Awakener's Guide to Climbing the Tower

Gerbaut opened his eyes and noticed the ceiling above him did not belong to any place he knew.

He stared at it for a moment without moving. Dark wood crossed overhead in polished beams, each one carved with delicate patterns that looked too expensive to be decorative. Light filtered through heavy curtains the color of old wine, turning the room dim gold instead of bright. The air smelled faintly of incense, clean linen, and something floral he could not name.

This was not the throne room.

His memory returned in jagged pieces. Yara... Ice... Nyxie dying... and a sharp pain in his chest.

He moved on instinct, trying to sit up, but something tightened around him before he got far.

Gerbaut froze. He lowered his gaze and saw an arm lay draped across his stomach.

No, not simply draped. It was curled there with shameless familiarity, as though it had every right to be. The skin looked pale and smooth against the black fabric of his sleeveless shirt. Long nails painted in rich violet rested lightly over his abdomen, with the hem of his shirt pushed up enough to expose the toned lines of his stomach.

His body went still, his face hardening by the second. Who?

Slowly, very carefully, Gerbaut turned his head.

There beside him lay a woman, sleeping beside him.

She looked nothing like anyone he knew. Long black hair spilled across the bed in a glossy wave, the back strands scattered over the white sheets like poured ink. A few locks clung to the curve of her shoulder and neck. Her features looked almost offensively delicate at this distance, made worse by the red of her lips and the relaxed softness of her sleeping face.

The blanket had slipped low enough to reveal one bare shoulder and the upper line of a silk nightdress that did very little to create a respectable distance between mystery and blatant temptation.

Gerbaut stared at her, then at the arm around him, then back at her.

His brows drew together as if he was placed in a huge, deeply serious dilemma of whether to wake her first or carefully remove the arm without disturbing her.

"Mmmm...."

The woman stirred. Her lashes fluttered, slow and heavy, before she opened her eyes that shone like polished amethyst held to candlelight, clear and deep and immediately awake despite the sleepy sound she had made a second ago.

The moment she saw him, her whole face brightened. "You’re awake!"

Before Gerbaut could react, she hugged him tighter and pressed herself against his side with the sort of casual enthusiasm that should have been illegal before sunrise.

Gerbaut froze yet once again not because he panicked. It was only because he very clearly did not know what the proper etiquette was for waking up in a noble-looking room with a beautiful stranger attached to him like an affectionate octopus.

He was taught from a young age that a gentleman should not shove a woman.

That part was clear. A gentleman also, however, should not remain trapped in a suspicious embrace without at least attempting dignity.

So, with the grave seriousness of a man defusing a bomb, Gerbaut placed one hand against her shoulder and tried to ease her off.

The woman tightened her hold.

He tried again.

She tightened it more.

The woman made a tiny dissatisfied sound and nuzzled closer.

Gerbaut’s expression hardened further, which in his case meant he looked slightly more like a statue carved by someone with no patience for nonsense.

"Who are you?" He finally asked.

The woman pulled back just enough to look at him, her lips parting in exaggerated hurt. "Oh my, don’t you recognize me?"

"I don’t." He answered instantly.

She stared at him for a second. The corner of her mouth twitched as though she had to fight not to smile. Then she placed a hand over her chest as though he had stabbed her with an actual weapon instead of those words. "How cruel~"

Gerbaut did not respond. He finally managed to push himself upright, this time with enough force. The blankets shifted movement, and the woman ended up reclining beside him instead, one arm supporting her weight against the mattress.

Her long hair spilled behind in dark, careless strands, and the position seemed almost devastating in its effect. The thin nightdress did little to hide the shape of her body, clinging to her in soft lines, its low neckline revealing the smooth sweep of cleavage and accentuating the lush fullness of her breasts.

She looked entirely at ease beside him– and all the more dangerous for it.

Gerbaut noticed that. But he also chose, with immense discipline, to pretend he had not.

He glanced down at himself first.

He was still clothed. Good. That was one problem avoided.

Then he looked around the room again. Ornate wardrobe, silk sheets, polished floor, and a cold fireplace framed in expensive stonework. It was a room fit for nobility.

His gaze returned to the woman. She smiled at him as though this entire situation made perfect sense.

"It’s me," she said sweetly. "Olivia. Your darling."

Gerbaut’s whole body became stiff.

"..."

Olivia tilted her head and a soft laugh escaped her lips. "Well! I did expect that reaction~"

"Why am I here?" He went straight to the point.

She pouted this time with even greater theatrical suffering. "That’s the first thing you’ll ask? Not where have you been all my life?"

"..."

Gerbaut looked at her for a long second. "No."

Olivia sighed as if the world had failed her personally. "You really are the least romantic man I have ever nearly died for again."

That got a reaction, a small one. Gerbaut’s eyes narrowed. "Nearly died?"

She perked up instantly. "Ah~ So that caught your attention."

He did not deny it.

Olivia smiled, pleased with herself. "I’m glad to have you here."

Gerbaut looked at her, then at the bed, then back at her. "Do not say things that make this sound worse."

Her purple eyes widened with delighted offense. "Worse? You wound me. I’m trying to make you less tense."

"You are doing the opposite."

She gave him a pleased little smile. "Ah, so you do feel something~"

He stood from the bed at last, though the motion looked slower than it should have. His body still carried the memory of the injury. His hand brushed instinctively against his chest.

There was no wound.

His expression changed by only a fraction.

Olivia noticed at once so she decided to play a little lie on him. "Yes, I healed you. You’re welcome."

He looked at her in question. "How?"

She waved one hand lazily. "Trade secret."

"Who are you?"

Her red lips curled. "I already told you, honey~"

"You did not answer."

"That sounds like a you problem then."

Gerbaut inhaled once through his nose.

Olivia watched him with open amusement, then shifted closer on the edge of the bed and leaned against his side again before he could step away. "Honestly, after everything we’ve been through, I expected at least one softer look."

"We’ve been through nothing."

"That is so hurtful when I know it’s false."

A muscle moved in Gerbaut’s jaw. He was about to respond when rapid footsteps thundered from outside.

Both of them turned.

The door flew open hard enough to strike the wall.

There stood Nyxie with her green pixie-cut hair in a complete mess. Her eyes were wide and she was breathing a little too fast, as though she had sprinted the whole way here without stopping to think first.

"Gerbaut?!"

For the first time since waking, his eyes widened properly.

"Nyxie..." He took one step toward her. "You’re alive..."

"Y-yeah..." Her voice came out weaker than usual, stunned in a way that looked almost unfamiliar on her.

Then her gaze dropped to Olivia, who had chosen that exact moment to slip off the bed. Her nightdress barely skimmed her inner thigh, and one strap still hung loose on her arm, letting the fabric slip dangerously low across her chest.

Olivia moved straight to Gerbaut and pressed herself against his arm, clinging with possessiveness as her narrowed eyes fixed on Nyxie.

Gerbaut froze, his gaze landing on her as if asking, silently with great restraint, what exactly she thought she was doing.

Nyxie blinked several times, as though her mind had caught up with what she was seeing. Then, with astonishing seriousness, she asked, "Did you finally lose your virginity?"

"..."

Of course that was the first thing she asked.

Olivia slowly lifted her gaze towards Gerbaut’s face, amusement blooming all over hers. "You’re a virgin?"

Nyxie nodded to her question. "Yes! He’s never even dated anyone! I never thought I’ll see the day he stopped acting like a monk!"

Gerbaut sighed inwardly. He closed his eyes for one full second and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Anyway!" Nyxie pointed at Olivia. "Who is she?"

Olivia pressed herself more firmly against his arm, the movement slow and utterly shameless.

Gerbaut completely went still. Even through the fabric, he could feel the warmth and softness of her, and the realization seemed to lock every muscle in his body. Olivia only held on more tightly, as if daring anyone in the room to misunderstand what she was claiming.

Then she smiled sweetly. "I am his wife."

Nyxie’s mouth fell open. She looked at him, then at Olivia, then back at Gerbaut. "YOU HAVE A WIFE?!!"

Gerbaut closed his eyes for one second.

When he opened them again, he looked exactly like a man who knew explaining this would somehow be harder than fighting a floor boss.

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