It's a dual existence of divine entities, one true and the other a mere pretender within your sovereign realm.
A fleeting hint of emotion flickers in your eyes, the hint of a faltered smile.
It seems a conversation with this self-proclaimed Hydro Archon is necessary, a judgment rendered through discourse rather than swift conclusion.
Your gaze remains steady, locking onto Wriothesley's eyes with an enigmatic intensity.
The room seems to hold its breath as the weight of your presence permeates the air.
Determined to proceed with the interrogation, Wriothesley swiftly grabbed a nearby chair and settled in, ready to unravel the mystery of your appearance.
"So, what is your name?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet assertive.
"I am... Y/N. I don't own a last name," you replied with a touch of uncertainty in your tone.
"Y/N, can you remember how you ended up in the ocean?" As he question you, he noticed a subtle hesitation in your response.
It was evident that you held secrets, yet you were determined to withhold certain information.
Wriothesley's posture shifted, drawing him closer as his elbows found purchase on the edge of the bed.
The weight of his intent was palpable, an effort to draw forth more from your enigmatic presence.
"Two decades past, a haunting series of disappearances plagued our land. Young women, vibrant souls, vanished without a trace, leaving naught but shadows and shattered families. Even now, the echoes of those unsolved mysteries ripple through time. And I believe you might be one of them."
His words bore the weight of his commitment to uncover the truth, laying his theories before you as if seeking your enlightenment.
In response, your eyes, those windows to your inscrutable depths, widened ever so slightly.
The delicate pause held a world of emotions in its fleeting existence.
His revelation was unexpected, and yet you remained composed, your voice carrying a timbre of both frigidity and softness.
"I recall a weariness that crept over me, heavy as a shroud. Slumber claimed me, only to release me to the embrace of the ocean's depths. Beyond that... there is naught."
Your words, like the rhythmic ebb and flow of the tides, held a mystery of their own, an intricate dance of revelation and concealment.
As he prepared to delve deeper into your story, the door suddenly burst open, and Sigewinne, the small and ever-energetic police nurse, entered the room, carrying a tray filled with delicious food and refreshing drinks.
"I made delicious food! I'm sure you must be hungry, Mademoiselle!"
Sigewinne exclaimed with her characteristic enthusiasm, her big red orbs sparkling with excitement.
You glanced at the tray, momentarily distracted by the sight and aroma of the food.
While you were not physically affected by hunger, the kind gesture touched you.
Your emotions remained veiled, yet you offered a nod of appreciation to the small nurse.
"Thank you," you murmured softly, your voice as velvety and captivating as ever.
The brief moment of gratitude was enough to bring a warm smile to Sigewinne's face, and she placed the tray on the nearby table with care.
As Wriothesley observed the interaction between you and the lively nurse, he couldn't help but marvel at the contrast between your calm demeanor and Sigewinne's bubbling enthusiasm.
You leaned forward to take the tray with the food, but the flimsy paper-like dress somehow tore apart the bundle with your motion.
It happened so swiftly that before Wriothesley could react, he found himself looking at your exposed chest.
His face turned a deep shade of red, and in a flustered hurry, he covered your bosom with the thin blanket.
"Sir Wriothesley, your face..."
You tilted your head in puzzlement, recognizing the telltale reddening of cheeks that you've observed in mortals, particularly children.
It reminded you of fever, a condition mothers often checked by placing their hands on a child's forehead.
If fever was present, a soothing kiss on the forehead would follow to ease the discomfort.
"I believe you might have a fever."
"Huh?"
Leaning forward, your faces were now just inches apart. Startled by your proximity, he involuntarily pulled back, but you caught his cheeks gently in your hands.
Pressing a chaste kiss on his forehead, he gasped at the velvety softness of your lips.
"Hm... this should help alleviate your fever," you stated, your eyes devoid of emotion.
Yet, within Wriothesley, his heart pounded so intensely it seemed as if it might escape his chest.
Sigewinne, witnessing the police detective's reaction, grew equally perplexed. "Sir Wrio, didn't you undress Mademoiselle in the first place? So, why would you react like this-?"
"Enough!" Blushing furiously, he turned to face the window, attempting to steady his racing heart.
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