To forget everything on her own – it seemed so easy to her. That very ease filled him with hatred and disgust, but at the same time it brought him a strange sense of relief. Even in such a twisted life, perhaps a fragment of the past could still glimmer.

When Akan met Marquis Mos and learned that it was Robellia who had saved his life and condemned him to a life of suffering, he made a decision.

He would return everything she had given him.

And he did just that. He gave her the pain of losing a loved one, gave her a life that felt like hell, drove her to despair, and forced her to experience the primal instincts of a b*ast deprived of human reason.

But what had he felt when he believed that Robellia had died after falling into the flowerbed? What if Robellia had really taken her last breath and never awakened?

“You were… my everything, too.”

Robellia had been his only reason for living. It had been easier to hate her than to forget her, and so he had chosen hatred. Even when he realised that he was broken as a human, he refused to give up and instead destroyed Robellia without hesitation. He wanted her completely broken in his grip, unable to escape him.

The seed he had planted refused to die, even in the rotten soil. It grew into a monstrous form, incapable of flowering or bearing fruit, yet it survived grotesquely. Unhappily.

Akan’s grip on Robellia tightened, his knuckles turning white as he held her. Robellia, who had been quietly soaking his clothes with her tears, slowly lifted her head. Unable to bear to see himself reflected in her clear, violet eyes, Akan covered them with the palm of his hand.

“I’ll go… if that’s what you want, Akan…”

Robellia, who had held him just as tightly, slowly released her arms. Before the fleeting sense of loss could fully register, Robellia reached up and gently grasped the hand that covered her face.

Slowly she pulled it away. Her tear streaked face lit up with a bright smile, like sunlight breaking through after a storm to shine on rain drenched flowers. Moments as simple as this could sometimes hold profound meaning for someone. Meaning so unforgettable that it could never fade.

It wasn’t clear who had moved first. Had they both been lost in a daze, their eyes open, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness? When reality returned, their lips were already pressed together. Akan’s hand was wrapped tightly around Robellia’s waist as he slid his tongue into her mouth. Her arms encircled his neck, her lips parted willingly, and she made no attempt to resist the unfamiliar intruder. Their breaths mingled as wet flesh met and moved together, each friction igniting something neither could deny.

He knew it wasn’t normal. For Akan, physical contact had always been something forced upon him, or something he forced upon others. Every impulse he had ever felt had been sadistic, an act of violence against another.

The mere fact that he had kissed her without realising it was confusing enough, and to make matters worse, the person he had kissed was Robellia – a Robellia who wasn’t even in her right mind. Realising the state he was in, Akan tried to pull himself away. Or at least he tried.

Robellia clung to his neck with all her might. Before he could pull away completely, her lips found his again, pressing insistently as she desperately forced her tongue into his mouth. She gasped for air, unable to catch her breath, clinging to him as if she would die if they parted.

With a sharp exhale, Akan breathed deeply into Robellia’s mouth and their entwined bodies turned half a circle. Akan’s hand closed the bedroom door belatedly.

Their eyes met. Akan clenched his jaw and turned his head away, only to see Robellia’s tear-filled eyes trembling like those of an abandoned child. He took her in his arms. Robellia buried her tear-stained face against his chest, her breathing slowing as she rubbed her face against his.

The sound of her heavy breathing filled the dimly lit bedroom, the flickering candlelight casting shadows around them. It was Akan who broke the silence first.

“Leave, Robellia.”

“I will… tomorrow, I promise, I’ll leave…”

Robellia squirmed slightly, burrowing deeper into his embrace. Akan stroked her back gently, as if to calm her. The soft texture of her nightgown under his fingertips felt both familiar and unfamiliar. His hand tingled, as if it wanted to grasp something – anything.

This time his actions were deliberate. Brushing aside her dishevelled hair, his fingers trailed along the nape of her neck. Robellia, still leaning against him, lifted her head once more. As he tilted his head down slightly, the warm breath she exhaled brushed his lips, tickling him.

He wasn’t angry, but his chest felt tight, a searing pain twisting inside him. It was an unfamiliar emotion, one he couldn’t name, but he knew instinctively how to ease it. *Their damp lips met. Each time they parted and reunited, the sounds grew deeper and more intense.

“Akan…”

He swallowed every word, every breath that escaped her parted lips. Her saliva, her breath, even the faint utterance of his name – he devoured it all.

Robellia took shallow, tearful breaths as she clung to Akan’s arm. Akan knew it wasn’t rejection, but he was still aware that he should stop. Robellia had lost herself, he hadn’t. But beneath that awareness lay something far uglier – a truth he didn’t want to face. He had already hidden so much, Robellia had forgotten everything, and tomorrow she would be gone forever.

“If you don’t want that… push me away.”

He said it as if it were consideration, but in reality it was the poor semblance of a broken man’s conscience. Robellia nodded slightly, her flushed cheeks reddening beneath her swollen eyes.

As he slipped an arm under her waist and lifted her, her slender form was almost weightless in his grasp. Robellia naturally wrapped her arms around Akan’s head, resting her forehead on his faded hair. Her gesture was like a wounded and tired bird trying its best to offer comfort.

“It tickles.”

Akan placed Robellia gently on the bed a few steps away. As if afraid of his sudden departure, Robellia refused to let go, clinging tightly to his arms.

Leaning back against the bed, Akan pressed his lips to Robellia’s once more. The warmth and tightness of her mouth was so overwhelming that he could hardly believe the merciless acts he had committed in the past – or perhaps it was the present he couldn’t believe.

Although this was unfamiliar territory for both of them, there was no awkwardness. The fleeting thought that this might be nothing more than a dream from which they would awaken after a single night was both the source of their urgency and their absolution. It gave them permission to express their desire without hesitation.

“Don’t go… Akan.”

“I won’t.”

Only then did the tension in Robellia’s grip ease slightly. She let go of his neck, though she still clung to the sleeve of his shirt, as if she couldn’t quite let go of her doubt.

With Robellia’s hand still gripping his sleeve, Akan slid the material of her nightgown up her legs. As the light material brushed against her skin, Robellia flinched at the ticklish sensation. Akan leaned down to kiss her again, his lips meeting hers in a gesture that was both soothing and devouring.

Robellia, who had followed the river, pressed her lips gently against Akan’s lower lip, almost as if pecking at it. Akan stared, transfixed, at the trembling golden lashes that framed her lowered eyes. When Robellia’s gaze, which had lingered around his jaw, finally lifted to meet his, she smiled shyly, her lips curling upwards.

Akan’s weight pressed her down gently and Robellia sank back onto the bed. She wasn’t afraid of the man who slowly climbed over her, his movements deliberate. Instead, it was Akan’s eyes, filled with something like fear as they looked down at her, that seemed fragile. Robellia opened her arms as if to reassure him, pulling him into her embrace and nuzzling her cheek against his.

“Haa.”

Akan’s breath, hot against the exposed line of her neck, sent a shiver down her spine.

“I like you, Akan. I always…have.”

Robellia whispered in a voice so low it was barely audible – a strange confession between two people who, at that moment, no longer existed as they once did. The girl was no longer noble, the boy no longer radiant.