Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 5 - Part 5

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One hour later, a man and a bat stood at the entrance of Rose Funeral, ringing the doorbell. Of all the places where they could potentially find someone willing to share the current situation while keeping some distance from Richard and the others — and where strangers coming and going wouldn’t seem suspicious — this was their only real option.

[Hello, may I help you?]

The one who appeared was Gary, dressed in a suit as usual. Standing beside Al was Kyiv, now transformed into a strikingly beautiful woman — plain one-piece dress, wide-brimmed hat, subtle makeup that somehow made her radiant. When their eyes met, she gave Gary a charming smile.

Claiming to be a friend from Pat’s high school days, Kyiv spoke in a high-pitched, feminine voice, insisting she had something she just had to tell Pat. In response, Gary said, [Would you mind waiting here for a moment?] and led them into the living room.

[Sorry for the mess,] he said, clearing a space on the sofa.

[We’ve got another guest in the parlor room from the facility right now. Could you wait just a bit? I’ll call my sister as soon as she’s done,] he added before stepping out.

The table was cluttered with pizza boxes, bottled water, magazines, newspapers, towels, and camisoles, all carelessly stacked.

[People actually live like this? Still a garbage heap, I see.]

It was no wonder Kyiv looked exasperated. Pat had delicate hands and masterful technique—but only when it came to embalming. Once she stepped out of the prep room, she made messes even a sloth would be shocked by. Not just Gary, but even Al had found himself tidying up now and then. But during their absence, the place had descended into utter chaos.

After about fifteen minutes of waiting, the door burst open with a bang.

Wearing nothing but a tank top and short shorts—basically underwear—Pat appeared, face contorted like a lion right before it kills an impala.

She probably just woke up, having worked through the night. Narrowing her already irritated eyes, she growled lowly:

[You're Al's roommate, aren't you?]

[You figured it out quick.]

Pat scratched her smooth scalp roughly.

[It's my job. I study people’s bone structure all the time. So, where the hell have you been? Everyone’s been worried sick. And where’s Al?]

From between the dirty mugs on the table, Al poked his face out and let out a “Gyaa!” (Sorry for making you worry).

Pat stared at him, then sighed and placed a hand on her forehead.

[Right... you’re a bat at this hour, huh. Well, you seem fine, at least.]

She plopped down heavily on the sofa across from them—on top of a pile of her own shed clothing.

[I don’t speak Bat. So, Kyiv, you explain why you two vanished without saying a word after the fire.]

Kyiv glanced around the room, then gave a pleasant smile.

[Before I explain—can I clean the table first?]

[Why?]

Pat tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.

[I’m scared a cockroach is gonna crawl out any second.]

[Oh, just smash it if it does.]

Pat didn’t back down. No—she probably genuinely believed that.

And Kyiv was, at heart, a pacifist.

[Fair point.]

Knowing it was a losing battle, Kyiv gave up quickly and decided to pretend he hadn’t seen the devastation of the table in front of him.

Kyiv gave a brief summary: the actor living in Richard’s house, Stan, was most likely the one who attacked Al and set the fire. To escape Stan’s eye, they had hidden out in the ruins of an abandoned hospital.

Pat, listening with one leg propped up on the sofa, suddenly interrupted:

[Hey—this Stan who attacked Al... you don’t mean Stanley Griffith, do you?]

Kyiv fluttered his heavily mascaraed lashes. [You know him?]

[Only in passing. He came by here after the fire. I was asleep, so Gary talked to him, but he was asking if Al had gotten in touch.]

So Stan was looking for them.

[He was a client once. I embalmed his lover.]

His deceased lover… the image of the actress Ashley—whose footage Stan obsessively rewatched—flashed through Al’s mind.

[I didn’t know at the time, but apparently she was an actress. Gorgeous woman. When Stan came to see me, the first thing he said was, ‘I heard you’re the best in L.A.—I want you to take care of her.’ He said he wanted to send her off looking more beautiful than anyone in the world. She’d shot herself in the temple with a gun, so I had to be really meticulous with repairing the wound.]

Could it be...? A few small truths stacked up inside Al, slowly forming a single, ominous conclusion. He had never understood why Stan held such a grudge against Richard—why he was trying to destroy not just the man but his reputation, too. But maybe… just maybe…

Was the lover who committed suicide really Ashley? He wanted to ask, to confirm, but he couldn’t speak like this. He’d have to wait until he turned human again… and as if in sync with that thought, heat began spreading through his body. He glanced at the clock. 2:57 p.m.—just about time. Three minutes before 3 o’clock. His time to turn human again.

"Gyaa, gyaa, gyaa!"

The loud screech made both Pat and Kyiv stop their conversation.

Kyiv leaned over to peer at Al, asking, [What’s wrong?]

When Mitani had been around, they’d been careful about his transformations—but Pat knew everything, so maybe they’d relaxed too much and forgotten. Al flew up to the wall clock and pointed a claw at the long hand.

[What kind of message is that supposed to be?]

Pat looked puzzled.

[Ah, that’s right—it’s almost time for him to turn back. You see, Al drank my blood and became almost a complete vampire, but for two hours in the afternoon, he's forced to turn into a bat.]

Kyiv explained the situation to Pat and then turned to Al with a glance toward the back of the living room.

[Over there, maybe?] he said, nodding toward the kitchen.

No, not "over there"!

If he changed back into a human here, he’d be completely naked. Even if Pat was used to seeing people of all ages and genders nude, that didn’t mean Al wanted to add to the collection. He was not, by any means, an exhibitionist.

"Gyaa gyaa gyaa!" (Bring clothes, please!)

No matter how much he cried, Kyiv just gave the kitchen a brief glance and said nothing. It was clear—he didn’t want to step into that place. The kitchen was messier than the living room, more chaotic, and likely crawling with things.

There was no helping it. Al decided Kyiv could bring his clothes later. He flew into the U-shaped kitchen that opened off the living room and landed beside the dining table, lying face-down. Fire rushed through his veins. His fur sank back into his skin, his claws retracted, and his limbs returned to their human form. In seconds, he was human again. Since becoming nearly a complete vampire, the transformation had gotten faster.

So, yeah—he really was a bat for exactly two hours. As Al rubbed his hands and feet, a thought struck him. The involuntary bat-form only lasted two hours now. Kyiv could stay human 24/7 and turn into a bat whenever he needed. Maybe Al could do that too.

He’d just turned human, and since he was still naked, this was the perfect time to test it out. “Turn into bat!” he willed.

…Nothing happened.

He tried again, harder this time: “Bat, bat, bat!” Still nothing. He slumped. Maybe it really wasn’t possible. Then he remembered the memory manipulation.

Back then, what worked was visualizing it clearly in his mind. Maybe if he imagined the bat transformation in detail, he could make it happen. He closed his eyes and pictured his bat-self: a tiny, fur-covered body, claws, wings stretched thin with membranes—His body began to heat up.

But it wasn’t the full, erupting, lava-like heat he felt during a complete transformation. The heat faded, cooling off instead.

No good.

Al opened his mouth to call for Kyiv to bring clothes—And was shocked when all that came out was a "Gyaa!"

Like a bat’s cry. Panicking, he looked at his hands. Human. Fingers, palms, arms—still normal. The kitchen looked the right size too—nothing warped or oversized like when he was a bat.

But something was wrong. There was no color. Everything around him was in grayscale. That was only supposed to happen in bat form—he should’ve regained full color vision as a human. He reached up and touched his head, then froze.

Panicking now, he checked his neck, his body. From the neck down, he was fully human. It looked and felt normal. But above the neck—The shape wasn’t right. Fuzzy hair, a protruding nose and mouth…

A horrible suspicion crept over him. There was no mirror in the kitchen. But he remembered: in the hallway, just outside the kitchen door, there was one on the wall.

That was in the residential area, where Gary didn’t usually pass during work hours. He cracked the door, made sure no one was there, and stepped into the hall. From inside the room, Kyiv called out, [Al, you okay?] But right now, Al could only answer with a single, high-pitched "Gyaa."

The mirror that had been in the hallway was gone. Had Pat, drunk as usual, stumbled into it and broken it? Come to think of it, there was another mirror in the office just diagonally across the hall. Al peeked through the hallway window to check outside. Gary’s car wasn’t in the parking lot. He was definitely out. That meant it should be safe.

Al quietly opened the office door.

[And so, the government has...]

A voice made his whole body freeze, but he quickly realized it was just coming from the television.

Was Gary here? But his car wasn’t outside... maybe he lent it to someone, or sent it in for repairs. Still, no reaction came from within the room. Al peered through the narrow opening.

The window directly ahead was wide open, and a thin curtain swayed gently in the breeze. Gary was there, lying on the couch beneath it, eyes closed. Earlier, he’d said someone was visiting, but it seemed they’d left. His breathing was calm and steady, and mixed into it was the sound of grinding teeth. Probably fell asleep watching TV again.

Going in was a risk.

Just as Al started to close the door, he caught sight of his own reflection in a small mirror on the right—and froze in shock.

He’d expected it, but seeing it for himself still hit hard.

He glanced once more at the sleeping man. Gary, who could sleep with the TV blaring, probably wouldn’t wake if he moved carefully. Al slipped silently into the room and approached the mirror.

What he saw was a fusion that defied all laws of life—his head was that of a bat, while the rest of his body was human. It was awful. Even worse than his full bat form. He couldn’t walk around outside like this… well, maybe during Halloween. He could probably manage at a holiday event, but under normal circumstances? Not a chance.

Unless... maybe if he wore a paper bag over his head so no one could see. Didn’t an old movie have a character like that?

While sinking into despair at the hideousness of his hybrid form, he suddenly remembered—Akira had once said he liked Al’s bat face. If that were true, then this form, with a human body and bat head, might actually be Akira’s exact type.

If someone could love him like this, maybe choosing this form wasn’t such a bad idea. But he couldn’t go on a date like this, and his voice was still just that bat-like”Gyaa”, so he couldn’t even have a conversation. Folding his arms, Al sank into serious contemplation. No—he didn’t need to decide for himself. He could just show Akira and let him choose.

[I was brainwashed by the Peaceful House leadership!]

The familiar voice drew his attention back to the television. On the screen was the hijacker Giraffe. The name written beneath him read “Edward Ings.”

In the video, Giraffe—no, Edward—stood proudly in his prison uniform, chest puffed out.

[Even if they say I committed murder, I don’t remember it at all. I came back to my senses during the hijacking—it was divine guidance.]

He was claiming brainwashing and pleading not guilty. After his statement, the newscaster said in a flat tone, [The defendant will undergo a third psychiatric evaluation...]

Edward Ings. Giraffe. The memory came rushing back. Under Angel’s command, Edward had killed Ashley. And then—

Clatter. A noise startled Al into turning around.

[Hiiiiiiie!]

At some point, Gary had woken up. Still on the sofa, he stared at Al with a twisted mouth and wide, trembling eyes.

[G-g-god... p-p-please save me!!]

Al tried to say [S-sorry]—but what came out of his mouth was a sharp “Gyaa gyaa”. That only made Gary more terrified, and tears started pouring from both his eyes.

If he couldn’t explain, then the only option was to run. Al dashed out of the office and back to the living room.

The moment Kyiv and Pat saw him—naked, and in this half-human, half-bat state—they nearly launched themselves out of their chairs in shock.

[What the hell are you!? A burglar!?]

Pat dropped into a full fighting stance, completely on guard, while Kyiv, hands raised in a non-threatening pose, just stared at Al and murmured, [Could it be...]

[Al, is that you?]

Al nodded vigorously. Pat flung her arms wide and shouted in disbelief, [You’re telling me this is Al!?]

[Why the hell does he look like a monster... Well, now that I really look at him, I guess I can kind of see the bat face in there.]

[This is a first for me too,] Kyiv said calmly.

Wanting them to understand the situation, Al tried opening his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture and screeched, “Gyaa gyaa!”—but no amount of bat-speak was going to get the point across.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Al quickly dove behind the sofa where Kyiv was sitting.

[Sis!]

Sure enough, it was Gary who burst into the room.

[What now? You’re so noisy.]

Pat responded with absolute peak irritation.

[I-it was there. I saw it!]

[What did you see?]

[A werewolf!!]

“Gyaa” (Huh?), Al let out a small screech and peeked out from behind the sofa.

[It was a werewolf. Covered in hair, huge mouth, staring me down. I swear it!]

Hair only covered his head, his mouth wasn’t that big, and he hadn’t been glaring. Not to mention, he was a bat, not a wolf. The story was getting seriously exaggerated. Pat crossed her arms slowly and tilted her head.

[How old are you?]

[You know how old I am, don’t you?]

[I said, how old are you!?]

Intimidated by his sister’s force, Gary muttered, [Twenty-six.]

[You’re twenty-six years old. A full-grown man. And you’re throwing a fit over seeing a werewolf? You sound insane.]

[It’s not a lie! I’m telling the truth!]

Gary’s expression was one of pure desperation.

[I almost got eaten by a werewolf!]

The distortion of the facts was incredible.

[Well, let it eat you. I’ll collect the remains and embalm them perfectly. If it makes national news, it’ll be great advertising for us.]

There was a short silence, then Gary clenched his fists and yelled, [I’ve had enough!]

[This place is a haunted house! Ghosts are normal, we’re always short on chairs for funerals. I’m sick of setting out extra chairs for people who aren’t even alive! I wanted to get the place exorcised, but you, Sis—you said “No need” and shut it down...]

[Of course I did. By your logic, every single corpse I process could turn into a ghost. Besides, you know how expensive it is to get an exorcist every time. A little ghost here and there, an extra chair now and then—deal with it.]

[That’s easy for you to say! You don’t see them! I’ve had women vanish right in front of the restroom door. I’ve felt someone tapping my shoulder when no one’s there. I don’t want to go through that anymore!]

[Oh, shut up! If you hate it that much, go work outside. You haven’t seen anything in the garden, have you!?]

[You’re such a jerk, Sis!] Gary screamed, flinging a grade-school level insult behind him as he stormed out of the living room.

Kyiv, looking concerned, asked, [Is he going to be okay?]

[He’s fine,] Pat replied without hesitation. [He always throws a tantrum like that after he sees something.]

Now that Gary was gone, Al crawled out from behind the sofa. First, he got dressed. Then he picked up a piece of paper and scribbled down an explanation of how he’d ended up as a bat-man hybrid.

Kyiv read it over and, rubbing his chin, said, [So you tried to turn into a bat.]

[That might be a mistake beginners often make.]

Pat, licking a candy bar she’d excavated from the tabletop, pointed at the bat-man and said, [I don’t care what you do, but fix that head. It’s not so bad when you’re bat-sized, but at human size it’s just plain creepy.]

Under Kyiv’s guidance, Al focused his mind. To return to his original human face, he had to go through a few steps—reshaping his features, pulling the fur back in—but somehow, he managed to return to the face of Albert Irving, and regain the ability to speak with a human voice.

[I kinda feel bad for scaring Gary like that.]

As Al reflected on it, Pat waved it off with a casual [He’ll be fine.]

[He’s got a surprisingly thick skin, actually.]

Well… Al wasn’t so sure. Gary seemed pretty delicate to him, but it wasn’t worth arguing over, so he let it go.

[Hey, your hair and eyes turned black. Looks like you’ve leveled up as a vampire. Honestly, I think I prefer you this way.]

Black hair and eyes tended to make a man look more rugged, and Pat had always liked the solid, sturdy type—her preferences were consistent. But that aside, there was something more important Al wanted to ask.

[Hey, wasn’t Stan’s actress girlfriend named Ashley?]

[No,] Pat replied immediately.

[I can’t remember exactly, but it wasn’t Ashley.]

Ashley had refused to join Peaceful House. That alone might have been fine, but she went so far as to mock the cult, which earned Angel’s wrath. Angel had ordered his subordinate, Giraffe, to kill Ashley and stage it as a suicide. That much Al had seen firsthand—memories he had picked up by accident during the hijacking, from Giraffe... Edward Ings.

Ashley’s death had been ruled a suicide, and at the funeral, Angel had started spreading the story that [Ashley killed herself because Richard dropped her from the film.]

That had come from Director Frenz, one of Richard’s acquaintances. Maybe Angel had spread the rumor just in case suspicion ever came back to him.

And Stan believed that lie.

Stan, who had loved Ashley deeply.

He blamed Richard, and infiltrated his household, waiting for the right chance to crush him—reputation and all.

Then Al and Akira happened to show up at Richard’s house. Stan must have realized he could use them as part of his plan...

But the whole theory hinged on Ashley being Stan’s lover. Without proof, it all fell apart.

And right now, Pat had said clearly [The name was different].

[Pat, can you check the name of Stan’s girlfriend?]

[I told you, it wasn’t Ashley.]

[That’s her stage name, right? I want to know her real name. Please.]

Pat sighed with a [Can’t be helped] and grabbed the smartphone that had been sitting on top of a pizza box.

[Gary, where are you right now? What? Outside?]

When Pat pulled back the curtain, they saw Gary had brought a small table and chair into the shade of a tree in the yard and was working on his laptop. Al was beginning to understand what Pat had meant earlier by [surprisingly thick-skinned].

[The winter before last... no, maybe it was spring? Doesn’t matter. Bring me the list of bodies I embalmed between February and April.]

Outside the window, Gary shook his head while still holding the phone.

[You’re saying you’re too scared to come inside? Don’t give me that crap. Get in here right now!]

After Pat’s shout, they saw Gary slowly shuffling his way back inside the house.

Ten minutes later, pale-faced and clutching a file, he appeared in the living room. The moment he spotted Al sitting on the sofa, he let out a startled, [Oh!]

[Al! Where on earth have you been all this time?]

He rushed over and grabbed Al’s shoulders tightly, as if to confirm he was real.

[I’m sorry for taking time off from the job.]

[Don’t worry about that. Your house burning down? That’s way more important.]

Gary gently rubbed Al’s shoulder with genuine concern.

[I didn’t even notice you were here. And hey, you dyed your hair? Your eyes are black, too. Did you change your look or something?]

[…I wanted to look a little more manly.]

Al deflected vaguely. Gary gave a big nod.

[I get that. Wanting to be more masculine, I mean.]

Still spooked by the whole werewolf incident, Gary set the file on the table and quickly left the room.

Pat opened it and started checking names. Between February and April, she had embalmed ninety-eight bodies. Considering she was the only embalmer, that was quite the pace. Of those, fifteen were in their twenties.

[Here it is.]

Pat held out a document. Written on it was: [Monica Landy, 28 years old]. That name—Monica—sounded familiar somehow.

Kyiv, who had been looking over the document, audibly sucked in a breath.

[What is it?] Al asked.

Kyiv touched his chin and let out a quiet hum. [It seems I might know this woman, Monica.]

When it came to people Kyiv “knew,” Al could only think of romantic partners he’d shared meals with. Surely not…

[I never met her directly. But remember the man who turned you into Swiss cheese in Chicago? When I was probing his memories, I saw her—Monica Landy is his sister.]

[What!?]

Al remembered now. Back when he failed to chase the man who’d attacked Richard and ended up tied inside a sack, he’d overheard that man arguing with a woman—likely his wife. They'd said Monica had been an actress, and her death had unhinged him. The details matched. Monica had been the younger sister of the man who blamed Richard for her death.

That situation mirrored Ashley’s exactly.

[In that man’s memory, at Monica’s funeral, Angel Sachs was shouting like mad. Saying things like, ‘Ashley died because Richard took her out of the role.’ Huh? Ashley...? Oh, Ashley must’ve been Monica’s stage name. Wanna see for yourself?] Kyiv asked.

[See what?]

[I think I can transfer that man’s memory to you.]

Kyiv’s fingers touched Al’s forehead. In an instant, a sultry image of a glamorous blonde bombshell burst into his mind, and Al instinctively shut his eyes with a startled, [Whoa!]

[Oops—wrong memory.]

Like flipping a channel, the image flicked away and was replaced by what looked to be Monica. A cute little girl, then gradually growing into a beautiful young woman—her brother’s gaze watching her was intense, more like how a lover would look than a sibling. After graduating high school, Monica moved to Hollywood and began using the stage name “Ashley.” Her brother recorded every scene where Monica appeared as a background extra, watching them over and over again. Then came the parting. The image cut off just as he was clinging to her coffin, wailing uncontrollably.

[I skipped over the unnecessary parts, and also the scene where you got shot.]

It seemed Kyiv had been considerate. And now, at last, the truth was clear.

Ashley and Monica Landy were the same person. She had been killed by Giraffe, acting on Angel’s orders. At the funeral, Angel lied and said [Ashley took her own life after being dropped from the role by Richard], and that lie was taken at face value by Monica’s brother—and her boyfriend, Stan. That’s how Richard ended up with a target on his back.

[So, what does all this mean? Transferring memories, reading minds—you two are speaking another language or something, I swear.]

Pat, still sitting cross-legged on the sofa, tilted her head.

[Ashley—Stan’s girlfriend—didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered. By a follower of Angel Sachs, the cult leader of Peaceful House.]

At Al’s explanation, Pat frowned and spread her hands wide.

[You mean that sketchy woman who got arrested for murder? This is getting more and more confusing.]

With a sigh, Pat snapped her fingers. [Oh right, speaking of Angel—one of her followers has been on the news nonstop, claiming he’s innocent. The psychiatrists say he has legit memory loss, and there’s a chance Angel manipulated his mind. Now human rights groups are getting involved, and it’s a whole circus.]

Pat reached into the trash pile of a table without hesitation, pulled out the TV remote, and hit the power button. She started flipping channels to find a news broadcast.

[Angel Redeem World]

Just as she landed on one, a creepy voice echoed through the room, making everyone flinch.

[Ah, there we go. It’s on.]

Angel’s face filled the screen, followed immediately by footage of Giraffe.

[I’m innocent! I am a victim of this evil cult!]

Giraffe’s bright red hair burned like flame, and his clear brown eyes held not a trace of doubt as he cried out his plea.

Click.

The screen went black—Pat had turned off the TV.

[I don’t like this Edward Ings guy. What’s this “I’m innocent” crap? Brainwashed or not, he still killed someone. That’s a fact.]

Then, hugging a grimy cushion to her chest, Pat continued, [So, what are you two planning to do now? Vampires can’t exactly go report things to the police, so are you thinking of getting revenge on your own or something?]

"Revenge"—that word didn’t sit quite right.

[Richard’s still being targeted, so we have to stop that... but we’re still figuring out how to handle it.]

Al’s answer earned a noncommittal [Hmm] from Pat.

[If I were you, I’d fly straight over to the bastard and tear him to pieces. …Oh, right, I need to tell Akira that you’ve been found.]

[Akira knows I went missing!?]

[At first, I didn’t say anything. Telling him would just make him worry for no reason. But then the fire got on the news, made a big splash. I guess he heard about it from Richard or someone, and ended up contacting me.]

Pat picked up her phone.

[Ever since you disappeared, Akira’s been messaging me all the time like “Send me equipment,” “Send me books.” And every time, at the end like a footnote, he’d add “Any word on Al?” And he keeps asking for the same books I already sent. It’s obvious he just wants an excuse to check in. …If he’s that worried, he should just say so from the start. That man is so damn indirect.]

He was worried about me. Just knowing that made Al’s chest twist so tightly it almost hurt.

[Pat, have you talked to Akira?]

[We mostly message on social media. Sometimes we talk on the phone. Depends on the time difference.]

[That’s nice... I wish I could hear his voice. …Akira doesn’t pick up when I call.]

[The time difference with Japan is what, sixteen hours?] Pat glanced at the clock, then picked up her phone and started dialing.

[Hi, Akira.]

The name alone hit Al like a shock to the heart, nearly sending it flying out of his chest.

[Morning over there, huh? How’s the weather? …Hey, come on, let me make a little small talk at least. …Busy? Well excuse me. Just one quick update. We found Al.]

She paused there and held the phone out to Al, mouthing [Hurry].

With trembling hands, Al took the phone and pressed it to his ear.

[Hey, Pat. Pick up. Where did you find Al? He is alive, right?]

It was really Akira’s voice… The inside of Al’s eyes burned hot.

[Just “found him” doesn’t tell me a damn thing. Is Kyiv with him?]

The voice of the one he loved, for the first time in four months.

[Stop screwing around, Pat. Don’t go quiet—tell me everything.]



Even though the voice was angry, just hearing it made Al so happy it felt like his heart would burst. Akira… Akira… he wanted to see him. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to hear his voice forever.

Al desperately pushed down those feelings and handed the phone back to Pat. With her usual unfazed expression, Pat chatted with Akira and then ended the call.

[Still as gruff as ever. His only redeeming quality is his embalming skills... Wait, Al, what’s wrong?]

Tears were pouring down Al’s face in heavy drops.

[I-I’m... fine.]

His whole body trembled.

[I’m fine... really...]

Apparently unable to bear it, Kyiv gently said, [Al, you don’t have to hold it in.] That kindness broke through the dam of Al’s emotions. He clung to Kyiv’s lap and cried.

“I’ll go back someday. I’ll definitely return to his side…” Al repeated the words to himself again and again, trying to convince his heart it only needed to endure a little longer.

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