The Gloomy Saintess Obsessively Clings to Death

The saint was asleep, her arms tightly clasped around my waist. Her face was nestled against my chest, and the sound of her peaceful, regular breathing reached my ears, calming my own frayed nerves.

The gentle warmth of the saint’s body seeped through to me, driving away the chill in the room and enwrapping me like a soft blanket.

Perhaps because of that warmth, the demons I hadn’t fully banished earlier began to gather once more.

My eyelids grew heavy, and my body gradually relaxed with each steady breath the saint took.

I drifted back into quiet darkness again—until the saint stirred slightly in my arms.

“Hmm…”

My eyes snapped open. Her arms seemed to tighten slightly around my waist.

Her face rubbed gently against my chest, and my heart sank.

Tensed up and fully awake now, I couldn’t help but wonder what was happening.

‘What… what is going on?’

My neck stiff as a board, I slowly lowered my gaze to check on the sleeping saint. Her eyes were still closed, and her breathing remained peaceful.

This all felt too surreal. Pinching my cheek as hard as I could, I quickly discovered the sensation of numbness spreading, confirming that this wasn’t a dream.

“…Ow, that hurts.”

“Hmm?”

“A-ah, sorry. Umm… Can I talk for a moment?”

Even my whisper seemed to cause her eyebrows to faintly furrow in her sleep.

‘Oh no, what should I do? Should I let her wake up? Or… will waking her now make things more awkward?’

Uncertain and flailing, I tentatively patted the saint’s back.

Did it help? The gentle murmurs slowly subsided, and the soft snoring returned.

Releasing a sigh of relief, I immediately covered my face with my hands.

‘Is what I’m doing right?’

I glanced down again. Fortunately, her expression had returned to one of calm.

The slight crease in her forehead had smoothed out, and a faint smile graced her lips as though she was having a pleasant dream.

‘Is it good that she’s sleeping peacefully? Or is that even the problem here? Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on at all.’

An involuntary groan escaped my lips, and I quickly clasped my hand over my mouth in case I woke her.

Still dozing deeply, the saint continued to breathe steadily, her peaceful demeanor making the cold room feel unusually warm.

But a question emerged amidst this tranquility.

‘Wait. Why is she sleeping in my arms in the first place? Sure, this is her bed…’

My thoughts became tangled. She wasn’t here when I fell asleep.

She wasn’t even in the room to begin with!

‘Unless… did I sleep so deeply that she couldn’t wake me up before lying down?’

Each breath the saint took seemed to bring a new thought racing through my mind.

Unlike my tumultuous thoughts, the saint remained blissfully unaware, fast asleep.

A small, contented smile played on her lips, as if she was in the safest place in the world.

Watching her like that only made my head hurt even more.

Waking her now could make things even more complicated. Explaining the situation would be difficult, and if she felt overly apologetic about it, that would be problematic too.

‘Perhaps I should just get out of the bed.’

At that moment, the saint shifted slightly. Her fingers loosened, and the arm around me relaxed just a little.

‘Thank goodness!’

With her grip loosened, I judged that it would be less likely for her to notice if I suddenly disappeared.

Carefully, I pulled the blanket off to clear my view, then drew the mark of Death’s presence in the middle of the room—one of my abilities as the Grim Reaper.

This mark not only allowed me to pinpoint the location of anyone marked but also to instantly transport myself to wherever it was placed.

It was typically used for long-distance travel or tracking down souls and those who strayed from divine law—but certainly not for this.

‘Of all things, to use it for this situation?’

A fleeting sense of self-reproach washed over me, but given the circumstances, it was unavoidable.

Did the removal of the blanket alert her? The saint began shifting again.

“Umm… I’m cold.”

“Are you cold? Why am I even responding to this…”

Thinking I should quickly cover her with the blanket, the saint unexpectedly clutched me more tightly.

As though embracing a plush pillow, she pulled me closer with renewed strength.

“…This is bad.”

I tried to carefully disentangle myself, but the saint held on even tighter, as though in her sleep she didn’t want to lose me.

This left us in an even closer position, her warmth pressing more vividly against me.

Whenever she moved, the faint scent of flowers wafted from her hair, sending my thoughts into a chaotic haze.

‘What should I do?’

At this point, using the mark to teleport would surely draw her attention once I was gone.

A deep sigh nearly escaped my lips, but I suppressed it out of fear that it might wake her.

Adding to my frustration, the saint drew herself even closer to me with another small movement.

“Saint, please.”

“Hmm, it’s warm.”

I could faintly hear her whisper. It seemed my body heat made her happy, as she let out a quiet chuckle.

As the situation became more entangled, a fleeting thought crossed my mind: maybe I should just let it be.

With resignation, I patted the saint’s back.

‘Alright, fine. If she says it’s warm, then that’s that.’

Peering at her sleeping face, I noticed her peaceful, innocent expression, which stirred an unexpected emotion within me.

‘She must have been exhausted from being nursed for the past three days. For now, I should just let her sleep peacefully.’

I decided to stop thinking about everything. Instead, I repeated to myself:

I’m just a doll that gets hugged while sleeping.

I’m just a doll that gets hugged while sleeping.

I’m just a doll that gets hugged while sleeping.

“Umm…”

Every time she moved, I repeated the phrase to myself even more fervently.

And thus, I spent the entire night wide awake—until dawn, when the saint lazily stretched herself awake.

“Uuugh…”

Seeing her arms stretched upwards, I internally breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, I’d be able to escape this predicament.

But as though determined to crush my hopes, the saint pulled me back into her embrace.

‘Someone, save me!’

Hiding my face with my hands, I muttered again, “I’m just a doll…”

At that moment, a stir from beneath caught my attention. Removing my hands, I found that the saint was staring at me intently.

Just how do I explain this?

Before I could find an answer, the saint gave a gentle eye-smile and murmured sleepily.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Will someone please rescue this poor Grim Reaper now that you’ve woken up?

Had my prayers been answered? The saint slowly rubbed her eyes and rose from the bed with leisurely ease.

“Did you sleep well?”

“…Yes, sort of.”

Up until the point she realized she’d been clutching me, I’d slept quite deeply.

Unlike my restless night, the saint seemed surprisingly unruffled, which only left me feeling more puzzled.

Is this a cultural difference? Is it a normal occurrence in this world? Should I just accept and let it pass?

But no matter how I tried to justify it, it just wouldn’t fit with my understanding.

Then…

“Um, Saint?”

“Hm?”

“May I ask why you chose to sleep next to me?”

Since the situation demanded it, I had to directly inquire.

Upon hearing my query, the saint blinked in surprise and tilted her head, then responded nonchalantly.

“Because I was cold.”

“…”

My mind went completely blank with her casual response.

“It was while I was being tended to and accidentally fell asleep. It felt a bit chilly, so in my sleep, I crawled into bed. And it was much warmer than I expected.”

“…I see.”

It was strange.

Even though the reason was so simple and clear—cold room, warm bed—why did my mind grow even more confused?

Why?!

I clasped my trembling hands over my face and took a deep breath.

“Next time…”

“Hmm?”

“Please wake me if you intend to do that again. I’ll make sure to move immediately.”

The saint slowly nodded, and as I thought the matter was closed…

“…It was warmer with you, Mr. Death.”

“S-Saint!”

“Er, yes?”

…This was beyond saving.

Dropping my gaze, I muttered.

“Is there another room I could stay in?”

“Another room?”

“Yes. Even a storage room or a tiny corner would do.”

The saint startled and grabbed my sleeve.

“A storage room or some dark corner? Are you considering that?”

“…Yes. If necessary, even the hallway or outside for camping.”

“Absolutely not! You’ve only just awakened from being unwell!”

The saint, with her hands on her hips and faintly furrowed brows, gave me a stern glance—a far cry from her usually shy and quiet demeanor.

For a moment, I stared at her, caught off guard.

Then, the saint quickly returned to her usual self and began fidgeting nervously.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Ah…”

How should I respond?

It seemed dishonest to be upfront, yet pretending it was fine wouldn’t work when my face already told the whole story.

After composing my expression, I carefully chose my words.

“I’m the type who doesn’t sleep well if someone’s next to me.”

“…But I slept well.”

My composed expression crumbled at her simple reply.

The saint fidgeted with her fingertips while gazing steadily at me, as if quietly yet firmly conveying her feelings.

“Your presence made it warm, and it was the first time in a long while that I truly felt so rested.”

“Umm…”

Her softly murmured confession was unguarded, and yet, its sincerity made me even more uncomfortable.

Finally, I slumped to the floor and muttered.

“Please watch me once more, will you?”

“Eh?! Why do you suddenly ask that?”

The saint floundered, sitting down beside me in worry. She eyed me hesitantly, then softly asked:

“Sh-shall I let you use my room? Or should I sleep on the floor…”

“…No. Please, may I request a different room?”

And that’s how I managed to secure another room with great difficulty.

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