—Rexdeus, Who Had Lost His Name and Identity—
Without realizing it, the corner of my lips shifted faintly, as though something was about to escape before I could fully understand it myself.
"…I—" The word stopped in my throat, cut off before it could become meaning.
Not because I did not know how to continue it, but because something else… something far deeper… suddenly took over.
Her face changed. Paling instantly.
And at that moment—I felt it. Not an explosion. Not something sudden that shattered everything in a single instant.
Quite the opposite. The change was far too subtle, far too slow, almost impossible to notice at first.
Like a tiny crack forming across something that appeared whole, then silently spreading through the flow I had always recognized as my own.
Something inside my body… shifted.
The flow no longer followed the same pattern.
It deviated.
Moved in ways I had never allowed. And the more aware I became of it, the clearer it was that this was not some minor disturbance that could simply be ignored.
My blood began to move. Unstable. Not merely pulsing faster—but acting as though it possessed a will of its own, flowing toward somewhere I could no longer restrain.
A part of me felt as though it was being pulled, dragged back from a great distance, as if something that had once been forcibly separated was now beginning to find its way home.
Two Dummies had died.
And with their deaths… something that should have remained separate was beginning to merge back into me.
I could feel it rising slowly, like small waves brushing against the edge of my consciousness.
But that was only the beginning.
Within seconds, the waves grew larger, pressing deeper, filling every empty space until they finally exceeded the limit I could endure.
My body faltered. Not from weakness. But because something inside me had begun to move without waiting for my command—without acknowledging my control as the owner of this body.
My vision slowly shifted. The colors around me became sharper, too vivid, too alive—as though the world itself was being forced directly into my consciousness without any filter.
Every shadow appeared darker than it should have been, every light unbearably bright, creating a contrast sharp enough to pierce through me.
The breath leaving my throat felt heavy.
Not because breathing was difficult.
But because it felt too full.
As though something else was breathing alongside me—something that should not have existed there, yet could no longer be separated from me.
I clenched my teeth, trying to restrain it, trying to force shut whatever had begun to open… but my body no longer responded completely to my will.
And amidst all of that—
I saw her move. Drawing closer.
My reflexes reacted immediately, faster than my own thoughts.
"Don't come closer!" My voice came out harsher than intended, as though another layer of something had spoken together with me.
But—
Too late.
She had already moved first. Her steps did not hesitate. Did not stop.
And the moment I realized who was standing before me—The world around me seemed to narrow into that single point alone.
"Shoka!" Too direct for someone who should have stepped back.
Tears fell from her eyes, yet remained painfully clear—trailing down her cheeks without her even realizing it, without ever wiping them away.
"…Stay away." My voice dropped lower than before—not a command anymore, but something closer to a plea. Something weak.Something honest.
"I won't… Shoka." She kept coming closer.
Step by step—
The distance between us collapsed little by little… until there was nothing left separating us at all.
I could feel the warmth of her body. Could hear her uneven breathing. Could see her blue eyes—alive.
"I don't want to hurt you… leave." I said it while holding back something that kept rising from within me—something slowly eroding the boundary between myself and my instincts.
"No." Her answer remained the same.
Unshaken.
"I'm a monster!" My voice cracked. "I devour the living just to survive. So stay away!" I gave her a reason.
A warning.
A path to leave.
But she refused to take it.
Instead—She hurt herself. The movement was quick, without hesitation. The blade sank far deeper than it should have for something meant only to offer.
Her skin split open—And within a single breath—Blood flowed out, warm and fresh.
"Then…" Her voice trembled, yet she did not back away. "…eat this."
Her hand reached toward me. And in that moment—the distance between us truly disappeared.
The scent struck me. Sharper than anything I had ever felt before. As though the entire world had narrowed into a single point—
The blood flowing from her hand.
My body reacted first. My fangs shifted. My instincts pulled me forward.
Closer.
"Stop…" I muttered softly—not to her, but to myself.
My hand seized her wrist. Her skin was warm beneath my grip—far too fragile compared to what I could do to her.
My body trembled as something inside me struggled to tear its way out.
I could bite her.
The realization surfaced with terrifying clarity—And just once would be enough to make me never stop.
"Leave…" My voice broke once again. "Now."
"No." Her answer remained the same—calm, without force.
Her blue eyes never turned away.
Wet with tears—yet still fixed directly on me. "…I don't want Shoka to die."
Silence fell between us. Not an empty silence—But one so heavy it felt as though the world itself had stopped between our breaths.
My grip tightened unconsciously.
Just a little more—I could bite her.
My body knew it. And perhaps because of that—I remained exactly where I was.
…I was trying to restrain something that should never have been possible to restrain.
I lowered my head. Not to attack her.
But to move closer. My lips touched her wound—without biting.
Her skin was soft and warm. Her blood touched my lips, and my body reacted instantly.
But this time—without fangs. Only taking it… slowly.
Her blood flowed into me—warm, alive… and different. Not like the others. Not like prey. There was something within it I could not explain—something that did not awaken the urge to destroy… but instead made me stop.
My hand still gripped her wrist—not to restrain her. To protect her. To keep her from moving. To keep myself from losing control.
I swallowed slowly once. Until the flow of blood gradually lessened… then stopped.
Enough.
I pulled away, yet my hand did not follow. My fingers remained pressed gently against the wound, holding back the remaining blood that still tried to escape.
My touch was not forceful. Not demanding. Only… lingering. As though I was not yet ready to let her go. Not to attack her. Nor to hold her captive.
Just… not letting go.
...
Strange.
I did not bite her. Even though I could have. Even though I should have.
I stared at the blood still clinging to the tips of my fingers. I could still feel its pulse beneath her skin.
...
The thought felt wrong.
Out of place. It had never existed inside me before. It came without permission. Without any reason I could understand.
I looked at her.
Still too close. Still not pulling away.
I could still feel her breath against my skin.
Too alive…To the point that it became unsettling.
And then I realized it—
There was something inside me that should not exist.Something that had never been written for someone like me.
…
Yet something that could not be named.
And because of that—I began to recognize it.
[…It seems I've started wanting something I was never meant to have.] The thought surfaced on its own.
I did not say its name. There was no need to.
Because I already knew the answer.
My hand was still there, resting over her wound. I should have let go by now. But my fingers did not move.
The bleeding had already stopped, leaving only a thin cut still slightly open—not deep, but enough to show what she had just done… for me.
I did not like it. Not the wound. Not the blood. But the reason behind it.
At last, my hand moved slowly—not to hurt her, nor to take more.
The bandage cloth was still in my grasp from earlier, neatly folded like something that should never have been used by someone like me.
Without realizing it—or perhaps being far too aware of it—I unfolded it.
My movements were not fast, yet not hesitant either. Only… unfamiliar.
As though this body was doing something it had never been taught to do, yet somehow still knew how.
I gently pulled her hand a little closer than necessary. The bandage touched her wound.
She flinched slightly. Very faintly—almost impossible to notice. But enough to make my hand pause for a few seconds.
Then I began wrapping it slowly. My movements were neat—as though what I was doing was not caring for someone, but repairing something damaged so it could return to its original form.
And even so, I did not stop.
Layer by layer, the bandage covered the wound, holding back any blood that might still escape, hiding the traces of what had just happened between us.
My hands stopped at the final knot. That should have been enough. I should have been finished.
Yet my hand did not immediately pull away.
It remained there. Still touching her. Lingering for a moment longer.
...
I did not understand why I was doing this.
And yet… I could not bring myself to stop.