"N-no..."
There are monts in human life when buried mories—ones they believed no longer mattered—surge back like thunder, sudden and overwhelming, like dreams glimpsed just before vanishing forever.
In that mont, fragnts of her childhood resurfaced—the face of the woman who was her mother—flashing past faster than her mind could grasp.
From the guilt of being the reason Satteus had co between her and the umbrella, getting hit and bloodied, to the panic of rushing him to the hospital, the sadness and pain of seeing him suffer, and finally the car accident that layered even more intense emotions of regret and anguish—everything crashed down on her.
Her mind couldn’t take it.
It shut off—to protect itself.
Emotional shock doesn’t always an losing consciousness. Sotis, it freezes every thought.
Her mind beca a hollow shell, a trance-like emptiness where nothing stirred except the echo of her father’s words.
"What...?" Arvia’s lips moved. She needed an answer—desperately—to anchor herself before her mind collapsed completely.
Though silent, she clung to the edge of consciousness, hands gripping the bed behind her, breathing heavily, trying to stay calm as she stared at her father lying on the floor.
"I said, it was him who had forced his parents to join us on that trip!" the man yelled. His voice trembled, as if recalling sothing distorted, sothing his mind had never fully accepted.
Everything felt confusing, like he was under the influence of sothing he couldn’t na.
He only knew one thing—he was angry. But the reason was unclear.
There were mories—buried deep—that now seed to have beco the only thing he could rember. And yet, he couldn’t believe they were real.
"So wh-what...? And why are you bringing all this up now?" Arvia’s fingers curled. Her eyes blinked rapidly, reflecting the image of her father in a state she couldn’t approach. Instinct told her it would be dangerous to step away from Satteus.
"I’m bringing this up because... haah... n-no—" The man tried to speak, but suddenly clutched his head and collapsed, as if his will was fighting a mory that didn’t belong to him. Sothing was clearly wrong.
"Dad!" Arvia lunged forward, hand outstretched—but in that very mont, a rough, manly hand grabbed her wrist, jerking her back.
A sharp command passed through the thin air—telepathically, if one could say so—towards the nurse standing proudly with her hands folded, flaunting her figure, but the order didn’t care how she looked.
’Handle him, now.’
’!’
’Ah, y-yes master!?’ Ally, swiftly called upon by her master who was acting unconscious, moved—her body jerking toward the middle-aged man.
Arvia, who was held back by sothing, turned—and startled—also noticed Ally stepping in to help her father.
But Arvia had already turned sharply, her breath caught in her throat—
It was Satteus.
He had sohow moved—half-conscious, barely aware—his body dragged toward the edge of the bed by the montum of her lunge.
His hand had instinctively reached out and latched onto hers, trembling yet firm.
"Satteus!" she gasped, instantly kneeling beside him.
Her arms encircled his shoulders, gently guiding him back up onto the mattress, eyes wide in panic, hands shaking as she checked his pulse and whispered his na again, "Satteus, I’m here... I’m here..."
He didn’t respond. His eyelids fluttered, breath shallow. But he was alive. For now.
In her desperate focus on Satteus, she didn’t see the flutter in his eyes—hiding the deepest coldness surging within those pupils which were alive and sharply focused, glinting behind the half-closed lids.
Already pushing Arvia to this phase.
He knew—now at least—she wouldn’t die just from a small loss.
’Corrupt the man’s mind... kill him.’
His orders were sharp, cold, and without any sympathy for the kindness that man had once shown him.
Not when he created false mories. Not when he manipulated the man who cared for him when no one else had—just raw, emotionless command.
Just to break a heroine he wanted at all cost.
’Keke, I hope you let eat this man after the work is done, Master,’ Ally whispered inwardly, her fingers—steady and cold—pressing against the base of the man’s neck, just beneath the skull.
At first, it looked like she was simply checking for a pulse or trying to help—but then...
Her thumb dug in.
A small trickle of blood mixed with a black, leaking aura scattered around as spider-like veins turned dark.
The transition of black energy flowed upward from the pressure point toward his brain, evident from the green veins popping and turning black.
"Ugh...." A sharp gasp escaped the father’s lips. His body convulsed once, twice.
A black shadow seed to flicker across his pupils—like a veil of darkness descending, corrupting.
His face contorted in agony. Whatever remained of his resistance slipped away before his entire consciousness vanished.
With a final guttural groan, as though dragged by a will far darker than his own, the man scread—
"I WILL KILL THAT CURSED CHILD!"
’!?!’
Arvia froze. The words struck her spine like lightning.
She turned just in ti to see her father’s body standing in an unnatural way—back slightly hunched, arms twitching with unnerving spasms—his hand pushing Ally away as she hit the floor with a gasp.
"Ally—" Arvia began to exclaim, but noticed how her father’s breathing was ragged—mouth open as though gasping for air, yet his eyes were void of life.
Without warning, his foot kicked aside a rolling dical tray, and in the sa motion, he bent low and snatched a sharp pair of scissors lying on the floor.
"Dad—no!" Arvia’s voice cracked.
But he didn’t hear her.
He let out a low growl, and in the next instant, lunged toward the bed.
Arvia’s body reacted faster than her mind. She threw herself over Satteus, wrapping her arms tightly around him in a protective embrace, her vibrant pink hair cascading across his chest as she pressed her face into him and yelled—
"Dad, STOP!!"
But the sound that followed wasn’t the scissor clattering away.
It was the sickening rip of flesh.
Shhlkk!
Her breath hitched. Her wide eyes blinked.
Pain...?
No. There was no pain.
She didn’t feel anything piercing her.
Only sothing warm. Heavy. Breathing.
And then, a slow, trembling gasp echoed beneath her.
She opened her eyes—still shielding him—and shifted slightly.
A red line had drawn itself across Satteus’s hospital gown.
Blood.
She blinked, confused, then looked down.
His hand...
His hand had caught the blades.
Palm open, fingers trembling, he had stopped the scissor thrust with his bare hand.
The tal had pierced straight through the center of his palm, holding it mid-air—his arm shielding her entirely.
Her eyes widened in horror.
Tears stread down her cheeks as she stared at the trembling, blood-slicked hand that saved her.
Then slowly, she looked up.
His face was pale, but his eyes—those cold purple eyes—had opened fully now.
They stared into hers with surprising softness.
A small smile curled on his lips despite the pain.
"Are you... alright?" he asked weakly, as blood ran from his hand and dripped slowly onto the sheets.
"....ah, Satteus..."
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