"If you don't want to, then forget it," Idris said, ruffling Nahida's hair as she hesitated. "That line was just a joke to teach you a lesson."
"No," Nahida shook her head. "Even if it was a joke, I have to do it."
To her, this was how she'd make amends to Idris for the past. She still remembered his rebuke: her indiscriminate kindness in taking on believers had only split Sumeru further and left him—the Grand Sage—holding more blame. Even if that was over now, finding something she could do to apologize made her happy.
Another reason: a bed pre-warmed by Nahida genuinely restored life and spirit far better than expected. One night in that warmth and your physical and mental recovery doubled. Otherwise, with all the pressure of holding up an entire nation alone, Idris would have been popping pills every day. That he could rebound so well—Nahida truly deserved some credit.
And most of all, after a month of it, she'd… gotten used to the feeling.
So even with her real body back, she flushed—and slipped under his quilt again.
Seeing how determined she was, Idris could only shrug. If she insisted, he had nothing to add.
Meanwhile, the Greater Lord, currently reconstituting her body inside the twig, was dumbfounded.
"Nahida?! What are you doing!"
"I— I'm just warming Grand Sage Idris's bed," Nahida stammered. "He didn't force me. I… I want to."
"Is that so? No wonder you're so practiced at it," Rukkhadevata teased. "Doesn't look like this is your first time under that blanket."
"Please, stop, Elder Lord!"
Face blazing, Nahida curled up as the Greater Lord's gentle ribbing continued.
Satisfied the situation was under control, Idris slipped out to the Irminsul mindscape, checking on the sapling of malice he'd planted as it steadily drew the filth from the other Irminsul. It would be a long process. Until the taint was gone, Sumeru would still see pockets of Withering and cases of Eleazar—just much fewer than before. And even if they did appear, Sumeru now had ways to handle them without a god—and without Idris personally.
Where there is light there must be shadow; sometimes evil and ill will are the whetstones of a nation's mettle—much like Morax leaving Orobashi for Liyue to prove itself.
"Sigh. I really do prefer Liyue," he mused. "Fine—then I'll build Sumeru into another Liyue."
Seeing the Irminsul under control, he returned to himself. Nahida was still under his quilt; feeling him stir, she flushed even deeper.
Idris chuckled and slipped into bed without ceremony.
"Again? Can't you let me out first?" she huffed, glancing at him with burning cheeks.
"Beds are for lying in when you're sleepy," he yawned. "I'm sleepy. So I'm lying down. That okay?"
He promptly dozed off.
Nahida leaned close, listening to his steady breathing, and relaxed. She was about to sneak out like last night… then, staring at that familiar sleeping face, she wavered—and lay down beside him.
"Fine… thank you, for everything," she whispered. "You called me a 'body pillow'? Hmph… then a pillow I'll be. As long as you like it."
Blushing furiously, she settled at his side. At least tonight, she wouldn't run.
Who knew—maybe he'd roll over in his sleep and pull her into his arms.
Perched like a hairpin in Nahida's hair, the Greater Lord chuckled softly.
"Well now, who'd have thought—little Nahida has finally blossomed, and for a human, no less. In that case, you'd better find a way to keep him around longer. Gods outlive men by far. You don't want to face endless partings—especially with him."
"E-Elder Lord!" Nahida protested, face aflame. "I'm only trying to show my gratitude to Grand Sage Idris. He's a blockhead—any 'bad ideas' he has are all for governing the nation. If I'm not proactive, he'll pretend not to see me at all…"
She nestled into the crook of Idris's arm, shame tingling through her. Weeks ago she'd taught Nilou how to "sneak in" and take the initiative. Now it seemed the sneaker… might be herself.
Still, she heard the Greater Lord's reminder clearly. As the god of wisdom and life, she had many ways to extend a lifespan.
(What she didn't know was that Idris's draconic tempering already granted him a very long life…)
The next morning, Idris woke to find Nahida pillowed on his arm and blinked.
"Little Auspicious Princess, you didn't slip out last night?"
"With a certain someone calling me a pillow, what else was I supposed to do?" she huffed, cheeks puffed and pink. "Happy now?"
"Uh?"
He patted her head, stretched—feeling wonderfully restored—and returned to his office to work through memorials, with Nahida trailing him like a dutiful little secretary.
Today's paperwork had a few interesting items. Someone reported that Kaveh of the Rtawahist had spent the entire night circling the giant mech—the God of Justice—and hammering away at it, refusing to rest and pulling an all-nighter to repair it.
As expected: to an architect, a colossal warframe is irresistible.
Other memorials concerned state and Akademiya affairs. Several urged Idris to appoint an elder to head the Alchemy Faction; a faction can't grow without a proper steward. A few of the stodgy old academics he'd recently cowed were clearly waiting for him to stumble: Alchemy was new, true, but it already had hundreds of students—and no recognized leader. Since everyone knew Alchemy would be wildly profitable, the behind-the-scenes struggle for that elder's seat had begun. With so many new faces, picking someone universally respected would be… hard.
They had no idea Idris had already chosen the perfect candidate—one no one could possibly oppose.
By afternoon, as Idris worked, hostile footsteps echoed outside. His door was kicked open again.
Seeing the visitor, Idris smiled broadly. "Well, hello, Doctor. Long time no see."
The Doctor's face was a thundercloud. "I'd have preferred never seeing you again."
He meant it. He'd met Idris three times; each time he'd fallen further behind. The first time, he'd lost a wager, but hadn't felt outmatched. The second time began with him at a disadvantage. The third—seeing Idris's pleased expression—made him curse inwardly.
"If not for the Gnosis, I'd never have come. You treacherous bastard."
He'd never imagined calling someone else "treacherous"; usually that label was reserved—for him.
Idris only smiled. "Treacherous? I don't particularly mind the word, but let me be clear: I've never broken our deal. You made the first move. As for the Balladeer, I removed him for your sake. You called him a defector, didn't you? I took care of your stray dog. You might at least say thanks."
"I'm not here to squabble," the Doctor snapped. "Snezhnaya won't pursue the Balladeer's death. I'm here for what we agreed upon—the Gnosis."
"Here." Idris tossed him the Raiden Shogun's Gnosis. He'd used it; keeping it now would only invite trouble—and the trade was the trade.
The Doctor examined the crystalline core, confirmed the flow was intact, and exhaled. Then his gaze sharpened.
"And the other Gnosis?" he asked.
Idris's mouth curved into a playful smile.
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