Now that he had tasted the sweet warmth of happiness and companionship, he did not want to let it go. He could not. It was too warm, too gentle, too familiar. After three years of cold walls, iron restraints, hunger, thirst, filth, and a ceiling that never changed, the mere presence of two people he loved had felt almost obscene in its sweetness. It was an addiction, and like any addict who had finally been given what he craved, the adorable creature was willing to tear away anything that threatened to take it from him. Anything strange. Anything unpleasant. Anything that whispered that perhaps what he was seeing was not real.
His fingers tightened around the gemstone hanging from his collar, the edges digging into his skin. Harder. Harder. Harder. Until the pressure became painful, he welcomed it. Pain was simple. Pain was real. If something hurt, then at least he knew it existed. The warmth inside his chest was different. It was so overwhelming that it frightened him, making his thoughts tremble and his heart race, making him want to laugh and cry at the same time. So he chose. If reality was going to take this away from him, then reality itself could go to hell. He willingly discarded his sanity.
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he had finally found something worth becoming insane for.
What do I want? What is it that I want to do from now on?
The question appeared inside his mind as a mysterious voice echoed through the depths of his thoughts. It did not sound like Albert, Ingrid, or even the master. It was simply a voice without a face, a voice without a body, a voice that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside his skull. The adorable creature stared at the two figures before him—his family, his salvation, the people who had come for him—and when he finally answered, there was no hesitation.
"Be useful."
Why do I want to be useful?
"To be loved."
The answer was simple enough that he did not even have to think about it.
Who do I love now?
The adorable creature's gaze moved toward Albert, then Ingrid, and his heart began beating faster.
"The ones who came for me."
Are they important?
"Yes."
There was no hesitation.
"They're my family now."
The word seemed to fill his entire body. Family. Such a small, ordinary word, yet it felt enormous to him—large enough to fill the empty room, large enough to cover the smell of his own excrement, large enough to drown out the gnawing hunger in his stomach and the thirst scraping his throat raw, large enough to make the chains around his wrists feel almost insignificant.
And everything else? What about those who did not care about you?
The adorable creature's smile disappeared. He looked down, and for a moment something moved behind his eyes: a memory of a village, faces, people he had once tried to please, people whose approval he had chased like a starving animal chasing scraps, people he had hated and people he had desperately wanted to hate.
His fingers tightened around the gemstone.
"I don't care about them."
You don't care?
"No."
Not even a little?
"No."
The answer came faster this time.
"I don't care."
What about the people who hurt you?
"I don't care."
The people who abandoned you?
"I don't care."
The people who watched you suffer?
"I don't care."
The people who allowed you to become this?
Silence.
The adorable creature's breathing became heavier as his gaze wandered toward his own body. His clothes were filthy, his skin covered in grime, and there were patches where it had become irritated from remaining in the same position for too long. His limbs were thin, weaker than they should have been, and his fingers trembled from hunger. He could smell himself. Most of the time he had stopped noticing it, but now that someone else was here, he could smell the filth again. His own body had become foreign to him—a body that had spent years being treated like an object, a body that had been fed when someone remembered, cleaned when someone remembered, and allowed to sleep, wake, hunger, thirst, and suffer according to someone else's convenience.
He should have been furious. He should have screamed. He should have demanded answers. Instead, he simply whispered:
"I don't care."
The voice remained silent for a moment.
Is there anything you do care about?
The adorable creature's eyes immediately moved toward Albert and Ingrid.
"Yes."
What?
"Protecting the one who stayed with me."
His answer came so naturally that he did not even have to think about it.
Protect.
That word felt different from everything else.
He had spent so long being helpless that the desire to protect someone seemed almost laughable. His body could barely support itself. He could not walk properly, could not escape, could not fight, and could barely feed himself without someone giving him food. And yet...
Protect.
The thought was beautiful.
If he could not become strong for himself, then perhaps he could become strong for them. If he could not save himself, then perhaps he could save them. If he could not be worthy of love, then perhaps he could become useful enough that they would never leave.
Protect whom?
"Eh?"
Who are you going to protect?
The adorable creature blinked.
"Who...?"
The voice repeated itself.
Who?
"Who...?"
His brow furrowed as his thoughts began to tangle. Albert. Ingrid. Family. Love. Protection. The master. The villagers. The soldiers. The heroes. The world. Everything began to overlap until he could no longer tell where one ended and another began.
His heart beat faster.
Who are you protecting?
"I..."
His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
His gaze shifted toward Ingrid, then Albert, and finally toward the luxurious room surrounding him: the chains, the walls, the floor, the cage that had become his entire world.
His breathing grew uneven.
"From..."
From whom?
"From..."
The adorable creature suddenly laughed. It was a tiny sound, broken and breathless, almost as though he found the question amusing.
"Who?"
The question was almost funny because he knew exactly what the answer should have been, yet he could not bring himself to say it.
The voice did not let him escape.
What should you do with those who prevent us from protecting the love we have found?
The adorable creature stopped laughing. For an instant, he looked like a child again—a very small child who had once believed that if he behaved himself, someone would love him; a child who had learned that affection had a price and had spent years trying to pay it.
His fingers dug deeper into the gemstone.
"Those who prevent us..."
The words came out slowly.
"What should I do?"
You tell me.
"Would it be good to..."
He stopped.
His eyes widened as he stared at his own hands. They were trembling.
The voice waited.
"What would be good?"
Good?
"Yes."
Do you want to be good?
The question was so simple that it almost hurt.
The adorable creature's face twisted.
"Yes."
Why?
"Because..."
He hesitated.
Because good children were loved. Because useful children were kept. Because obedient children were not abandoned. Because good children were praised. Because good children were allowed to belong somewhere. Because good children were not left alone.
"Because I want them to love me."
The answer was pathetic.
He knew it.
And yet he did not care.
The voice continued.
Then what are you willing to do for them?
"Anything."
Anything?
"Anything."
Even something unpleasant?
"Yes."
Something painful?
"Yes."
Something shameful?
The adorable creature hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes."
Something unforgivable?
His pupils contracted.
There it was.
The boundary.
The invisible line between being a good person and becoming something else.
The adorable creature stared at nothing.
For three years, he had been stripped of almost everything: his dignity, his strength, his freedom, his pride, his hatred, his dreams, his certainty, even his identity.
What remained?
A starving body.
A broken mind.
And a desperate desire to be loved.
The voice whispered:
What are you willing to sacrifice?
The adorable creature swallowed. He could feel his throat burning, his stomach twisting, his head strangely light, but then he remembered Albert's voice. He remembered Ingrid's eyes. He remembered the warmth that had spread through his chest when he saw them. He remembered the promise he had once made.
I won't cry.
He remembered what he had told himself.
I will be useful.
The answer became obvious.
"Everything."
He answered too quickly, almost desperately.
The adorable creature's eyes widened.
"Anything..."
His voice cracked.
"Anything!"
The words echoed through the room. He began breathing heavily, his heart pounding so violently that it felt as though it might break through his ribs.
Everything?
"Everything."
Even your freedom?
"Yes."
Your dignity?
"Yes."
Your future?
"Yes."
Your happiness?
The adorable creature's expression faltered.
For the first time, he seemed unable to answer.
Then he smiled.
It was a terrible smile.
A smile that did not belong on the face of a child.
"My happiness is them."
The voice became silent.
The adorable creature continued.
"My future is them."
His fingers clenched around the gemstone until his nails dug into his palm.
"My freedom..."
He looked at the chains.
For a moment, something like hatred flashed through his eyes.
Then it vanished.
"...doesn't matter."
And your life?
The adorable creature went still.
His body suddenly felt very cold.
Life.
That was the last thing.
The last thing he still possessed.
The last thing nobody had taken from him.
His life was miserable. It was filthy. It was painful. It was lonely.
But it was still his.
The voice waited.
The adorable creature lowered his head.
Then, almost inaudibly, he answered:
"Even that."
You would die for them?
He raised his face.
There was no hesitation anymore.
"Yes."
You would die for your family?
"Yes."
You would die for your companionship?
"Yes."
A strange warmth returned to his chest.
"And for the master."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Silence.
The adorable creature blinked.
The master.
That word felt wrong.
It should have felt disgusting.
He should have hated it.
Yet it had become tangled with the memories of food, water, warmth, and the brief moments when someone opened the door.
The master had been his jailer.
His tormentor.
His provider.
His owner.
His only regular visitor.
The one person who had consistently returned to that room.
The one person who had given him something when everyone else had given him nothing.
His mind could no longer separate affection from captivity, love from dependence, gratitude from submission. His family and his master had all been thrown into the same starving heart.
For your family or for the master?
The question finally came.
The adorable creature's eyes widened.
For a moment, he could not breathe.
His gaze moved toward Albert.
Then Ingrid.
Then toward the door.
The door through which the master always came.
His heart twisted.
Who should come first?
Who should matter more?
Who deserved his loyalty?
Who deserved his life?
The answer should have been obvious.
Family.
Of course it should have been family.
But the adorable creature had been alone for too long. He had been hungry for too long, thirsty for too long, forgotten for too long. He had been denied affection for so long that even the hand of his jailer had begun to resemble salvation.
His mind had become a ruined house.
There were no longer any rooms where things could be kept separate.
Everything had collapsed into everything else.
Love had become hunger.
Hunger had become obedience.
Obedience had become gratitude.
Gratitude had become dependence.
Dependence had become love.
And love...
Love had become something worth dying for.
The adorable creature slowly smiled.
For my family.
Then his smile twitched.
For the master.
His pupils trembled.
He squeezed the gemstone again, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to remind himself that he was still there.
"Everyone..."
His voice was barely audible.
Then, with a sudden burst of conviction:
"Everyone who comes for me."
The distinction was gone.
Family.
Master.
Savior.
Owner.
It no longer mattered.
Whoever gave him a place to belong would become important.
Whoever stayed would become precious.
Whoever loved him would become family.
And whoever threatened that love...
The adorable creature's smile disappeared.
Something cold moved behind his eyes.
What should you do with them?
He stared at his hands.
They were so small.
So weak.
So filthy.
Yet his mind had begun imagining things those hands had never done.
Breaking.
Tearing.
Cutting.
Choking.
Killing.
The images came naturally.
Too naturally.
He did not recoil.
He did not feel disgust.
That frightened him more than the images themselves.
He had once thought that becoming a great man meant being admired by everyone. Then he thought it meant becoming a hero. Then a legend. Then someone useful.
Now he understood.
None of that mattered.
Being loved mattered.
Having someone come for him mattered.
Having someone stay mattered.
And if the world demanded that he become something grotesque in exchange for keeping them...
Then perhaps becoming grotesque was not such a terrible price.
You can answer now.
The voice was almost gentle.
What are you going to do from now on?
The adorable creature's eyes slowly closed. He imagined Albert's hand on his head. He imagined Ingrid's sharp voice scolding him. He imagined the master kneeling before him with a plate of food. He imagined all of them staying—never leaving, never forgetting, never abandoning him again.
His smile returned.
"Be useful."
For what?
"To protect them."
From whom?
The adorable creature opened his eyes.
For the first time, there was something frighteningly empty behind them.
"Anyone."
What are you willing to sacrifice?
The answer came instantly.
"Everything."
He laughed softly, then louder. His shoulders began to shake, and he did not know whether he was laughing or crying anymore.
Perhaps it was both.
"Everything..."
He repeated it.
"My dignity."
His fingers clenched.
"My freedom."
His teeth showed.
"My future."
His voice became hoarse.
"My life."
The laughter finally stopped.
And in the silence that followed, the adorable creature whispered the only answer that remained:
"Everything."
Even yourself?
A long pause followed.
Then:
"Yes."
And perhaps that was the moment when the adorable creature truly lost his mind.
Or perhaps it was the moment when he finally decided that there was nothing wrong with losing it.
He had spent years asking himself what he was willing to sacrifice for his family.
Now he had an answer.
Everything.
Even himself.