Twenty minutes later—inside the bedroom.
After exchanging good-night farewells with Bokue, Ravel finally finished her bath and collapsed onto the bed.
Considering how badly her cold had tormented her all day, and how late it was already, she should have fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
But she didn't.
Not only was she not drowsy—she was oddly awake, with a thin thread of excitement still humming through her body.
And worse… she couldn't stop thinking.
Rossweisse's words from earlier kept replaying in her mind, as stubborn as a song stuck in her head.
"Everyone who gets brought here ends up getting… swept into Bokue Keikain's pace."
Rossweisse had originally called it "terrifying," but the way she'd blushed while saying it had made Ravel doubt whether "terrifying" was the right word.
Even Ravel—raised with strict noble etiquette, trained to keep her face calm and her curiosity private—couldn't suppress that little spark of gossip-driven interest.
So, earlier, she'd pressed. Again and again.
And Rossweisse, after stammering and glaring and trying to change the subject, had finally confessed.
Apparently, a few nights ago, Rossweisse had been in the hallway outside Venelana's room—listening. She couldn't hear every word clearly through two closed doors and the distance, and she claimed she'd never personally experienced "that kind of situation" either…
But she insisted she was one hundred percent sure.
The sounds she'd overheard weren't misunderstanding, weren't imagination, weren't a prank.
They were definitely the sounds of Venelana and Bokue being intimate.
Which left Ravel with one impossible question:
How could that even be true?
Wearing a semi-sheer silk nightgown, Ravel rolled over from her back to her side, emotions tangled into a knot. Her long legs—no longer hidden by stockings—lay bare under the blanket's edge, the cool air brushing her skin. The contact should have been relaxing.
Instead, it made her more alert.
Because Lady Venelana was… Rias's—right?
And Rias and Bokue-sama were already—
From any angle Ravel tried, the conclusion didn't make sense.
Lady Venelana was elegant. Lady Venelana was dignified. Lady Venelana was the kind of adult woman who could serve dinner with perfect grace, smile gently, and make even a nervous newcomer feel welcomed.
That Lady Venelana could not possibly be the same person Rossweisse described.
Unless Rossweisse had exaggerated.
But… why would she?
Rossweisse didn't seem like the type to lie for entertainment. If anything, she looked like the type who would rather die than admit she'd done something embarrassing.
Unless…
Unless she was telling the truth.
Ravel's uncertainty multiplied until it became unbearable. Curiosity, once planted, didn't simply "fade"—it grew. It sprouted and wrapped around her thoughts until it was practically choking her.
No. I have to confirm it tonight—otherwise I won't sleep at all.
With that decision made, Ravel sat up in one smooth motion.
She ignored the obvious downside—that getting out of bed would probably make sleeping harder later. She slipped her feet into the bedside slippers and padded quietly to the door.
Creeeak…
She opened it just a crack, peeking into the hallway.
Almost at the same moment, the adjacent bedroom door opened as well.
Rossweisse's head appeared.
For a heartbeat, it felt like the two of them had synchronized without speaking—like they'd been tuned to the same frequency all along.
Ravel turned her head to the right and found the Valkyrie doing exactly what she was doing: scanning the corridor, listening for movement, checking whether anyone was nearby.
Their eyes met.
Less than ten meters apart, they locked gazes in a silent standoff.
Awkward tension immediately filled the air.
Ravel cleared her throat once and stepped out, walking toward Rossweisse with cautious determination.
Rossweisse, meanwhile, felt a small spike of nerves.
She'd only been following her recent routine—the routine she absolutely never would have imagined herself developing.
Every night before sleep: wander to Venelana's door. If "something major" seemed to be happening inside, use the sounds as… stress relief.
It helped her sleep. It helped her stop thinking. It helped her forget the humiliating reality that she'd been abandoned by the god she once served.
She had been a Valkyrie—a proud one, even without the family magic talent she'd lacked. She'd earned Odin's bodyguard post through sheer ability.
Now she was… a displaced, unemployed, half-broken Valkyrie living in someone else's house, surviving on tea, routine, and the occasional burst of shamelessness.
And if she was honest—
It was comfortable. Comfortably numb.
Especially in those moments when she could forget everything.
So… what now? Rossweisse thought.
Ravel had already stopped in front of her. Her voice dropped into a whisper.
"Um… Rossweisse-san, about what you said earlier… about Lady Venelana—"
"Shh."
Rossweisse flushed and lifted a finger to her lips, then pointed down the hallway—straight at Venelana's door.
The meaning was clear: don't talk here. Come with me.
Ravel nodded immediately.
Together, they moved like conspirators toward the beautiful mature woman's room.
They crouched low near the doorway, the two of them leaning forward until their ears were close to the narrow gap at the bottom.
At first, there was only vague movement—soft, shifting sounds. Then faint voices, blurred by the door.
And then… an unmistakable rhythm of breath and emotion, rising and falling, intimate enough that even without clear words, the intent was obvious.
Ravel's face turned red in seconds.
Rossweisse's cheeks warmed too, but she handled it better—if only because she'd been through this before and had, unfortunately, built tolerance.
Ravel, however, was completely unprepared.
She hadn't expected that Lady Venelana—who had calmly served her dinner earlier, who had smiled and said, "Eat as much as you like, dear," while placing rice into her bowl—could have a side that sounded so… openly happy.
Not just "composed happiness."
Not "polite satisfaction."
But the kind of happiness that was raw and unfiltered, the kind that spilled out when someone stopped pretending they needed to be dignified.
Ravel's mind struggled to reconcile it.
Then another voice joined in—lighter, playful, affectionate in a way that made the entire scene feel… crowded.
Ravel's eyes widened.
So it isn't just Lady Venelana and Bokue-sama…? There's someone else too?
Her shock hit again, but it wasn't exactly disillusionment.
If anything, the tone behind the door sounded warm—like the people inside weren't being dragged into anything, but choosing it gladly.
And that realization shifted something inside Ravel.
Curiosity turned into imagination.
Imagination turned into involuntary projection.
Without meaning to, she pictured herself in the same space—being spoken to in that tone, being included, being… wanted.
Her breath caught.
Beside her, Rossweisse's expression also grew distant, as if she'd drifted into her own thoughts.
Two girls crouched in the hallway, cheeks blazing, listening to something they absolutely shouldn't be listening to—both of them silently sinking into the same kind of dangerous daydream.
❁❁❁❁
Meanwhile—down in the Keystone Gate shopping district, on the ground floor.
Under bright storefront lights, Shitori Sona watched her older sister, Serafall, hold up a "decisive battle" lingerie set and press it against her own body with sparkling eyes.
Sona immediately looked away, cheeks heating, and adjusted her glasses with a stiff motion.
"Onee-sama… it's late," she said, voice as calm as she could force it to be. "Shouldn't we go home?"
"Mmm-hm~ You're right!" Serafall chirped, utterly unfazed. "Time to head back. I'll pay for these right away."
Sona's eye twitched, but she didn't argue further. She'd learned long ago that some battles were not worth the energy.
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