After dinner, Orson continued tutoring Litte, helping him review his study material. As they say, sharpening your blade right before battle can still make a difference. While Litte wasn’t exactly cramming, a quick refresher never hurt.
Before long, it was 9 p.m. Orson glanced at the clock and said, “Litte, it’s about time. You should get some sleep.”
“Huh? S-sleep?” Litte’s eyes spun in circles, her mind racing. “Orson, do you mean... um...”
“Yeah, who’s taking a bath first—you or me?”
“U-uh, you go first, Orson! I’ll read a little more before bed.”
“Alright.” Orson nodded and headed into the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Litte started feeling anxious.
Although she had been looking forward to sharing a bed with Orson, now that the moment had arrived, she realized there were a lot of problems.
If she changed into loose-fitting sleepwear, it might expose her chest area. If Orson saw the binding bandages, how could she possibly explain it?
Even if she stayed in her shirt, what if her poor sleeping posture caused her clothes to shift, revealing her secret?
She absolutely couldn’t let Orson discover that she was actually a girl.
Litte began brainstorming solutions.
Oh, that’s it—she just wouldn’t sleep!
If she stayed awake all night, Orson would never find out her secret.
Having made up her mind, Litte nodded firmly to herself. Tonight, she would pull an all-nighter.
—
An hour later, Orson was lying on one side of the bed, reading a book. On the other side, Litte was also lying down, pretending to read.
“You know, Orson... if you’re tired, you can go ahead and sleep. It’s fine,” Litte said in a small voice.
“I’m fine. But, Litte, you’ve got an exam tomorrow. You should get some rest. If you don’t, it might affect your performance.”
“Alright, then.” Litte nodded, placing her book on the bedside table and curling up under the blanket, closing her eyes.
If push came to shove, she’d just pretend to sleep!
—
Half an hour later, Orson glanced at Litte, who was tossing and turning.
“Litte, if you can’t sleep, you can talk to me.”
The only response Orson received was the steady rhythm of Litte’s breathing.
Seeing that this kid was still pretending to sleep, Orson couldn’t help but chuckle.
Did he forget how I knocked him unconscious in the forest back then?
With a slight tap of his fingertip and a softly murmured incantation, Orson cast a sleep spell on Litte.
Litte, who had been stubbornly competing with Orson to see who could stay awake longer, suddenly felt a wave of drowsiness wash over her. Her closed eyes refused to open again.
“And that’s why little brothers will always be little brothers.” Watching Litte finally fall into a deep sleep, Orson sighed quietly.
This spell only worked on those significantly weaker than the caster and completely unguarded. Fortunately, Litte had always trusted Orson completely, allowing him to efficiently and quickly “lull” him to sleep.
Afterward, Orson turned off the room’s lights and fell into his own slumber.
—
Orson had a strange dream.
In the dream, he found himself in a dimly lit room, tied to a bed. His mouth was gagged, preventing him from calling for help.
He struggled but couldn’t free himself. His magic also seemed useless.
It felt like he was experiencing sleep paralysis.
Suddenly, the sound of a door creaking broke the silence, and light poured into the room.
A blurry figure appeared before him. Then, the lights in the room flickered on, and he could see the figure clearly.
It was Litte.
Or rather, it looked like Litte... but something was off.
Litte was supposed to be a boy, yet the “Litte” in front of him had a chest!
Though not particularly large, it was unmistakable, accentuated by the gothic-style black dress she wore.
What the hell? A girl with Litte’s face?
Was this some kind of monster that stole people’s faces?
The figure began to speak.
“Brother Orson...” Litte said softly, walking over to the bed where Orson was bound.
Orson tried to respond, but all he could manage were muffled sounds through the gag.
“Oh, I forgot—I stuffed your mouth with stockings earlier. Sorry about that. Let me take it out,” Litte said, reaching toward Orson’s face before hesitating and pulling her hand back.
“No, if I take it out, you’ll tell me to let you go,” she said, leaning closer. Her gaze was filled with an unsettling, almost obsessive adoration.
“Orson, you’re so mean. You know I can’t refuse you, so I had to gag you... and yet you still make me feel this way.”
“Hehe, Brother Orson, I’ve already claimed the title of Duke. Everyone who stood in the way of us being together... I’ve killed them all,” Litte said, her tone still affectionate but now tinged with a chilling madness.
“No one can stop us from being together anymore, Brother Orson. From now on, we’ll always, always be together.”
Litte climbed onto the bed, straddling Orson. “There’s nothing standing between us now, Brother Orson...”
“When you’re hungry, I’ll cook for you. When you’re tired, I’ll hold you while you sleep. And when you have desires, I’ll be the one to fulfill them...”
“Now, let’s become one, completely and utterly...” Litte whispered as her hands moved to undo Orson’s pants.
“Hehe... Brother Orson...”
At that moment, Orson jolted awake.
The familiar ceiling of the inn came into view, and he let out a sigh of relief.
Turning his head, he saw Litte still peacefully asleep beside him. Despite the bed’s ample size, Litte had somehow ended up curled tightly against him.
He distinctly remembered Litte going to sleep far away from him the night before...
Whatever. It was just a dream.
Orson rubbed his temples, headache setting in.
Even though it was just a dream, it had been... well, a spring dream. And being interrupted at that moment left him feeling frustrated.
Not only did he have no idea what might’ve happened next, but he also didn’t get to see anything worth seeing.
What a waste.
Shaking his head furiously, Orson slapped his cheeks.
What the hell am I thinking?
Orson, you were fantasizing about Litte—your little brother, for crying out loud!
Worse still, Litte is actually a boy!
Not only did I fantasize about Litte, but I even changed his gender in the process? What the hell is wrong with me?
You’re a beast, Orson. No, worse than a beast. You’re trash. Absolute scum!
After thoroughly berating himself internally, Orson finally managed to calm down.
He glanced at the clock—it was already 7 a.m.
With only two hours until the entrance exam, Orson gently shook Litte, who was nestled against him.
“Litte, Litte?”
Orson called his name softly.