If the Devil guides us–
"If God guides us–"
–then perhaps I could accept that this was fate.
"–then it makes sense that I am here."
—Is anyone… Is anyone there? I've lost my way. Would you please be so kind as to spare me a little food?
"Ahh, there. There it is."—Bestia thought to himself.—"There comes the poor little offering. They never learn. They just keep coming, again and again. The mansion keeps granting my wish."
—I would be glad to provide you some food.—Bestia finally spoke.—And you are welcome to stay the night, get some rest. I will have a room prepared.
—Then… I suppose I shall take you up on your generosity… I have been wandering for a very, very long time.
What was that, Master? You recognize her?
I imagine you would. That white hair, those red eyes, skin the color of freshly fallen snow.
And that flawlessly beautiful visage… you could not possibly mistake her for anyone else. And no, it is not someone who happens to resemble her.
I can understand why you would be surprised, Master. At first, I could hardly believe my own eyes.
The wanderer knocking on the door that day was the very same fair-skinned young woman who visited the mansion so many years earlier.
The White-Haired Girl must have spent many, many a night in the forest.
Her crystalline skin was covered in red scratches from where she had brushed against stray branches and tree bark. She had even lost her shoes, and was standing there barefooted, looking quite disheartened.
But that did not make her any less beautiful. In fact, you could just imagine the dense forest canopy parting to allow the sun to shine down upon her.
The beast appeared surprised by her angelic beauty as well. It seemed as though all the madness drained from him in that moment.
He said nothing, but his eyes told all.
He was entranced by the sight of her ruby-red irises and her pure-white hair.
—*****************
—...Pardon?—The White-Haired Girl didn't understand what Bestia just said.
"I-I am a beast."—Bestia thought upon the look of the White-Haired Girl.—"This is what I asked for. Something to quench my thirst. You're allowed to be happy."
But as I said, it was only for a moment.
"So rejoice! Imagine just how gratifying it will be to see such a beautiful woman writhing in the throes of death!"
—Follow me. I will have a bath drawn as well.—Beastia finally said.
And once the moment had passed, the beast was barely able to contain the wellspring of madness within himself.
He wanted nothing more than to run his sword through the White-Haired Girl that very instant. To torture her, to defile her.
He tended to her wounds, served her supper, and drew a bath for her.
And afterwards, the beast even made to provide her with a dress to wear.
Even the outfit she had only worn for one night so many years before was there, waiting for someone to put it on again. For her to put it on again.
He said she could choose anything she liked. She, being such a modest young woman, said she needed not of such fine attire.
And what a shame that was. I too wished to see her in a dress once more.
—I need not… such fine clothing.
—You needn't be modest.—Beastia said against her words.
—No… No, that's not why.—The White-Haired Girl was staying on her own.
—Are they not to your liking, then?
—No… I just… My apologies. You are very generous.
"Foolish girl. Smiling and calling me "generous". I was simply imagining what a pretty sight it would be. The sight of her fresh blood splattered on it. The sight of her life slipping away in it."
—I am glad that, after wandering for so long, I ended up here in this mansion.—The White-Haired Girl smiled.
"And in a few hours, you'll be feeling the exact opposite."
—Get all the rest you need. I shall see you again in the morning.
—I thank you.
Bestia then made his way out of the girl's bedchamber. His mask came crumbling off after only taking a few steps.
—Hah… hahaha… Hee, heeeeheeheeheehee! There! That's precisely what I wanted! Aaaahh! Just imagining how such a beautiful woman will scream… How she'll beg for her life! Hey… Hey! Are you there?! The mansion has given me the perfect offering! Hey… Hey! Is she not here?
…..
—Is someone there?
—Yes.—The Maid responded to her.—I came by to ask if there was anything you needed. I cannot offer you anything extravagant, not like before, but I am here to provide you with anything in my capacity.
—I appreciate the offer, but I need nothing.—The White-Haired Girl smiled.—Being allowed to stay the night is more than enough. Do you work here in the mansion?
—Yes, indeed I do. I have been here for a very, very long time.—The Maid smiled too.
—...—A trace of confusion appeared on The White-Haired Girl's face.—A very long time…? Um… you might think this an odd question, but… have we met before? Something about you seems familiar. And I…—The Maid smiled dropped off her face.—get the feeling I have been in this mansion before.
—Yes, we have met.—The Maid's expression returned back to normal.—It was quite some time ago, though.
—When… was it? I, um…—She closed her eyes.
—It was… an unimaginably long time ago. Do you remember a boy and a girl with flaxen hair?
—Flaxen hair…—Her eyes opened back as she processed the question.—I apologize.—She finally said after prolonged silence.—My memory fails me…
—Do you not remember me either?—The Maid received no response.—I see. You should probably not push yourself to remember, then. There were joyous times, and there were less-than-joyous times. But would you be so kind as to answer one question? What might your name be?
—My name…—Her expression darkened a bit.—My name is ********.
—I see… So you are ****** again.
—...Again?
—...You should get some rest. I will make tea for you in the morning. Also… Go on, close your eyes.
But Bestia never waited for morning to come.
With his sword that smelled of blood hanging from his hip, the beast slowly, ever so slowly crept toward the room where the White-Haired Girl slept.
The time was soon approaching for the bloodthirsty beast to paint the walls with the young woman's blood.
To turn her bedchamber into a gore-splattered altar upon which he would offer her to the Devil.
—...!
However, when he opened the door, the beast could hardly believe his eyes.
She was not asleep, but sitting there as if expecting Bestia's arrival.
—Why are you awake? Did you not go to sleep?!
—I heard footsteps, so I…
—And what were you planning to do when I got here? Surely you didn't think we'd simply have a nice midnight chat.
—I was hoping to ask what it was that you wanted.
—To ask… what it was… I waaaaaaaanted? Do you even realize what you're saying? Can you not see what's in my hand?! You know exaaaaaaaactly… what I came here to doooooooo. Aren't you going to beg? Aren't you going to plead for your life? Aren't you going to ask me not to kill youuuu?!
—If it's necessary… But is that what you want?
—What I want is something much, much, much more gratifying than your please–I want to hold a banquet! It's not enough… No matter what I do, it's not enough… But you–you will be enough to satisfy me! To quench this unholy thirst! To completely! Wholly! Fill me to the bursting point! You want to know what I desire? I desire! To devour youuuuuuuu!
—...Ah!
Bestia shoved the girl back, slamming her into the mattress.
He then stabbed his sword through the sheets beside her, looking down upon the girl, the moonlight at his back.
Clenching her slender throat with one hand, he drew his sword once more, holding the tip but inches from her nose.
No matter how much blood it drank, the sword continued to shine gloriously, as though it had just come from the forge.
It was an awe-inspiring, tear-shedding blade, the sight of which would cause anyone to imagine the misfortune about to befall them.
—Go on, mock meeee! Ridicule the hideous, barbaric beast standing before you! From the moment you saw me, you thought me unsettling, no?! But you averted your eyes! Because I had food for you! Because I gave you a place to rest! You pretended not to notice the beast! This is retribution! Retribution for you damned humans! So beg for your life like they all do! Cry! Plead for mercy!
—If you say… If you say that you are ugly, then I must be equally ugly.
—... What…?
What came from the girl's mouth was neither a plea, nor an insult, nor a scream.
Full-grown men had wept before him, and yet this slight young woman did not.
Despite this terrifying beast being upon her, moments away from extinguishing her life.
Even I almost shrieked in fright.
Bestia could believe neither his eyes nor his ears.
—D-Do you not fear me?! Can you not see what I'm about to do to you?!
—What am I to be afraid of?
—I'm threatening to murder you! To rip your intestines out with these claws and watch you die in agony! I enjoy it more than anything in the world! Filling others' hearts with fear! The more lives I take, the more I enjoy it! I'm a beast, driven by madness!
What he expected was for the beautiful girl before him to desperately implore him for mercy.
He wanted nothing more than to see despair seep into every corner of her red eyes…
for he believed that it would be a truly sublime moment, euphoria unlike anything he had experienced before.
Bestia prodded her with his singular sword, poking a slit in skin smoother than silk.
—You see me as pitiful, and so you are offering me release from my fate.
But she did not do as the beast wished. She looked up at him with sympathy rather than fear.
This rattled the beast. He had never once seen anyone respond to him that way.
—Wh-What on earth are you talking about?! What is going through your head?! Pity? Release? Do you not comprehend this situation?! How can you be so calm?! Scream! Cry and shout! Beg for me to spare you! Throw yourself at my feet! Throooow yourself at my feeeeeeeet! Otherwise, I'll… I… I'm a beeeeast! A beast! That never tires of killing!
—To me… you appear to be a person.
—Y– You're lying…
—You listen to the things I say, and you respond with your own words.
—I-I was taught… how to speak… I-I-I– I'm a beast who speaks human language!
—But you think. You use your mind to come up with responses. And you hesitate.
—If I… If I, if I, if I, If I'm human! Then why do they disparage me so?! Wh– Why do they… reject me… and try… to kill me?! Because I'm a beast! A REPULSIVE BEAST! THAT'S WHY, ISN'T IT?!
—I… I will do nothing to hurt you… We are alike.
—A-Alike? D-Don't be ridiculous! How can you say we're alike when you're as beautiful as you are?!
—There is nothing beautiful about me. What value does outward appearance have?
—Y-You…
—You have suffered much persecution… which is why you tremble in fear.
—I am not trembling! I am not afraid!
—I can hear… the cries of your heart.
—Wh-What on earth is wrong with you? Why… are you not afraid? Why do you not scream in terror?
—I am afraid, but more than fear… I feel like I know now what my role is.
—Y-Your… role…?
—If you will have me, then I… would like to remain here in the mansion.
—Are you mad?! I will eventually kill you! Torture you. Put you through hell. Make you wish you were never born.
—That does not change my mind. Please, allow me to stay. I find it very hard to believe… that what you want deep down is to hurt people. And I get the feeling… that I meant to be here. That it is my role.
—Y…
Bestia was at a loss. He was, perhaps, afraid of this girl who did not fear him–and even attempted to embrace him.
She behaved too differently from all the other humans he knew of, who only ever harassed and pushed him away.
—Wh-Why are you so… kind to me…? To this beast… this murderer…
Bestia's sword slipped from his hand, hitting the hard floor with a metallic whine.
When the sound died down, the White-Haired Girl extended her hands for the beast with the utmost of affability.
Her fingers were white as freshly fallen snow, something this are never saw.
They traced his distinctive frame; they ran along his unusually shaped nose; they slid across his rough, yellowed skin; they drifted around his rather small eyes.
The beast trembled once more, this time not out of twisted desire from depth within…
but from the unimaginable comfort of physical contact.
Her fingers moved so gently, so pleasantly, wrapping him in their warmth.
—Are you… crying?
A single teardrop slid down the arc of her finger.
Looking into her clear eyes, Bestia came to a realization.
And at the same time, he felt somewhat dismayed.
—You are… without sight.
Taken in the throes of his primal urges, the beast had not noticed, but there was an emptiness in the girl's eyes.
She appeared to be gazing far into the distance, not focused on the man despite being close enough to touch him.
Tears had begun running down Bestia's cheeks earlier–when she had called him a person.
But it was not until one of those droplets had slid across the back of her finger that she had realized.
She would, indeed, have no need of extravagant dresses–after all, she could not see what she was wearing.
—That is correct; I am blind… But who ever decided that reality is only that which can be seen? I know not what appearance I have. In the darkness, everything is as one; there is no difference between beast and man. If you are a beast, then I too must be a beast.
To call the girl a beast would be paramount to eating sugar and insisting it was salt.
Do pardon the trite analogy, please.
But you know rather well, Master, that the White-Haired was not at all what you would call a beast.
Not simply in appearance, but all the way down to her core. There was nothing beastly about her.
Her words brought him faint pain, but the beast still felt, on some level, that he wanted to keep her at his side. To see what would happen.
His next words were in large part impulsive.
—I-I am grateful… that you cannot see.