Noel froze, his cookie in midair just as it was about to disappear into the dark cave of his mouth.
"... Hmffffff... "
He slowly, slowly, inhaled a breath of the Gardenia and Tuberose infused air, as if preparing for something inevitable.
He didn't turn to her yet, licking his dry lips for a moment in something akin to nervousness. Like a computer trying to refresh a frozen Watchdog DPC violation.
The cold gaze settled on him like the sharp point of a dagger pressed against the base of his spine—neither painful nor lethal, but suggestive. Danger hummed in the air like static, as if he said the wrong thing, then he wouldn't even be history.
His poor skeleton wouldn't even remain. Nothing of him would. His entire existence would not be wiped out, but rather, erased.
And most importantly... he wouldn't even have a taste of these heaven-tier cookies that kept seducing him with their suggestive appearance, more enchanting than any seductress on hire.
To him, the cookie seemed like an alluring bride.
An expensive dress-up doll. Or a daughter to pamp-
He turned his head—just a fraction, as he sneaked a peek at the stare that seemed enough to turn a scorching and humid tropical forest into a full-fledged arctic landscape.
He was truly an unlucky individual to encounter such a soul in the library. Something he should have paid attention to and not ignored, something that he would pay dearly for.
And the price, did he pay.
Or did he?
The young girl's eye was no longer focused on the oddly coloured book, or journal before her.
No, that single, butterfly-pupiled violet eye was staring at him.
Deeper than what the abyss itself would ever offer.
Unblinking like a devil for a child's gruesome nightmare.
Emotionless like a killing machine that had not repented for its millenniums of existence.
Judging like Ma'at, weighing the hearts of the sinners.
'I… I've made a grave miscalculation. Damn it all—why didn't I trust my accursed instincts?
Regret, was all he could currently feel.
All he simply wanted to do was simply apologize and compensate no matter how excessive, but in all due respect that did not exist, he did not have something per value he could compensate with.
He also highly doubted that the thing before him would be satisfied with a mere apology of a mortal like him.
'Should I offer an apology regardless? No… no, that might come across as mockery. She'd likely reduce me to less than a skeleton before the words even left my mouth. And compensation? I doubt she'd find any value in my attire, although… hm....'
Observing his neat clothing for a moment, a smile broke on his face for a fracture of a second before he swiftly and urgently returned to his initial stoic expression, inwardly panicking even more than at his prelude of actions.
'Although my attire is rather beautifully handcraft and designed by the very me, that smile was unnecessary. Ah… farewell, then, dear cookie—may you serve as a modest memoir of my fleeting bravery, m'lady.' he said addressing the cookie in his hand.
It seemed that this was the end of his journey. Thus, he decided to make one last gamble.
He started silently calculating the time he'd need to eat the cookie, bite it, chew it, and swallow it before he died.
But even so, the only major variable he was missing was the girl before him. He had no idea or qualm of her power, so he could not be rash.
He mused in mockery
'Yeah right, as if there are any other variables other than the girl. What in the seven hells do I even mean by 'the only major factor'?! Forget it, the moment she speaks or raises her hand, I'll eat the cookie. I need to carefully observe how she'll react. Forgive me, or incinerate me'
A moment passed.
Then another.
And another.
Each one felt heavier than the last, as if time itself were unsure whether it should flee or slow down just to enjoy the impending trainwreck.
The girl took another sip of tea. Slowly and delicately. The sound of porcelain brushing her lip echoed like a hammer in a cathedral, her eyes briefly closing as if enjoying the splendid aroma.
"Thievery is discouraged within sacred spaces, for-fo...."
Her voice was soft, polite, maybe even musical in a way. But at the end, she stuttered a bit in an unusual way, that made Noel raise his eyebrows in confusion. What was for-fo supposed to mean? A secret word perhaps?
He brushed it off, and reflected on her voice. It was indeed soft, yet, it held the unmistakable edge of something… older, deeper. The kind of voice that didn't yell, because it simply, did not, need to.
Noel, to his credit, did not flinch. He slowly withdrew his hand from his coat, the cookies still in it, as he fully turned to girl, his voice quite confident.
"… It's discouraged. Not forbidden. Also, who dared to state that I had stolen them?"
Shaking his head, he went on, as he gestured with his hands.
"I was merely testing them for you. I was not sure if there was alcohol or drug content inside, thus, it was my job as a man to confirm that for a respected individual like you have. After all, minors are prohibited from consuming such harmful, tasteless chemicals" he said, offering his perspective on the matter that didn't quite reach his eyes.
A pause.
The girl's visible eye narrowed, her presence a commanding, although the edge of her lips slightly twitch at the audacity of such an individual that stood confidently like he owned the place, with his apathetic eyes.
"Semantics are a tool of the desperate. Also, what are these alcohol and drugs you speak of, for-fo..?" she said crossing her legs in vainglory, her eyes boring onto him as if peering into the deepest, darkest secrets of his heart.
"...."
Noel merely stared at her neutrally without commenting, but inwardly, the gears in his mind were practically working at unprecedented speed. This was the second time someone had asked him about what alcohol and drugs were. The very notion of questioning it was strange in itself.
Did they really not exist in this world? Or was it because all he had asked the question to were minors?
He wasn't entirely sure, but made a mental note to investigate the matter later. If so, this could provide quite a handy elevation in navigating the methods of survival in such an unexpected world.
But even so, Noel could tell something was off. He didn't answer her regarding the alcohol and drugs.
"But is that not why they work so well?" He shrugged and plopped one of the cookies into his mouth, before sitting on the large stack of books he had made, one of his legs casually dangling.
Of course, he didn't merely plop it like any man would foolishly do. He first adjusted the angle where his taste buds would enjoy the inquisitive taste the most, before taking a thoughtful, thorough, and calculated bite from the beautifully sculpted cookie, a small crater in it forming.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…Holy sh—this... this...," he mumbled through the crumbs and chewing, his heartrate increasing at the heavenly taste. Tears almost formed at the corner of his eyes, not crocodile tears, but almost genuine, appreciative of the taste.
He tried controlling his breathing, before turning to the small girl that had an eyebrow raised at him as if gazing at a clown performing in a circus, yet a hint of sharpness could be seen in her eyes.
Not caution; he wasn't worth caution in the first place. But rather, the man, Noel, stood as an odd being before her.
"Did... did you bake these, or did you perhaps summon them from some dessert realm?"
He asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. The girl did not answer. She merely went back to her book and turned a page, the sound of parchment whispering against a parchment.
It was only then that Noel's eyes drifted from her anomalous eyes to the book between her hands.
At first, he didn't pay it no heed, a book like the hundreds of others that remained like gibberish in his eyes. But even so, he could not stop the hint of curiosity that lingered.
What made the book she hold so special?
The words in her book were the same as those he couldn't read before. No different, the exact same shape, exact same order, exact same everything.
But....
Noel's eyes widened, as he took in the words before him.
He....
... Could read them now.
Clear as day, as if the sun had illuminated his dark mind. The page became clear as it could get. A fire in amidst the darkness of a cave.
A light amidst the obscurity of an abyssal night.
White letters amidst a pitch black page.
Each line sharp. Each word etched into his mind like burning ink.
The words he had seen.... he had seen them before.
No...t here.
His eyes were locked on the three words of the page, yet internally, his mind was working at a speed that seemed almost impossible for human standards to have, as if attempting to open every single memory in his mind, identifying where he had seen this.
Ah, memory number #271
His eyes were half lidded as he attempted to recall them. However, before he could even take a chance to prepare, his vision turned two shades; blood red, and deep black.
His eyes were half lidded as he attempted to recall them. However, before he could even take a chance to prepare, his vision turned two shades; blood red, and deep black.
This memory... its not normal. Something is wrong.
--->?