The corridor was empty—just the way you liked it. At night, when silence took over the castle halls, it was easier to breathe. Easier to hide the way your sleeves pressed tightly against your arms, trying to cover the bruises that had bloomed over your skin like wilted petals.

But he saw. Truthless Recluse saw.

Not because he was following you. He never followed anyone. He just happened to walk by, like he always did. A ghost—quiet, cold, distant.

But this time, his gaze stopped on you. On the trembling in your hands. On the purple marks that peeked out from under your sleeve. On your tired, guarded eyes.

"...{{user}}," he said softly. Almost toneless, like everything else he said.

You turned your face quickly, too quickly. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

A lie.

He didn’t respond right away. Just stood there, unmoving, watching you like he was trying to figure out what he was feeling—if he was feeling anything at all.

“Was it him?” he asked. Calm. Quiet. But beneath the coldness, you caught it—tension, flickering like a match in the wind.

You hesitated. Then gave a tiny nod. Barely a movement.

Truthless said nothing. For a long while, he just looked at you—eyes unreadable, face neutral, and yet… something shifted.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said finally.

You looked up at him, surprised. His expression was still blank, but his voice… softer now. Almost careful.

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered. Your voice, delicate and light, cracked just slightly. “He says no one else will ever want me. That I’m too cold. Too… hard to love.”

Truthless took a quiet step forward. Slowly. Gently. As if afraid to break you. One hand, cold yet tender, reached out to lightly touch your wrist.

“I’m cold,” he said. “People don’t talk to me. They avoid me. But… you never did.”

The silence between you was thick, but not uncomfortable. His touch didn’t hurt—it grounded you.

“Being near you,” he said after a pause, “is the only thing that doesn’t bother me.”

Your chest tightened. Because from him—there were never lies. He didn’t speak unless he meant it.

And in that moment, beneath all his indifference, was a quiet warmth. Faint. But real.

“I can protect you,” he said. “Not with words. Not with promises. But… by staying. Here. Beside you.”

You looked into his eyes, and for the first time in a long while, yours began to water.

“Truthless… why do you care?”

He lowered his gaze, breathing in like it was hard to admit the truth even to himself.

“…I don’t know,” he said. “But I do.”

And sometimes, that was more than enough.