By the time night settled fully over the mansion, everything had gone quiet again.
Eline had already had his dinner. The routine of it passed without much thought, like everything else in this place—predictable, repetitive, almost detached from time. Now he was back in his room, doing nothing in particular, his thoughts drifting without direction.
The earlier events lingered faintly in his mind, but not enough to hold his attention completely. He lay there for a while, then sat up, then lay back again—restless in a way he couldn't quite explain.
When the knock came, it didn't startle him this time.
He simply paused, staring at the door.
At this hour, it could be anyone.
That was the problem here—there was no certainty. Every time he assumed no one important would come, someone did. And every time he expected someone, it turned out to be nothing.
So this time, he didn't assume anything.
He got up, walked to the door, and opened it.
Carlson stood outside.
Eline didn't speak. He only stepped aside, silently allowing him in. Saying come in to Carlson felt unnecessary—almost strange, considering whose house this really was.
Carlson entered without comment and walked further inside, his movements as composed as ever. He sat down on the bed as if it were the most natural thing, then looked at Eline.
Not casually.
Carefully.
His gaze lingered on his face, examining the redness that had now faded slightly, the swelling that had gone down just enough to soften his features again. The ointment had worked. The irritation was still there, but it was no longer as severe.
"You've improved," Carlson said quietly, more to himself than to Eline.
Eline remained standing for a moment, unsure, before Carlson gestured beside him.
"Sit."
He patted the space next to him on the bed.
Eline hesitated for only a second before walking over and sitting down, a small distance between them.
Carlson reached into his pocket and took out the ointment again.
"Did you wash your face?" he asked.
Eline blinked. "I… haven't."
A quiet sigh left Carlson, not exaggerated, but clear enough.
"Come," he said, standing up. "Let's wash it first."
There was no room for argument in the tone.
Eline followed him into the bathroom.
The bathroom was softly lit, the large mirror reflecting both of them clearly. Eline moved toward the sink and turned on the water, splashing it onto his face before applying soap.
Carlson had already washed his hands by then.
He stood slightly behind him, watching.
Eline rubbed his face quickly, almost roughly, his movements hurried, careless in a way that didn't match the condition of his already irritated skin.
Carlson's gaze sharpened slightly.
It wasn't just inefficient.
It was wrong.
There was a certain impatience in the way Eline handled himself, as if the discomfort didn't matter enough to be careful. As if he didn't consider the consequence of it.
Carlson watched for another second.
Then he reached forward and caught his wrist, stopping the motion.
"Gently," he said.
Eline froze slightly at the sudden contact.
"It's not something you need to punish," Carlson added, his tone low but firm. "Not in this condition."
Eline blinked, water still running over his face.
"…My eyes are closed," he said after a moment. "I just want to get it done quickly."
There was a brief pause before he added, a little more quietly, "I don't like keeping them closed for too long."
Carlson's gaze shifted slightly.
"Why?"
Eline rinsed off the remaining soap before answering. "It feels… uncomfortable. I don't like not seeing what's around me."
He didn't explain further.
Carlson didn't ask again.
He let go of his wrist.
Eline finished washing his face, then reached for the towel, about to rub it against his skin—
Carlson stopped him again.
"Am I supposed to teach you everything?" he said, his voice carrying a faint edge now.
Before Eline could react, Carlson took the towel himself.
Instead of rubbing, he pressed it gently against Eline's face, dabbing the moisture away with controlled, careful movements.
"Be gentle," he said. "At least until your skin heals."
Eline went still.
For a moment, he forgot to move entirely.
Carlson was close—closer than before. His expression focused, his attention entirely on what he was doing.
Eline's gaze lifted slightly.
And stayed there.
The angle, the proximity, the quiet seriousness on Carlson's face—it held his attention longer than it should have.
Carlson noticed.
He didn't react immediately. His movements remained steady, though the silence stretched just a fraction longer than necessary.
Then he stepped back slightly.
"Let's go," he said.
Back in the room, Carlson applied the ointment again, his touch as precise as before.
Eline tried to focus on something else.
He failed.
His eyes drifted back again, almost unconsciously.
Carlson's fingers paused for the briefest moment.
"Do you enjoy staring at people?" he asked.
The question came without warning.
Eline stiffened.
"I—no," he said quickly. "I wasn't trying to— I mean, I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable."
His words began to overlap slightly, his composure slipping.
"It's just… you look—" he stopped himself, then forced the words out anyway, "you look good."
Silence followed.
Eline immediately regretted it.
Why would I say that?
He looked away, his expression tightening with embarrassment.
"I just… had nothing else to look at," he added quickly. "Forget it."
Carlson studied him for a moment.
Then, quietly—
"As much as you like," he said.
There was no irritation in his tone.
If anything, it had softened.
He finished applying the ointment and stood up.
"You've had dinner?" he asked.
Eline nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "Yes. I'd like to rest now."
Carlson understood the meaning beneath the words.
Without pressing further, he turned and left the room.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
Eline sat there for a moment, unmoving, his thoughts catching up with everything at once.
Why would I say that?
The embarrassment settled in fully now.
Then another thought followed, quieter but more persistent.
Why would he come himself?
Why apply it himself?
His brows furrowed slightly.
Does he think I can't even do that on my own?