Chapter 8: Rose-colored foam.

The bathroom was filled with suffocating steam.

This bathroom on the second floor of the dormitory was outrageously luxurious.

The enormous claw-foot bathtub had been carved from a single block of white marble.

Right now it was brimming with hot water. A thick layer of pale pink foam floated on the surface, releasing an intensely sweet, almost cloying rose fragrance.

“The water temperature is just right, Hill.”

Phyllis stood beside the tub, sleeves rolled up to reveal two slender, snow-white arms.

Her expression had returned to its usual gentleness. Only the faint lingering flush at the corners of her eyes betrayed that her heart was far from calm.

“I can wash myself…”

Hill stood at the doorway clutching her change of clothes, gazing at the hazy steam. Instinctively she felt a flicker of hesitation.

It wasn’t only because of embarrassment…

Though—as someone who had once been male—the idea of bathing together with a beautiful girl sounded wonderful in theory, actually carrying it out still left her strangely awkward.

More importantly, today’s Phyllis radiated a subtle, oppressive aura that Hill couldn’t quite read.

“That won’t do.”

Phyllis walked over and, without room for argument, took the clothes from Hill’s arms and hung them on the nearby rack.

“Hill can’t see her own back, and… that tavern smoke and alcohol smell has already seeped into your pores. If it isn’t thoroughly cleaned away, I won’t be able to sleep.”

I won’t be able to sleep…

To Hill, those words were an instant kill shot.

She didn’t want her own awkwardness to cause this seemingly germaphobic partner to lose sleep.

“…Alright. But turn around. I need to undress.”

Phyllis obediently turned her back—but she didn’t leave the bathroom. She simply faced away from Hill.

Listening to the rustle of clothing behind her, Phyllis gazed at the blurred reflection in the mirror. The smile at the corners of her mouth slowly deepened into something eerie and profound.

Undress.

Shed that filthy outer shell tainted by the outside world. Reveal the body that belongs only to me.

“Splash!”

With a rush of water, Hill sank into the tub.

The warm current instantly enveloped her entire body. In that moment, every trace of exhaustion was swept away by the comforting heat.

“Haa…”

Hill let out a long, contented sigh. Her tense shoulders finally slackened.

“I’m coming in now, okay?”

Phyllis turned around, holding a natural sea sponge and a bottle of essential oil.

She knelt at the edge of the tub, deftly poured oil onto the sponge, and worked it into thick foam.

“Where should I start…”

Phyllis’s gaze roamed over the parts of Hill’s skin visible above the water.

Finally, her eyes fixed on Hill’s right shoulder… the place Vera had slapped so forcefully earlier.

And on Hill’s thigh… the place Vera had almost touched.

“Here.”

The sponge landed on Hill’s right shoulder.

“Hss!”

Hill sucked in a sharp breath.

It wasn’t the water’s heat—it was Phyllis’s strength.

That seemingly soft sponge felt, in Phyllis’s hand, like some kind of abrasive tool.

She wasn’t simply washing. She was scrubbing—hard.

“Phyllis? That hurts a little…”

“Sorry… Hill, bear with it for a moment.”

Phyllis’s voice was soft, almost lost amid the sound of water.

“This spot… is very dirty.”

She stared at the skin.

There was no visible mark, yet in her eyes it bore a charred handprint.

The provocation left by that red-haired barbarian.

Erase it.

Erase it.

Erase it.

No one else’s body heat is allowed to linger on Hill.

Phyllis suddenly increased her force. White foam burst and broke across the shoulder.

The originally fair skin visibly reddened—flushing with a vivid, blood-engorged color.

“It really hurts! The skin’s going to tear!”

Hill couldn’t help grabbing Phyllis’s wrist, stopping her.

Phyllis froze.

Looking at Hill’s slightly reddened eyes, she seemed to finally snap out of her trance.

The shadow in her gaze vanished instantly, replaced by overflowing heartache and panic.

“Ah… I’m sorry! Hill, did I hurt you?”

She dropped the sponge. Her cool fingertips gently touched the reddened patch, blowing softly on it.

“I just… wanted so badly to wash you completely clean. Am I an idiot?”

Seeing her on the verge of tears, any anger Hill might have felt evaporated.

“It’s… it’s not that bad. My skin’s just thin.”

Hill ended up comforting her instead.

“Look, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“…Hill is always so gentle.”

Phyllis lowered her lashes, concealing the flash of satisfaction in her eyes.

Red.

That’s my color.

Coverage complete.

“Next is your hair.”

Phyllis moved behind the tub, letting Hill rest her head against the rim—and against her own abdomen.

This was a posture that completely surrendered the back to another.

Hill closed her eyes, feeling Phyllis’s fingers thread through her hair, gently massaging her scalp.

In this moment, Phyllis became once again the perfect attendant—pressure just right, lulling her toward sleep.

“Hill… do you like that mercenary named Vera very much?”

Phyllis asked casually while rinsing foam with warm water.

“Hm? She’s alright, I guess.”

Hill answered drowsily, eyes still closed.

“She’s straightforward. Talking to her feels easy. And she’s B-rank—lots of experience. Maybe we could party together sometime in the future…”

Before she finished—

Hill felt a sudden, sharp tug at her scalp.

Phyllis’s fingers clenched involuntarily in her hair.

Though she quickly loosened her grip, that brief sting still made Hill frown.

“Party… together?”

Phyllis’s voice drifted down from above—emotionless.

“But if you had that Vera… would Hill still need me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

Hill didn’t dwell on the earlier force. She simply smiled and reached back to pat Phyllis’s arm.

“You’re the healer; she’d be frontline. Different roles. And besides…”

Hill paused, then spoke seriously:

“In this world, you were the first person to reach out to me. No matter how many people join the party, you’re the most important partner.”

A perfect line of reassurance.

At least Hill thought so. Surely this would soothe her partner’s insecurity.

Yet Phyllis did not reply immediately.

She remained silent, only letting her hands move more delicately—more lingeringly.

Her fingertips glided down Hill’s neck, over the collarbone, along the spine…

Most important… partner?

Not enough.

Partners can be replaced.

Parties can be disbanded.

I don’t want to be “one of the most important.”

I want to be the only one.

“Hill.”

Phyllis suddenly leaned down and whispered into Hill’s ear.

Hot, moist breath slipped into her ear canal, raising goosebumps across Hill’s skin.

“What is it?”

“If one day Hill gets hurt… and only I can heal you.”

“If Hill is hungry… and only the food I make can be eaten.”

“If Hill is cold… and only my embrace is warm…”

Phyllis’s voice was soft as a dream-murmur.

“Wouldn’t Hill feel very happy like that?”

“Then wouldn’t I just become a useless person?”

Hill laughed, teasing, completely missing the terrifying vision behind those words.

“You’d definitely get tired of me eventually.”

“I won’t.”

Phyllis picked up a towel and gently wiped the water droplets from Hill’s face. Her gaze slowly deepened into something bottomless.

“I will never get tired of you. On the contrary… if it were like that, I would be so happy I’d go mad.”

The soft whisper dissolved into the sound of running water.

After the bath.

Hill felt like a boiled shrimp—her entire body flushed pink, soft and utterly drained of strength.

The bath had lasted far too long, and the water temperature had remained persistently high.

Phyllis had quietly maintained it with heating magic the entire time.

“Here, let’s apply some lotion.”

Phyllis guided Hill to lie face-down on the bed in the bedroom.

“Is this really necessary…?”

“It is. Long hot soaks dry out the skin and make it itchy. This is a special rose essential oil cream—excellent for relieving muscle fatigue.”

Hill lay with her face in the pillow. A pair of cool hands, slick with oil, pressed against her back.

Starting from the shoulders, they glided downward along the spine in firm, kneading strokes.

The sensation… was too strange.

It didn’t feel like a simple massage.

Phyllis’s palms clung tightly to every inch of skin—as though she were trying to rub the lotion straight into the bones.

“Mmm…”

When Phyllis’s hand passed over the dip of her waist, Hill couldn’t help flinching.

“Don’t move.”

Phyllis gave Hill’s back a light pat, her tone indulgent.

“This area is very tense. Carrying that heavy sword really puts a strain on your lower back.”

As Phyllis continued, the room filled with thick rose fragrance.

Hill felt her consciousness slowly scattering.

Body so heavy…

But so comfortable…

Eyelids growing heavier. Phyllis’s hands seemed to carry hypnotic power.

“Vera… she said next time she wants to…”

Hill mumbled, voice fading.

Phyllis’s hands paused.

Even half-asleep, she’s still thinking of that name?

Phyllis looked down at Hill, now drifting into semi-consciousness. The gentleness in her eyes froze solid.

She leaned over and gently bit Hill’s shoulder.

“Next time?”

She extended her tongue and licked the faint tooth mark.

“There won’t be a next time, Hill.”

“That woman’s hand… will soon be unable to lift an axe again.”

She drew the blanket over Hill, tucking it tightly around her—like locking a treasure inside a safe.

Then she blew out the candle.

In the darkness, Phyllis did not sleep.

She lay with eyes open, fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air.

The opening gesture of a certain curse magic.

“Good night, my caged bird.”