Story Reader / Affection / Lilith: Daemonissa / Story
Eleanor pulls over another chair from nearby and sits down.
She picks up the wristband terminal for the game.
No one seems to be initiating this round yet.
Yeah...
Eleanor looks at you with great interest.
If I were your opponent, I'd drag out the game too.
You're thinking the same thing, aren't you?
Eleanor chuckles.
I thought that was part of your strategy...
By just hunkering down in a safe zone, you can prolong your opponent's torment.
In a cage without the concept of time, everyone would lose their grip on time.
Control over sleep and the body blurs as the hours stretch and collapse.
An hour was supposed to be for rest—or to rethink the next move. But as the game wore on, it twisted into something else: another thread woven into the nightmare.
The word "Filtering" surfaces in your mind.
I couldn't agree more.
Speaking of which, now, do we have a chance to spend the rest of our time together?
Eleanor moves to sit closer to you.
Aren't you even a little curious about all this?
Me? Just a bird trying to break free from its cage, chasing after freedom.
Eleanor points toward the sky, her words pulling you back to the train of thought you had just lost.
She flicks the cards from the table between her fingers, sending them spinning through the air before they return to her hand.
In principle, I should say no.
But... alright, as a trade, indulge my curiosity about you, too?
Eleanor tosses the terminal to you—clearly unconcerned about your injuries.
Your fingers trace the metal frame, brushing over the words about freedom etched along its edges.
The woman takes the terminal and places it back on the table.
You lean back into the sofa, carefully avoiding any contact with the wounds.
The painkillers finally kick in—yelids leaden, thoughts turning syrupy slow.
In the last flicker of wakefulness, Eleanor's fingers brush your shoulder as she smooths the blanket over you.
