.â
âYeah.â
For some reason, Danteâs face was so brazen that it was questionable, but I decided to move on.
âThen you should go to bed earlier. If you keep getting less sleep like this, itâs not good for your body.â
Itâs been a long time since Iâve had such a sincere worry. In fact, when the person I live with is sick, Iâm the one who suffers in the end, so the expression âhalf-worried and half-bruisedâ was appropriate.
âSleeping early doesnât mean I get better soon. And I donât even want to go to bed early.â
âWhy?â
Dante paused for a while at my question and said.
âIf I go to bed early, I canât talk at night⌠with you like this.â
ââŚâ
ââŚDo you want me to go to bed early?â
I can feel his eyes that seem to be carefully examining my feelings. He seemed to be worried that I might leave the living room reluctantly.
Upon receiving that gaze, I suddenly realized that it wasnât unfamiliar to me that Dante looked at me in this way. From that moment on, Dante always cared about my mood and asked me what I was thinking.
As if he doesnât want to do things I hate.
Something felt strange.
âIf so, I wouldnât have come out like this every day.â
Danteâs face widened at my words. Seeing how happy he was, I turned my eyes away, unknowingly embarrassed, when Danteâs earlobe caught my eye.
It was so vividly red that I couldnât say it looked like that because of the light of a lamp.
Since when has it been like that?
âŚ
I thought Dante was less shy. But when I think about it, he was less likely to make it obvious in front of the villagers, and he was still shy in front of me.
He blushes, doesnât know where to put his gaze, fidgets, and doesnât sit still. Until now, I thought it was simply because of his personality. Yes, at least so far.
But when Dante starts to take a closer look at how I feel, itâs a different story. Beyond wondering about me, I can see that heâs happy to be with me and his face blushes just by being next to me.
And anyone can recognize that it is typically the image of a person feeling excited.
It would be better if it was an illusion.
âDante.â
When I called his name, his purple eyes turned to me. Those eyes, which I thought were cold colors, were filled with all kinds of tender feelings, so I had to try not to avoid them.
âWhy did you call me?â
ââŚNothing. Just read your book.â
He thinks Iâm strange and asks back, yet heâs obedient as he does what I ask. When I discovered that he was listening too well, complex emotions seemed to rise from the bottom of my heart.
There is no point in worrying about when Dante has been like this. I couldnât even figure out what caused it. It was none other than me who ignored him every time he did this and didnât pay much attention to it.
I could tell, however, that there were a lot of moments worth noticing. If it was just curiosity about the person living with him, he wouldnât be so frustrated because he didnât know about me. Besides this, there were really, really surprisingly many things that were suspicious.
Iâd rather stay unnoticed. I felt a sense of despair at the vaguely slow gaze.
But in the end, thereâs nothing I can do right now. I canât really do anything other than pretend I donât know.
Dante was sitting next to me and quietly reading a book while I was thinking about 101 ways to pretend to be ignorant. Even if it seemed that he was completely concentrating on the book, the fact that he would immediately turn to me if I called him made me feel at a loss.
Itâs been several months since Iâve been living with someone in this house, and the night I find out why Dante has suddenly become strange. At the time when bedtime had passed, I managed to admit it.