Ch.132Golem (9)

“As expected… So that’s how it is.”

Llewellyn sighed heavily, putting on an air of gravity, while Lorian bowed her head slightly with a gloomy expression.

If there had been someone else present to observe this somber atmosphere, things might have been different, but only these two were here.

Perhaps that’s why Llewellyn believed he had deciphered Lorian’s romantic feelings with his keen insight and brilliant mind, while Lorian was casting astonished glances at Llewellyn for seeing through her thorough disguise.

One could truly say that birds of a feather flock together.

But with no person of common sense present to point this out, Llewellyn sighed heavily while resting on Lorian’s lap.

“Are you alright with this?”

Lorian didn’t answer, but sometimes silence speaks louder than words. Llewellyn gazed up blankly at Lorian from her soft lap.

“Weren’t you originally male?”

“…No, we’re closer to being genderless by nature…”

“Does that mean you can just accept it as ‘it’s fine because I became female’?”

It’s hard to understand. What does genderless even mean in the first place?

In the era Llewellyn had lived in, such discourse was already emerging everywhere.

Physical gender and mental gender—though difficult to fully comprehend, Grim Darker was a CRPG, and there were quite a few people trying to incorporate such discourse into it.

So he wasn’t completely ignorant about it. That’s what made Llewellyn conflicted.

And that wasn’t all. Llewellyn examined Lorian’s face from where he lay.

He didn’t know what she had looked like before. The curse engraved on her body after breaking the gender-reversing ring remained in an indelible form.

Because of that, Lorian appeared completely as a young woman on the surface.

A pair of crimson glowing eyes and the cute face beneath them.

Judging by appearance alone, she was undeniably female. But could one simply accept that and move on?

Llewellyn wanted to believe he was an attractive person worthy of being loved.

But separately from that, he also knew that it didn’t actually work that way in reality.

For one human to love another, there needed to be a catalyst. No matter how trivial, there needed to be some catalyst to initiate observation.

Llewellyn couldn’t recall doing anything like that for Lorian. Of course, there might be some catalyst that only Lorian knew about and he didn’t.

But for some reason, perhaps because of the dream he had just seen, Llewellyn couldn’t simply accept that.

The “Father’s” gene.

Ortemiria had mentioned it. Llewellyn couldn’t remember whether she had said it was an intended function or not, and even Ortemiria couldn’t know for certain.

But it was indeed a function that operated due to the Father’s gene, though unintended.

The gene that was supposed to receive the love of all things had become twisted, manifesting only in an extremely small number of people. That tainted what Llewellyn considered the “purity of affection.”

Perhaps because he had already discussed this matter with Isla before, Llewellyn was conflicted as he looked up at Lorian’s face.

“You like me.”

“That’s right.”

“Why did you come to like me?”

“…Must emotions necessarily have reasons attached to them? My eloquence isn’t that impressive…”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Whether it was a small catalyst or a big one… there must be a reason why you came to like me.”

Despite being a blood kin, their way of thinking and moving was similar to humans.

Their emotions were the same as well. Regardless of how they viewed themselves, their emotions weren’t significantly different from humans.

Although their common sense differed and there was a disconnect in their behavioral patterns.

There wasn’t much difference in the emotions that defined their actions themselves.

That’s why Llewellyn believed there must be something inside. There must be a reason why Lorian came to like him.

But.

“…I’m not sure.”

Lorian answered after long deliberation.

An extremely ambiguous answer. Yet Llewellyn wasn’t disappointed. Not because he hadn’t expected anything, but because it was exactly the answer he had anticipated.

“Don’t you remember when it started either?”

“When it started…?”

Hearing those words, Lorian rested her chin on her hand. She stroked her chin with her red prosthetic hand, wrapped her other hand around the elbow of the prosthetic, and rolled her eyes.

Her red pupils, directed at the distant void, blinked as she sorted through her past.

When she first met Llewellyn.

“At first… I didn’t dislike you. You were strong and confident. I liked that. But that was all.”

That would make sense. Accordingly, even after being cursed and having her body changed, Lorian quickly adapted and didn’t pursue Llewellyn to kill him.

If she hadn’t been convinced that continuing the fight was impossible after having her arm cut off by the Star Blade, the outcome would have been obvious.

To that extent, Lorian wasn’t the type to let personal feelings interfere with her work.

Perhaps the fondness she harbored wasn’t enough to compromise her work.

Naturally, her memory turned to their next meeting—the fierce battle they fought against the maddened dragon.

The temporary alliance and the demonstration of the Father’s power.

“Was it then?”

“…No, I don’t think so.”

Of course, showing the Father’s power had a significant impact. It had given Lorian the option to “side with the blood bag and act for the glory of the blood kin.”

The proof of that power, that path, that qualification had undeniably led Lorian and given her a favorable impression.

But anyone could tell that wasn’t enough for Lorian to say she had come to like Llewellyn.

Around that time, Llewellyn raised himself from Lorian’s lap. Though their seated heights differed, the difference wasn’t great since Lorian was kneeling.

“Why don’t you lie down a bit longer? Your head must hurt and you must be dizzy.”

“It’s fine. This is important.”

Lorian’s lips quivered at the vague discomfort rising from somewhere, but she didn’t argue.

She too was beginning to realize something was strange. As Llewellyn slightly lowered his eyes, he touched around his neck.

There were no fang marks left. But a slight pain remained, allowing him to know where he had been bitten.

“Did you come to like me when you first sucked my blood?”

“…That, well, I don’t think so.”

The answer was peculiar. It was because she herself couldn’t be certain.

Indeed, as she recalled her memories, something seemed strange.

When she first drank his blood, she strangely harbored some kind of desire for Llewellyn.

It wasn’t the emotion one would feel toward a blood bag with utility value, nor was it the emotion one would feel toward a blood bag whose blood tasted especially delicious.

It was neither. Then when exactly?

Lorian and Llewellyn silently retraced their memories.

When they fought together? No, that wasn’t it.

Hertol’s sudden change? No, that wasn’t it either. It wasn’t that kind of situation.

Then was it this time?

Or that time?

The more they slowly traced back, something became clearer. Lorian’s already pale face grew even more pallid, and Llewellyn lowered his eyes with an uncomfortable expression.

“Thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have known.”

Lorian couldn’t boast as usual at the words of gratitude. Because she too had implicitly sensed the gravity of the situation.

And it was something they couldn’t have known until now.

No human doesn’t want to be loved. Few humans question why others love them unconditionally.

Partly because it’s embarrassing to ask, but also because asking such things lacks mood.

How many humans would answer honestly if asked anyway?

Even Isla was like that. When Llewellyn asked, when he said she might have been manipulated into liking him because of the Father’s gene.

Isla replied that she still liked him, asking if he disliked her liking him.

Llewellyn didn’t know how to respond with “Yes, I do dislike it.”

The boy who was once Yoon Sejin was someone who didn’t know how to reject confessions, someone who was rather starved for affection.

So he had no choice but to accept it.

But thinking about it, it was clearly strange.

Excluding Melody, who had less resistance to humans and came to like him like an imprinting effect, and his sister who might have harbored feelings from the distant past, the emotions others held were not normal.

Perhaps that’s why a chill ran down Llewellyn’s spine as he realized.

Llewellyn vaguely understood.

The Father’s gene doesn’t just help create an initial favorable impression.

Whether this is the power of the “Father” or the “Mother” is unknown.

But that favorable impression grows like a rolling snowball. It clouds reason and tilts emotions toward Llewellyn.

Preventing not only logical judgment but even questioning those emotions.

“…Is there a way to resist?”

Lorian muttered without realizing it herself. Does it make sense to be wary of harboring favorable feelings?

If one is wary, can those feelings be pushed away accordingly?

Then should one dislike him? It was obvious that trying to dislike him by finding reasons would backfire.

If one starts observing to find excuses to dislike him, they would fall in without recourse.

Lorian knew this. She, who had observed him with doubt about his qualifications and wariness, had declared herself Llewellyn’s concubine and come to like him.

She looked at Llewellyn with a pale face. Feeling something warm stirring inside her as soon as she looked at him, she frowned and bit her lip.

Naturally, one question arose.

What kind of being possesses such power, such genes?

For what purpose?

For what purpose does the power to receive unconditional and unlimited love exist?

Neither Llewellyn nor Lorian knew. Llewellyn merely said with ambiguous words that weren’t even words of caution.

“…I’ll have to be careful.”

Whether there was anything he could be careful about, or whether being careful would solve anything, wasn’t certain.

But that was all Llewellyn could do at his best.

Llewellyn, hiding his uncomfortable feelings, glanced at Lorian as he heard footsteps approaching the room.

Lorian was clutching her head and letting out an incomplete sigh.

She couldn’t help but be confused. Llewellyn felt a faint sense of guilt despite it not being his fault, and looked at the door.

The approaching footsteps lingered in front of the door. Hesitating, taking a deep breath. Then came the voice of the shapeshifter woman, Elize.

“Excuse me, are you not bored?”

Unlike before, her voice was deeply tinged with goodwill.

As Lorian became even more confused, Llewellyn approached the door with a sigh.

Meanwhile, the words were concluding like this:

“If you don’t mind, how about exploring the golem mine together?”