Morris jolted awake in the dead of night beneath a strange weight.

After dinner, he and Sherlock had returned to their room. Feeling weary, Morris laid a makeshift bedroll on the floor and fell asleep instantly. The day hadn’t been exhausting, but it was rare for him to move this much. Those thugs simply had bad luck—daring to attack the current Pope.

Though Alex had indirectly triggered the incident, only the criminals died. Morris felt no guilt. He’d once sealed an ancient god that wiped out an entire village. Why would a pack of human trash trouble him?

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up groggily, head still fuzzy. As his vision cleared, Sherlock straddled his lower abdomen, face flushed. She licked her fingers, drawing out a glistening strand of saliva, then leaned down—her fair, ample chest nearly visible. Morris froze. His drowsy mind snapped wide awake. Just as he braced defensively, convinced his long-guarded virginity faced peril again—

A rich Arcanum aura mingled with her delicate scent flooded the room. Sensitive as he was, Morris sneezed.

He rubbed his nose, thoughtful.

“Mr. Morris…” Sherlock’s thoughts seemed tangled. She tugged frantically at her clothes. “I’m so… so hot…”

Morris silently pressed a finger to her forehead.

Not feverish.

The door stood slightly ajar.

“You…” Morris sighed and lay back. “Did you sneak out alone?”

“B-Because Mr. Morris was already asleep…” Sherlock struggled weakly with her sleeves, tears welling in frustration. “I didn’t want to bother you…”

So cute. Unexpectedly, utterly adorable.

Watching her flustered state, Morris recalled earlier—her collapsed on him, tear-streaked face complaining endlessly.

She was cutest like this: unguarded, childlike.

“Help me, Mr. Morris!” Seeing him chuckle instead of react, Sherlock panicked. “So hot… really burning up…”

“Stop undressing—you’ll catch cold.” Morris grabbed the blanket, wrapped her snugly, lifted her gently onto the bed, then lay beside her, tucking the blanket close. “This is the Blood Pact’s effect. Staying near each other helps it fade.”

No wonder she’d instinctively climbed onto him.

Uncle Usak likely never imagined this. He probably meant to kidnap Morris as Sherlock’s temporary guard—but now their bond had deepened.

Only her head peeked from the blanket. Sherlock’s breathing slowed. She turned innocent eyes to him. “Mr. Morris… do you like Sherlock?”

Morris’s eyes flew open. The question struck like lightning.

What?! Why was a disoriented Sherlock this devastating? He felt defenseless. Even through the thick blanket, he sensed her soft warmth. Hesitating—

Sherlock let out a soft chuckle. “Sherlock’s… really, really unlikable, right?”

Morris’s pupils tightened. He stayed silent, listening.

“They say Sherlock’s weird… for liking those novels.” Her eyes gleamed. “Mr. Morris… do you truly like *this* Sherlock?”

“Of course,” he smiled, ruffling her hair. “We’re companions. But please—no more Pope fanfiction? I might not survive something… spicier.”

Sherlock parted her lips slightly. She’d read it to spite her fiancé—but hearing him say that, she laughed lightly. “Okay. But in exchange… you’ll come with Sherlock next time we buy those novels?”

“Fine, fine,” Morris sighed. “If I’m there, I’ll stop you from grabbing Pope fanfiction. Promise.”

“Wonderful…” Sherlock gazed at the white ceiling. “Meeting Mr. Morris… really is the best.”

Morris paused. “Wait—you’re engaged. Why is Young Master Bael still so obsessed?”

“Eh… that…” Sherlock hesitated. “I told Bael right after the engagement. But it backfired. He used to smile gently at me. Now… sometimes he gives me a look that’s… terrifying.”

A shiver ran through her. “I’ve always seen him as an older brother. He knows that. But lately… it’s scary.”

Morris patted the blanket around her—quiet comfort.

Night deepened. The Blood Pact’s warmth faded. Sherlock murmured in sleep. Morris yawned, slumping back onto his floor mat—

Then froze.

Something flickered at the edge of his vision.

His eyes sharpened. Something was off.

This area was always peaceful. Why did thieves swarm *today*? How did they know the Ring of Verity was here? Because of that hypocrite Caudos?

And from the thugs breaking in to Bael leaping through the doorway sword-first—why no police? Bael’s knights handled cleanup. He *knew* Usak and Delin, two Artificer Tier wizards, guarded Sherlock. Yet he arrived with only knights—*zero* Arcane Source Wizards.

What did he mean? Did he think he could defeat Brook? With just a lower Artificer Tier rank?

Morris glanced at Sherlock’s sleeping face. *No evidence. Better stay silent.*

He closed his eyes. Drifted into quiet sleep.