—The young man's perspective(Rexdeus)—
"I'm sorry…" She clutched her own clothes tightly.
"…Again? Haah… you're really driving me insane." The words slipped out—harsh, before I could stop them.
And the effect was immediate. Her tears fell at once, pouring down as if my voice wasn't just sound—but the trigger to something that had long been cracked inside her.
"Hic… hic… I'm sorry…" Her voice broke, hoarse—as if every word was being forced out of something on the verge of collapsing. "You must feel annoyed… and hate me… Someone like me… who doesn't even have friends my age… is really unpleasant…"
I frowned. I hadn't even done anything.
…Seriously? Where is all of this coming from?
"A cursed child like me… doesn't deserve to have friends… I even made my father and mother abandon me…" She lowered her head, her fingers gripping the fabric at her chest.
My eye twitched. Her crying only grew more uncontrollable.
"Of course you wouldn't want to be friends with me… hic… hic… I'm such a burden… to my auntie… even though we're not related by blood… and yet she still stays with me…" Her breathing hitched.
"…Because of me… she has to isolate herself here…" Her hands were still trembling.
"And Shouka… might have died… because of me… I'm cursed… uwaaah…!" Her voice echoed in the small room, bouncing off the walls—then drilling straight into my ears without mercy.
I fell silent. Not because I was moved. But because… I genuinely had no idea what to do.
I don't understand humans. They can fall apart from just a few words—without pattern or logic.
And the most troublesome part…I have no way to stop it.
"…Hey. Stop crying." My voice was flat, as cold as ever—but there was a faint tension I couldn't fully hide.
"…I'm a cursed child." Her sobs broke out again, louder than before. She didn't stop—she only got worse.
This is getting out of control. I closed my eyes for a moment. My hearing was too sharp for this.
Every sob didn't just echo—it felt like it was being pulled, twisted, and forced into my head over and over again without pause.
Annoying.
It was grinding away at my patience. And worse—My blood reacted. Slightly and very faintly.
But enough to make me realize—If this continued… I could lose control again.
"…Stop crying," I said again, this time lower, firmer, with a weight that was no longer entirely flat.
"I'll do whatever you say… as long as it's something I can do." I just wanted this to stop now.
Her sobbing hitched. It didn't disappear—but it weakened, as if my words had finally reached something inside her, even if only a little.
A few seconds passed. The room fell into a silence that wasn't truly silent—there was still trembling breath, the remnants of tears caught in her throat.
Then—
"Can I… have a hug…?" she hiccupped.
I froze. The air in the room seemed to stop—my breath caught with it.
"…What?" I asked, slower than I should have.
I was sure I misheard. Or perhaps… I wanted to believe that.
The girl—Rurika—slowly spread her arms.
The movement was small, weak, almost hesitant… but clear enough not to be mistaken.
She was asking. Asking me—an Anathema. I stared at her for a long moment, trying to find something—logic, reason, or even just a flaw in this situation.
This… is a human solution? They stop crying… just with a hug?
…It makes no sense.
But—her crying hadn't fully stopped. And my head—that throbbing pain was becoming clearer.
This is bad.
"Do… you hate me? Hic…" Her voice trembled, nearly drowned by the sobs that refused to stop.
"Everyone avoids a child like me. Only Auntie and Shouka… and they always hugged me to stop my crying…" She took a short, uneven breath, as if even her lungs refused to cooperate.
"I can't stop my tears on my own. It's… hard. Too hard. Because they just keep falling… without permission… hic… hic…" Her hands trembled, clutching her clothes without direction.
Her shoulders rose and fell irregularly, as if her body had forgotten the most basic way to calm itself.
Too noisy.
Her voice—her crying—was no longer just something I heard. It scraped against the inside of my head, sharp and relentless, without pause.
"If… if I hug you… will you stop?" I asked, faster than I should have—almost like a forced reflex.
…If this continues, my eardrums really will burst.
Rurika didn't answer with words. She only gave a small nod—weak, hesitant… but clear enough.
That was enough to make me give in.
I let out a short breath, holding back the irritation I could no longer release in any normal way.
Then… I pulled her into my arms.
Her body was light—too light for a human. There was no resistance. No tension. As if she simply… fell toward me. Fragile—in the truest sense. One wrong pressure… would be enough to break her.
Her body was warm—too warm for something that should be this troublesome. And… incredibly soft. I could feel her small frame pressed against me, light and unresisting, while her trembling slowly began to subside, though not completely.
From this close, I could catch a faint scent—clean, with a trace of sweetness barely there… but enough to linger in my senses.
…Annoying. Too comfortable. I don't like things like this.
Now that I think about it, this girl is actually beautiful. Her platinum-blonde hair falls softly with the rhythm of her breathing, and her pale skin is flawless—too clean for a place like this, as if she has never truly belonged to it.
Unfortunately—her personality ruins everything.
[…Minus,] I thought to myself without realizing.
"You're not patting my head? Hic…" Her voice was still shaky, softer now, weaker—like the remnants of rain that hadn't fully stopped.
I looked at her flatly, even as my arms still held her to keep her from falling.
"Didn't you only ask to be hugged?" I replied shortly.
"But… when Auntie hugs me… she pats my head…" Her voice faltered again at the end, her shoulders trembling slightly, as if her tears were just waiting for an excuse to return.
Ah… so this is the full package. I let out a quiet sigh, longer this time. More troublesome by the second.
Without saying anything else, my hand finally moved. Still stiff and unfamiliar. My fingers touched her hair—slowly, hesitantly… then began to stroke it in an awkward rhythm.
Bit clumsy and unnatural. Not quite right—but gentle enough not to startle her.
Once. Twice. Three times. Not natural. Not proper. But enough.
Her sobbing faded… then disappeared entirely. Silence replaced it—gradually, yet far heavier than before.
I stopped, lowering my gaze slightly to check. Her breathing had changed—deeper, steadier, no longer uneven like before.
"…Haah." A short breath slipped out before I could stop it.
She fell asleep… just like that. As if the crying earlier had been nothing more than a switch—now turned off without a trace.
I stared at her for a few more seconds, making sure there was no reaction. No movement. No sobbing. Just the quiet, steady rhythm of her breath, faintly brushing against my chest.
Finally… it's over.
Carefully, I began to loosen my hold, making sure her body wouldn't lose its support too suddenly.
My movements were slow—almost restrained—as if even the slightest mistake would be enough to wake her again… and I had no intention of going through all of that from the beginning.
Once was enough.
But before I could fully pull away, I paused for a moment. My gaze dropped to her face, still damp with the remnants of her tears. Her blonde hair lay slightly disheveled, covering part of her cheek.
Her hand—still clutching the fabric of her loosened top—pressed it against her chest, as if it were the only thing she could protect.
…Troublesome.
I let out a quiet breath—longer than before. With stiff movements that even felt foreign to myself, I reached for the cloth.
Slowly—carefully, in a way I never thought I would bother with—I pulled it back into place, dressing her again, adjusting it so it properly covered her.
No other intention. No other reason. Just… avoiding bigger problems.
"…What am I, her babysitter?" I muttered under my breath. Like a nanny.
Disgusting.
My hand paused for a moment—not out of hesitation, but because I realized just how absurd this situation was.
And yet, I continued. After that, I brushed aside the strands of hair clinging to her face, tucking them behind her ear so they wouldn't disturb her breathing.
My movements were still stiff, still awkward—but at least this time, not entirely wrong.
Then, without much thought, I took my outer cloth and draped it loosely over her body, covering part of her shoulders.
At the very least—if something were to happen—I didn't want to be misunderstood more than this.
Only then did I finally pull my hand away completely.
And at that exact moment—
"BANG—!!"
The door flew open with a force too loud to simply be called "opened." It was more like something had been forced to give way.
I froze instantly. Reflex. My entire body tensed without needing to be told.
…Damn it.
I didn't even need to look to know who it was.
"…The pink demon is back," I muttered under my breath, almost inaudible—more like a verdict than a complaint.
I already knew. This was going to be troublesome.
"Ruri—are you alright?" Her voice came before her presence—sharp, fast, and filled with vigilance, still carrying the echo of the door that had just been kicked open.
Her footsteps were heavy. Firm. Without hesitation. Then her green eyes moved—without pause, without confusion—sweeping across the entire room in an instant, like a lighthouse in a storm searching for only one thing.
Rurika.
…Terrifying.
I didn't move. There was no need.
And when her gaze finally stopped—
On us.
I felt it. Something invisible, yet undeniably there.
Pressure.
The air in the room changed. No longer awkward—now heavy, crushing, as if something unseen had begun sealing off every possible escape.
Her gaze lowered, observing the small girl in her arms—sleeping peacefully, unaware, still within my embrace.
…Damn it. Cold sweat crept down my back—slow but certain, slipping through before I could stop it.
She didn't say anything immediately. No anger. No reaction. Just silence. And that…was the real problem.
Then she started walking closer. One step. Two steps. Not rushed. No need to. That was what made each step feel like a countdown—
Calm ans certain. Leaving no room to escape. Like a reaper that didn't need to run to instill fear.
And for some reason, her earlier threat replayed in my mind—clear, complete, as if it had been spoken just seconds ago.
I wasn't even sure anymore…
…whether I was still allowed to breathe in a situation like this.
Then she stopped—close enough to see everything clearly. Her gaze slowly lowered, observing the blonde girl sleeping soundly in my arms.
A few seconds passed in heavy silence, as if the entire room was holding its breath.
"At last… she's smiling again." Her tone shifted—softer, lighter, almost relieved.
I frowned slightly.
The change was too abrupt. No pause. No transition. Completely… irrational. That calm didn't last long.
Her eyes moved to me—and in a single blink, all that warmth vanished, replaced by something far colder, sharper, and far more oppressive.
"I don't know… what you've done." A faint smile formed on her lips. Too thin to be called friendly—more like a warning that hadn't been fully spoken.
"However… if you try anything…"
She stopped. Didn't continue. She didn't need to.
Her hand moved. From the ring on her finger, she pulled something out.
A cucumber.
Yes, a cucumber.
I didn't react. That made it worse. She held it without expression.
Then—
CRACK.
The cucumber shattered in her hand just like that—no effort, no change in expression whatsoever, as if she had crushed nothing at all.
Its flesh broke into soft fragments, and its liquid burst outward—cold, wet—splattering across my hair, my face, even my clothes.
The fluid dripped slowly, crawling down in silence, leaving behind a sticky, unpleasant sensation…
…like a warning that didn't need to be spoken.
I didn't move. Didn't blink. And clearly—I wasn't stupid enough to protest.
"…Understood?" she finally asked, her voice flat.
And that was exactly what made it terrifying.
I nodded immediately. Quickly. Obedient—too obedient.
For the first time—I was certain.
The most dangerous thing in this room…
…wasn't me.