TECS 36

Chapter 36

There was a knock.
When I opened the door, Lord Roland was standing there.
His bangs were at the “sleep-deprived angle,” tilted 0.7°.
(Cute.)
But before I could press that “cute” into my thoughts, something deep in my chest stepped forward.

“Good morning. Thank you for the stars last night.”

“Yeah… sorry. —Here.”

He handed me a three-line “Good morning.”
At line two, my heartbeat suddenly dropped.
“You were happy to seek uncertainty.”
Not a denial, not an evaluation—just acceptance.

“You’re cute.”

“You’re the only one who manages your weak spots yourself.”

We laughed softly together, and the morning tension faded.
Sharing the steam of our drinks, I searched for my own words.

“Lord Roland… it was I who said the stars alone were enough.
Last night, I wanted words, but I couldn’t allow myself.”

“Couldn’t allow yourself?”

“I hate ‘uncertainty I can’t control,’ so I set a ‘signal I can measure,’
but I hated myself for finding that signal insufficient.
I was confused about wanting your feelings for myself.”

Putting it into words felt pathetic.
But if I didn’t say it—we would misunderstand each other.

Lord Roland set down his cup and nodded quietly.
“Let’s have a quiet clash here.”

“Quiet…”

“Yes. No raising our voices. No forgetting the signal.
We’ll clash your ‘don’t like’ and my ‘want to’ in three lines.”

He placed two cards on the table.
One for me, one for himself.

Quiet Clash – Three Lines (Iris)

1. A night with only stars was lonely

2. But I made the star rules

3. Tonight— I want words (even knowing it’s contradictory)

Quiet Clash – Three Lines (Roland)

1. I kept it star-only to make it home alive

2. I wanted to respect your rules

3. Tonight— I’ll prepare words and make it home alive

Perhaps this was enough.
My “don’t like” and his “want to” were facing the same direction.

Even so, somewhere deep in my chest, a small ache remained.
(I said I wanted it. Then I need to step into the unmeasurable.)

“Lord Roland.”

“Yes?”

“—Not ‘may I hug you?’ but please hug me.”
My voice trembled slightly.
“Not as a ‘confirmation technique,’ but as an ‘impulse.’”

Relief shimmered in his eyes.
The next moment, his quiet arms wrapped around me.
The scent was light, the warmth sufficient.
At the moist center, my heartbeat settled into a rhythm usable in daily life.

“Iris.”

“Yes.”

“I respect that you hate ‘uncertainty you can’t control.’
Because you use it to avoid hurting anyone.
But if you seek uncertainty from me, I’ll improve every day, even while failing.”

“Fail…?”

“Nights when I could only send stars. Nights when words can’t catch up.
—Every time, I’ll return and wait, continuing by your side.
Let your fear sit in a chair that’s okay to leave behind.”

Something unraveled deep in my chest.
(Unmeasurable, yet warm. This is what I’ll call an embrace.)

“What about the self-report section?”

Saying it while embracing might be ridiculous.
Yet, we never forget the skin of comedy.

He laughed and wrote on the card across his back.

(Embrace cute (silent))

“The classification is gentle.”

“Because it’s for you.”

I wrote on mine between breaths.

(Uncertainty tolerated (slight))

“…Slight?”

“Yes. Going to the maximum suddenly is dangerous. Start with a dosage usable in daily life.”

We laughed together and loosened the hug just a little.
Morning light streamed in, and the sunlit warmth grew.