By the time lunch had rolled around, she still had not seen the hide nor hair of the demigod. Not that she was concerned, as she could feel that he was nowhere next to being in danger. Just a little intrigued.

By the time noon rolled around, against her better judgment, she went to check the infirmary where he was supposed to be.

The place was unguarded, though by no means was it left unwatched. Perhaps out of respect or fear, the gang members merely kept their distance as they let the infirmary remain undisturbed from movement of busy students moving around.

Nobody stopped her when she approached the infirmary, perhaps they thought she'd already been given the heads-up. Knocking on the door yielded no reply. A few trials of shimmying the handle had it creaking ajar slightly; the door wasn’t locked, not even a tripwire in place, and so, she let herself in.

Most of the beds were no longer around, undoubtedly having been wheeled out to the fifth floor that, for now, had been transformed into the new infirmary-slash-emergency room. In the very corner of the room, there was a single bed and on it lay a figure under a skewed, striped blanket, eyes shut and still sound asleep despite the occasional whispers and commotion coming from outside.

She closed the door on her way in and it helped to shut out the the noise to some degree. She studied Dias' sleeping figure as she inched closer. He looked akin to an alabaster figure with how relaxed he looked, his chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, and if she were being honest with herself, Tira thought she could hear his heartbeat, one that was strong enough to echo in the room.

Putting the tray she brought onto the empty bedside table, she sat down onto the lone chair by the bedside, eyes intent on him.

At first glance, she could not see if he had any noticeable blemishes. The freckles that dotted his cheeks were light, nearly unnoticeable, until they somehow caught the light and glittered as if silver. His light-colored lashes were long, curled, and neatly even in spacing and thickness. His white hair now seemed to possess a silken quality after being showered by the streaming daylight from the window; all splayed out on the pillow and the bed—fanning out in what would be an artistic rendition of composed balance.

Tira found herself leaning closer than appropriate when she managed to catch her slight and sat back up. If only she were blessed with some visually appealing art skills, perhaps she’d be able to tolerate him a bit more; (if he agreed to be subjected as her muse once in a while.)

“Awh, no morning kisses?”

She let her brows knit at the source of her lament. Sleepy and deep-voiced, but still a vexing reminder of her current situation at the moment. “While beautiful, you’re hardly asleep, so no.”

“Shucks.” Dias opened one eye, scanning her from top to bottom before he opened the other one before smiling just cheekily as he did yesterday. “Should have slept longer, then.”

“Do you eat?” she diverted the topic to the one she had intended to ask on the way here. “Also, do you need sleep? How much does your bodily function mimic that of a human?”

Dias chuckled momentarily, his groan cutting it off as he struggled to sit up with his arms as support. “Science questions as soon as I wake up? Hardly the best room service if I'm to be honest.”

“Sir, this is a school infirmary.” She played along, rehashing the funny moment yesterday to see what he thought of it.

He flashed a smile, perhaps amused at the memory of how ridiculous it had been when he had gotten the answer to the utmost serious question he posed yesterday. Not even she had guessed the conversation could go that way.

“Here,” she gestured to the tray containing rice, leftover fried chicken, sausages, some salad, and a bottle of water. A simple spread; one of everything offered at the cafeteria, since she didn’t know if the man could even eat, to begin with. “I hope some of these suit your preferences.”

If he couldn’t eat, then she would have to try her best to finish it. Consider it her lunch.

His pair of crimson eyes glanced to the bedside table, where the plate of food rested, then back at her again. “To answer your question, I eat what is offered to me so, yes, I can eat food, though there is no need for it. Thank you.”

Tira nodded back to say she understood the gist. Eating what was offered without the need, what a very fantasy-like answer. “Even if it’s poison?”

Dias took the plate into his lap and stabbed the marinated sausage with the plastic fork provided. “Are you going to feed me poison?”

Immediately, two things crossed her mind, the result of filtering through the possibilities of what his words might mean. She decided to test the most likely one while seeing that grateful face chewing plain rice with bits of fried chicken. “I might not be aware that it is poison.”

“Then I’ll let you know if it's one.”

That easygoing answer was proof that apparently, she might be the only one who could offer him food? For now? Good to know that one variable of him being possibly forced to eat poison by someone else was now off the table. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Their improvised mealtime was spent in silence. Tira did not let her time go to waste watching someone else eat, instead, she explored the empty crooks and corners of the room that held more or less a few medicines, reports and whatever she could find. For the short eight months she had been enrolled at this school, aside from her participation at the Red Cross club, there were only two occasions where she had landed herself in the infirmary, and she had not been in the best shape on both occasions; had always found it impossible to stay awake long enough to appreciate the decor of the place.

Now she found the room nearly bare, too bare to be compared to the one in her memory, that it was hard to even remember what it was supposed to look like from the space left behind.

From the empty file cabinet, she noticed that the medical records had already been pulled out, perhaps by Raph or Elvin when they moved the supply upstairs. What was left were folders about the infirmary’s day-to-day operation, records of those who had spent time there and the reasons, along with the empty stack of notes for when a student needed to be sent home or hospital–which happened almost too often in this school.

For as religiously catholic St. Alphonsa High School named itself, the students that enrolled in it were anything but. The majority were legally catholic of course, though she knew better that ID listing did not equate to having faith. Gang fights happened frequently, and were as brutal as it was unforgiving. The gang of this school had been around for as long as the building had been adorned with its obsidian plaque at the front.

All of this was information that Tira had not managed to figure out in time before she had foolishly chosen to send her application letter. All of her knowledge now, all the history and protocols, she had to unravel by carefully asking the right people at the right times. The one time where she had a brush with the violent side of what should be a safe learning environment was also the time that she found her safe haven at the club.

At the very least, she wanted to think that she belonged there, if not in this school or in class. Or at home.

A soft, whistling sound flowed from the bed. The song was unfamiliar, but it was slow in beat, and comforting. She turned to see that Dias had finished his food, the plate as clean as newly polished ceramic. His puckered lips let out a low tone, the sound nearly identical to a flute. His eyes were once again closed, as he enjoyed his own melody.

He was at times punchable, at other times mysterious, and on occasion weirdly naive. She knew nothing of this man, but despite his insistent flirting and approaches, she did not sense any deceit from him whatsoever. Almost absurdly honest, to a fault, that if she perhaps observed a little longer, she might be able to picture him dissolving into thin air right in front of her eyes. That was how light his presence was, barely clinging in a room, an empty room was even far worse and yet…

She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

He pulled on things around them without a care about what happened, on whether the object on the other end of the rope would stumble or hit an obstacle. His presence was similar to the mindless, irresistible, forces of nature that pushed and pulled in a way that endless blackholes floating in outer space worked.

And peering into that hole might prove to be madness, or it might cure it.

Another bell rang through the school, normally signaling the end of lunch though in this case, it marked the end of sleep for those who weren’t awake yet and a change of shifts.

"About that talk about bodily functions..." she spoke, once the tune stopped playing from the speaker.

Dias leaned back on the bed, somehow having acquired more pillows from god knows where and fluffed them up with a few hearty slaps.

"Ah right, I hoped you'd forget about that." His face turned uncomfortable despite the accommodation he was providing himself with. "I don't need to eat even though I could, but sleep is a different thing, as it boosts my energy recovery. Resting gives me about five times more recovery efficiency than if I were awake. Although if I find myself not doing anything, there is no actual need for me to sleep aside to dream."

"Hm, I see." She made a mental note and opened a new page in her mind for it. "Anything else?"

"What else is there?" Dias asked and reclined further into the bed. He looked so out of place sleeping on a sick bed with a suit on, honestly.

"Excrements?" Tira did not mince her words, feeling a bit glad that she got to be the unnerving one this time. "Sweat? Pee?"

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Ugh, no, thank you." He replied with visible disgust in his voice and an even more noticeable shiver, "Anything I consume is absorbed completely and turned into energy. If a demi-god ever starts to sweat, it means something is wrong with them."

"Good to know." She added that part to her notes, finding it alarmingly easy to remember things now, unlike before. Thoughts flashed away faster than she was used to and it was getting slippery to find which to be focusing on while she had yet to get used to her sudden, new and weirdly clear-headed state. "Can demigods survive without air?"

He took a little bit of time before answering this one, just a short moment for Tira to perch onto an empty wooden table by the bookcase and watch him ponder.

"It depends, I suppose."

"On?"

"You can't drown or suffocate me, for one," Dias folded his arms as he leaned back, making himself even more comfortable than he already seemed to be. "—but if you throw me out into space or to the moon for example… I'd have very limited time before I have to look for air."

She found herself a bit intrigued by that comment. "How limited?"

Dias did not answer again for a long time. Though his face had contorted as evidence of him giving serious thought to the question. Tira waited patiently until he seemed to come to a bad conclusion.

"About ten to fifteen minutes, roughly.." he said with a defeated voice, following the slump was a heavy, dull sigh. "Although if I have you by my side, I might last an hour while we find a way to get back."

Tira felt her lower jaw nearly falling to the floor. She was going to have to retract the trendy comment, this man knew nothing of the human body and how it worked. "I'll be dead before I can even make it to the surface of the moon."

"No, you wouldn't."

"I would."

"You won't," Dias replied confidently, employing his trademark smug grin once again. "You don't need to breathe. Well, no longer, I suppose would be the correct term."

She sent him a skeptical look.

"Try holding your breath if you don't believe me." He raised his hands in welcome of a challenge, his smirk stretching wider. "Come on, try it out. You're not going to lose anything from trying."

Instead of deigning him with an answer, she just went straight into sucking air into her lungs and holding onto it. Her eyes locked on the wall clock to measure the time.

A minute passed without any discomfort.

Five minutes later, there was still no pressure whatsoever.

By the tenth minute, she let the air all leave her lungs to find no need for her body to inhale a deeper breath of oxygen. Her silence lasted for another ten seconds before she decided to finally voice her defeat and thoughts aloud. "Interesting."

"As long as we're near each other, you're supposed to be near invulnerable," Dias explained with a victorious grin on his face, eyes still closed since the moment he waited for her to finish her experiment. "It's the last failsafe for the demi-gods, as we turned ourselves mortals and in exchange, our immortality is now bestowed onto our Mortal Counterparts, or so the others like to call them. Personally, I prefer the marriage term, it sounds a lot more intimate."

Tira hummed, processing the fact that she might not be human anymore, only to find her brain wasn't making it a big deal like it should. Perhaps this was the reason for her rare moment of clear-mindedness, only that it was no longer rare and maybe was here to stay.

That... might not be a good thing.

"I don’t like being a bride." she said out of… well, it didn't matter, the room was just a bit too quiet for her.

"Hm, alright." Dias commented shortly before he opened his eyes again and turned to the left where she sat, tracking her carefully before he said, "Any other questions, husband?"

Seeing the twinkle of mischief that glinted in his eyes, Tira suddenly noted that he wasn’t taking that question any more seriously than she was.

Fortunately, that was enough time for her brain had already come up with the next set of questions for him.

"If I cut my nails, would they grow back again when I transform?"

Tira flashed said nails, still too long and an unfortunate reminder of their existence.

She kept down the urge of biting it all off the entire day, and it has been an uphill battle that she could feel herself losing. It was, for the lack of a better word, annoying. Getting them trimmed had now become a priority before her subconscious declared that she should use someone’s face as a scratching post.

Preferably, a demigod with white long hair and a propensity to not take things seriously when he should.

Dias gave it a few seconds of thought, as she noticed the slight twitch of the eyebrows. The violent urge simmered down at his answer. "It wouldn't. Unless you're injured, then your body will try to overcompensate by taking in more nutrition to help you recover. The growing hair and nails are perhaps side effects of that?"

"What kind of injury?"

"Debilitating."

"Mutilation?"

"Maybe?!" Dias hissed in disbelief. He sounded genuinely concerned for once, which did surprise her a little. “Please, do not try to do any self-amputation as a way to test it out.”

"Alright." Tira leaped down from the table and walked to the man's bedside, taking away the plate and tray with her. “Try to go and mingle a little when you’re allowed to.”

A happy tune came from the man as his answer, and she took it as him giving the suggestion a thought. Tira knew she could give the advice and, in the end, it would depend on the person whether to take the offer or not. Especially in this case as it concerned a stranger she barely knew. She wasn’t about to push, that privilege is reserved for when she has more energy to handle it.

Her legs carried her to the door, though her hand paused the moment it touched the steel handle.

Right. How could she have almost forgotten?

“Can you promise me something?”

Dias hummed in question. She kept herself facing the door, not wanting to see what emotion passed on his face even though it would have been better if she did.

“Promise me that, until there is truly no other option but to–” Tira struggled to keep her voice even. Why was it always so hard to ask someone else for their word? “Until it is absolutely necessary, do not order me to kill another human.”

“I promise.”

A soft yet convincing answer came back. She held back the urge to turn, to see the disappointment or regret; maybe even traces of deceit from the man she couldn’t find herself to have cared about just a day ago. His mortality for her power. His promise for her sword. Obedience for order. It all started with a give and take, of which he was overpaying for something without a price.

Transaction was a two-way street, and sadly, it was hard to initiate without any initial trust. She would have to start paying back the surplus from now and pick up her pace if she wished for their strange partnership to work.

“Thanks.” She softly whispered back.

A knock came from the other side of the door. Tira took this moment to get out of her head and opened the door, stepping back as she saw the figure on the other side of the threshold. The student council member that she had seen this morning had her hand in the air, about to do another knock, when she registered that the door had swung open before she could prepare. She watched as the senior gave a little cough masking her momentary surprise. “Sorry, I was looking for you.”

“Oh?” Interesting that this senior sister managed to find her without Tira telling anyone beforehand that she had wanted to visit Dias. She might have to start getting used to being under surveillance from now on then. “May I ask what for?”

“They want you to be present for the meeting.” Her eyes flickered to Dias for a moment, seemingly stunned at his bed-tousled appearance, then back at Tira again. A split second of surprise and something else flashed by her eyes, before she seemed to compose herself again. “Are you um, available now?”

With her a silent nod, she gave the senior girl a once over, just to commit her face and appearance to memory. Though perhaps her action came off as something else entirely as the senior stepped back to give way, a faint trace of blush appeared on her cheeks, immediately covered by another round of coughing behind both hands.

Not that she was going to complain about it, but Tira wondered if she should clarify that nothing happened.

Although if she did, it might mean she had caught the insinuation, and denying might mean she was actually acknowledging the possibility... Never mind then, let the girl think what she wanted to think.

“Lead the way, senior.”

—·∞·——·∞·——·∞·—

Once again arriving at the teacher’s office in a span of the day, this time, she was led to the principal’s cubicle, and Tira found that the participants of this meeting were less than the one held the morning before.

Donny, Armand, and a well-rested Rina sat in a line on one side. On the other side were Principal Guntur, Ma’am Hartati, her homeroom teacher Miss Erisa, and another teacher that she didn’t recognize.

“Hello.”

“Please, have a seat.” The principal pointed to the only empty chair left. She took her seat as quickly as she could. “Tira, do you know why you’ve been called here right now?”

Eyes wide as she took in all the people in the room, she tried to formulate a few guesses as to why, indeed, had they asked for her in the moment she was found out to have spent time with Dias privately.

“I’m assuming you have your questions to ask of me about the situation.” She made herself comfortable and leaned back on the cushion,

“Presumably, to ask what info did I manage to uncover from Dias, if there is anything important?”

The temperature dropped so suddenly, that a few people had their eyebrows knitted in response to her answer.

“That’s not why…” The counseling teacher’s voice trailed a bit at the end.

“Then why else?”

The three high schoolers gave each other a glance before Rina ran her tongue across her tightly pressed lips, “We wanted to ask if you’re… okay?”

“Oh.”

That was quite unexpected. Tira had to wonder for a split second, was she okay? She found, surprisingly, that the answer was yes. “I’m good. What's brought this on?”

Miss Erisa cleared her throat and took over to answ, “Our current… patron, Dias, seems to be quite… taken with you. We've noticed he hangs around you dear, and we.. it doesn’t seem to be done in a healthy way, either.”

Ma’am Hartati took over as the chem teacher couldn’t find herself to continue and cleared her throat, “He's spent a lot of time away which could have been used to inform us more about this situation we find ourselves in. And given how he knows more about this fiasco and nothing else has been relayed to us except for…”

The old madam paused, her eyes scanning over Tira briefly before she sighed out the rest of her words, “Except for his special favor for you.”

...Weird. The entire atmosphere in the room was weird. The air suddenly felt stale for no reason, despite the AC running on full blast, and she wondered if opening the window would lower the pressure. “Are you asking if I’m being molested or taken advantage of?”

From the expressions of those she could observe easily, it was clear that nobody in the room wanted to confirm the answer to her clarification. Wow. Compared to her earlier annoyance from having to deal with Dias, this was 100% more awkward.

“No, I am not being sexually coerced or the anything of the like, if that’s what you are asking,” Tira announced loud and clear for both of their sakes. Take and give. “Are you uncomfortable with my or his proximity around the school? I’d understand if so, as we are both quite a threat to be around right now.”

“NO!” Rina cut in immediately, not letting her finish talking, “We don’t... I’m just worried about you, that’s all!”

Ah.

Armand scoffed, his eyes looking at the general direction of the window, whispering under his breath, “The girl's got some screws loose.”

“As if you haven’t,” Donny interjected casually, annoyance burned in his eyes before he blinked it away to address her next.

“I hope you understand that we seem to find ourselves in quite an unusual situation. The teachers and your seniors here,” His eyes flickered to Rina’s direction for a split moment, ''-are worried about your well-being and that’s true. No other extra reasons behind them.”

“I see.”

Tira wondered how true that reasoning was when it came out of his mouth, especially. Not that she harbored a distrust of the student council president, but she didn't fully trust him either, not yet. “So if I, say, want to go back home, you’d let me?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Armand said, his careless attitude clear as day as he repositioned his crossed legs to lean back further into his chair. “You can go if you want.”

“Even if Dias has to come with me?”

“Why do you... Why does he have to come?” Ma’am Hartati asked hesitantly, the first time she'd spoken up in the short time and limited observation that Tira had built on the teacher.

She stared at the older woman, noticing that she was sweating a little by her temples, despite the cool air spewed by the AC.

So much for all of them not having a hidden agenda.

“My home is in the South area of the capital,” she continued talking on her own, no longer feeling oppressed once she knew nobody here seemed to know anything about her. “By the Budi Imann University.”

“That’s-”

“And the moment I made a contract with Dias, my life and his are now intertwined and with it, my powers.” She swiped her gaze once more across the room. The only calm person was the teacher she didn’t know the name of. If that wasn't an omen, Tira didn’t know what would count as one.

“So why shouldn’t he come with me?”

The old teacher laughed, a rumbling, gleeful laugh, as he even hit his knees with a hard slap. “See? I told you it was best to be honest with the kid! I know a tiger when I see one.”

Tira gave the man a little bow, unsure of how to treat him otherwise. “Tira, sir, nice to meet you.”

“Saputra, you can call me what you want, lassie! Ha, it's nice to see someone's still got their fangs in this day and age!”

The senior teacher grinned back, so full of energy similar to that of the shining sun outside that Tira briefly wondered how could someone looking so old still have so much energy left to spend. “So, these cowards have mostly been wondering why you seem to be closer and much more special to the guy, but it looks like you’ve answered it.”

Tira hummed, wondering how much she should spill. The fact that Dias had shared everything freely with her, verbal or otherwise, did not mean he would have done the same with anyone else. Now would be a good time to test that hypothesis.

“Indeed. I do want to try and trust you all, although it seems that the thought was merely one-sided.” She stood up from her chair and walked over to the door. “You cannot expect me and by extension, Dias, to put our skills under your whims just because it has been asked of us. My life and his are linked to one another, and thus with it, a duty for both of us to protect each other out of the most basic self-interest.”

Tira trained her eyes on Armand, knowing that he also made a contract with Dias, although she could felt that his contract was different in nature. “He’s not going to take your weapon back, not if I ask him to, and I'll make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“You’re going to have to choose whether you want to involve Dias or not and if you do, be prepared to do so at a hundred percent.” Tira addressed Donny next, “He said himself, and in case you've all forgotten about the death that surrounds us– we are at war. The hardest part of being at war is being a fence sitter, and I genuinely think you don't have the intention to be one. The neutral party usually dies first after all.”

Rina had her eyes glued on the floor, guilt-ridden as her shoulders sagged further than they usually were. Her eyes flickered up and their gazes met, of which, Tira could see the disappointment was directed not at her, but at the senior herself as she smiled wryly when spoken to. “I’m glad to see you slept well.”

“This is the longest I’ve seen you talk.” The older girl chuckled, though devoid of humor, almost self-deprecating in a way. Almost.

Tira nodded back at Rina, “There was no reason for me to do so, before.”

That was all she had to say before she turned for the door and left.

It wasn’t as if she had lost faith in those people, it was difficult to lose an intangible metric of emotion when you originally had none. Although she had lost a few notches of respect for them after that conversation.

Their reactions were understandable, of course. Not everyone could adapt to being plunged into a world of violence so unforgiving and out of nowhere like they all were.

Perhaps to them, her indifferent attitude was a weird thing. In the end, it was always a matter of perspective.