SIWALL Ch 33

Ever since that day, Elliot lived as though he had a screw loose. He would make frequent mistakes, such as feeding Camembert his snacks twice a day—which Camembert loved—or putting his clothes on inside out, or eating soup with a fork.

Even while working his night shifts as an attendant, he would stack three pillows on top of each other or reread the same passage of a book over and over again.

It felt as though his very consciousness was obscured by a thin, dark cloud. However, this wasn’t the first time such a thing had happened to him, so Elliot didn’t pay it much mind.

Back when he was Lim Seongsik, occurrences like this were quite frequent. These symptoms usually appeared after he encountered an outrageous client. He wasn’t particularly sick, nor was he depressed or losing the will to work.

It simply felt like stepping back a pace from himself and watching the world from a distance. That was all. If he just drifted along in that feeling for about a week to two weeks, his everyday senses would inevitably return one day.

So it really was nothing major, though it was certainly his first time experiencing it since becoming Elliot.

Because the surrounding servants had never seen such a sloppy Elliot before, they were all worried about him. Henderson even went so far as to say that Elliot could hand over his bed attendant duties to him for a day.

Even Arzen wore a dissatisfied expression, but he didn’t directly point it out to Elliot or say anything nasty to him.

Darlin and Camembert were the only ones at the Grand Duke’s residence who weren’t worried about Elliot. Granted, Camembert always put Elliot second so that was to be expected, but Darlin seemed even more excited than usual.

When Elliot came to the garden and mistakenly asked for roses when he should have asked for lilies, Darlin eagerly pounced on the opportunity to criticize him.

“Elliot, aren’t you making too many mistakes lately? I hear you’re getting paid a massive sum, is it okay to work like this?”

“Ah, what did I just say?”

“You said roses. The Grand Duke hates roses, you know. Here, take them, lilies. You’d have been in big trouble if not for me.”

“Right… thanks.”

Elliot answered blankly and hugged the bouquet of lilies to his chest. As he carried the flowers into the mansion and nearly tripped over a stray stone, Darlin’s cackling laughter echoed from behind. Still, Elliot didn’t feel angry.

His heart was completely at peace. Aside from a momentary ache a few days ago when Arzen had said he “had no interest,” he was fine. The increase in mistakes was simply because he was a little tired. Elliot genuinely believed that.

‘You aren’t fine.’

If Arzen’s voice hadn’t suddenly popped into his head, Elliot would have stayed fine right until the end.

‘It means I know that you have no choice but to say you’re fine in front of me.’

Yet Elliot had to be fine. If Elliot wasn’t fine right now, what was the reason?

Because Arzen said he had no interest in Elliot? Because he wasn’t his type? Or because, even after experiencing the monumental event of crossing space-time and getting possessed, Elliot was still—barely—at the very bottom of the underlings, the lowest of the service industry lowest?

Perhaps it was all three.

‘Well then, so what? What are you going to do about it?’

Would anything change if he admitted he wasn’t fine? He just had to keep living, accepting whatever was given to him right now as much as possible. Somehow.

Elliot—Lim Seongsik—had lived that way until now.

“Pull yourself together.”

Elliot said, tucking back in the hem of his shirt that had popped out over his waistband.

You have to pull yourself together. This is a world inside a book. I am Elliot Brown. If you don’t pull yourself together, you’ll die by Arzen Teron’s hands. Even if you’re not fine, you have to be fine.

Mutters of self-hypnosis running through his mind, Elliot slipped into Arzen’s empty bedroom, placed the lilies in a vase, and came back out.

And after Elliot stepped out into the hallway, someone sneaked into Arzen’s bedroom. It was a quiet intrusion in broad daylight.

Method number one to pull yourself together: Brush your teeth like a madman.

Elliot scrubbed his teeth fiercely with a toothbrush carved from animal bone. It felt like his gums were bleeding, but he didn’t care. To snap out of it, inflicting physical pain was always the most instantaneous remedy. After finishing brushing, he didn’t forget to splash ice-cold water onto his face, scrubbing vigorously with cupped hands.

Method number two to pull yourself together: Clean like a madman.

Elliot meticulously cleaned his spacious room. He swept and wiped the floors so thoroughly that Camembert slipped a few times while walking across them.

Method number three to pull yourself together: Work like a madman.

Once the cleaning was finished, Elliot headed to Cafe Seiren. And there, he received the replies sent by Generwin’s counterparts.

“Wait, you missed one page, Author.”

The owner, Wel, approached with a whisper. He stealthily slipped a high-end envelope into Elliot’s pocket.

Isn’t this a bit much?

Elliot thought the owner had watched too many movies before realizing that movies didn’t exist in this era. Look at this, Elliot Lim Seongsik Brown. I told you to pull yourself together.

Elliot bid Wel farewell and stepped outside. Once out, he briefly looked around the surroundings with wary eyes for fear of running into Arzen in his black cloak, but fortunately, there was no one on the street.

As he hurried his steps to catch a carriage, he pulled out the letter Wel had given him last.

All four replies from Generwin’s counterparts had arrived, so who on earth was this?

And the moment he checked the crest stamped on the envelope and the sender, Elliot froze dead in his tracks.

“A-A-Arzen… Teron?”

Elliot dashed back to his lodging at top speed. Sweat dripped down and every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but that wasn’t what mattered to him. Elliot locked the door behind him and opened the envelope with trembling hands.

It was his first time seeing Arzen’s handwriting. Surprisingly, his handwriting was delicate and beautiful. It was as if it mirrored his facial features.

{To Loran Pedet,

Thank you for going out of your way to inform me of the limits of your intelligence through a letter. Do try to apply yourself to your studies whenever possible.

That is, assuming you don’t want the citizens of the Lantar Empire to find out that a fragment of the gods is an idiot.

Arzen Teron}

“…Wow, what a personality.”

The contents, however, were just as expected. It was truly an impartially, uniformly foul personality regardless of the recipient.

Still, the moment he checked the contents of the reply, his tension melted away completely.

Elliot slumped down, sliding straight to the floor. The glasses that had fogged up from sweat gradually cleared.

‘What kind of reply was I even expecting…?’

In truth, it wasn’t expectation so much as an emotion close to terror.

The letter he had sent to Arzen last time contained his startled feelings and his intention to twist the original work without filters. Even though he had sent it without getting Loran’s verification—Loran had instructed him, “Just send whatever roughly works”—he had still been terrified.

Terrified that Arzen would fly into a rage and try to kill Loran.

Or worse, that he would find it interesting and develop curiosity and fondness for Loran.

In truth, the latter had been even scarier. This terror must have stemmed from anxiety that reality might come close to the original ending.

…Probably.

Elliot took off his glasses and wiped away the cold sweat around his eyes. Before he knew it, Camembert had approached. The black cat shoved its tiny nostrils right against the tip of the glasses frame held in Elliot’s hand and sniffed noisily.

“You’ll hurt your nose.”

Elliot put his glasses back on. He wiped the remaining sweat pooled on his forehead with the back of his hand when he remembered that a certain maid had once given him a handkerchief.

However, a moment later, Elliot reached into his inner chest pocket and paused. The handkerchief caught in his hand was none other than the one he had bought on Hemp Street to gift to Arzen. A handkerchief with blue flowers embroidered on a white background.

“Why on earth would I give this to that jerk?”

Elliot poked out his lip in a pout. He brought it close to his forehead, intending to wipe his sweat with that handkerchief. Yet, strangely, his hand refused to move the way he wanted.

He sat there blankly, as if being controlled by someone, simply staring down at the handkerchief. A handkerchief that was far too pretty and clean.

He simply couldn’t bring his own hand to wrinkle that handkerchief. He couldn’t stain it with sweat, nor could he toss it aside carelessly.

“…I’ll just throw it away on Arzen.”

In the end, Elliot decided to dump the handkerchief onto Arzen. If he could, he wanted to offload this entire confusion of his right along with it.

Reading Arzen’s short letter one more time, Elliot clumsily hoisted himself up from the floor. He needed to send his first reply back to Arzen. As unappealingly as possible, the most stupid and contemptible way he could. But just short of inciting murderous intent.

“Pull yourself together.”

Elliot tucked the handkerchief back into his inner chest pocket. Vowing to write the reply tonight after he put Arzen to sleep and returned.

Even while boiling the tea water for Arzen, Elliot’s mind was entirely consumed by the handkerchief in his chest pocket. Running simulations in his mind about when to hand it over and how to present it, he dropped the prepared tea leaves into the hot water.

It was just as he was staring, spellbound, at the bright yellow hue slowly rising and blooming like a haze from the tea leaves.

“The tea is different today.”

Arzen’s voice came from behind as he walked over in a comfortable shirt. It seemed he could guess the type of tea just from the scent alone.

“You haven’t changed into your sleepwear yet?”

“I’ll change shortly.”

Arzen walked over and stood beside Elliot. He glanced down at the tea and closed his eyes to sniff the aroma.

“Why are you making apple blossom tea, though?”

“Apple blossom tea?”

Elliot re-checked the box containing the tea leaves.

It clearly said chamomile tea right here, what on earth?

While he stood there bewildered, Arzen picked up a silver teaspoon and stirred the tea water a few times. And the teaspoon he pulled back out was….

“I-It’s black…!”