Life went on for the cat.
Even in grief and pain, absurdity and softness coexisted... indeed, that was 'life.'
Lying naked under the sheets, Xenos stared up at the ceiling.
The room was quiet; only the soft sound of Gaia's breathing filled the air.
She was still pressed against him, all warm and tangled up, her blonde hair spilling over his chest while her arm was thrown lazily across his stomach.
He sighed contentedly.
'Hm… that was… good.'
It wasn't exactly how he expected his night to go.
Actually, no. He never expected this.
Of all the possible things he thought would happen in this realm—dueling for a bastard's honor, marrying her, that same daughter of a Lower House, one had to add, killing assassins in the street—doing that definitely wasn't on the list.
Or, well, it was, but eventually.
Wasn't that how it usually went in stories?
...the ones far from degeneracy, at least.
