A beast named ‘Cyrus’ lives in that mansion.

*

Cyrus knew from birth that he was a different kind of being. Anyone could see this fact just by looking at his sister or brother.

A mixed-blood born by breaking what was forbidden to humans. A byproduct between monster and human. A hybrid of snake and human. That’s exactly what he and his siblings were. However, his fathers cherished these children without reservation and gave each of them a name, and the one chosen for him was Cyrus.

Thus, Cyrus became Cyrus. But if names serve both the convenience of the caller and the identity of the called, he didn’t think his name belonged to the latter category, though it certainly belonged to the former.

He had already had his identity awakened by someone else. The one who did this was none other than his sibling, who had shared the flowing time with him since they were in the womb.

His name was Cecil. As his older sibling, though the actual time difference in their birth was minimal, they were conveniently referred to as being born in consecutive years.

Cecil differed quite a bit from Cyrus, particularly in his docile nature and his ability to get along with anyone. They had shared memories since the womb and often swam together.

Cyrus liked him. He liked everything—his gentle voice, his soft and still-short limbs, his pitch-black hair that looked like it would feel cold to the touch.

It was different from the feelings he had for his sister, Alesia. They had shared the same time in the womb, so he couldn’t understand why his feelings differed. He instinctively believed the answer lay in books, so he began to immerse himself in reading.

Books contained an incredible world. Without ever having been there, he could navigate the sea, the forest, the sky. He could meet people he had never met before and glimpse the lives of those he would never encounter in his lifetime.

He gradually lost his talkativeness and became absorbed in books. People praised this as behavior befitting the child of an earl’s family and patted his head, calling him clever. Though he wasn’t influenced by such words, he considered it fortunate in a way. When he was reading, no one disturbed him, quietly withdrawing from his side.

The only one who lingered around was Cecil. Alesia would try to talk to him but quickly leave with a bored expression if she received no response, but Cecil was different.

“What are you doing?”

He would always ask like that while hovering nearby. And Cyrus’s answer was always the same.

“Reading a book.”

“I see.”

Then Cecil would bring a book of his own and sit down beside him. When Cyrus felt his cool body temperature, it gave him a strange feeling. Anyone else would have become uncomfortable long ago, but Cecil was different. Having him press close wasn’t bothersome; rather, it created a peculiar comfort. He couldn’t understand what this emotion was.

Sometimes when he found it strange and looked at Cecil, Cecil would notice his gaze and smile gently. Then it was Cyrus’s turn to feel strange. His heart would pound, his hands and feet would grow cool, and heat would rise to the back of his neck. So he began to bury himself in books. He wanted to know what this feeling was.

It was on one such day while reading books.

<Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…>

An unfamiliar word caught his eye. It was an instinctive attraction. Cyrus caressed that word. The word, composed of curves and straight lines, slid smoothly under his fingertips.

“What is love?”

Curious, Cyrus asked, but Cecil just tilted his head and shook it. It meant he didn’t know. Instead of asking further, Cyrus began to search for all books related to love in the library.

The Origin of Love, The History of Love, The Secret of Love, The Definition of Love…

Numerous loves were confined in the small library.

<…It rises yet falls, is cold yet hot, is black yet white. Salvation and decline…>

The common statement in these books was that love has duality. According to the books he read, love cannot be defined as any one thing and is something that causes people pain.

But the characters in the books were all obsessed with that love and yearned to obtain it. They seemed to believe everything would be resolved if only they had love.

When his questions remained unanswered despite reading various books, Cyrus went to find his father. His father, Edwin, who was in the middle of work, gave him a questioning look when his son came at an unusual time.

“I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“What is love?”

A moment of silence passed. Edwin, who heard the question, chuckled. It was a smile Cyrus had rarely seen in his short life. He looked down at Cyrus with an amused expression, resting his chin on his hand.

“It’s troublesome if you’re already this smart.”

“I don’t understand what it is. Books all say different things.”

“What do they say?”

At that question, Cyrus paused briefly.

“They say it’s happiness. And that it makes people suffer.”

“What else?”

“It’s painful and agonizing, but everyone wants to have it.”

“Who does?”

“The people in the books.”

“That’s not wrong.”

After saying that, his father smiled again with a soft exhale. Following his gaze, Cyrus saw his other father sleeping on the sofa. What kind of light did his father’s eyes hold at that moment? Suddenly, Cyrus thought he could understand what it meant to be both black and white.

His father dismissed the topic, saying he didn’t think he could answer such a question, and sent Cyrus away. Feeling dejected, he returned to find Cecil sitting alone in the library.

“Where did you go?”

“To see Dad.”

“Why?”

“I asked him what love is.”

“What did Dad say?”

“He said he doesn’t know.”

Cecil made a strange expression. It was a face that seemed to ask if there was really something his father didn’t know. As Cyrus shrugged and settled on the carpet, Cecil lay down beside him and then rolled over. Lying there with his arms stretched toward the ceiling, playing with his hands, Cecil asked:

“What do the books say?”

The books… Recalling the content, Cyrus spoke.

“They say it hurts.”

“It hurts?”

“Yes. It’s painful and difficult, but it feels good.”

“Ah! I get it!”

Cecil suddenly shouted. Startled by the loud noise, Cyrus flinched. Cecil beamed with a broad smile.

“I understand! Loving is liking something!”

“Liking?”

“Yes. I once tried to pet a kitty, but when it bit me, I was sad. But I still liked it and gave it lots of tasty things. That’s what loving is.”

“Loving is liking?”

“It’s liking a lot.”

“How much?”

“Hmm… I don’t know that either! Just a lot!”

How much exactly did “a lot” mean? As much as the water in the lake near their house? Or even more?

“What do you love, brother?”

Since Cecil spoke so confidently about love, Cyrus became curious about what he loved. So when he asked, Cecil thought for a moment with a “hmm” and then broke into a wide smile.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

His bright smile was beautiful. In that moment, Cyrus felt transported back to that womb filled with amniotic fluid. The memory of swimming in that warm water. The playful tapping from the outside against his shell… The one with whom he had shared all those experiences was right in front of him. In his closest place, in his closest form.

No one had told him, but Cyrus could instinctively realize. This dangerous and beautiful thing would become nothing less than a calamity for him. Nevertheless…

My family, my brother. My…

I will come to love you.

Cyrus couldn’t help but be certain of it.