“Is this…a diary?”
Purely out of curiosity. Ellie looked at the paper Jonah was holding with a light heart.
Slap!
“Stand up. That’s all a cripple like you can do, isn’t it?”
Her lips, saying this drunkenly, held a sneer. But the contempt wasn’t directed at her crippled lover. It was a sneer aid solely at herself.
A truth she couldn’t confess to anyone festered and beca a wound that ruined her.
Anger with nowhere to go took the form of violence. What she struck was clearly his cheek, but it was an act not unlike self-harm.
Because he was still the most precious being to her.
Holding his cheek for a mont, he looked up at her blankly, then slowly nodded.
“Yes.”
He doesn’t know what she experienced in the Hobgoblin village. But he knows what he went through.
A stench reminiscent of rotten onions. A face revealing vile desires. Overt groping. Although he was drugged, his body responded, and sotis he even flattered them out of fear of violence.
He hated himself.
He hated himself for being defiled by so Hobgoblin, hated his own body that got excited at any mont without warning, and hated being so humiliated that he couldn’t even walk on his own.
Therefore, her violence always seed justified to him. If you do sothing wrong, you get punished. Isn’t that common sense?
He was atoning for his sins.
“…….”
Ellie, reading madly as if possessed by sothing.
Ellie, who skimd through the last page in an instant, was not just sober but had turned pale as she put the paper down.
It was a dreadful story.
It clearly took the form of an erotic novel, and although the sexual scenes were intense, they were slightly arousing.
But more than that, it felt disgusting.
A comfortable quagmire. The foolishness of choosing destruction with one’s own hands. Twisted possessiveness. Deteriorating relationships. The body and mind becoming impoverished. Regret that cos too late.
And like tar stuck at the bottom of all this, a sticky obsession.
It’s a world where all kinds of eroticism are permitted under the influence of the Goddess of Love. Simply in terms of intensity, you could find much more extre content.
However, there is one unwritten rule. According to the Goddess of Love’s precepts, the depicted relationships must always be consensual.
From that perspective, how does Jonah’s writing fare?
‘It’s risky.’
Neither side is forced into anything. Not that it was a healthy relationship.
The woman vented her anger and irritation through violence, and the man endured it all despite the pain.
Until the mont when the woman, overwheld by self-loathing, hung herself right before his eyes. The man never resented her.
This is a story of flawed individuals who happened to fit together…choking each other’s throats.
At the sa ti, it’s clearly a love story.
‘I didn’t know Jonah had such a talent.’
It’s too dark and unsettling, but anyway, in the end, the female lead and male lead, who failed at suicide, resolve their misunderstandings and reach a happy ending.
The writing itself was excellent. At least, it wasn’t at the level of soone writing for the first ti.
As seen through the eyes of Ellie, a crazy erotica addict who has read more than 70 percent of the erotica available on the market, it’s certain.
However, what bothered Ellie was not the tone of the writing, the fact that it was written by a minor, or the extre play.
The fact that One Who Devours the Twilight turns into a hobgoblin and that the two characters have a distorted relationship…
The structure itself was a thorn in her side because it closely resembled the story of Ellie and Jonah.
‘Could it be that Jonah saw like that? …No. The main character isn’t just the heroine.’
Ellie looked down at Jonah’s face with a complicated expression. He had fallen into a deep sleep, probably because he had been writing non-stop since he ca back from his brief outing.
‘Not the heroine, but the hero. A projection of himself, not …?’
The male lead in the story could not escape his trauma until the very last mont. To him, he was still a dirty, useless cripple, tainted by the hobgoblin.
And when Jonah was an experint subject of One Who Devours the Twilight. Ellie knew what he went through.
Recently, Lydia ntioned that Jonah might have been born into a significant noble family.
If he were just an ignorant orphan from Pangrave, living a life at the bottom, willing to risk his life or sell his body to survive, it might have been better.
But if Jonah had noble blood. If he had received an education befitting his status, and had a sense of chastity befitting his status.
If that were the case, the mories of being an experint subject would certainly be a massive trauma.
‘Even his usual promiscuous behavior….’
Desperate people who recklessly throw themselves around are a common sight in Pangrave.
Even the employees working at Ellie’s shop gave off that vibe when they were first hired.
Thud!
A sensation as if a heavy stone had fallen on her heart.
Although she hadn’t heard the full story, Ellie, who thought she knew quite a bit about Jonah, was even more shocked.
“Haaa…”
It wasn’t that the wound particularly stung, but Ellie desperately needed a Magic Herb cigarette.
She let out a deep sigh and looked down at Jonah.
Pink hair as delicate and soft as silk. The atmosphere of a flower bud in the middle of a boy becoming a man.
Why did his cheeks, exposed so defenselessly, look so moist today…?
Usually, Ellie would have felt a montary desire. But not now. At this mont, she couldn’t possibly feel that way.
Perhaps Jonah’s self-deprecation wasn’t as severe as it sounds. Even if it was, it might not be that extre.
But it is certain that such darkness exists in his heart. Yet, his unwavering belief that he can still love the world and move forward in a better direction is dazzling.
“Ah.”
Only then did Ellie realize. Why the Goddess of Love, silent for a thousand years, showed interest in Jonah. She began to understand what Karen ant by saying that he might be a saint.
A candle in broad daylight holds little value, but a candle on a dark moonless night is precious beyond anything.
Jonah is like that as well.
Soone who can speak of love in the face of despair…is more beautiful than anyone.
A simple fact that Ellie could understand even better as she cried out for courage in the face of a dark reality.
Ellie cautiously reached out towards the sleeping Jonah.
Affection. Guilt. Admiration.
And a trembling hand mixed with compassion.
Swoosh swoosh.
She stroked the round back of his head, and the sensation of his ear at her fingertips made Ellie shiver. And then.
“Mmm…”
Jonah, who was lying face down as if talking in his sleep, rubbed his head.
Ellie gave a bitter smile at his cat-like appearance.
“Ah, if you’re going to sleep, do it in bed instead of miserably at the desk.”
Saying so, she lifted the sleeping Jonah with her arm.
The presence of Jonah felt in her embrace. The nice scent that suddenly wafted over. Even though he was young, he was still a man with strangely solid bones and muscles.
Each elent stimulated Ellie, but in the end, she never pounced on Jonah.
Right now, emotions other than sexual desire are taking priority… Above all, Ellie just doesn’t have the guts for it.
Despite being timid, the kind-hearted Ellie laid Jonah on the bed and covered him with a blanket.
For so reason, there was a large amount of dried Magic Herbs hidden inside the blanket…but it didn’t seem important, so she subtly pushed them aside.
Then, she brought her lips close to Jonah’s forehead…but couldn’t bring herself to do sothing so embarrassing, so she just pressed her forehead against Jonah’s.
Ellie stayed like that for a while, with her forehead against the sleeping Jonah’s, then slowly lowered her head.
“It’s okay now. It’s going to be okay.”
Because Ellie herself would make sure of it.
With a faint smile, Ellie turned off the room’s light and carefully slipped out the door. Before closing it completely, she whispered into the small gap.
“Goodnight.”
The much-anticipated somnophilia event that Jonah had been looking forward to did not happen.
Only the Unicorn Dagger on the desk sparkled in the darkness.
“Gahhh!”
Waking up to a peculiar stiffness all over my body, I found myself lying in bed, covered with a blanket.
“What was I doing before I fell asleep….”
I tried to recall, focusing hard on my hazy mory. I was definitely writing…writing….
“Oh, did I fall asleep?”
Did I instinctively find my way to the bed and collapse? It’s a common occurrence when I stay up all night writing, so I know it well.
My body is tired, but perhaps because I scribbled sothing after a long ti, my head feels really clear.
“Hmmm~”
Humming a tune that naturally flowed out, I went downstairs to the first floor.
Contrary to expectations, it’s dark outside the window. It seems I must have slept through the entire day and barely woke up by the next evening.
Now that I see it, I must have just slept too long and felt stiff.
…Well. Lately, there have been many things going on, so it was about ti for the fatigue to hit . Was that today?
Anyway, I’ve cleared the first floor, and since I’ve decided to lie low for a few days to observe the Pope’s response, it doesn’t matter.
The first floor is bustling again today, probably full of guests. Enjoying the commotion, I went down the stairs.
There, unlike yesterday, Ellie had completely returned to her usual self.
Ash-gray hair of rough greeting. Perked wolf ears. With an empty right sleeve fluttering, Ellie was flashing a fierce smile, suspiciously waving one hand.
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