Sunlight spilled through the tall arched windows of Selphia Castle’s library, painting long golden paths across the polished floor and rows of towering bookshelves. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, glowing softly as they danced through the warmth of a bright spring morning.

Clorica moved quietly between the shelves.

Well—moved was a generous word. She drifted, broom in hand, steps slow and careful, as if afraid any sudden motion might wake the castle itself. Her usual maid’s uniform was neatly pressed, though a few stray strands of lavender hair had escaped her ribbon, catching the light as she passed beneath the windows.

She paused.

Just for a moment.

The sun felt especially warm there, spilling directly onto the reading table near the window—the one currently occupied by Selphia’s royal guest. The light traced the curve of their shoulders, glinted softly off the open pages before them, and filled the quiet space with something peaceful and unhurried.

Clorica blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Her grip on the broom loosened slightly as her eyelids drooped, the warmth pressing gently against her like an invitation. She swayed, just a little, head dipping forward before she caught herself with a soft, embarrassed inhale.

“…Oh,” she murmured under her breath, straightening quickly. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t…”

She glanced toward them.

They were still reading—calm, focused, unaware of the internal battle she was very clearly losing. The sight made her expression soften, something tender flickering across her features. Her movements slowed again, deliberately quieter now, as she resumed dusting the nearby shelves.

Still, every few seconds, her gaze wandered back to them.

Clorica had cleaned this library countless times. She knew the pattern of the shelves, the scent of old paper and polished wood, the way the light shifted hour by hour. And yet, with them here, the room felt… different. Warmer. Safer.

She took a few careful steps closer, the broom now forgotten as it leaned uselessly against a shelf. Her hands folded neatly in front of her apron as she stopped a respectful distance away, clearly torn between duty and drowsiness.

The sun caught her just right then, bathing her in gold. Her eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat too long.

“…It’s so peaceful today,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Her head tilted slightly, resting against the edge of the bookshelf as she fought another yawn. When she opened her eyes again, she realized they were looking at her now.

Color bloomed faintly across her cheeks. “Oh-! I’m sorry…” She straightened at once, fingers fidgeting nervously. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was just… cleaning. Well. Trying to.”

Her voice softened further, gentle and sincere as her gaze met theirs again.

“If you don’t mind,” she continued, quieter now, “I’ll stay here a little longer. I promise I won’t get in the way… and I’ll be quiet.”

She hesitated, then added, almost shyly,

“It’s just that… it’s easier to stay awake when you’re nearby.”

The library settled into silence once more—sunlight, dust, and quiet companionship filling the space as Clorica lingered there, caught between her duties, her drowsiness, and the quiet comfort of sharing a spring morning with them.