"I'd like to chat with you for a bit," Alice said, offering a gentle smile.
Even though Mara couldn't see her eyes behind the bandage that covered them, she could feel a warm, caring gaze directed at her, as if Alice were truly seeing her through the cloth
"Of course," Mara replied as she finished the last bite of the stew, still savoring the warm aftertaste it left on her tongue.
"Mordred told me how you two met," Alice said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and making a gentle gesture for her to come closer.
"And I know it may not seem like it, judging by her attitude… but she's genuinely worried about you," added the blindfolded woman.
Mara let herself go and sat beside her, feeling the mattress give slightly under their combined weight.
"You know," Alice continued, "years ago, I was alone and lost too. Back then, there was no one who reached out a hand to help me… those were such difficult years that I even wondered if it was worth going on living," she confessed, her voice tinged with a nostalgia that seemed to rise from deep within.
The sudden honesty of the older woman caught Mara off guard. She hadn't expected that kind of vulnerability—especially not from someone she had only just met.
"But you know what?" Alice went on. "I'm glad I didn't end my life." Before Mara could react, she felt a warm hand rest on her head, with a tenderness that almost made her shiver. "What I'm trying to say is that even when it feels like all there is in this world is misery… in the end, there's always a glimmer of light amid so much darkness."
Alice slowly withdrew her hand and brought her fingers to the blindfold covering her eyes, as if recalling something only she could see.
Mara remained silent. Alice's words had opened a door she had chosen to keep closed for her own sake: her past life.
She had no family.
She had no friends.
She had no partner.
She had no money.
She had… nothing.
Everything had been a vast exercise in meaninglessness. A gray cycle of empty days. She had been a nobody, and nothing had mattered. Not him, not his life, not his suffering. Absolutely nothing.
Without realizing it, hot tears began to slide down her cheeks.
They weren't tears of sharp sorrow, but of that familiar emptiness—of a weight finally given a name.
Alice noticed immediately.
"Oh, dear…" she whispered, and without another word, opened her arms and pulled her into an embrace.
It was warm. Soft, thanks to the generous breasts she now found herself pressed against.
It felt good—not just because of the softness of the skin she could almost feel against her face, but because of the clean, comforting scent of roses that emanated from Alice.
In her past life, she had never received a hug like this.
Not even from her own mother.
"Sweetheart," Alice's voice cut through her thoughts, gentle yet firm. "If you don't have anywhere to go… you can stay here. I'll take care of you."
She rested her head against Mara's, cradling her with a naturalness that felt almost otherworldly.
I wish I could stay like this forever,Mara thought, closing her eyes and letting the moment stretch on, as the world outside seemed to fade away—at least for now.
Being buried between her generous breasts, combined with the recent emotional overflow of her tears, had created a heavy, intimate, and strangely electrifying atmosphere for her.
I think I'll try to give her a kiss as thanks, she thought, before slowly lifting her head from the soft refuge of Alice's cleavage.
With the intention of placing an innocent kiss on her cheek, she leaned in.
But at that very moment, Alice tilted her head slightly, as if adjusting her position, and instead of her cheek, Mara's lips met hers.
It was a soft, accidental contact—but immediate.
Mara held her breath, expecting a startled reaction or annoyance for having ruined the moment.
The reaction was the complete opposite.
When they parted, there was no anger on Alice's face. A playful smile, almost like an audible whisper, curved her lips.
"Fufufufu… Oh, dear, I didn't think you were so bold," she murmured, her voice a warm, conspiratorial thread. "But if doing this lifts your spirits… I'll gladly do it."
And before Mara could process it or apologize, Alice closed the distance again. This time it wasn't an accident. It was a deliberate kiss—slow at first, then surer, passionate in its surrender.
And then, there, with the taste of roses and comfort lingering on her lips, Mara could no longer hold herself back.