A few days have passed after I met Mother and received, from her, "the mother's" response.

And, despite the fact that I had already received her answer and forwarded mine, nothing much had changed. I have yet to meet "the mother" since then. Only Mother, Barbara, spoke on her behalf for the past few days, and even though she did speak, she didn’t mention much about what and how it will be from now on.

Well, not that I’m complaining about the fact that "the mother" was away. She, by holing herself wherever she is now away, gave me a lot of time to catch up with Mother.

Now that I think of it, it was—no, I actually believe it was as though she was giving time off to my mother and I.

If it ever is the case, then she has my silent and forever unspoken gratitude.

It was just an impression, but seemed to have worked out. Just like Maa had said, the Brotherhood affair didn't devolve into anything more messy than it already was. Maa and Lydia were preparing their retreat from all the aristocracy's matters, while I, after many years, finally met my mother.

I know it's just getting started, but this, what happened in the past few months, not only sets me in a good mood, but it also makes me more confident about the future.

"Finally done?" I asked Nia, seeing her finally lift her fingers off the typewriter to arrange her hair.

"Not at all. In fact, I’m merely at the beginning, but that’s still quite since the time I wasn’t able to write anything at all," she explained, yawning while stretching from her chair.

"Oh, is that so…"

"Did something happen?"

"Nothing; it’s not like anything could’ve happened in three days," I groused from my seat.

That’s it. From the moment she threw me out of the room, she had, as if entranced, completely shut herself down to everything.

I was there, but my existence was completely ignored, and that for three days straight.

"Are you pouting at me?" She asked, her eyes frowning, as she stood up from her desk to approach me.

"Who? me? Why would I, a grown man, be pouting? "

"I don’t know. You, tell me," she suggested, her face closing and leaning in on me, her hand supporting her by holding onto the armchair’s armrest.

Her face was so close that I could feel her breath on my face, so I lifted myself up and murmured into her ears.

"You ignored me for three days. Of course, I’m pouting. "

"I see," she said as she wrapped her arms around my neck, "What can I do to earn forgiveness?"

"I don’t know, you tell me."

She looked at me with an entrancing gaze, before, a moment later, I felt her hand tightly grasping mine as she pulled me out of my chair and dragged me to the bed.

Hovering atop her on the bed, I could see her laying on the bed, trembling and her gaze swiping left then right back and forth, unable to maintain eye contact. The whole scene was similar to what happened the other day. Feeling the same urge that submerged me last time, I was about to withdraw away from her, but before I could, she reached out for my shirt, tightly holding onto it.

"Nia, you know what is going to happen if I don’t get away from you."

She, still trembling as she was, nodded, saying, almost as though it was a whisper, " —stay."

I was tempted to ask one last time if she was really sure, but my wandering hand got ahead of me.

I think I might have a clear obsession with that part of Nia’s body since it was the part I instinctively reached for.

I think it is mostly, of course, because that was the part where her heart was.

As my trembling hand gently and warmly grasped a handful of it, feeling its protruding part softly pressing against my palm, she let out a small moan.

I was, I admit, not prepared for this, nor seemed she, from the sound she uttered, so we both froze up for a moment before I, taking the lead, went to depose a passionate kiss on her lips and sat her up to unbutton her night chemise.

I, being the clumsy man that I am, ended up having more trouble than I wished I had, so much so that in the end, Nia took it upon herself to take it off.

Despite the humiliation and defeat I suffered, what lay before me was well worth it.

"Don’t stare this much," she muttered in an almost inaudible voice.

"Sorry, I just couldn’t help."

"Don’t."

Nia reached out and grabbed my shirt, pulling me up atop her.

I hadn't drunk before this occasion, but I felt as if I had. As a drunken sailor cruising the horizon, I discovered every part of her body and made her every corner of mine, even and especially the most intimate ones.

***

I sat on the bed, still a little bit dazed by what had happened. "How was it?" I asked Nia.

Even after a moment, I received no answer.

I looked next to me and saw no one, so I lifted the sheet up to see Nia, who timidly curled into a ball and dragged the sheet away, completely concealing herself beneath.

Isn’t it a little bit too late to feel pudic? I wondered, but did not comment.

A short while after, still beneath the sheet, she slithered her way to me, revealing only her blushing face, muttering, "No comment on that part."

"Hahaha, no comment then."

She crawled her way out of the sheet, enough to lay her on my lap. I started caressing her golden and sky blue hair, and we remained like this for some time.

"A few days ago, ‘the mother’ arranged a meeting for me and Mother."

"She did?"

"Yes."

"How was it?"

"Well, I wouldn’t know how to describe it, but seeing her and talking to her motivated me more for that which we are running for. I know this won’t bring what my mother has lost back, nor will it bring them back to me any time soon. I want to do it as fast as possible, but it has to be done the right way, one that I would not regret."

"By that you mean…."

"I will provide her and the aristocracy with my assistance."

As much as it hurt me to admit it, it was exactly as she said. Nia and I would eventually assist her in that battle.

"So Nia, though this was not an expected part of the journey we've promised each other, I’ll be in your care."

Several long seconds went by and I still got no answer.

"Nia?" I called out only to realize that the one I was talking to was sleeping soundly.

"Good grief, for someone I am supposed to be in the care of, you don’t look really reliable at all."