Chapter 32: Touching Yours

After dressing Irene in fresh clothes, she looked far more refined.
That is, until she spoke.

The moment the girl opened her mouth, her half-tamed, stammering mumbles shattered the cool, aloof vibe others might pin on her.
Tina tied her hair into a high ponytail, giving her a sharper, more spirited look—perfect for a sword-wielding warrior.

A knight, perhaps? A wandering knight?
That was Tina’s first impression. With some care, Irene could reach a normal person’s level and fend for herself.

“All good?”

Irene fiddled with her new hairstyle, a slight smile tugging at her lips. It had been ages since she’d tended to her hair, always letting it stay unkempt.
Today was the first time in years she’d spoken to anyone. Usually, when approached, she’d listen silently, nod at most, or just walk away to continue her wandering across kingdoms.

She’d lost all memories, unsure if her travels were to find someone or to drown her time in the hardships and joys of the journey.
Many had asked: Why always wear an eyepatch? Something wrong with your eyes? Poor blind girl.

Only she knew her eyes were fine.
It was a subconscious fear that removing the eyepatch would bring some calamity.

Instinct—that was why she kept it on.
“All set. Clothes are on. Go eat—don’t starve.”

Tina was ready to shoo her out.
“What about… you? Need me… to help you bathe?”

“…Why would you think I need help bathing?”

“Because… bathing… isn’t it for two people?”

“!”

Tina sensed disaster. Had Irene taken this as common sense just because she helped her once?
You can’t just add weird norms like that!

“Wait, no misunderstanding! I helped because you didn’t know how, not because bathing means two people scrubbing each other!”

That would lead to trouble…
“Mm, okay.” Irene nodded, half-understanding.

“So… if I don’t know how… you’ll keep helping me?”

Tina: “?”
Is that how it works?

It… wasn’t wrong, technically.
“But you can’t stay clueless forever. Got it now?”

“No… need… more teaching.”

“Fine, fine, you’re hopeless.”

For some reason, though it felt like raising a daughter, something was off.
“I’ll… help you bathe.”

Irene approached with soap, her innocent, pitiful look impossible to refuse.
“Ugh, if it helps you learn, go ahead.”

Tina gave up.
On second thought, she bathed daily anyway. Whether she washed herself or someone else did, the result was the same.

Not unacceptable, right? Irene’s childlike mindset meant no bad intentions—probably?
“Hey, where are you touching?!” Feeling a pinch in a certain spot, Tina shot out of the water, covering herself.

“Huh? I saw… you liked touching me there… when you washed me. I don’t… know why it’s nice, so… I touched yours.”

Irene looked genuinely innocent, as if driven by pure curiosity.
And, well, Tina had started it—she deserved this one.

“Irene, listen. You can’t just touch people out there. That’s only for really close friends.”

“Are we… close friends?” Her question was pure, untainted by the world.

“We’re just regular friends, not that close yet, so no.”

“How… do we get that close?”

“Maybe by sticking to someone every day, helping them, making them think of you all the time—that’s close.”

“Oh, got it. I’ll stick to you… every day.”

Tina regretted her words. Had she just invited a massive headache?
Could she ditch her now?

Too late. Sad.
After being scrubbed red-faced, Tina stopped her, sternly saying, “That’s enough for today. I’m clean—any more, and you’ll rub away my soul.”

Reluctantly, Irene stopped. Though she couldn’t see Tina’s face, she sensed she was happy, maybe even enjoying it.
Don’t ask how—just intuition.

“Let’s eat.”

Tina, dressed, led Irene to the hall where a dinner was prepared for their new guest.
Honestly, Tina hadn’t noticed before, but walking with Irene, she realized the girl was a head taller—around 170 cm.

Irene had the ideal female figure: tall, well-proportioned, a bit curvier than Althea.
Not that Tina was some creep fixated on certain… assets.

She also liked feet.
While bathing, she’d noticed Irene’s feet, larger by a few sizes, likely from childhood activity, making her tall and sturdy.

Althea’s feet were better to touch, though—princess vibes won out.
If only their best traits could combine.

“Tina… you watching me?”

Irene’s instincts told her someone was staring with a sleazy gaze, but only Tina was nearby.
“Ahem, I’m watching you eat. Hurry up.”

“You… not eating?” Irene pointed at the plate.

“I ate before we left. You go ahead.”

Truthfully, she could eat again, but not from the table’s spread.
“I can’t see… can’t eat the food. Tina… can you feed me?”

Without vision, Irene relied on sharp hearing, but silent food meant she fumbled with her fork.
“Fine, open your mouth—ahh.”

Though feeding her felt overly intimate, no one was watching, so why not?
Tina held the plate, carefully feeding Irene while ensuring no sauce stained her fresh clothes.

She felt like a nanny.
“Mmm, yummy.”

But hearing Irene’s happy sigh over the delicious food, Tina thought this wasn’t so bad.
Raising a daughter? Nice.