#messy rendering o'clock

[quuietly]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ save her

[unclegarou]

In honor of reaching over 100 followers, I present to you.... *drum roll*  

Let Me Make It Up To You | Garou NSFW Scenario (Fem! XReader)

a few lines from my “What Garou Says During Relationship” are used below in bold 

pleaseeeeee send feedback. if there is any grammatical errors or parts you did / did not like, let me know!

These past few days had been uneventful and tiresome, the same thing on your agenda every single day. Work, work, and work. Some times you craved for a thrill, the kind that prevented you from continuing that repetitive schedule, even for just a few hours.

It was nearing midnight when you finally broke away from the hot steam, a rush of cool air hitting your skin as you drew the shower curtains back. You’d been idly standing under the water for at least a hour, simply collecting your thoughts and rinsing away any bad odors. Your feet met with the tiled floor, leaving those annoying, wet puddles in your step. A clean towel was already hanging from the thin railing latched on the wall, which you quickly snatched up to dry the droplets of water rolling down your body.

There was nothing better than that relieved feeling after a long shower. It worked wonders for the pressures you've been enduring lately. Your hand swiped diagonally across the fogged mirror, revealing only half of your reflection. You contently stared at yourself, noticing the usual tiredness in your eyes starting to vanish.  

You departed from the bathroom and into your messy closet, briskly digging around until you settled on an oversize t-shirt and a random pair of panties. You didn't have the energy to hassle with the clips of your bra so you decided to go without one, knowing it could wait till morning.

The night wasn't officially over until you turned off the remaining lights and checked if all doors were locked. You wandered through the house, visiting one room at a time until you were left with the kitchen. A cold breeze whipped past you, prompting a chain of goosebumps along your bare arms. Your head snapped over to the source, eyes landing squarely on the open window. How did that get open?

Just as you began to investigate, a pair of arms slithered around your waist. “Guess who?~”

Now, any sane person would have screamed at the top of their lungs, but this was a common occurrence for you. The presence looming behind you definitely belonged to Garou, his alluring voice sounding all too familiar. You peeled away from his hold and whirled around to face him, but his insanely built chest was the first to appear in your line of sight. You craned your neck just to get a glimpse of his face, which pretty much looked the same, but unlike before, his aura was practically screaming trouble. As much as you hated to admit it, you were in awe, “What are you doing here?”

Luckily, Garou wasn't paying you any mind, his eyes too occupied with traveling around the kitchen. “I'm hungry.”, He stepped past you and headed for the refrigerator, “What’s for dinner?”

After an entire month of no communication or surprise visits, he was back, and without the apology or explanation you deserved. Both of your hands firmly rested upon your hips, doing their best not to wrap around his neck and strangle him, “Garou, its almost 12 o'clock.”

“So?”, Garou answered plainly, closing the fridge and switching to the cabinets, his perfect height keeping him face to face with each built-in space. You watched in disbelief, a part of you wondering how he could be so casual like he didn't go MIA for weeks, but also admiring the muscles that seemed to flex so deliciously under that tight, long-sleeved shirt.

You slowly exhaled from your nose, “Sooo, stop going through my stuff.”

Despite your efforts to hide it, Garou could easily sense the irritation in your tone. He briefly paused his search to glance in your direction, “What's with the attitude? I thought you'd be happy to see me.”

Your hands reluctantly slid down from your hips. Of course you were happy to see him. It was impossible to forget all the times he popped up at your house just to talk, the conversations ranging from trivial matters to current problems with the rise of monsters and heroes. He was the only guy that made you feel the happiest during the lonesome days of your life. Not to mention the suggestive flirting and ‘accidental’ touches.

But he went and disappeared, unannounced and without a trace.

The memory struck a nerve, instantly bringing you back to your hostile behavior. “I already left you and everything we did in the past.”, you declared confidently, even though half of it was lie.

Garou didn't have a response this time, he only stared at you, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. This obviously wasn't how he was excepting you to react, he blinked dumbfoundedly. You shifted uncomfortably, thinking maybe you went too far, until you noticed his eyes weren't on your face anymore, but your chest instead. Thanks to the open window from earlier, your nipples were poking underneath your shirt, in perfect view for Garou to see. Your arms shot up to cover your chest, “Hey! Keep your eyes on my face, pervert.” The fact that you were barely clothed completely flew over your head since you were so irritated with his calm demeanor.

“Pervert?”, He laughed at your flustered face, smugly leaving his spot by the cabinets to stand directly in front of you. He leaned down to your level, an amused smirk playing on his face. “It’s not like I haven’t seen em’ before.”

All sensible thoughts were abandoning your mind, the only thing you could do was conceal your erect nipples embarrassingly. Being so close rendered a good view of the hunger in his eyes. Another laugh filled the room, “Oh right, that was in the past.” Your discomfort didn’t make him back away, instead he inched closer, this time right next to your ear, “Do you need me to remind you?”

It didn't take long for his words to send a wave of excitement between your legs, a sensation you'd long forgotten ever since he left. Just when you thought you had the situation under control for once, he managed to spin it around in his favor. You turned your back to him, “No, I don't want to remember so just leave.”

Garou remained close behind you, the distance separating your bodies was very slim, “You know you don't mean that.”, he teased, unfazed by your threat, “Stop being a damn baby and let me make it up to you.”, his arms encircled your torso for the second time today, and you had a feeling he wouldn't be letting you go.

“What do you mean—”, your words fell short at the pair of lips that connected with the crook of your neck. It was a gentle kiss against your skin, a little alarming at first but delicate enough to make you relax. He lingered there for a moment before trailing kisses up to your jawline. Your eyelids slid shut, a blissful gasp escaping your mouth. Seeing as you didn't try to run off, he took it a step further and nibbled at sensitive areas he memorized from previous interactions.

Garou knew you had no intention of rejecting his advances, but he still decided to test the waters. His warm tongue playfully darted out to lick the shell of your ear. The way your back shivered against his chest was more than enough answer, yet he still preferred to tease you anyway, “If you want me to stop just say it.”, his hands were now underneath your shirt, rubbing at your sides affectionately.

This may be your only chance to finally break free his spell, kick him out of your life forever and move on, but the more you thought of that outcome, the more it seemed to bring you pain. There was no way you could tell him to stop now, especially since he's got you all hot and bothered.

Just as he expected, you didn't put up much of a fight, “Mh, that’s what I thought.” There was no turning back now, he had you right where he wanted. Those large pair of hands roamed straight up to your breast, eagerly groping them however they pleased. The nipples you were desperately trying to hide before were softly pinched between his thumb and finger. You whimpered shyly, gradually submitting to his temptations and giving him all the access he needed.

Garou pulled your shirt off in one quick motion and twirled your body around to face him. He lifted you up by your thighs, effortlessly settling them around his waist. Garou charged at your lips, his tongue forcibly invading your mouth. You matched his enthusiasm, wrapping your arms around his neck, desperately pulling him closer and deeper. He backed you up against a nearby wall, his hips grazing between your legs ever so slightly, allowing you to feel his hard length, but only for a moment. He was starting to tease you again. You impatiently reached down to palm his clothed dick, which was clinging tightly against his pants, begging to be let free.

Garou detached himself from your lips, “Not yet, I want to focus on you first.”, he grabbed both of your arms and pinned them above your head. There was no room for protest as he reclaimed your lips again, kissing you more fiercely than before. It seems he was serious about making up for lost time. No matter how relaxed and unbothered he appeared to be, Garou completely understood that you were hurt by his abrupt absence, and this was his way of saying sorry.

Using his other free hand, he drifted between your thighs and pressed against your damp panties. His fingers caressed the material so close to your throbbing pussy, nearly driving you insane, “Please, Garou.” His ears perked up at your whimpering, instantly falling in love with the sound. He easily tore apart the piece of fabric and discarded them on the floor. Taking his middle and index finger, he plunged into your slick entrance just as you asked. Your back arched, a delighted moan falling from lips. But your satisfaction was short-lived as he pumped in and out of you at a terribly slow pace. Not only were your wrist imprisoned in his grip, but he was mischievously watching each of your needy reactions.

“Do you forgive me now?”, Garou catered to your neglected breast, kissing and biting around the areola while curling his fingers inside your tight walls. You vigorously nodded your head, unable to speak, but it still wasn't enough for him. “I don't think you do.”, his thumb rubbed against your clit, stirring up more pleasure in the pit of your stomach, “How about now?”

The wild combination was enough to make you use your words, “Yes, Yes, Yes, I f-forgive you.” His slender fingers were striking spots you never knew about. It felt so good you found yourself grinding against his fingers, moaning helplessly. The intimate moments you shared before felt nothing like this, it was like you were living deep within ecstasy. Your eyes rolled back, a sudden thirst overpowering you, “Don’t stop, please.”

“Fuck.”, Garou grunted, he thought he could hold himself back earlier but now he was at his limit. Distracting himself by attacking your swollen lips just wasn't working anymore. He released your wrist from his grasp and went to rub his painfully hard dick. “Look at me.”, his fingers picked up their momentum, reviving you from your dazed state and right into his possessive stare. By the way your walls were fastening around fingers, you were near your orgasm. He sinked further inside you, “Cum.”

Just as he commanded, your creamy, white liquids were flowing down his hand, which was hungrily licked up as soon as you finished. The upper half of your body limply fell against his chest, trembling frantically. It was obvious that you were exhausted, but he knew very little about aftercare, only allowing your body to calm down for a second before letting you down from his hold. “Garou.”, you whined, legs still wobbling and breath uneven, but it was too late, he had already dropped the pants that were irritatingly restricting his dick. A little precum was dripping from the tip, “Turn around, I'm not done yet.” Garou was fully engulfed with lust, it was evident in the way he looked at you.

With the little energy you had left, you did as you were told, hands flat on wall and body bent over. He didn't waste another second, firmly gripping your hips and thrusting right into your pussy. You sucked in a deep breath, his length stretched you out way more than his fingers, and you wondered why he just didn't start with it from the beginning. Your knees began to buckle at his harsh pounding. He continuously pulled you down his length, keeping his eyes trained on your back, loving it’s perfect arch. Your cries of pleasure was like music to his ears. “Whats my name?”, he growled.

You moaned hoarsely, “Garou.”

Of course he pretended like he didn't hear, “Say it. Louder.”, his pace never faltered as his dick rammed deeper inside you with each thrust. Your hands were sliding down the wall now, unable to keep up with his stamina. You were quivering all over, a sign that another orgasm was threatening to release, the feeling was overwhelmingly good. “Garou!”, you violently came again, adding onto the liquids that were already trickling down your legs. Garou pulled out of you soon after, his hot seed splattering all over your back.

If you had been in the right state of mind, you would've scolded him, but right now you just needed to rest. Garou wasn't panting as harshly as you were, only a few droplets of sweat ran down his forehead. You were the only one who could barely stand, the wall being your only support.

This was the time where Garou was supposed to say something meaningful and go run you a bath, but he just stood and admired his work, a sense of pride rushing through him, “You look so pretty like that—”

“Wait, Garou.”, your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, instantly recognizing the erotic tone in his voice, “Let me take a break first!”

He grinned cheekily, already reaching for you with greedy hands,  “Come on, one more round won't hurt.”

[jamhausen]

Can we talk about Elijah Kamski for a second plz. I just wanna yell about his different looks in DBH. I find it really interesting that for a character that isn't in the game for very long, they bothered to give him three distinct appearances. It kind of tells a story with him. 

1. Younger Kamski, from the pre-game short. He's in his 20s here. Hardworking, successful, smart. Founded his own company, got a lot to prove. He's got a beard and long hair pulled back in a messy man-bun. My guess is his work is probably his life at this point. He probably doesn’t take very good care of himself. I feel like he’s probably like Richard Hendricks from Silicon Valley. Very smart, but also a fuckin weirdo nerd and a hot mess.

2. Hot suit daddy Kamski. This is the portrait he has hanging up in his house. This is professional CEO Kamski. His hair is cut shorter, he's got that purposeful cultivated five o'clock shadow. He’s executive-level now, has more money than he knows what to do with, and doesn’t have to work himself to death anymore. He’s got his shit together. He was 26 when he was dismissed by CyberLife, so this is probably from around that time. The vibe I get here is Tyrell Wellick from Mr. Robot. (Obviously this is just straight up a picture of Neil Newbon that they didn’t render in the game engine, but they use it in both his house and the magazine article, so it’s canon this is what he looked like. Also, DAMN.)

3. Game timeline Kamski. He's 36, doesn't work for CyberLife anymore, got that fuck you money. Stays at home with his Chloes and swims in his red pool. He’s retired now. He doesn't give a fuck. He's got that douchey hot undercut but the top is long again so he has to pull it back, a helix ear piercing, more of a goatee. He seems skinnier/more fit here versus 20something Kamski. And he almost seems younger (or at least more youthful?) here than his previous looks. Wearing graphic tees for a TV interview? Come on bro.

I love smug cryptic robe-wearing Kamski but I desperately desire fanart of his other two forms too. Also it would make me so happy to see someone draw him with his hair down, and/or wearing glasses.

[chilly-territory]

Gangsta: Death of Anosmic Stray Dogs, prologue

Somehow, this novel went completely ignored? Well, I don't have a copy yet either, but between the preview on ebookjapan and a kind person scanning part of it, we at least have the prologue available. Death and tearjerker warning.

Gangsta: Death of Anosmic Stray Dogs by Kawabata Junichi

Prologue (pages 9-24)

My living with him had lasted for 2 weeks and 1 day.

About what I expected it to last, all things considered. I didn't know nor did ever really want to know more about myself, but I did sense that this body of mine was about to die.

To be exact, the medical opinion was that I had 2 weeks left, so you could say I was given an entire extra day to live. Given by whom? That, I didn't know either, nor did I want to know, for that matter.

But in any case, it was on that extra day that I had decided to place a certain request with them.

*

Backstreets were always wet.

With saliva, blood, semen, tears, vomit, excreta, cheap whiskey from cracked bottles, and all kinds of other stale liquids the main streets wanted to hide away. Stuffed and littered with those things, back alleys were always wrapped in that humid atmosphere.

On that night, right cheek pushed against damp paving, I tried to breathe as quietly as possible. I, too, made a contribution to the moist air around, wetting the back alley with the blood from my nose.

At the time, I was thinking that I would part with my life before the sun was up tomorrow's morning. I didn't feel especially sad about it. Dying unknown to anyone in some nameless back alley no different from any other anywhere else, was not an entirely bad end to a life. At least it was more normal than any other end my imagination could paint.

I closed my eyes.

Maybe I dozed off for a while or simply couldn't feel the flow of time properly with my head so hazy, I didn't really know. Either way, just as I was about to let my dimming consciousness slip away, I heard a voice that forced me to drag it back.

"Hey, young lady. You'll catch a cold if you sleep in a place like this?"

I gave an involuntary shiver. Even my best case death scenario - as little as that 'best' was -  was not to be granted to me, huh?

Even my eyelashes felt heavy like lead. When I managed to pry my eyelids open with difficulty, what I saw was a man's face.

That face, the left eye sporting an eyepatch, was unfamiliar. And you always gotta be wary of unfamiliar faces. But then again, seeing a familiar face would only plunge me into depths of despair, so it was better that way.

To me, there was only one person I could trust. Only one person in this whole world. If it wasn't him, then it was all the same from there. Gotta resist.

What, still, even now?

Now, what was happening sure more resembled a comedy than a tragedy at that point, but I still folded my arms that hurt like they were coming clean off, and crawled, dragging my body that positively felt as heavy as a cloth bag thoroughly soaked in water, away. I writhed on the stone pavement, my mind urging me to put some distance between myself and this man, even if it was just another few inches.

"Oh come on, no need to be so on edge. I don't know what happened to you, but it's OK, I won't bite." The man's voice, too, was moist.

The 10 inches I, enduring the violent pain, managed to put between him and myself he closed with half a step, rendering my effort futile. With my body falling apart like that, I had nowhere to escape. As the barest means of resistance still available to me, I settled for lifting my chin and glowering at him. And that's when I had the first really good look at his face.

Long ash blond hair, messy at the back. Through part of it hanging down his cheek you could see the moonlight. Pretty, was my honest impression. That said, it wasn't like his hair being pretty was going to help me any, of course.

"It's just that it's gonna be a problem if I let you die here. Bad for business. This is right in front of my shop, you see."

It was hard to tell if there was malice underlying that superficially smiling face with a 5 o'clock shadow. While I was busy trying to determine if there was, his right arm sneaked under my thighs.

"Ah," I could only yelp as I was gathered up in his arms like some old useless rag.

Trying to twist my body, I clawed at his neck. My index and middle fingers did succeed in piercing his skin, drawing blood. Said blood looked black in the moonlight.

It had to hurt, but his expression didn't change. He still wore that light smile, like nothing had happened.

"What are you planning to do with me?" I asked, not forgetting to glare daggers at him.

He stared at me wide-eyed, as if in surprise. A heartbeat later, he smiled.

"Hee, ain't your voice cute." "Answer."

He started walking, carrying me as he was in his arms. Slowly but with big steps.

"Don't make me out more cruel than I am. I'm Worick. And who are you?" "What do you want from me?"

The man who introduced himself as Worick sighed and smiled again.

"For starters, I want to move you away from my shop's front door." "Then you've moved me far enough already. Now, let me go." "I can't exactly just dump you on other people's doorstep either, now can I. Besides, young lady, your voice is really charming. I wanna talk to you a bit more."

His intentions were beyond deciphering. If he just wanted to kill me, surely he could've done so already.

Did the Family request this man to capture me alive? If so, it was strange that he didn't bother to restrain me, or at least prepare a car or something. In the first place, he didn't so much as point a gun at me, how absurd was that?

I positively sucked at this kind of games. I didn't have nearly enough experience for it. But at the same time, showing weakness was also out of question.

I gulped down the accumulated saliva. And immediately dreaded he heard it. Gotta say something.

"Alright, then show me to your shop."

If nothing, avoiding being brought back to the Family was the priority. If I was up only against this one man, maybe I could still run away somehow. If I rested for a bit and got my limbs move like I wanted them to for at least 5 seconds, it could still work out.

His gait showed no sign of stopping as he peered down at me. His face, dark when backlit by the moonlight, wore a carefree smile.

"But of course. After the date, that is."

I admit that for a second I watched the expression on his face in a fascinated daze. Except when I relaxed in his arms, it was more because of my body hitting the limit of how much exhaustion it could take than anything else.

I decided to let myself simply rest for a couple of minutes. Some of my strength would return, and I would try to shake his arms off.

The moment I had settled on that course of action, my eyelids felt unbearably heavy, and I shut them closed. Drowsiness enveloped me. No way, you can't, my spirit still tried to resist. Except I still did end up falling asleep in the arms of a complete stranger. I could only curse my own childishness.

In the dark, all I could feel was the warmth of his arms and his scent. He smelled of women's perfume. And not of one kind either. Numerous, countless. They all mingled on this man's body and soaked into his skin. Somehow, it was a smell that brought sadness.

Sinking deep into the murky, swampy waters of sleep, I remembered something. When Worick smiled, it wasn't my face that he was looking at. It was the plain old metal tag hanging around my neck and laying on my chest.

*

I didn't see any dreams.

The next time when my consciousness resurfaced, I found myself lying on a snow-white sheet on a simple but clean bed. The morning sun I had never expected to see again was shining through the window and I even heard the chirping of a wagtail.

I also felt surprisingly good, which confused the hell out of me. Sure, my head still ached with the grating, creaking kind of pain, but when I tried to lift my arm, it moved, and when I repeated the same with my leg, it did, too. I took a very deep breath and let it out. If this kept up, maybe my body would hold out for 2 more weeks. That was the hunch I got.

As previously, I wasn't restrained with anything. In the room, a few more beds were lined up, but no one else was around. I had a thought that if I acted now, maybe I could run away, but at the same time a certain realization dawned on me. At the very least, this place had no connection of any sort to the Family. There was no way the Family that had me working for them would have something like clean white bedsheets. In which case, it was hard to imagine a place that could be safer than this one.

Without anything that had to be done and without any ideas on what I wanted to do, I simply stared at the ceiling.

After a long while, I heard talking voices coming from the base of the stairs found in the corner of the room. They were quiet, but I could hear them just fine.

"Nothing really can be done?" That voice belonged to that man, Worick. "Nothing. I've detected the signs of regular use of Celebrer with illegally high concentration. You can't really tell from her appearance but her organs are all pretty much decayed." This voice was unfamiliar. A low calm voice of a man. "I see. Thank you, as always." "Next time bring me someone who isn't a corpse." "But she's still alive." "Let me paraphrase then: someone who actually has half a chance to get better." "Mn, 'kay, will do."

With that, the conversation had ended. One of them - hard to tell which - sighed. One set of footsteps ascended the stairs.

For a second, my fingers closed around the tag on my chest.

By all rights, I wasn't human. Legally speaking, a sub-species of humankind, but still a being different from a Normal. A Twilight, as they called us.

Footsteps were coming closer, and I shut my eyes close. The sound of them climbed the stairs, resounded against the floor of the room and stopped at my bedside.

I figured from the smell that the person standing there was Worick. He didn't make an attempt to speak up.

Annoyed, I opened my eyes again.

"Did I wake you?" Worick was smiling the same superficial smile as yesterday. I nodded. "What's this place?" I asked next. "A clinic. Run by a middle-aged grumpypants named Theo for a living, although he barely scraps by. But he's not one to rat it out to mean jealous adults if you bring a charming girl here." "Do I look like a girl to you?"

It was a question asked out of pure curiosity. When I looked in the mirror, the youngest I'd give the face reflected there was 30.

Worick cocked his head to the side slightly.

"Your voice sounds like a young girl's. And your face looks like a girl's who's barely reached the threshold of adulthood."

That put a sarcastic smile on my lips. It was like realizing that the outside didn't match the inside and being called out on it.

"How are you feeling?" "Not bad. Strangely enough." "Good to hear. Then let's go. I got the discharge permission for you from the doc." "'Go'? Where?" "To my office. I promised to show it to you yesterday, remember?"

Now that I thought about it, true, we talked about something like that yesterday.

Planting my right hand on the bedsheet, I was able to get up somehow. Worick tried to help me, but I ignored him and planted my feet on the floor. But when I made an attempt to rise up and stand on them, sharp pain exploded in my head, making me involuntarily groan. Unable to comply further, my body folded in two, collapsing.

I braced myself, fully expecting to hit the floor, but before I did, Worick had propped me. He gathered me in his arms once again, just like yesterday. It was driven home to me then that the very thought of my getaway being somehow possible was but an illusion.

"You're simply tired, young lady. You shouldn't push yourself too much right now. You'll get better in no time."

I smiled despite myself. It had been a long time since I was able to smile like that.

"Liar." "Wh-Why...?" "I was awake earlier."

Although coming from someone as broken as myself, it was a fact that Twilights' physical abilities were off the scale. Eavesdropping on a conversation taking place downstairs was nothing.

Worick didn't say anything, simply started to walk slowly. When he spoke up, it was in a soft voice, much like concentrated soup a chef spent hours on cooking properly.

"Young lady, what is your name?" "Name?" "Yeah, since you didn't let me know yesterday."

I didn't ask back to hear a reason like what he gave me. The information about me was engraved on the tag on my chest after all, with my name obviously being the first line on it.

With a long sigh that wasn't really a sigh, I answered, "Sophia".

That was one thing - and nearly the only thing - that was my own. The only something properly belonging to me aside from the body that couldn't really move anymore and the pain residing in my head.

"Nice to meet you, Sophia," Worick said.

Like a stray dog on the verge of dying finding an owner just before passing away, or like a tragedy with one act of tranquil lull before the inevitable woeful ending, my life with him had started from that morning on.

*

There is nothing much I could tell about the 2 weeks I had spent with him.

As a matter of fact, I was mostly bedridden on the compact bed in the bedroom, so I couldn't even figure out his office's layout accurately. He was courteous enough to make me pasta, but due to the constant headache that was getting only worse by the day I couldn't taste it properly.

There was another person in that office, called Nicolas. A black-haired man of Asian descent with beast-sharp eyes. He wasn't by any means tall, but to me that solidly built body looked like an exquisite finely chiseled sculpture of a warrior carved out of solid rock. Worick addressed him as 'Nic' or 'partner'.

I sensed from the first glance that Nicolas wasn't a Normal. You could tell birds of feather by the smell somehow, and there wasn't even any need to see the tags hanging around his neck to confirm it. That man apparently held no slightest interest in me, so we'd never exchanged any words with him until it was over.

Often times, Worick would be summoned somewhere, and when he came back, he would be clad in a coating of women's perfume. I couldn't bring myself to warm up to that smell no matter how I tried, and that was the only unpleasant detail during those 2 weeks I spent next to him.

Summarily, my last days could be described like this: for the last stretch of her miserable life, Sophia was granted a peaceful bedroom, where she fell asleep with eternal sleep happy.

If there was something missing in this description, it would be the request that I placed on the fifteenth day of my stay there, that is, on the day of my death.

*

From a conversation in the next room that I overheard, I had learned that Worick and Nicolas ran a business as handymen.

That was one strange conversation, too. I only heard Worick's voice, Nicolas didn't speak. But it wasn't like Worick was simply talking to himself or holding a one-sided conversation either. Rather, it was like listening to someone talking on the phone, where you could only hear one of the participants but knew that a proper conversation was taking place nonetheless.

Anyway, I had learned that they were handymen about a week before my passing away, and since then I had been pondering a certain request.

I was about to die. And die a quiet peaceful death I couldn't have dreamed of before.

I didn't peg myself as greedy enough to wish for anything more than that, but it looked like greed was endless and the appetite really did come with eating. As my heart was calming and finding peace, a single wound appeared from under the filth that had been cleansed away. And I requested to heal that wound.

At the time, Worick sat by my bedside, a plate of thin soup in hand. He held the spoon out to me, saying "Aaam", so I tried to open my mouth but was unable to swallow properly, and the soup dripped down my chin. After one mouthful, I shook my head.

"Listen, Worick," I said. Or tried to, anyway.

He leaned his ear close to my mouth. With difficulty, I continued.

"You're working as a handyman, right?" "Yeah."

Worick ate a mouthful of the soup himself. "A little too salty," he murmured.

"I want to place a request with you." "I see." "Hide me for the next 3 years."

Worick put the plate somewhere next to the pillow. At least that's what I thought he did. I couldn't really see him do it though.

"3 years," he repeated in a calm voice. Like he was inspecting every little crack in an antique vase or something.

The focusing function of my eyes must have given way then, as my field of vision grew hazy and I couldn't see his face clearly anymore. As far as I could remember, there was a playwright whose last words before death were "Mehr Licht!" [*] I understood the sentiment then.

In any case, I could have sworn that Worick was still smiling with that usual smile of his.

"We don't come cheap though." "In the inner pocket of my coat..." I had to pause and take a breather here. "There is a necklace..."

It couldn't have been all that expensive. It wasn't elaborately decorated or anything, I got it as a present so I didn't know the cost, but I guessed that it wasn't too pricey. The coat I mentioned was wrapped around me over the blanket. I asked Worick previously to put it over me like that, and he did.

Now, he fished out that silver necklace shaped like a wing from the coat’s pocket. To be exact, I just kind of saw his silhouette move to do that.

He wasn't a man who wouldn't know the value - or lack of thereof - of that necklace, but he still said, "Not bad. Alright, we'll take your request."

Relieved at his reply, I closed my eyes. Knowing full well that I would never open them again.

Something touched my head.

His hand, I guessed, although I couldn't feel its warmth or its smell anymore. The hair he petted must have lost its glossy shine, too, and that weighted on my mind.

Eyes shut, I rambled as if sleep-talking, "When you cremate me, keep my clothes on." I didn't want anyone to see this ugly body of mine.

Worick didn't answer.

Or maybe it was just that I thought I spoke but my voice had already failed me. But strangely enough, I felt like my words did reach him somehow.

"It is time for you to rest for today, Sophia," Worick whispered as if putting a very young child to sleep.

Yeah.

Good night. And thank you.

This time I knew for sure that the words went unvoiced. I tried to smile but I wasn't sure if I had managed to.

And that was how my 2 weeks and 1 day had come to a close.

T/N: [*] "More light!" is said to be the dying words of Goethe.

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[y0url0calmushr00m]

Little angle kaito

₊˚⊹ ᰔ save her