“Heheh…,”
Pain was always akin to a familiar stimulant for me, always serving the role of keeping my spirit alert, ensuring I didn’t forsake the duty that was both cold and inevitable.
To me, the one who had been dealing death, pain was a catalyst. It was like a strong pressure that subdued the taste of happiness and pleasure.
Always.
And thus.
It wasn’t bad hearing rough breathing after a long while.
It was exhilarating. It gifted me a touch entirely different from the warmth of words, the coziness of moments—sensations in a league of their own.
“H-ha…heh… Thank you for your hard work.”
Holding not the handle but the blade of the knife, I spoke to the trembling man.
“Your endurance until now… It’s truly remarkable.”
“Murderer…”
“W-wow. You still have enough strength to talk, I see.”
There it was again. Boring, tiresome blood. I felt a wry humor at the sight of a red waterfall flowing from his mouth.
“I haven’t killed anyone yet. I’m going to use all of you as hostages. I need your body intact enough for torture.”
Perhaps, I should think this situation as fortunate. After all, I was already feeling exhausted within it.
Because I’d tasted the warmth of everyday life. It was only natural to ruminate on the approaching powerlessness.
“The gods will… punish you.”
“So, you believe in a religion?”
And then he charged. I plunged the blade into his abdomen, slicing through his muscles with the knife and severing a few nerves. It felt tough, like gristle. Was this how flesh was always supposed to feel?
“What about me? What do you think the gods might say about me?”
Watching his scream, I carved a similar incision into my shoulder, it hurt.
“F-faugh… The gods shall…”
“That’s impressive faith!”
I almost respected it.
“But if they exist, doesn’t it imply we’ve already been abandoned?”
“Bullsh—!”
“Right? You people… You’ve been corrupted for a long time! You’re at the mercy of the cliché in your ‘character status’—how it says you overwork yourself in the name of justice!”
Because they always dwelled underground, I could understand the depths of their despair.
“The price of power is… this.”
“I’ll put you to rest. Isn’t it tiring? If I were you, I’d find it exhausting.”
“You’re a beast that only fears… Uwgh.”
It’s too noisy.
“I’m really such a good person. To ensure your body doesn’t move mechanically, I’ll sever your limbs…”
My mind grows hazy.
“Haha…”
I abandoned myself to madness, leaning on alcohol and cigarettes. Nothing changed. Always, what squeezed me tightly was emotion, reality, instinct.
When my mind…
Came back to focus…
I was stabbing the man who was vomiting blood with the blade. The noise around me was fading into tinnitus.
Disgust. Here I go torturing someone again. Escaping. Everyone needs to be like me. I can’t be the only one suffering.
Dystopia. Me. The world.
I grow weary. I collapse, glancing back.
At the sight of him—bloodied, near death—I feel a sense of respect despite knowing my vision might blur.
“Aha… You’re… still beautiful.”
“…”
Looking somewhat flustered, Erica rose, her body healed. I felt the gap widening between us. To meet her gaze, I’d have to tilt my neck back, her height surpassing mine.
I stretched out my hands. The sticky liquid dripped. Pointing at myself—stabbed with ten swords and pierced by 128 bullets—I said,
“You’re genuinely cool, unlike me. How do I make myself look better? Like you? Should I stab myself more? But more stabs might hurt even more…”
Ha, ha.
Even hollow laughter makes me feel somewhat lucky.
My internal organs are ruptured, my heart pierced, yet I can endure. My bones are broken, my skin torn, yet I remain.
“Still, if you tell me to do it, I’ll do it. I’ll endure any pain if you can smile and stroke me while you do so. Sorry, don’t make such a face. Are you mad? Should I not speak to someone of your status?”
“Oruri.”
“Don’t come closer.”
Even as I spewed these words, I worried if I’d offended her delicate emotions.
“You can stay there and condemn me. Curse me. Look at me coldly, tell me I’m beyond redemption apart from death.”
Her trembling lips were visible, but I didn’t lift my gaze further. I couldn’t face her gaze.
“Ahh.”
I’m scared. Still so scared.
Maybe this is my punishment.
An immature, emotional punishment.
The price for not growing up.
“Disliking someone like me is part of the natural order, right?”
You, who carry such affection in your eyes…
You were so beautiful.
The cool atmosphere, the way you wielded your knife, the weary smiles you cast on the battlefield, even the embrace that felt like my body was melting—it all terrified me.
That’s why I admired you.
It didn’t take long for me to understand what love was.
I saw your trembling, milky-white eyes.
When the silence began, it felt like I was being judged for retaining words that I should have let go of.
Slowly, she opened her mouth.
“…Today, when this is all over, would you like to go to a dessert shop with me?”
“Ha, ha…”
You’re so consistent.
Even after saying words heavy with tension like that, to suggest such an everyday outing.
I pointed at the hunters slouched and fallen against the wall.
“I’ve already left all the hunters in a sorry state. Even those hiding in the back. So, you don’t need to lie to trick me. It’s fine; I’m no longer surprised.”
Why was I saying such long, twisted stories again? Because the distorted routine annoyed me? Because emotions had taken over me? Because I had become less than human?
“This dynamic between us feels fresh, doesn’t it? Though, I guess it’s true. Since falling for you, I have become too good.”
“…”
“I’d also like to hear you curse me again. I like it when you glare at me with those beautiful eyes.”
Perhaps it’s time to correct that kindness in your gaze.
All I can hope for is that you understand me trying to establish boundaries, even in this confusing situation.
I grabbed the fallen man’s hair and lifted it.
His faintly opened eyes shone faintly under the moonlight.
Even though I had once been subsumed by my daily routine, I had to remind myself that I once again belonged in a place like this.
“We need a proper setting. Doesn’t a space filled with screams sound suitable?”
I raised my knife. The bluish blade glinted.
“I’m cutting off this man’s arm first.”
“Ohri.”
“Yes? Did you call me?”
Condemnation is fine. It’s part of your way of acknowledging my existence.
I grinned faintly as I saw Erica’s hardened face.
“…”
The blade cut into the man’s joint.
“AAHH! AAAAAHH!”
“I, I have something to say!”
Her urgent voice pressed down on my ears. Her voice was good—always.
Exactly. Right. To hear your words, I need to stop everything and focus entirely on you.
Leaving the half-severed skin, I pressed my face into Erica’s knees.
“Yes? Speak.”
“What kind of desserts do you like?”
—
After saying it, I felt like I had made a mistake.
But it was lucky. Ohruri seemed to enjoy even such mundane dialogue, responding cheerfully.
“Cake was nice, but you know, whatever.”
“Is that so?”
Erica took a deep breath, redirecting her gaze slightly forward.
The hunters, lying sprawled out, groaning, made the scene appear as if time had stopped.
To keep this situation from escalating into chaos, Erica had to skillfully manipulate Ohruri through every detail.
The situation at hand.
Even Erica had trouble keeping up with the atmosphere of this moment.
She intended to avoid unnecessary bloodshed with the Union Department’s hunters, planning to bring the subdued Ohuri to the Association after dealing her a blow. But only moments ago, while lost in confusion as Ohruri gripped her shoulder, she suddenly snapped and began wildly wielding her knife.
And the threats began.
“There’s nothing else you want to say, is there?”
“No. I… I have more questions. Could you answer them?”
Silence ensued. Oruri smirked faintly, but she was clearly not herself. Her foggy gaze reflected contamination of her spirit.
Focusing on Ohruri’s unstable emotions, Erica tried her hardest not to let her explode unpredictably like a child.
“You have questions? You don’t need to force it out of me.”
“I said I wanted to know more about you before.”
“That’s sweet of you to care.”
Oruri leaned closer, her face inching toward Erica’s. The swords sticking out of her abdomen jangled against each other as they moved. Blood oozed from her ruptured abdomen and heart wounds, painting the floor.
Despite her fatigue, Oruri lifted her face toward Erica, her blood-smeared forehead and crimson gaze visible.
Without thinking, Erica hugged her.
It was more of an instinctual intention.
“You shouldn’t be kind to someone like me.”
A cry rang out. The knife sank into the man’s flesh. Muscles tore and bones cracked.
Erica’s hands trembled.
“It’s my fate to be trampled on by you…”
Oruri reached out, their fingers intertwining. Together they touched the sword piercing through Oruri’s abdomen.
With a pull, Oruri pressed her own wound deeper. Erica gripping the blade’s hilt caused her flesh to be further crushed with a squelching sound.
Blood flowed, and a faint groan tickled Erica’s ears.
“Of course, I, I am… Like this… Hurting you this much…”
Erica inhaled sharply. Her heart raced.
Gripped by Oruri’s faded gaze, Erica’s hand was forced onto another blade, sinking into Oruri’s torso. The resistance offered by the skin was overwhelming until it finally gave way with a “plop.”
“Heh…he… Uh…”
Her labored breathing gradually weakened. Oruri smiled feebly, her face contorted with pain while tears streamed down her cheeks.
Erica’s lips quivered.
“…Don’t do this.”
With hostages in play, Erica resisted. Oruri stared blankly at her.
Erica narrowed her eyes and glared fiercely at Oruri.
“I don’t want to see you in pain.”
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