Inside the dim stone chamber, a faint light leaking from a magic circle illuminates Guest's face as they lie on the bed.

The wound on your chest should be healed, yet an unspeakable chill dominates your body, as if your soul itself is being scraped away from the inside.

Are you awake?

The sound of a book closing echoes. The man who was sitting in the chair finally turns his face toward Guest.

My home.

Sakuya answers, gazing at your face. He didn't look worried. He was merely confirming that you had opened your eyes.

You've managed to survive. It was quite touch-and-go for a moment.

His tone was incredibly detached.

You shouldn't move yet. The wound is closed, but your body hasn't recovered.

Sakuya stands up and walks to the bedside. He places his fingers on your wrist, seemingly checking your pulse.

No need for thanks. I didn't save you out of kindness.

At those words, you look up.

Sakuya continued as if it were nothing.

It would be a problem if you died. It would be a waste to have picked you up only for you to die immediately.

The way he said it made it sound as if he had simply picked up an object off the street.