Ira woke up the next morning, well-rested, and as happy as he could be while working.

There was an inkling in his thoughts that he was forgetting something, but he really couldn't care less. If it were important, he wouldn't have forgotten it in the first place.

It was the morning after the much anticipated Winter Ball and when he checked in on his Host, he found her lying in bed, blissfully asleep. Ira wasn't ashamed to say that he didn't know how her night with the Second Prince had ended, because he honestly didn't care, but when he saw the prince right next to her in the bed, he was surprised.

The prince must have been really drunk.

A little zooming in showed no hint of clothes on either of them and both of them were practically dead to the world.

Chances were that they would be dead to the world when the scandal broke.

Scandals always broke.

Ira kept watching over them in the corner of his mind while he got dressed and ready to go get breakfast. He was awake and though he would like to spend a few more hours in bed, the library was finally opened again and he wanted to get more books. He had already read all the ones that he had in his room.

That morning, he was the only one in the cafeteria.

Ira grabbed the chance the solitude gave him and nabbed a few extra muffins to eat. Usually, they disappeared so fast that it was a victory managing to get just a single one. Ira didn't think his Host even knew that they were a thing, with how often she missed breakfast. It was the only time that they were available.

The library, when he arrived, had only just opened.

Behind the front desk, the librarian sat reading a book of her own. Ira walked forwards and engaged in a pleasant conversation that ended with a promise of tea time the next day, at the usual time.

Up the stairs and between the shelves, he finally reached a stack of books he hadn't yet read. Turning a few over in his hands, he glanced over the titles and scoffed at the nausea-inducing cheesiness that some of them contained. But Ira was in the mood to mock things, so he left them on a pile on one of the wooden tables anyway, despite the fact that they induced in him a vivid urge to murder.

Everybody had faults.

His just happened to be an unhealthy desire to kill. No big deal.

At least he wasn't stupid.

When he had a pile big enough that it no longer fit in his bag, he crammed in the ones that fit and carried the rest downstairs to check them out.

As he was walking down, a high shriek pierced his head and he cursed as he misstepped when he jumped in surprise, causing him to tumble down the last few steps. He stopped rolling at the bottom of the stairs and thanked himself for the foresight of turning off his ability to feel pain. That must have hurt.

When he attempted to stand up again to make sure that his books had survived the trip, something was wrong with his foot.

It wasn't working right.

In fact, he was pretty sure that he could see the beginnings of a bruise spreading on it when he took off his shoe and sock.

Ira jumped around on his other leg as he gathered his things and enjoyed his amazing sense of balance. He must have been making a pretty hilarious picture.

Once he had all of his things, he checked up on what had disturbed him and caused his fall. His Host and the Second Prince were in the middle of a screaming match in his Host's room. The prince was accusing her of wanting to trap him in marriage and his Host was accusing him of taking advantage of her.

He watched as his Host threw stuff at the prince and the prince accused her of very accurate crimes, while his Host was becoming a sobbing mess. Curses were thrown around and in the middle of it all, the mention of pregnancy came up.

After that, things just went downhill.

Ira limped his way to the front desk and piled his books on top of it. The librarian looked him over and got a funny look on her face. She asked, "Bran, are you alright? You're limping!"

"I fell down the stairs."

Her eyes widened and she immediately stood up to round the desk. "Come. I'm taking you to the infirmary."

Before he had a chance to refuse, she had grabbed a hold of his arm and hoisted it over her shoulder. Her stern face told him that she wasn't going to fold, stubborn woman that she was. So with a sigh, he let himself be dragged away while his bag and a pile of books stayed on the desk. He hated leaving them behind him, but he got a funny feeling that he would be getting a lecture if he tried mentioning it and so he abstained from it.

He was way too old to still be getting lectured.

Ira had never been to the infirmary before, but it certainly suited the image of the school. It was just as grand and exaggerated as the rest of the place.

The librarian left him on a small bed and went off to find a nurse.

Meanwhile, Ira continued to watch the show.

The prince was absolutely furious, his magic almost seeping off of him. His expression was that of disgust whenever he looked at his Host. Whatever had happened after Ira had left the Ball, it had effectively destroyed any chance of the Second Prince ever falling in love with his Host. Ira supposed his Host could still pressure him into marriage, if she played her cards right, but that would only increase the prince's hostility.

This mission was officially a failure.

Ira laid down on the bed and observed his Host through a scattered mind. Two failures in a row. He hoped that didn't mean that there was something wrong with him. No, wait, of course there wasn't. He always did his job seriously. It was this new batch of Host's that had lost their sense of responsibility and duty due the many transmigration stories that existed in different worlds. They thought that they knew what was right and wrong, and so refused to listen. And the idea that he would have a will of his own was somehow inconceivable to them.

The nurse arrived with a bang, a young woman that fussed over him as if he was a child. He got a lot of stern words over being careful and his foot was healed with magic. There would, thankfully, not be any need of casts. But he would need to rest and stay off of his feet for the next week or so and so he was given a pass from attending classes.

She also informed him that a teacher would be responsible for bringing him his meals and making sure that he didn't starve.

Ira smiled gratefully at her when he was finally released from her custody. She beamed back at him. "Now, a professor will be by soon to pick you up and bring you to your room, so you just rest until then, okay?"

Ira nodded. "Okay."

His Host had been left alone in her after the prince finally left. She was red in the face and blotchy from all the crying. Her nose was leaking snot and tear tracks covered her cheeks, smudging her makeup and making her look like a deranged clown.

Ira smothered a laugh.

A door opened and through it stepped Silas, silent as the grave while his gaze swept over the room until it hit Ira.

When Silas saw him, he stalked over quickly. He smirked, "I heard you fell down the stairs in the library."

Ira tilted his head to look up at him from where he was laying in the bed. "Yes."

Silas sat down on the bed beside Ira. "You really need to be more careful. You could have died."

Ira quirked his lips in a small smile. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Luck." Narrowing his eyes, Silas stared at Ira with a harsh glare.

Ira smiled the most annoying smile he could muster up and said, "Luck is a force as well, you know."

"Regardless," Silas began and reached out for Ira's hand. "You need to learn your limits. You can't keep skating by on luck forever."

"Why not?" Ira rose an eyebrow in question.

Silas smiled in answer and said nothing. Instead, he pulled on Ira's hand until Ira sat up. Ira ignored him as he swung his legs off of the bed and made to stand.

"What did I just tell you?" Silas exasperated voice sounded and then he was abruptly picked up in what was known as the princess carry. Ira furrowed his brows.

He asked, "What are you doing?"

"Carrying you to your room, of course," Silas promptly answered.

"Of course," Ira muttered to himself.

He could have attempted to get away from what was undoubtedly a funny image to see, but he didn't understand why he should. He had seen his Host's get carried like this, and they always complained and made a fuss about it; saying it was embarrassing. Who cared about that? His foot wasn't working and he was getting a free, somewhat comfortable ride. He was actually pretty pleased right now. It was like having a personal servant.

They made their way across the school grounds, until they got to Ira's dorms, at which point a passing student helpfully opened the door for them. Ira could feel eyes on him constantly, but he couldn't care less about that.

When they reached his room, Ira was sat back on the ground, leaning against Silas so that his bad foot didn't carry any of his weight. He fished his key out of a pocket and unlocked the door.

His room was exactly like he had left it. Before he had a chance to enter, he was once again picked up and carried inside, until he was dropped on the bed, bouncing a little as he went. Ira pushed himself backward until he sat leaning against the wall, whereupon he grabbed a pillow and stuffed it behind his back.

Silas smiled at him. "Better?"

"Yes." Ira decided that for his assistance the man deserved a reward, and so granted him an honest smile.

The man's eyes widened and he took several steps forwards, until he was right in front of Ira. "You should really be more careful, Bran. You never know what kind of person you let in through your door."

Ira frowned in confusion. "What?"

Silas smirked. "I've sent the letter to your parents, requesting your hand in marriage. I anticipate that you'll get a notice soon, saying we are to be married. Your family knows better than to refuse me."

Ah. So that was what he forgot. "You were serious about that? I thought you were kidding."

"I'm always serious about you."

Okay, now it was starting to get a little too sappy. Ira shrugged. "Well, if my parents approve, I'll marry you."

He saw nothing wrong with agreeing. He wasn't going to be here for much longer. His Host had failed her mission. Any day now, that annoying text Mission Failed would glare at him and he would leave this world and body. When that happened, what did it matter if he was or about to be married? He didn't think that the people in this world approved of same-sex marriages for important people like Silas, but apparently exceptions could be made.

"Good," Silas said. "Then it's decided. We'll marry in the summer."

Ira just shrugged again, not especially interested in the conversation. By summer, he would already be gone. He could feel it.

Things were coming to an end.

Silas bent forwards and kissed Ira on the cheek, reminding him of the kissing they had done at the Ball. Still, as nice as it felt to have someone think of him as a person with his own opinions, he was no blushing bride. Silas leaned back and Ira saw him look way too happy for a guy that had just gotten an agreement to marry. Ira didn't understand it. But he didn't really feel like crushing his hopes.

Curious.

Silas stood up straight and said, "Don't forget. You'll be marrying me."