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-漫~*'¨¯¨'*·舞~ . ~舞*'¨¯¨'*·~漫-


"God fucking damn it!" 

I stormed out of my office in a fit of emotion. The sound of the door slamming shut behind me reverberated down the empty hallway. The troops on duty outside gasped in surprise as they watched me walk past them, their eyes wide. The furious dispute that had just ended inside was evident by the palpable tension in the air.

My disagreements with Childe had been verbal sword fights. I wanted to get my thoughts together and quiet the emotional boiling within me because the argument had left me with a bitter taste in my mouth.

There was a problem, something that was nibbling at the borders of my awareness. More than just the argument, angry words, and icy glares were involved. I had been developing this strange feeling inside of me.

Jealousy. The word kept repeating in my head, but it wasn't quite right. Yes, I was aware of the idea of jealousy, as well as the fierce yearning and sour hatred it produced. However, this. This was unique. It became more absorbing and intense.

It appeared as though a seed had been sown inside of me, with roots that reached far into my heart. It expanded as time went on, fueled by the turbulence of my emotions. More than simply jealousy was at play. It was a sense of loss, desire, and seeing something go through my fingers.

"Lord Scaramouche! There you are!" 

Turning my head, I catch sight of my assistant barreling towards me, his face split into an almost comically wide grin. If my memory serves me right, he had just returned from the city where he had been keeping a discreet eye on (Y/N).

"What do you want?" I wag an eyebrow at him because I don't feel like discussing anything regarding (Y/N) at the moment.

I experience an odd déjà vu feeling as if I'm reverting to my previous behavior of isolating myself in my room. I made the decision to stay because she stands as an anchor to prevent me from drifting away. My mind has been racing lately as I debate whether to leave this place or not, a turbulent sea of 'what if's and 'should I's.

However, a wrench was dropped into the works just as I was starting to feel some degree of clarity. My previously thought-out plans have been derailed by a problem that was both unforeseen and inconvenient.

"Earth to Lord Scaramouche!" 

"What?" I turned back to face my assistant and clinched my teeth at him.

"What should the cook provide later when Harbinger Arlecchino pays a quick visit?" 

Apparently, it wasn't about her. I'm guessing it's just usual reports.

"...Whatever can fill our stomachs," I had already forgotten her later visit's purpose. It's not like her visit is significant in any case.

When I finally made it back to my office, I was hunched over the door with my back against the chilly wood. Except for the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall, the space was silent. The silence was broken by each tick.

The question hung over my head like a specter. What am I to do? Do I step in and attempt to change the course of events in a way that I find desirable? Do I let fate take its course and let things happen organically instead?

What do I do with the gnosis..?

When I remembered, my eyes widened. I hurried to my desk, opened the drawer, and took it out. I clenched the glowing divine object in my palm as I peered down at it as it emerged from the tiny bag. 

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 31, 2023 ⏰

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