Today marked Akame's first day off.

In this world, a week was generally structured with four days of school followed by three days off.

She always spent her days off in the mansion's library, doing her homework and reading.

I watched her from a distance. Usually, I would sit right next to her and read in silence, sharing the moment without a word. But now that she could see me, I didn’t dare. I didn’t want to disturb her.

Yet, as she continued reading, she broke the silence:

“Why don’t you come here?”

I approached timidly.
Several books were spread out on the table. The one she was reading was about the evolution of geopolitics over the last fifty years. I glanced at the other books within reach: two novels.

“Do you want to read something?” she asked, without taking her eyes off the page.

“Uh, no, it’s fine.”

“I can see you’re interested in one of the novels. Choose whichever one you like.”

Without interrupting her reading, she spread her darkness around her in a small area. My body materialized again.

“Akame, you’re going to tire yourself out again if you keep doing that…” I said, worried.
She didn’t even look up.

“Hurry up and finish the book, then…” she whispered softly.

I picked up the thinner of the two novels and sat down next to her, beginning to read.

It was a novel written by Mohn, an author known for his short but complex stories. ''Was It a Dream?'' told the story of a dramatic shōjo romance set in a world where dreams and reality were intertwined, and where two beings from very different worlds saw their destinies unexpectedly intertwine.

“Ugh… another heterosexual love story… As if we needed more of those…” I thought.

But as the pages turned, vague memories of my first life flooded back.

I remembered moments of quiet solitude, reading my shōjo-ai manga.
The feel of the paper beneath my fingers, the smell of the pages, that inner calm… A gentle nostalgia washed over me.

Did I have the right to feel this? The right to savor these moments?
I was only supposed to observe. Not participate.

And yet, a crushing weight grew in my chest.
I didn’t know what it was, but it was taking my breath away. I could barely breathe.

Looking up, I saw that Akame, too, seemed unwell.
Her back was hunched, her shoulders slumped.

“Akame? Are you alright?” I asked softly.

“Hm… I’m just a little tired,” she said weakly, her eyes still fixed on her book.

“Stop using your power; it’s my fault you’re tired.”

“Your book isn’t finished,” she replied nonchalantly.

“Since that’s the case, I’m leaving. You’ll collapse from exhaustion again.” I stood up abruptly. Her power dissipated.

But I remained visible.

I understood why: her hand had grabbed my arm.

“Stay…” she whispered.

Her gaze had changed. It was pleading with me.

« Wow… so cute… » I thought, my heart pounding. She was clearly the protagonist of the story.

I was torn. The weight in my chest was still there… but I couldn’t leave her alone.

I sat back down beside her. She gently rested her head against my arm, as if seeking comfort.

“It’s less tiring this way…” she murmured.

“You can continue reading.”

I did so, almost breathlessly, and quickly finished the book.

“So, did you like it?” she asked once I had closed it.

“It’s... well-written,” I replied, unsure of myself.

A brief silence fell.

“You don’t like this kind of book? What do you like?”

“Hm… I don’t think you have that here.”

“Here? In this library? But I have all kinds of books here.”

But I wasn’t talking about the library. I was talking about this world.

And besides… did I still need to read shōjo-ai? Her story was supposed to be one.
I just had to wait.

She waited for my answer, but quickly realized I wasn’t going to reply.

Suddenly, a sharp noise made me jump. Instinctively, I broke contact with Akame and dematerialized.

“Ma’am, lunch is ready,” Miyu announced as she entered.

“Oh, already?” Akame replied calmly, as if nothing were amiss.

“Please don’t touch the books; I haven’t finished. I’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Very well, Madam.” Miyu bowed and left.

As Akame headed toward the door, she gave me a soft, almost conspiratorial look.

“Are you coming?”

I froze for a moment… then smiled.

“Yes, I am.”