World's Best Protagonist [BL]-Chapter 105: Sharing a Room Together

Dinner was simple, but warm—potatoes roasted with herbs, stew with carrots and turnips, and fresh bread baked that morning. I craved rice, but when I asked, the parents exchanged confused glances.

Claude pinned his gaze on me, silently telling me not to be picky with the food served, but I just knew, inside him, he was screaming because the food was so bland.

Emil’s parents insisted on second helpings, despite Claude’s insistence that they didn’t need to go to the trouble. I marveled when the mother insisted and witnessed the captain force-feed himself.

Emil sat beside me the whole time, his eyes still wide from everything that had happened, but calmer now, occasionally glancing at Claude with a kind of nervous awe.

Claude didn’t speak much. Just listened to the parents and me talk. Watched us with blank eyes, especially me, while eating in silence.

I tried not to, but I kept sneaking glances at him.

When dinner was over, Emil’s mother smiled and led us to the back of the house. It was a small, single-room extension that must’ve once been used for storage, cleaned and prepared in a rush.

A modest bed was tucked against the far wall, next to a small cabinet. There was a lone table and chair under the window, and a brass lamp on top flickering with warm light.

The air inside was a little dusty, quiet, and still.

The kind of space that felt familiar. I was reminded of my old studio apartment during college. It was mostly dusty because I rarely cleaned, being busy from part-time gigs and studying. But look at the world now, all those hardships mean nothing.

I sighed. Another place that this space reminded me of was the captain’s room. Almost empty, and only the bare necessities exist.

I wondered if he’d actually sleep better here than in the soft sheets of his estate. Maybe. Since this isn’t a prison, unlike his Sanctum.

There was only one problem.

The bed wasn’t as big as the one in his Sanctum. Not nearly. One of us would have to sleep elsewhere. But the only space vacant is the cold floor. I turned to Claude, who was talking to the father of the house.

After they were finished, he stepped in. The father nodded at me and closed the door, bidding us goodnight.

Once we were left alone, I decided to bring it up—maybe offer the bed to him—but Claude was already moving. He opened the cabinet and pulled out a couple of folded blankets, then tossed one at me without a word.

"Oof." I blinked, catching it against my chest.

He said nothing and just took the second blanket, spread it neatly on the floor beside the bed, then set his sword down within arm’s reach and sat against the wall. His movements were precise, quiet, and detached.

As if he weren’t with someone. Like I’m just a fucking ghost, or air, or whatever he doesn’t see or hear. How long are we going to be like this? Is he mad because I touched him without permission? I was only worried, but look what I got.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes for a moment. Then, when I opened them, I talked to him.

"You should take the bed."

There was no answer. Fuck him. What does he want me to do?!

"Captain, seriously—" I stopped. I just gazed at his motionless body and exhaled, long and slow. I felt something snap inside me.

Why was I even trying?

What was I expecting? That if I was nice enough, polite enough, agreeable enough, he’d suddenly stop hating me?

It hit me then—that I’d been tiptoeing around him this whole time. That some part of me had been trying to earn his approval, his friendship, anything—and I was being ridiculous.

I looked away. Tossed the blanket across the bed and lay down stiffly.

Fine.

I’m not going to care about him anymore. If he doesn’t want to talk, he can sew his mouth shut for all I care. I’m not going to utter a single word toward him again.

Or at least... that’s what I told myself.

But damn it, I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the wall for what felt like hours. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his expression when I called his name for the first time. He was shocked, but there was a gleam in his eyes, like glee, or something like that.

Is that the face of someone who doesn’t like me? Whose eyes would shine if I just called his name once?

I shifted.

Behind me, I could hear Claude’s even breathing—but I knew he wasn’t asleep.

He hadn’t even lain down. Just sat there with his back to the wall, still and composed, like he was keeping watch on a battlefield instead of a village.

His sword was right there. So was I.

I turned my back on him.

My throat was tight before the words even left my mouth.

"...Did you mean it?"

There was a long pause. Would it kill him if he answered?

I waited, but there was still no response. I sighed again, this time, I swore I’m going to stop reaching out.

However, a long while had passed, and he still did not speak. I’m certain he isn’t asleep yet, and he still has not bothered to utter even a period.

I let out a small laugh under my breath. I was a bit surprised because it sounded so bitter.

"You must’ve meant it," I murmured. "You won’t even talk to me anymore."

More silence. Then a rustle—just a shift of weight, barely audible.

"...What do you mean?"

I froze. He finally spoke. His voice wasn’t cold. Just confused. And somehow, that made it worse. What was he confused about? Has he forgotten what he did all day long?

I stayed facing the wall. My voice, when I spoke again, was soft. Hollow.

"You said you don’t like me. And now you’re avoiding me like I’m some annoying burden. You won’t talk. You won’t even look at me."

I swallowed. The flickering lamp cast our shadows long against the wooden walls. I wasn’t being myself. I’m aware I’m treading on a path of no return, yet I couldn’t stop my lips from speaking.

"Did I do something?" I asked, quieter now. This isn’t like me. The old Jade would directly question him, face to face. "Or is that just how you really feel?"

"... Did it bother you?"

Just like him, it took me a few minutes to reply.

"Yes."

Silence reigned between us.

Then, "Why?"

I bit my lip. Why, you asked? I’m still not sure, but I was almost there. I took a deep breath, as if gathering courage to answer that simple question. Then, hastily, I whirled around, meeting his eyes that shocked me for a bit after I realized that he had been staring at the back of my head.

"Who would like it when someone they thought was a friend actually hates them?"

"I don’t hate you."

"You told me you don’t like me—"

"Yeah."

My forehead creased. He admitted it. But just when I was ready to flick his forehead with my fingers, he continued.

"I don’t like you with anyone else."

My jaw dropped.

Claude looked me straight in the eyes like he hadn’t just said something astonishing. As if it weren’t the emotional equivalent of setting off a bomb in a room full of sensitive wiring.

I opened my mouth. Closed it, and then opened it again like a fish out of water. My eyes widened like a fish, too, unblinking, bulging, but not dead.

I felt a mixture of emotions, and there was not enough space in my chest to hold them. Confusion. Shock. A ridiculous flicker of hope.

And then—suspicion. What the hell did he mean by that? Was he being literal? Metaphorical? Possessive? Conflicted? Honest?

Did he say it because he was jealous...but of what or who exactly? Or just because he saw me as his possession? Did he mean it romantically... or was this some weird, territorial thing between comrades?

I sat up on the bed, heart thundering like someone had slammed a war drum against my ribs.

"You—what—what did you just say?" I asked, hating how my voice came out breathless and unsure.

Claude didn’t repeat himself. He just sat there like he always did, cool and quiet, eyes never betraying what he really thought. Only this time, his gaze lingered on me longer than usual. I hated the fact that he was unperturbed after throwing me off like that.

He still had that impassive look, but his eyes were no longer coldly glaring at me. Here I am, flustered and everything, yet there he was, just...just observing my reaction.

After a while, he shifted in his seat. From leaning on the wall, he was now leaning forward to the bed, his elbow propped up on the surface while his head inclined upward a little higher. He was closer to me.

He gazed at me differently this time. Like he wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

"What is it?!"

Yeah. I just lost my patience waiting any longer. I wanted to hear it, right here, right now.