Becoming the Guide of the Mysophobic Villain? Absolutely Not! - Chapter 158
I tried to persuade Claude.
“Isn’t it strange? Lord Claude, you were originally unable to receive normal guiding. It’s odd that guiding worked. We need to check properly again—”
“It was a mistake, and you’re my Guide. There’s no reason for me to be guided by another Guide, so why do we need to check?”
Claude was more sensitive and sharp in his response than I expected, cutting off my attempt to persuade him.
I went silent, and Claude sighed.
“Rose, I’m…”
“I’m sorry. I was wrong, so don’t be angry…”
“I’m not angry.”
“But you looked really scary just now…”
“…I was born with this face.”
Claude sighed and rubbed his face roughly with his hands, but his tense expression did not easily relax.
Normally he might give in, but he seemed really opposed to it, not readily agreeing.
After a fierce inner struggle, Claude finally capitulated.
“…Fine.”
“Um, Claude, what about my opinion?”
“Just once.”
“Hey, I never said I’d agree.”
Regardless of Oscar’s complaints, Claude took off one of his gloves.
Claude approached Oscar with heavy steps. Oscar turned pale and started to back away.
“Hey, who said it’s okay to receive guiding without the Guide’s consent. Is my word just air and yours law? Isn’t everything good between you and that mouse bean thanks to me? Ungrateful…”
“…I told you not to call me mouse bean.”
“Damn it…!”
Oscar looked frustrated. Claude looked even more so.
His jaw clenched so hard that muscles popped out, veins stood out on his hand from the force he was exerting, and his eyes, more fitting for a prisoner facing torture than an Esper about to receive guiding, were bloodshot.
…It almost reminded me of the day he nearly forced a kiss on Oscar.
“Let’s end this quickly since we’re both disgusted by this.”
“Hey! If we both don’t want to do it, we don’t have to do it! Why do we have to be swept up by that mouse bean brat!”
“It’s not mouse bean. Her name is Rose.”
“Whatever! Ah!”
Claude’s bare hand grabbed Oscar’s wrist. Claude’s eyes squeezed shut.
And then…
1… 2… 3…
Three seconds. Claude lasted only three seconds.
After those three seconds, Claude…
“Aaah! My arm! I think my shoulder’s dislocated!”
…flung Oscar’s hand away.
Oscar, cradling the arm that was thrown, howled in pain.
Ignoring Oscar behind him, I looked up at Claude with unease.
Claude’s reaction was not normal.
He seemed not to be in pain, but… maybe not?
His face, as pale as a corpse, was tightly closed, resembling someone suffering from a terrible hangover or nausea.
Most of all… he held one hand awkwardly like a chicken’s curled claw.
…What kind of reaction is that?
“Are you okay, Lord Claude…?”
“…Ugh.”
Claude covered his mouth with his other hand and suddenly started to heave.
“Are you okay?”
I cautiously approached, then hesitated as he stepped back, avoiding me.
Struggling to suppress the rising nausea, Claude was a picture of struggle, one hand still awkwardly held up.
Watching Claude fight this battle alone…
“Did you receive guiding?”
I couldn’t hold back any longer and pressed for an answer.
“You did, didn’t you?”
“…”
“Could you describe it? So I can understand what it felt like!”
“Why do you need to know?”
His red eyes glared at me.
Claude was furious. It seemed he was quite upset about being forced to touch Oscar because of me.
Facing Claude’s anger directly for the first time in a while, I was flustered, but…
“Oh, come on… It’s not that hard. You’re good at everything, Lord Claude. Just do what I do when we eat together. Remember when I described the dessert with cotton candy on top as ‘the texture like snowflakes falling in a sugar land’?”
“…”
“I described it that way because you don’t find joy in the taste of food, so I wanted to share my joy with you. That feeling of wanting to share the happiness I feel so the other person can understand… You know what I mean.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Then you must not love me all that much.”
At that, Claude looked truly enraged, so I promptly shut my mouth.
But as I kept whining like a needy puppy, eventually Claude gave in.
“Like syrup poured on…”
I gasped.
“Oh my gosh, syrup?”
“…boiled petroleum.”
Having finished speaking, Claude looked utterly defeated, as if reality had just hit him.
