Slyvestor, who came up to the floor where Irene's room was, tapped the door weakly.
Knock, knock.
"Irene, are you sleeping?"
Slyvestor whispered in a low voice to the door.
"Can I come in?"
He couldn't hear a sound from the room as she was still sleeping.
"I'm going in..."
Slyvestor, who asked once more, turned the door knob and opened the door.
Kiik—
With a small noise, Slyvestor tucked himself into the slightly open gap.
When he came inside, there was a white blanket protruding over a large bed.
Slyvestor blinked and approached the bed.
"Irene—."
Again, he called Irene in a low voice.
Irene was asleep, breathing colorfully, without moving.
Slyvestor, who thought he shouldn't wake Irene up early in the morning, sat down on the floor.
Then he put his arms and chin on the bed and leaned his face.
"......."
Sylvester stared at Irene, who was sleeping with a face that was obvious she slept late.
white hair was scattered randomly over the white blanket, and Slyvestor's favorite, cloudy eyes, was hidden inside her soft eyelids.
Sylvester's gaze was fixed on Irene's white cheek before he knew it.
Then he turned his head around like a person who had been stabbed and looked around.
Of course, they were the only ones in her room.
Sylvester gulped down and slowly brought his finger towards Irene's cheek.
Poke–
Her soft cheek touched Sylvester's fingertips.
At the same time, her cheeks were dented.
"Ung–"
Irene must have felt itchy, so she struggled a bit.
Sylvester drew his finger towards him, startled by Irene's reaction. He fiddled with his fingers that touched Irene's cheek with a contemplating face.
Sylvester's heart thumped like a man who did something he shouldn't have. However, contrary to his guilty mind, it was a very addictive touch.
Sylvester poked Irene's cheek again, even though he thought he shouldn't do this.
Like that, Sylvester poked Irene on the cheek until just before she woke up. About 20 times.
When I opened my eyes, Sylvester's face was in front of me. I thought it was a dream.
the servant gave Sylvester something to eat, there was a small cookie in his hand.
I'm sure it was my maid, Sarah, who handed it over.
Sarah was always trying to feed Sylvester something. The little cookie went right into his little mouth, making a crunching sound.
"Irene, do you want some?"
Sylvester asked me as if he thought the reason I was looking at him was because of the cookie sticking out of the bag containing the cookies.
"Go on and eat a lot."
Sylvester was willing to give everything I asks for.
I wipe Sylvester's mouth with a handkerchief.
"Let's eat it all and have lunch together."
"Yes!"
