Professional Novelist & Scenario Writer from Japan. 🖋️
Writing for Twst (Floyd/Jade x Reader).
I’m translating my stories into English! Please be patient with my language skills. 🦈🐙🐬
Do not repost/edit without permission.
I’ve decided to take on the challenge of translating some of my short stories and 'snippets' that I originally shared on Twitter. Usually, I publish my full-length Japanese novels on pixiv, but I wanted to share these stories with the English-speaking community as well.
It would make me so happy if you enjoy reading them, and if you’d like to see more, please let me know! Your support means the world to me."
🦈Floyd Leech x Reader (Female Prefect)
・The Hundred-Year Sentence (The Crime of the Massive Chest)
・Criminal Minds AU①
・Criminal Minds AU②
・Criminal Minds AU③
・Criminal Minds AU Final
・Evolution Cancelled BBB!
・Amnesia
・Nightmare
・To Lay Hands on God
・Happy Jam Jam!
🐬Jade Leech x Reader (Female Prefect)
・Curiosity Killed the Prefect
・Jade Leech（17）VS Jade Leech（28）
・Your sea AO3
・The Chasing Eel and the Fleeing Woman
・Nightmare
・A Clandestine Wedding
・Roommates
・Your good boy
🐙Azul Ashengrotto x Reader (Female Prefect)
・Shall we go and purchase a ring for the time being?
🐬🦈🐙Chaotic Bonding with Octavinelle
・Girls' Night Out (In a Broad, Conceptual Sense)
・The "Pleasant" Dialogues of Octavinelle
The Anomalies of NRC
（original character＆reader）
・Wherever, Nowhere（OC＆reader）
・The One Calling from the Mountain（OC ＆ reader & Jade）
・A Lovely Monster （OC ＆ reader & Jade & Azul）
As the only female student at Night Raven College, you harbor a certain fondness for Floyd Leech.
You probably think you are keeping it a secret, but anyone with sharp intuition can easily see through it. They know that you, despite wearing the same uniform as the male students, are actually a girl. And they can tell that you have quietly fallen for Floyd Leech.
In fact, Floyd himself has noticed, and he knows.
Unlike the aggressive women who crowd the Mostro Lounge on public opening days, your approach to Floyd is truly subtle. You follow him with a gaze that makes him feel a pleasant itch, and you give him—and only him—a tiny bit of special treatment.
For instance, you might feed him the very last bite of a dessert, something you wouldn't even allow Grim to have, while giving Floyd a sweet smile and saying, "Oh, all right." Or when he begs you to let him use your lap, you blush just a little but still give him a lap pillow, keeping him company until he is completely satisfied.
To Floyd, you are his absolute favorite.
His tiny, adorable Little Shrimpy.
The Little Shrimp who loves him.
Yet, that very Little Shrimp is strangely close to Floyd’s twin, Jade.
In the hallways, the cafeteria, and the botanical garden after school, the two of you are always standing close together, leaning in to whisper secrets and sharing delightful smiles.
At first, Floyd didn't care. He simply thought that Jade found Little Shrimpy interesting too.
But Floyd understands perfectly well why it has gradually started to bother him. He hates the idea of the things permitted only to him being granted to Jade as well.
He just wants Little Shrimp's "special" to belong to him alone.
So, Floyd decided to ask him upfront.
It happened in their room back at the dorm.
"Hey, Jade."
"Yes? What is it?"
Having just returned from the lounge, Jade glanced back at Floyd, who was rolling around on the bed, as he loosened the tie around his neck.
"……Are you and Little Shrimpy close, Jade?"
"—"
Eyes identical to Floyd's blinked in surprise, widening.
Then, the corners of his mouth curled upwards.
His eyes narrowed into a crescent smile.
"Hehe. Hehe, haha. Fufu, ahaha."
"What? You're creeping me out."
"Oh, it's nothing. Hehe. Fufufu."
Jade laughed, covering his mouth with the tips of his neatly aligned fingers. His gestures seemed to say, “Oh dear, my, my.”
Floyd pulled the pillow from beneath his head and hurled it straight at Jade.
With a swift dodge, Jade let the pillow fly past, hitting the closet before dropping onto the floor with a soft thud.
"It is true that the Prefect and I are on good terms."
"……I see."
He hated this.
He absolutely hated this.
You’re the one who likes me, aren’t you?—the thought welled up inside his throat, nearly spilling out.
Looking down at Floyd, whose mood had taken a sharp turn for the worse, Jade still maintained that same amused smile, as if he simply couldn't help but find the situation utterly hilarious.
"But you know, Floyd."
"What?"
"You only have yourself to blame."
"Huh?"
Floyd abruptly sat up, glaring daggers at Jade.
Taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, Jade picked up Floyd's pillow from the floor.
"You said this to the Prefect, didn't you?"
Floyd caught the pillow tossed back to him, squeezing it tightly over his crossed legs as he waited for Jade to continue.
"'Guess which class I wanna take! Jade'll definitely get it right!'"
"Eh?"
Floyd grimaced as Jade suddenly delivered a flawless impression of him.
Yet, he certainly remembered saying those exact words.
Wanting to tease you and begging for your attention, he used to give you those kinds of quizzes whenever he ran into you in the hallway before class.
He recalled repeating it a few times simply because your face—seriously contemplating the answer with such an earnest expression—was so incredibly adorable.
He loved seeing your face look so disappointed when you guessed wrong, just as much as he loved seeing your face light up with joy when he said you got it right.
"The Prefect wants to understand you better, you see. And so, she became an apprentice to me—the leading expert in 'Floyd Studies.'"
"What even is that…?"
What on earth was Floyd Studies?
Without his knowledge, he had been turned into an academic subject and an object of research.
"You chose lunch special A today, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"The Prefect predicted that Floyd-senpai would choose lunch special A today. She was so delighted to have gotten it right that she went out of her way to report it to me."
"How utterly charming," Jade said with a heartfelt sigh.
Floyd already knew that, even without Jade pointing it out.
After selecting his meal ticket and receiving the tray for lunch special A, he had been looking around for Jade and Azul, who were supposed to have secured a table ahead of him, when his eyes met yours.
You looked at Floyd, then looked down at what he was holding. For a split second, your eyes widened in surprise, and then you smiled with a joy that bloomed like a flower.
You were undeniably adorable.
But just as Floyd was about to call out to you, you—with the swift agility of an actual little shrimp—turned on your heel and rushed over toward Jade with bouncing steps.
Leaning down beside his twin, who was already seated and heartily devouring a mountain of fried chicken curry, you whispered something in his ear with a delighted look. Jade then rewarded you with a piece of fried chicken, and you headed back to the table where the first-years gathered, happily munching on your prize.
Being forced to watch that entire sequence of events had left Floyd feeling incredibly out of sorts.
"She told me that unless she can understand you at least as well as I do, she doesn't think you will ever truly come to like her."
"Haaah?!"
Floyd had never said anything of the sort.
He didn't want you to become like Jade.
You were fine just the way you were.
There was absolutely no need for you to become a moray eel.
Yet, it was undeniable that the root cause of your behavior lay in Floyd’s own remarks.
"Nnghh…"
Still clutching the pillow, Floyd tumbled over onto his side and groaned.
Jade was laughing, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Dammit.
■□■
He gathered his courage and asked you out on a date.
"Hey, Little Shrimpy. Wanna go hang out with me?"
His eyes might have wandered a little.
His voice might have been a bit pitched up.
Even so, just as you had always allowed him to be special to you, he wanted to convey that you were special to him, too.
Your cheeks turned as glossy and red as an apple, and you nodded with a voice so quiet it felt ticklish. "Yes."
And then, the day before the date.
Tomorrow was the big day, so Floyd rolled around on the bed, trying his best to fall asleep early. Right beside him, Jade was on his device, endlessly messing with it.
"……Hey."
"Oh? You are still awake, Floyd?"
"You've been messing with that device forever, it's so annoying!"
After all, they were moray eels born and raised in the deep sea.
With his nerves already high before his very first date, Floyd couldn't sleep even if he tried while the screen's light kept flickering and flashing right next to him.
"My apologies. However, you will be thanking me tomorrow."
"……"
That way of putting it gave him a bad feeling.
"By any chance, Jade, are you talking to Little Shrimpy?"
There was no reply.
Instead, a beaming smile that screamed he was having the absolute time of his life was the only answer.
"Aaargh, that's it! I hate you, Jade!"
"I love you, Floyd. I am having a wonderful time right now."
"Dammit!"
Floyd flipped the middle finger toward the neighboring bed, pulled the blanket over his head, and retreated into a grumpy sleep.
□■□
The next day.
When you showed up at the meeting spot in the town , you were dressed in an incredibly cute outfit that was perfectly to Floyd's liking.
Your fluffy skirt, something that could never be seen within the school, resembled the colorful caudal fin of a fish from the warm seas. Your lovely, natural makeup—not the standard, polite makeup meant for etiquette at Night Raven College, but a style unique to girls—brought out your charm to the absolute fullest.
There was no way you could have walked from the Ramshackle Dorm to the Mirror Chamber dressed like that. Realizing that his own brother must have played a part in this as well, Floyd looked as if he had just chewed on a bitter bug.
Seeing Floyd grimace the moment his eyes landed on you, your eyebrows drooped with disappointment.
"Little Shrimpy."
"Yes?"
"……Next time, ask me directly. Not Jade."
"Um… is this outfit no good?"
"I love it."
He replied instantly.
Because he loved it, it made him all the more irritated.
Seeing the face of the "producer" lingering right behind his adorable Little Shrimpy.
Ah, seriously.
"……Dammit," he muttered under his breath.
-------------------------------------------
This was written for a project where I created a short story using a line of dialogue given as a prompt. And, of course, the line I was given was “Dammit.”
I'd love to post something after such a long time, but I've spent the past few weeks writing nothing but event pieces, so I have nothing ready to share.
Mating the Moray Menace ~ Jade Leech Fic Recommendations
Charismatic, charming, disarming—those are the qualities that make Jade Leech such a dangerous catch, irresistible and alluring. Tough luck, he’s got you hooked on a leash from ‘hello’. Prepare for mushroom madness, psychological warfare, and a bucket load of ridiculous puns.
Whether you’re enjoying quality time in nature or striking shady deals behind closed doors, Jade fics always promise a fun time, especially when you’re the subject of his wily whims. And if I missed your fave, SHARE WITH THE CLASS!!
🌸Fluff ~ 🥀 Angst ~ ⭐ Humor ~ 🔞 NSFW
Pre-Relationship
🌸 The moon is beautiful tonight by @yuri-is-online
⭐ Make Jade Short Circuit by @mochinomnoms
⭐ FREE MEALS AND MARRIAGE PROPOSALS !! by @rooksamoris
⭐ YOU DREAM OF ME?? by @temiizpalace
Established Relationship
🌸 Lucky Stars by @spadecentral
🌸 After Hours by @writingseaslugs
🌸 Househusband!AU by @rendy-a
🌸 Launch Our Love by @zgvlt
⭐️ When You Unlock a Pet Peeve by @alby-rei (hehe, hi)
⭐ The girl they love, the boys she adore by @moonlit-midnight
⭐ Jade Leech (17) VS Jade Leech (28) by @maruyamada
🥀 BACK TO CHEST (SOUL TO SOUL) by @rel124c41
Yandere
🔞 The Most Dangerous Game by @merakiui
🔞 Android by @merakiui
Enjoy the feast 🍽️
Share the love with the original authors (comment & reblog!) 🫶
Just… somehow, Floyd had already picked up on the fact that your behavior was a little off. Even on the way back from the flower shop where he went to pick you up, you had been uncharacteristically quiet, secretly casting these brief, fleeting glances toward him as if you wanted to say something. Well, of course he had noticed it, and having noticed it, he simply put on a show of acting completely oblivious.
Pondering a bit over how he could get you to open your mouth voluntarily, he had volunteered to handle dinner duty tonight and whipped up an absolute stroke of genius—a flawlessly delicious puttanesca. While you kept a rather solemn expression at the sharp, spicy kick of the flavor, even you couldn't help but let your lips curve into a soft smile, happily eating it up while praising how delicious it was.
And now, following the meal, it happened the exact second he prepared to stand up to handle the dishes.
Floyd slowly settled back into his chair, returning the steady stare of your tense, nervous expression from across the table. It didn't feel as though you were angry. You rarely ever got angry to begin with—especially when it came to Floyd, or so it seemed. You had a distinct knack for accepting Floyd entirely for the kind of creature he was.
"Um…"
"Uh-huh."
"There's something I wanted to ask you, Floyd-san."
"Go ahead~"
"The beautiful lady you were with during lunch today… who was she?"
"ーー…"
Without letting his expression twitch in the slightest, Floyd internally buried his face in his hands, thoroughly stumped. He didn't have a single clue who the "beautiful lady" you were referring to could be. He didn't, but he did have a perfect idea of who the "me" you witnessed during lunch today actually was.
It was Jade.
Given that Floyd had been completely cooped up under Azul's thumb all through lunch today, the one thing that was absolutely set in stone was that the person you witnessed was not him. However, the true problem hinged entirely on the exact degree to which you had recognized Jade. The method he used to smooth this over would change drastically depending on that factor.
For instance, if you were judging based entirely on hair color, a brief "That wasn't me" would settle the matter entirely. But if you had recognized a man standing nearly two meters tall with sea-colored hair and a black streak as Floyd, then his answer would have to be "Just a client from work~"
"……"
"Floyd-san?"
Lifting your eyes to look at him, a sudden flicker of anxiety crossed your gaze. The exact second he picked up on that look, it was game over.
"That was Jade."
Flipping a white flag inside his mind, Floyd offered his confession.
"Jade?"
"My brother."
"Oh, you mean… the one who looks exactly like you?"
"Yep, that's him."
"Jade-san is on this island too?!"
"Uh-huh."
"W-Why didn't you ever tell me?!"
If you asked him why…
Well, obviously, because if he did, it would drastically increase the probability of thread after thread of secrets he had purposefully left unsaid unearthing themselves all at once. After all, on this island, Jade's face was just as highly recognizable as Azul's. Smiling pleasantly and impeccably dressed, he spent a massive amount of his time standing in the limelight as a resort hotel owner.
It wasn't as though he wanted to keep everything a total secret from you. You were the one who accepted Floyd entirely for the kind of creature he was. He knew with absolute certainty that no matter who he truly turned out to be, you would still accept him—even if you did pout your lips in a tiny huff right now, demanding to know why you had been left in the dark.
Therefore, the sole reason he kept the true identity of the monster hidden away from you…
"Because I wanna keep Little Shrimpy all to myself~"
Wasn't expecting to get tagged in such a post but a pleasant surprise!
Tagged by: @ohnomykokoro (answer and tag six people you wanna know better! (i dont know all questions, so imma copy everything... ))
FAVORITE COLOR: hm, I like pink as well as blue and yellow. I'm not crazy about any of them though.
LAST SONG I LISTENED TO: "Don't" from Persona 3 Reload by Azumi Takahashi and Lotus Juice...I've just recently got into Persona and have all games on the Switch (but none finished ;;;;) and while I am not fond of alllll remade songs, this one is a melancholic banger.
CURRENTLY READING: ....Disappointed but not surprised, Vinland Saga😐. I just really like looking at the pictures and analyzing the way Yukimura draws and maybe smell the fresh paper too and ogle at Thorfinn😩...but the last one I finished is "The Full Moon Coffee Shop" by Mai Mochizuki. It's a short read about several people feeling unsatisfied and lost in their life and a magical coffee shop run by cats comes by on a full moon and helps them. It's more of a feel-good-read.
CURRENTLY WATCHING: I'm currently not watching anything because I finished a lot of things recently. The Amazing Digital Circus, Death Note, If Wishes Could Kill, Beastars, Istanbul Encyclopedia...
Some were really just something to relax after work while I was intriguied and followed others. Overall good stuff.
CURRENT FAVORITE SONG: "Love Sick" by Keina Suda. Thought for a while since it was either that or "Ghost Avenue" by Eve but I seriously could listen to Love Sick all day, it's got such a banger melody it's hard not to bop your head to it. Another good one is "undress me" by Cö Shu Nie. imo she has a gorgeous voice and the way she composes feels and sounds breathtaking.
Mutuals I'm tagging: @just-some-user-hunny , @yanderes-galore if you feel like doing it!
Favourite colour: There are no favourites in ba sing se (it's yellow and pink, preferably pastel)
Last song I listened to: I've been listening to lax lullaby (void stranger ost) for the past weeks but the most recent song I listened to was this one
Currently reading: The Little Prince for yume purposes….. iykyk
Currently watching: nothing </3 very close to watching TADC and MLP though (and iron lung when it finally gets subtitles, among many others,,)
Current favourite song: it's close between signaling and mis-take rpg by anythingbecomesmoe right now
I will be tagging @paddling-dawn, @creativecornea, @teavich, @cubecat-sunshine, @salemcantupdate, @sinclaironestrogen but anyone is free to reblog this with their answer (please do that actually I love reading what everyone has to say)
I've never done one of these before, so sorry if I'm doing it wrong!
And thank you for tagging me!
Favourite color：
I like subdued colors such as olive green and antique gold.
Lately, since I've become a fan of the Leech twins from Twisted Wonderland, I've also found myself gravitating toward bright emerald green accents and colors that remind me of the ocean!
Last song i listened to：
https://open.spotify.com/intl-ja/track/4KY0QFBTvBACezl3XEsR3M?si=5bc2cc2022b2413b
The lyrics are actually pretty unsettling, but I love the melody and the way it's sung. They're strangely addictive.
Currently reading :
Strictly No Reading: A Forensic Psychiatric Evaluation Report of a Serial Killer by Mikito Chinen
Currently watching :
I've been so busy working on my manuscript lately that I haven't really watched anything.
The most recent thing I watched was Mononoke: Hebigami.
Current favourite song :
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3ZYjfMqAsc&list=RDO3ZYjfMqAsc&start_radio=1
The melody is incredibly addictive...
The lyrics are great, too.
I couldn't think of anyone to tag, so I'll stop here!
hi!!!! i just wanted to say that i really enjoyed reading through all of your works. i found them on ao3 on a whim and thought it was good material to pass the time, but i found myself thinking about certain moments and scenes that stuck
yuu's belief in yielding the flesh to sever the bone, that scene of floyd fighting God, everything about the way you write the octotrio but ESPECIALLY JADE, holyyyyyyyy. ive read a lot of fanfiction for twst, but your work has genuinely stood out to me. i deeply enjoyed the past week that i spent savoring what you've put out
thank you, and i look forward to your future pieces!!!!!
Thank you for finding my work among the countless stories on AO3!
And you even found my Tumblr, too! That makes me so happy!
I basically write the kinds of stories that I personally want to read—the things that make me excited and fall in love with a story. So it's a huge honor to know that someone else can enjoy those same things alongside me.
Let's keep getting excited over these things together from here on out, too!!
Since everyone was basically watching me write this story in real time, I figured that instead of sharing behind-the-scenes details about the novel itself, I'd talk a little about the cover!
Once again, I asked Hatsu-san to do the cover illustration for me!
Me: Hatsu-saaaan!! I'd like to commission the cover for the new book I'm releasing in June—do you have room in your schedule?
Hatsu: Tell me the deadline (the fake one, lol) and the pairing!
Me: The deadline is the end of May, and the pairing is Floyd × Prefect!
Hatsu: Sounds good! I'll take it!
We've worked together so many times now that they accepted almost immediately, as always!
By the way, Hatsu-san always asks me for the fake deadline.
The idea is that if things run late or something unexpected happens, it's safer to set a deadline that's earlier than the real one. So I always give them a fake deadline that's ahead of the actual print deadline.
That's what I did this time, too.
I contacted them on April 26th, and the printer's actual deadline was June 17th, but I told Hatsu-san the deadline was the end of May.
This is pretty much how we always do things.
Hatsu: Do you have any ideas for what you want the cover to look like?
Me: For this one, I'd really like a landscape-oriented illustration.
Maybe the two of them riding in a red convertible. Something that feels like an old American postcard. The Barbie movie posters are pretty close to what I have in mind.
MC would be driving, while Floyd is leaning over from the passenger seat toward the back seat trying to grab a map or something. Maybe he's got a donut hanging out of his mouth. I'd love it if it could capture that American road-trip movie vibe. Just... really retro Americana.
Hatsu: Got it. Any preferences for the outfits?
Me: Put Floyd in some kind of loud, flashy Hawaiian shirt! As for MC, I'd like them to look like someone who doesn't spend much time thinking about clothes. This is very much a spontaneous road trip, so maybe just a simple T-shirt and jeans. Since they're sightseeing, though, it might be cute to give them some ridiculous heart-shaped sunglasses or other fun accessories.
Hatsu: Can I give MC a toy ring?
Me: Absolutely!!! Perfect!!!!”
And then, just four days later, on April 30th...
Hatsu: I've got some composition drafts for you!
①
②
③
Me: You work way too fast. This is amazing. I really like either #1 or #3... Hmm...
Let's go with #3! Number 3, please!!!!
Hatsu: Got it!
And then, on May 6th, I received two rough drafts!
Hatsu: Which do you prefer—the version with Floyd standing, or the one with Floyd sitting?
①
②
Me: THEY'RE BOTH SO GOOD~~~~~~~~!!!!!!!!!
Me: But I do want to capture that slightly reckless feeling, so let's go with the standing version! Like, it's the kind of thing that would be dangerous if someone lost their balance, but Floyd does it anyway because he's Floyd.
Hatsu: Got it! Should the car be moving?
Me: Yes, definitely while they're driving! I'd like both of them to look natural, like they're not paying attention to the camera at all. Not overly smiley or posing—more like a candid snapshot of everyday life.
Hatsu: Got it!!!
Hatsu: I cleaned up the rough sketch!
Me: This is incredible. You're a genius!!!!
Hatsu: Great! Then I'll move on to the final line art. Next I'll bring you the color-separated version. We can adjust the colors then!
And then, on May 26th...
Hatsu: I've separated the colors! What do you think about the color scheme for each part? The clothing colors are just placeholders for now. For the background, I was thinking maybe a guardrail with blue skies beyond it. How does that sound?
Me: The moment color was added, the atmosphere became amazing!!!!!! I love how Floyd's streaks are fluttering in the wind.
Can I make a very specific request?
Could you make it look like part of Floyd's black streaks are still tucked behind his ear? Like, he pushed them behind his ear, but the wind has messed them up and blown some of them loose.
And for the background, I'm imagining something more like rural America, so it might feel more fitting without the guardrail. More like an open stretch of wasteland or desert!
Hatsu: The streaks... like this?
Me: THAT'S IT!!!!!!!! Thank you, it's perfect!!!
Also, for Floyd's shirt, I'd like the overall palette to be cool colors—blues and greens—but with large, vivid accent colors like orange and red mixed in.
Hatsu: Got it! How about this? I added the background too.
Me: Perfect! It's a yellow moray eel!
The moray eel is wearing a moray eel!(lol)
Hatsu: Well, of course it should be moray eels. (lol)
And then, on May 29th...
Hatsu: It's finished! I'll leave the retro-style processing and effects to MAMA.
Maru: Perfect!!!! Thank you!!!!!!!!!
Hatsu: I'll throw in the ring as a bonus. You can use it on the sleeve or wherever you'd like.
Maru: Thank you, thank you!
Hatsu: I'll send everything over to MAMA, then.
Maru: Yes!!!!!
And that's how the cover illustration was completed!
After that, MAMA added the retro-style effects, designed the title, and turned it into the final book cover.
Here's the full cover spread!
And this is what the cover underneath the dust jacket looks like!
I have a question. Why is happy jam jam titled happy jam jam?
There’s a children’s song called Happy Jam Jam that became really popular in Japan once.
It’s a bright, cheerful, upbeat song, but somehow it always gave me the impression of being sunny and optimistic while also feeling just a little bit reckless—like it’s charging ahead no matter what.
And then there’s the word jam itself. You know how people say a copier jams, or a gun jams when it gets stuck?
So to me, the title carried this image of being bright and happy on the surface, while underneath there’s a sense of having nowhere left to go—of being completely stuck.
From there came the idea of:
‘If there’s no future ahead anyway, then you might as well live freely and do everything you’ve ever wanted to do.’
And that’s how I ended up choosing the title Happy Jam Jam!
※Mafia AU ※Age Gap AU ※Currently being written and serialized simultaneously in both Japanese and English.
⑩
On that day, chaos consumed the research facility nestled in a remote corner of the Shaftlands. However, because the facility’s closure had already been finalized for the near future, the remaining staff was incredibly scarce. A research institute that once employed over a dozen personnel was now reduced to only two people: the director and his assistant.
The facility had originally been established to investigate ruins discovered within the Shaftlands, but because it failed to yield any notable results, its budget was finally terminated. The various artifacts unearthed from the ruins they had been studying were already officially slated to be transferred to a museum within the Shaftlands. In the future, these pieces would be treated as mere exhibits, rather than subjects of scientific research.
The two men had scrambled frantically to secure funding to keep their research alive. Believing that if the nation deemed it unworthy of a budget, they would have to look elsewhere, they pitched their research data to various corporations. When no interested companies could be found, they expanded their search to private benefactors. Yet, still, not a single person willing to provide a budget stepped forward. To an outsider, an artifact dug up from a ruin that had yielded no prominent results thus far was nothing more than a tedious trinket.
But they knew. Having spent long years at the institute, they knew the truth.
That artifact was real.
By chance, it had once perfectly bridged the gap to an alternate universe, successfully summoning a single human being. If they chose to publicize that fact, the closure of the facility would undoubtedly be revoked. The artifact’s relocation to the museum would be halted, and their research would continue.
However, as researchers who had carelessly triggered a massive accident that entangled an innocent human from another world, their custody would immediately be handed over to national investigative agencies. The protocols of the experiment conducted that day would be scrutinized repeatedly for ethical violations, and if even the slightest flaw were found, it was inevitable that they would be condemned for "conducting inappropriate experimentation."
But who could have ever anticipated such an outcome? What research institute in existence perfectly records every single routine experiment and executes them flawlessly according to procedure? Yet, national agencies would seize upon such trivial errors as if they were catastrophic incidents, permanently tarnishing their names in scientific history. They would likely be forced to take responsibility and be barred from all future research. In fact, there was a very real possibility that their careers as researchers would be entirely severed.
And so, they hid it. They chose not to report it.
The supreme dilemma they carried was that despite making the discovery of the century, they were utterly unable to report it. Burdened by a breakthrough they could never publicize, exhausted by the endless days of running around in search of sponsors to continue their work, their colleagues had gradually given up and abandoned the institute one by one.
A massive factor behind their departure was undoubtedly the reality that the "girl summoned from another world"—which was you—had suddenly vanished.
One day, you had disappeared into the dead of night. Perhaps the impending closure of the institute had dealt too severe a shock to you as well. By the crack of dawn, you had already fled the city. The only paper trail left behind was you withdrawing every scrap of your savings and purchasing a car; beyond that, your footsteps went cold. Their colleagues left the institute under the impression that you had simply resolved to survive on your own somewhere in this world.
Only the remaining director and his assistant knew the grim reality.
You had fled out of sheer terror of being disposed of. For the first week following your disappearance, they had buried their heads in their hands, utterly paralyzed by the fear that you would run straight to the police. But the dreaded visit from the authorities never came. You had merely vanished. You had simply run away.
And so, they felt a wave of profound relief. Losing a priceless, living specimen of an alternate world inhabitant was a painful blunder. However, the biological samples they had managed to harvest from you up until that point still remained in abundance.
Your hair, your skin, your blood, your saliva, and various cellular strains.
As long as these remnants of you were preserved, their research could still continue. All they required now was the capital to maintain the facility.
Refusing to give up, they scrambled to secure financial backing, and with the facility's closure only a few days away, a highly promising sponsor finally materialized.
His name was Floyd Leech. He was a merman originating from the northern deep sea of the Coral Sea, and having since advanced to the surface, he was currently one of the successful entrepreneurs who owned a whole island known as Mostro Paradiso.
He had caught sight of the email the director had sent out at random. And, as luck would have it, he took an interest in the research being conducted at this facility. He had thoroughly reviewed every single piece of data the director sent over, showing a profound understanding. Apparently, he was a sorcerer himself; he read through the director's research results—which were entirely saturated with technical jargon—with absolute, effortless ease, and he even went so far as to pose his own distinct hypotheses. He harbored an immense interest in the research. Therefore, he stated that he would not only provide the funds to keep the study alive, but that he would buy up the entire institute. He purchased everything—the land, the buildings, all of it.
During the video call confirming the transaction, Floyd Leech had flashed a deeply meaningful smile.
"It's a lot easier to do research when ya don't got annoying interlopers stickin' their noses in, right?"
He tilted his head, his eyes curving into a friendly, lazy crinkle.
Witnessing that demeanor, the director felt a surge of absolute certainty. Floyd Leech was aware of the truth, at least to some degree. Where he had managed to sniff it out was entirely unknown. He might have heard a rumor from one of the researchers who had recently abandoned this place. Alternatively, he might have deciphered something hidden within the research data they had forwarded to him. Whatever the case, that was undoubtedly why he had resolved to pour an astronomical amount of capital into a tedious study like the artifact dug from the ruins—a subject that would normally find it incredibly difficult to capture anyone's attention.
On the surface, the man known as Floyd Leech was simply one of the executives running Mostro Paradiso. But beneath that facade, he was a merman. He was a monster who had surged up from the depths of the ocean floor, a realm where ethical constraints were far thinner than on dry land. Dark, shady rumors constantly trailed Mostro Paradiso, whispering that it was a haven entirely untouched by the laws of the surface. He was almost certainly far more than a clean, upstanding businessman. He possessed a sweeping capacity to swallow both the pristine and the corrupt, the ruthless resolve to back it up, and the meticulous thoroughness required to ensure none of it ever came to light.
Having judged him as such, the director invited him to come view the fruits of their research in person. He utterly refused to leave any written record regarding the proof that they had successfully summoned a human from another world—which was you.
Thus, it was arranged for Floyd Leech to pay a formal inspection visit to the institute.
The director and his assistant welcomed Floyd Leech with a display of absolute, lavish hospitality, treating him with the utmost deference. It was only natural. To their eyes, Floyd Leech was a priceless patron. It was strictly under his financial backing and absolute protection that they would be permitted to continue their work.
They grew highly loquacious, laying out the detailed results of their research to Floyd Leech with exhaustive verbosity. Naturally, they explained the details of the accident that had occurred on that fateful day. They were utterly desperate to prove that their project was entirely worth investing in. If the research progressed flawlessly, it might eventually become possible to cross over into an alternate universe. By conducting thorough studies on an outsider from another world—on you—it might become possible to bridge the grand chasm between magic-less individuals and sorcerers. Within the current academic community, such concepts were thoroughly relegated to the realm of fairy tales.
Yet, they possessed the concrete, undeniable achievement of having summoned an inhabitant from another world.
Floyd Leech listened to their presentation with an expression of deep, fascination. Smiling pleasantly, he remained in an exceptionally magnificent mood from start to finish. He physically picked up and examined the various documents and biological samples they had prepared.
The director concluded the final segment of the presentation by showering Floyd Leech with grand, exaggerated expressions of gratitude. He declared that it was entirely thanks to him that they could continue their research, and that this would undoubtedly serve as the first monumentous step toward a historic breakthrough that would shatter the common sense of this entire world.
Floyd Leech responded with a slow, deliberate round of applause—clack, clack, clack.
And then, keeping his eyes softly hooded in that friendly crinkle, his lips stretching into a sugary, sweet smile, he spoke.
"I ain't gonna let ya do that."
"……Huh?"
The director and his assistant instantly froze right where they stood. The obsequious, groveling smiles plastered across their faces stiffened into rigid masks. They could not, for the life of them, comprehend the words that had just been delivered to them.
Floyd Leech cast a slow gaze around the research lab, where the compiled presentation materials lay scattered. A mountain of samples in Petri dishes, medical charts, photographs. Every single trace of it belonged to a single girl summoned from another universe.
Floyd Leech’s left fingers flickered with a light, fluid gesture.
With that single action, the documents erupted into a fierce, roaring blaze. The director and his assistant stared in stunned, wide-eyed bewilderment. Their minds utterly rejected what their eyes were witnessing, failing to comprehend what had just transpired. The priceless specimens of an alternate world inhabitant, the data records, the fruits of their scientific labor—the very ticket that was supposed to guarantee their entire future as scientists—were dancing wildly within a roaring inferno. Burning a brilliant red, they rapidly disintegrated into nothing but crumbling ash.
The only question echoing inside the director’s mind was “Why?” True to his nature as a scientist, he felt a desperate urge to discover the logic behind Floyd Leech’s sudden, violent atrocity.
Screaming in a voice like a ragged shriek, the director demanded, "Why are you doing this?!"
Floyd Leech merely smiled back with pleasant serenity.
And it was only then that the director and his assistant finally realized a terrifying truth: this man known as Floyd Leech might not have been genuinely smiling at them from the very beginning. Deep within the depths of those mismatched eyes, a violent flame was dancing. Behind those slit-like, predatory pupils, a brilliant, scorching emotion was burning.
Whipped up by the intense heat radiating from the fire, a single photograph fluttered into the air. Floyd Leech’s fingertips reached out, catching it with soft, effortless grace. It was a gesture akin to trapping a drifting butterfly.
And then, he spoke.
"You see, this girl… she's my wife."
His mouth stretched into a wide, grinning smirk. The corners of his large mouth pulled upward so sharply they looked almost torn.
"And she explicitly told me, ya know? She said she doesn't wanna leave a single damn thing behind for you bastards."
That was your desire. That was the single, desperate plea you, his cute little thing, had wept and begged for.
"Every single thing that belongs to her—not a single strand of hair, not a single cell—she doesn't want ya to have any of it."
And so, Floyd had resolved to grant that exact wish. After all, Floyd Leech is your husband. Granting a wish or two for his cute little wife is precisely what makes a man worth his salt.
"That's why I decided I'm gonna collect the debt myself."
Bathed in the flickering reflection of the flames, Floyd spoke in a light, almost singsong cadence, stepping slowly toward the men who stood frozen in place, staring at him with wide, paralyzed eyes as if looking at a genuine monster.
These were the very men who, on a certain night, had been fully prepared to dissect you like a pathetic lab animal. The reason you had set out on a desperate road trip. The reason you had feared this world, thoroughly losing all hope in it.
In truth, he wanted nothing more than to completely incinerate these men, turning them into ash along with the facility, but Azul had delivered an absolute, unyielding command to leave them alive.
Therefore… Floyd resolved to strip away absolutely everything else besides their lives.
He spread his left hand wide—the silver ring gleaming at the base of his middle finger—and using his palm as if it were a pair of crushing jaws, he clamped his fingers in a vice-like grip directly over the assistant's face. His five fingers dug deep into the flesh with a sickening creak.
A strangled, agonizing groan leaked from the man's throat. And then, right between Floyd's palm and the face of the man who was now streaming desperate tears, a faint, pale violet light flashed with a sharp crackle.
Instantly, every ounce of strength drained from the assistant's body, and he collapsed into a pathetic, heap on the floorboards. His limbs began to violently twitch and spasm in unnatural, erratic convulsions.
"Did you… did you kill him?!"
"As if."
At the director’s frantic question, Floyd let out a sharp, careless laugh. He hadn't killed him. He hadn't.
"I mean, Jade's way better at this specific brand of work than I am, but still~"
Floyd's palm flew open once more. Striking with suction-like precision, he clamped his hand directly over the director's face. His fingertips sank deep into the skin, locking down like a row of razor-sharp fangs.
"Give it all back. Every single thing that belongs to Little Shrimpy."
With a sharp crackle, a pale violet light flashed.
It was a faint glimmer, delicate as a dying star. Within the dark, confined vision of the director—completely masked beneath that massive palm—the pale purple spark materialized.
And in that exact instant, the inside of his mind went entirely white.
"Ah."
A sound slipped past his lips.
He had absolutely no grasp of what the sound was even for. It was merely his exhaled breath, forced out and vibrating on its own accord.
Inside his skull, everything was being violently, chaotically scrambled.
His memories.
His knowledge.
Everything he had painstakingly built throughout his life.
Something profoundly precious to him.
All of it, every single shred.
The strength drained completely from the director's limbs. As his body went entirely limp, dangling midair solely by the raw physical strength of the left hand clutching his head, Floyd stared down at the sight with complete, chilling apathy.
With a sudden snap, Floyd opened his palm.
The man’s body collapsed heavily onto the floorboards with a dull, echoing thud.
And that was the absolute end of it.
■□■
Outside the window, the rain was falling.
He sat in a corner of the diner, filling out a resume to find a new job. Until quite recently, he had been working at a research facility tucked away in a remote corner of the Shaftlands; however, since its closure had been finalized, he was stuck looking for employment all over again. Listening to the rhythmic patter of the rain, he moved his pen, the soft scratching sound accompanying him as he lined after line of the resume.
Then, quite suddenly, a shadow fell across his hands.
"……?"
He lifted his gaze.
Sitting directly across from him was a complete stranger. He was a massive individual, possessing an astonishingly tall and lanky stature. One single lock of his vibrant, sea-colored hair was dyed pitch-black. Though he was dressed in ordinary attire that anyone might wear, he was the kind of man you could never forget once you laid eyes on him.
And yet, he was not an acquaintance. This was the absolute first time they had ever crossed paths. Unable to comprehend why such a man had abruptly chosen to share his table, he could not conceal his bewilderment. Wondering if the diner had perhaps grown crowded and run out of available seating, he cast a quick glance around the establishment, but the patrons inside were few and far between. Vacant tables stood out everywhere.
There was absolutely no logical reason for the man to go out of his way to sit here. Growing more perplexed by the second, he opened his mouth to say, "Excuse me—"
The man before his eyes flashed a friendly, pleasant smile.
"Ya got a piece of lint in your hair~"
A massive palm reached across the table. Rested securely at the base of his middle finger was a silver ring. The large hand loomed closer to his face. The man's fingertips brushed softly against his bangs, as if flicking something away.
And in that exact fraction of a second, he felt as though he saw a faint, pale violet phosphorescence flash with a microscopic spark.
"――…"
The heavy rushing sound of the pouring rain filled the air.
He blinked, his vision slightly dazed. Was he just exhausted? It felt as though his mind had drifted blankly into a temporary void for a brief moment.
When he lifted his face, the seat across from him was completely vacant, as was only natural.
"……?"
He tilted his head in confusion.
Then, he simply returned to the task of filling out his resume. Moving down to the section where he was meant to document his achievements at his previous research institute, he began writing out his experience regarding the study of the artifacts unearthed from the ruins.
Deep within the recesses of his mind, the silhouette of the girl he used to call "you"—the one he had occasionally accompanied out into the city—no longer existed.
■□■
A soft crackle.
A soft, rhythmic crackle.
A pale purple phosphorescence flashes into existence. With every single blink of the light, someone's memory vanishes. Someone's record is erased. Leaving them entirely oblivious to the very fact that they have forgotten, their memories and history melt away into nothingness.
The pale purple light continues to flash.
■□■
Preparing to wrap a bouquet of flowers, you suddenly caught yourself and paused your hands, feeling as though you recognized the photograph of the building printed on the newspaper.
"……"
It was a minor local news item—an article detailing a fire that had broken out at a research facility slated for closure. Because it was on the verge of shutting down permanently, only two personnel had been present at the facility at the time: the director and his assistant. The report noted that both of them had been rescued after being found collapsed in front of the incinerated building. However, perhaps due to inhaling a substantial amount of smoke, their memories were reportedly suffering from severe confusion. The article concluded by mentioning that the police were currently investigating the matter, including the possibility of arson committed by the two men out of despair over the facility's closure.
Huh, you murmured inwardly.
That was all. With nothing more than that silent thought, you returned to your work. Carelessly wrapping the freshly cut stems of the bouquet with the newspaper that bore the photograph of that familiar facility and the names of those familiar men, you meticulously wrapped the outer layers with decorative packaging, handing it over to the customer with a polite smile. You tucked the money paid along with their thanks securely into the register.
Immediately after that harrowing ordeal, you had started working within Mostro Paradiso. After all, one requires capital in order to survive. Even if the entirety of your fortune remained intact, continuing to stay indefinitely on the top floor of a luxury hotel would bound to bankrupt you in no time. The moment your physical condition finally stabilized, you and Floyd packed your things and checked out of the hotel.
Initially, you had fully intended to tumble into a cheap motel, planning to look for a job while carving out a life there. But right around then, Floyd casually mentioned that he knew of a place to stay. He claimed he happened to own a house that had been handed over to him by an individual he was connected to through business.
And so, that was how you ended up moving into the "house" owned by Floyd.
The house sat on a street facing the coast. It was small but thoroughly cozy, looking almost brand new. When you opened the windows, the distant rhythm of crashing waves filtered into the rooms. Climbing roses and crape myrtles were planted in the yard, and Floyd told you that when the proper season arrived, they would burst into brilliant, fiery red blossoms.
It was shortly after the two of you began living together in that tiny house, gradually gathering the various necessities for daily life, that Floyd casually slid a single slip of paper over to you.
It was a copy of a legal registry—documentary proof that you had officially been born and raised within this world. Though your surname was now legally bound to Leech, your maiden name was flawlessly recorded on the document as well.
As you stared at the paper, your eyes widening into massive circles of pure astonishment, Floyd narrowed his mismatched eyes into a slim crinkle, flashing a pleasant smile as he teased, "I told ya I'd handle it, didn't I?"
True to his word, Floyd had effortlessly handled it. When he offered you a gentle smile and murmured that the two of you could slowly manufacture your school graduation records next, you found yourself entirely powerless to say anything other than a quiet, "Okay."
He simply told you to think about what kind of school you would prefer. His cadence was incredibly light, carrying the exact same casual air as someone telling you to pick an item from a takeout menu.
Was the trajectory of a human being's entire life truly something that could be fabricated this easily? You opened your mouth to ask him how on earth he had pulled it off, but concluding that even if you asked and he explained it, you probably wouldn't comprehend the mechanics anyway, you swallowed the question down. There are plenty of things in this world that are far better left unknown.
Regardless of the methods, it was entirely thanks to this that you obtained a solid foothold for surviving in this world. As long as you could formally prove your identity, you were legally permitted to work.
To that end, when you approached him to consult about wanting to find a job, Floyd went through a brief, calculating pretense of pondering the matter before introducing you to this specific florist shop. The business was operated by an elderly couple, and they had apparently been searching for a young person to lend them an extra hand. Five days a week, you spend your hours working at the flower shop from ten in the morning until six in the evening.
Because they primarily cater to tourists, the daily number of patrons isn't particularly overwhelming, but since they also wholesale floral arrangements to the neighboring hotels, the business is reportedly quite lucrative.
Sitting securely behind the counter, you drop your gaze down to a puzzle magazine to pass the idle time. The project you are currently tackling is a crossword puzzle.
Murmuring the hint for one of the vertical clues aloud, you let out a soft, thoughtful groan, pondering the answer.
Then, with a soft thud, a shadow fell over you.
"Little Shrinpy~"
"Floyd-san!"
You stood up with a sudden rattle of your chair. Bustling out from behind the counter, you hurried over to his side with quick, light steps.
"You're back from your trip?"
"Yep. Came straight to pick ya up."
For the past few days, Floyd had been away on a business trip. Just as you had originally picked him up at that parking lot in the Shaftlands, it seemed he occasionally left the island for work related to Mostro Paradiso. For the record, you didn't grasp the exact nature of his job. you had only been told that he was being conveniently driven around to handle this and that by a thoroughly slave-driving boss. Given that he was a literal mountain of raw talent, he was likely being utilized for all sorts of convenient errands.
Sweeping his arm around your lower back to pull you into an embrace, Floyd buried his nose into your black hair. The ticklish sensation of his breath puffing against your scalp made you let out a soft giggle, squirming slightly in his grip.
"Floyd-san, that tickles."
"Nothin' happened while I was away?"
"No, nothing in particular."
Every morning, you woke up, watered the plants in the yard, munched on some bread for breakfast, and headed to work. Once your shift ended, you bought groceries for dinner and went home. You had spent your days experiencing that exact brand of serene, ordinary routine just as always. Absolutely nothing had occurred that warranted a special report to Floyd.
"……"
For a fleeting second, the newspaper article you had glanced at earlier crossed your mind.
"Little Shrimpy?"
"Oh, it's nothing. I'll tell you later—"
Right as you were about to say "once we're home," the owner of the flower shop called out to you from the back with a gentle tone, "You can clock out early today."
You checked the clock. There were still about ten minutes left until your scheduled shift ended at 18:00, but with the flow of customers completely dried up, it seemed there was no need to rigidly adhere to the clock. Dropping your eyebrows with a grateful smile as you thanked him, you stepped into the backroom for a moment. You untied your apron and neatly put it away on its designated shelf.
When you returned to the storefront, Floyd was holding a small bouquet. It was a cluster of small, deep lilies of a dark, blackish-red hue. Though it was only ten minutes, this was likely his way of providing a price in exchange for granting your early release.
"Goodbye then, see you tomorrow."
"Yes, see you tomorrow."
Exchanging farewells, the two of you left the shop behind. Holding hands, you strolled leisurely down the early summer street where the sun still hung high in the sky despite the evening hour, lazily swinging your joined hands back and forth.
"What were ya tryin' to say earlier?"
"Oh, right—I just happened to spot an article in the newspaper."
"An article?"
"Apparently, there was a fire at the research facility I used to be at, right before its scheduled closure."
"Huh."
His casual agreement was entirely nonchalant. And so, you simply nodded as if it were the most mundane thing in the world.
"I hope it all burned to ash."
The documentary proof that you had ever come to this world. Every single thing they had harvested from you. You hoped that absolutely all of it had gone up in flames.
"Didn't it all burn up?"
Floyd said. If Floyd said so, then it must surely be true, you thought.
"Ah, this is for Little Shrimpy."
With a casual “Here ya go,” you were handed the tiny bouquet. Perhaps because the green leaves were left entirely intact, it possessed a rustic, unrefined simplicity that looked less like a formal flower arrangement and more like a handful of wild grass plucked from the roadside and tied together. It was endearingly cute. The visual appearance was immensely charming, but because the fragrance of the flowers wasn't particularly pleasant, they were ill-suited for a large arrangement. A tiny, understated bouquet like this was far better.
"Floyd-san, what should we do for dinner tonight?"
"Hmm… let's hit the supermarket first and figure it out from there."
"Let's do that."
The two of you strolled leisurely along. As the sun began its gradual descent, your two shadows stretched long across the ground. You softly leaned in closer to Floyd as he walked by your side. His gaze dropped down to you, as if asking, “What's up?”
"Hey, Floyd-san."
"Yeah?"
"……I love you."
Floyd let out a soft, rumbling chuckle—ehehe~. It was the exact same way he used to laugh back when the two of you were traveling. True to the promise he had made you once upon a time, the man who had “handled it” and “figured it out” hooked his finger beneath your chin, tilting your face upward. Touching you as if you were something profoundly precious, his affectionate fingertips softly brushed your bangs out of your eyes.
"Me too~"
Delivered in a voice dripping with sugary sweetness, Floyd loosely bent his waist, leaning down to cute-sy peck your lips—chumu.
The road trip, which had been packed to absolute bursting with nothing but the fruits of pure happiness, had come to an end.
And yet, despite that.
The sweet honeymoon of the two of you would continue to press forward from this moment on.
※Mafia AU ※Age Gap AU ※Currently being written and serialized simultaneously in both Japanese and English.
⑨
Floyd quietly stepped out of the room. He walked slowly along the quiet hallway of the top floor, which was entirely devoid of any other guests, heading toward the elevator.
This was after you had finally drifted off to sleep. A tiny smirk played at the corner of his lips. You, his cute Little Shrimpy who had been entirely bent on dying just moments ago, had started frantically calculating and overthinking the exact second you decided to live.
“Floyd-san, this hotel is way too expensive, so we should move somewhere cheaper.”
“I guess the cost of living on this island really is high, huh?”
“We should stay in a cheap motel for a while, and I need to look for a job in the meantime.”
You undoubtedly possessed the sheer nerve to forge ahead at full speed once you set your mind to something. Just like how, the exact second you resolved to end everything, you had efficiently orchestrated your escape and run all the way to this very point. Now that you had committed to living alongside him, you were pouring every ounce of your effort into planning for it.
He had simply nodded along to your frantic muttering with a string of casual agreements, telling you, “I already paid for today anyway, so just get some rest,” before feeding you a warm meal and tucking you into bed.
It was likely a form of whiplash—a manic high after the crash. Even though your body was resting on the mattress, your brain alone was spinning at a million miles an hour. Since you had mentioned you were the type to run a fever under intense stress, you might end up completely bedridden by tomorrow. If that happened, extending the stay at the resort would be non-negotiable.
Guess I’ll have to whip up some more pudding for her, he thought, another soft smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.
Completely oblivious to the gentle thoughts drifting through his head, you had kept your eyebrows knitted into a shallow, anxious frown even as he lulled you to sleep, appearing to ponder over one thing after another until the very moment you finally went under. You really were so cute he could hardly stand it.
Once you were securely asleep, he had pressed a soft, parting kiss right between your brows to smooth away the wrinkles before quietly slipping out of the suite.
Stepping firmly onto the plush, deep carpets, he walked toward the elevator bank, pressed the call button, and slid into the waiting car. With a smooth, imperceptible glide that left a brief, weightless sensation in the pit of the stomach, the elevator smoothly arrived at the lobby floor.
The moment he stepped out into the main lounge, the hotel manager immediately materialized at his flank. As the man offered a deeply deferential bow, Floyd casually muttered a brief, "I'm headin' out for a bit," to him.
He began strolling across the lobby toward the grand entrance, but then, he abruptly caught his stride.
"Little Shrimpy's sleepin' up in the room. If anythin' happens, ping me."
"Understood perfectly, sir."
It was a precaution, just in case. Granted, he had already laced the suite with a sensory charm that would instantly alert him if you tried to step a single foot out the door, and he had woven a few extra layers of magic into the ring resting on your left ring finger. Even so, you were a wild card—he could never truly predict what you might pull next.
That unpredictable spark was exactly what made you so fascinating, exactly why he loved you… but letting you slip away from him again was entirely out of the question.
You had already come dangerously close to escaping him once.
There would not be a second time.
As Floyd swept past the entrance, the bellhops on either side bowed deeply. Beyond the glass doors, which glided open without a sound, the darkness of the night expanded. Welcomed by the lukewarm evening air, Floyd stepped out into the night.
Waiting directly in front of his eyes, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, was a vehicle. It was a sleek, jet-black luxury car, its polished surface reflecting the glint of the lights. Waiting until the man standing by opened the rear door with deferential care, Floyd threw his heavy frame into the backseat.
Deep inside the rear passenger compartment, a traveler was already waiting for him.
The man possessed an appearance remarkably similar to Floyd's. The only distinct variations were the high-end, obviously premium suit he wore, the single streak of black hair that swept to the opposite side of Floyd's, and the way the outer corners of his eyes curved upward into a beautifully sharp slant. Other than those details, they looked almost entirely mirror-matched.
The man slid a brief glance toward Floyd, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Welcome back, Floyd."
"Yeah. S'up."
"Did you enjoy your unauthorized vacation?"
"Ugh, quit bein' sarcastic."
Floyd stuck his tongue out at the irony delivered in that comfortably smooth, low cadence. In sharp contrast to the man sitting upright with his suited legs neatly aligned, Floyd sprawled out across the leather, throwing his legs out carelessly.
Before long, the black luxury sedan glided smoothly onto the asphalt, sliding effortlessly across the ground. The engine hummed in near-perfect silence. Outside the window, nothing but the beautiful scenery of the lit city blurred past.
Directing a lazy gaze at the passing nightscape, Floyd parted his lips.
"Jade."
"Yes?"
"Can ya cook up a legal registry?"
"For whom?"
"My wife."
For a fraction of a second, the sharp, narrow eyes of the man addressed as Jade widened. But it was only a fleeting lapse; an elegant, radiant smile instantly reclaimed his mouth.
"You really do know how to keep me entertained, don't you?"
"Right?"
Floyd looked thoroughly satisfied. If anything, his face brimmed with pride.
"So, what's the verdict?"
"Would a permanent domicile in the Sunshine Lands suffice? If so, I can pull the necessary strings. If you prefer another nation… it may require a little more time."
At Jade’s answer, Floyd’s mouth stretched into a wide, grinning smirk. While it wasn't impossible for Floyd to handle it himself, navigating this particular breed of behind-the-scenes paperwork was something his brother, Jade, excelled at far more than he did. Every man to his trade; it was always best to leave a job to the one who did it best.
"What manner of identity do you require?"
"Ah, nah, nah. Not like that."
"No?"
"I don't mean a fake."
Floyd pulled his gaze away from the night view, turning his eyes back to his twin. He didn't want a registry for an impersonation. He wasn't looking to swap out someone who already existed and replace them with someone else.
"I need ya to build it from absolute zero."
"……"
A shallow crease knitted Jade's brow.
Procuring a legal registry for an identity theft was easy enough. All it took was fabricating the birth records of someone who had died young and hijacking the paper trail.
But to conjure an entire existence out of nothing—that was going to require a considerable amount of backbreaking work.
"May I ask for the details?"
"Turns out she's an outsider from another world."
"……Pardon?"
"Like I said, an alternate world inhabitant."
Turning not just his gaze but his entire neck toward his twin, Floyd delivered the news in a light, almost singsong cadence.
"She says she was summoned by accident during an experiment using an artifact dug up from some ruins."
"I never heard a word of such an incident."
"Well, yeah, 'cause they wanted to avoid a major workplace scandal and kept it a total secret. Then, when they tried to murder her to destroy the evidence, she broke out and ran away. At least, that's what it sounds like."
"I see."
Jade let out a soft, low exhale. If those were the circumstances, it was perfectly logical that such a fascinating tale had managed to slip beneath his radar. And Floyd—his beloved brother—had successfully dug up that very secret and brought it back with him. The breath Jade released was thick with genuine admiration and deep satisfaction.
"I am truly glad to have you as my brother."
"Right?~" ♡
Floyd grinned widely, a proud smirk stretching across his lips. This pair of twins were absolute monsters of curiosity; there was no universe in which they wouldn't eagerly latch onto a story this incredibly entertaining. In all likelihood, Jade would enthusiastically throw himself into crafting a flawless, official registry for you within the next few days. While the finer details would obviously have to be worked out in a consultation with you later, he would undoubtedly fabricate a meticulous, exhaustive backstory covering everything from the moment you were born into this world up until the present.
With that, one of the heavy burdens that had made you weep over having no place to belong would be entirely resolved. Next on the agenda was that research institute. They would need to make a move on that front sooner rather than later.
"How's Azul?"
"Is there even any need to ask?"
"Ugh, thought so."
Floyd let out a loud, miserable groan. No need to ask meant exactly what he anticipated: Azul was absolutely incandescent with rage.
"It is entirely because you suddenly went missing without a trace."
"Ya knew I was breathing, didn't ya?"
"Well, naturally."
"Then it's fine."
"I am afraid it does not work that way."
Floyd narrowed his eyes, giving a lazy shrug of his shoulders.
It had been more than a month since Floyd originally headed out to the Shaftlands under Azul’s explicit orders. His mission had been to systematically dismantle a group of business rivals—a collection of small-time, illegal syndicates quietly operating on the ragged edges of the Shaftlands. Growing bored of the countryside, they had attempted to make a grand name for themselves in a glamorous, bustling metropolis, and of all the places they could have picked, they chose Azul's personal territory. They chose this island. They had conveniently twisted the reality of a place where the laws of the land don't reach, foolishly deluding themselves into thinking that a lawless zone left ample room for them to force their way in.
Slipping past Azul's watchful eye, they had quietly set up shop in a corner of the island, illicitly peddling dangerous, illicit substances to unsuspecting tourists. That had instantly tripped Azul's hair-trigger temper.
This island belongs to Azul. It is Azul's absolute turf. A flawless, curated paradise entirely managed under his thumb. And into that paradise, they had brazenly smuggled a foreign contaminant without permission.
Granted, this place is a sanctuary—an island where one can indulge in every conceivable pleasure, utterly unbound by the rigid laws of the mainland. However, every single piece of that luxury must exist solely within the boundaries of Azul's meticulous calculations. The provided entertainment must remain within a strictly designed performance, operating inside a carefully dictated scope. Those interlopers had shattered that harmony. An island where illegal narcotics could be casually purchased on a street corner was a reputation Azul utterly refused to tolerate. Dazed, wandering addicts were a grotesque mismatch for a pristine, beautiful tourist destination.
The core philosophy of a man like Azul dictates that what truly captivates patrons is the staggering gap between a highly sophisticated, elegant facade and a thoroughly ruthless, vicious underbelly. Therefore, Azul delivered a single, absolute command: crush them.
The low-level grunts who had infiltrated the island were systematically cleaned up by Jade. By now, they were likely resting at the literal bottom of the sea. Meanwhile, Floyd was tasked with cutting off the supply chain at its very source.
He had simply been in that exact brand of mood. He felt like moving his body, indulging his violent impulses, and unleashing absolute tyranny to his heart's content. Thus, without taking a single subordinate along, he had sauntered off to the Shaftlands entirely on his own and effortlessly executed his job. He gave them a savage, unforgettable lesson, ensuring they would never dream of lifting a finger against this island ever again. In fact, saying they were no longer capable of dreaming it would be far more accurate.
It was on his journey back from that bloodbath that he crossed paths with you.
Strictly speaking, he could have easily used magic to return. A teleportation spell is an exceptionally high-tier magic that drains a massive reservoir of arcane energy, but it was well within Floyd's capabilities. If he wanted to, he could have just as easily used a terrestrial mirror from the city. He did neither, choosing to hitchhike instead, simply because he happened to be in that specific frame of mind.
The absolute baseline for Floyd's behavior is, more often than not, whatever mood strikes him at that precise second. After wrapping up his work, as he was casually strolling down the road overthinking how he wanted to get home, a passing truck driver happened to call out, "Need a lift, kid?" and Floyd happily took him up on the offer. Squeezing his lanky frame into the cramped passenger seat, keeping the driver company with idle small talk, and speeding down the highway while crunching on cheap potato chips and chugging sickeningly sweet soda didn't sound half bad. He was just in that kind of mood.
The poor truck driver likely never dreamed in a million years that the scrawny, impossibly tall young man he picked up by the roadside was a vicious predator who had, mere hours prior, completely obliterated an entire local syndicate all by himself.
And that was when Floyd noticed it—the bright red sports car parked entirely on its own in the used lot of a motel he happened to stop by.
It was a slightly older model, but a genuinely good car. Its type had been discontinued, meaning the chances of spotting one in the city had dropped drastically, yet its raw performance in certain specs didn't lose out to even the newest vehicles on the market. There were plenty of enthusiasts out there who cherished the older generations with a fierce passion. That was why the owner caught his attention. He felt a sudden surge of curiosity toward the kind of person who would choose a machine like that, only to pick a trajectory that seemed entirely focused on pure transit—showing it off to nobody, and not even bothering to take in the surrounding scenery.
And then, when he walked inside, he found a tiny girl who looked practically underage, sitting at the counter and sipping a beer with a bitter, puckered grimace, and Floyd had to actively fight to keep from bursting into laughter. The sheer hilarity of a pint-sized thing like you driving a badass machine like that made it impossible for him not to call out to you. The silhouette of your profile—those pitch-black eyes looking utterly stranded and on the absolute verge of tears—was so incredibly cute that he struck up a conversation, feeling a whim akin to scooping up a stray kitten.
You were a woman who possessed enough caution to stay on guard against a total stranger like him, yet simultaneously harbored a magnificent, sweeping boldness that bordered on complete self-destruction. You were childlike, yet profoundly mature. You were mature, yet fundamentally a child. You were a fascinating puzzle of a woman, a chaotic blend of deep thoughtfulness and reckless, unthinking daredevilry.
You permitted Floyd to accompany you. You invited him into your room, and you even allowed him to share your bed. And yet, there was a pristine, spotless purity to you; you carried a weightless agility that whispered if he miscalculated the boundary line by even a millimeter, you would instantly abandon him and vanish into the blue entirely on your own.
You were a woman with a razor-sharp wit, someone who could keep up with the rapid, echo-like rhythm of his banter. You were the kind of woman he could do stupid things with and just laugh.
Yet, for all of that, you were a woman who would occasionally stare into the far distance, allowing a hollow resignation to bleed into those pitch-black eyes. Even when you looked at Floyd with a deeply mournful, clinging gaze, you were a woman who absolutely refused to step over the line you had meticulously drawn for yourself.
He knew from the very beginning that you fully intended to relegate him to nothing more than a passing memory. He knew you had cleanly written this off as a temporary arrangement with zero strings attached. And yet, over the course of traveling together, he fell for you completely. He wanted you. So, he offered you a ring—fully intending to put a collar on you, and fully prepared to let you put one on him in return.
That being said, while he had absolutely no intention of letting you go, he never had any desire to lock you in a cage, either. If you said you wanted to go back to your hometown, he fully intended to let you return; in exchange, he simply planned to tag along with you for the journey all the way to your world. As long as he set up a terrestrial mirror, mere distance became a laughable obstacle. It was well within the capabilities of an exceptionally elite sorcerer like Floyd.
Or so he had thought.
Instead, you slipped straight through Floyd's fingers and fled down the path to the underworld.
Floyd never caught on. Because you spent the entirety of the road trip constantly talking about "going home," it was utterly impossible for even someone like Floyd to realize that the destination you were referring to was actually your own death.
To that end, it only proved just how consuming your delusion had truly been. In your mind, dying was undeniably and flawlessly synonymous with returning home. Whenever you spoke of your hometown, you always looked so incredibly happy, your expression softening with a profound, relaxed warmth. That was exactly why he never realized you intended to die. To Floyd's eyes, your self-destructive daredevilry looked like nothing more than the wild, untamed lawlessness of a student on spring break—a chaotic, joyful celebration right before a grand wedding ceremony.
A final collection of beautiful memories before returning to your countryside home.
He truly believed your recklessness existed solely because you were converting every single second into a beautiful, fleeting keepsake.
Even on the night after you held your drive-through wedding ceremony, Floyd had known, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, that you fully intended to set off on your own. He had sensed that you were planning to steal away by yourself while he was fast asleep.
But Floyd could track your exact whereabouts through the ring he gave you. He was absolutely certain that you would never throw that ring away. You were fully planning to relegate him to a mere memory. You were an incredibly difficult woman.
Despite the fact that you loved him, you had decided from the very beginning that he was entirely out of your league, never once considering making him yours. You had completely written off every single word that left his mouth as a temporary joke meant only for the moment. In all likelihood, you probably didn't think he was actively lying to you. You didn't view it as a lie, but you certainly didn't believe there was a future for the two of you, either. You seemed thoroughly convinced that this relationship was a fleeting arrangement meant strictly for the here and now.
And that was precisely why you wouldn't throw that ring away. You would probably never let it leave your side for the rest of your natural life. Floyd knew with absolute certainty that you would treasure that ring forever as a rare memento of a lost love.
As if he would ever let himself be turned into a ghost of a memory without a fight. Floyd fully intended to follow you. He was planning to pop out with a playful "Peekaboo~" ♡ in the used lot of whatever motel you stopped at to park for the night, throwing a massive tantrum until you agreed to take him along with you. Step by step, he was going to make you understand that he had zero intention of letting you go, and zero intention of being left behind.
The exact moment you stepped out of the hotel room, Floyd dragged his lanky frame out of the sheets, thinking to himself, So she really is running away.
And yet, after taking a proper look at what you had left behind in the room, he actually reconsidered his thoughts.
Your shoulder bag was still sitting right there. Every single bit of your luggage had been left behind in the room, untouched. Objects that you would absolutely have to carry with you if you truly intended to continue your journey alone were left abandoned as a matter of course.
That was why Floyd had felt a quiet wave of relief wash over him. He believed that you had actually placed a tiny shred of faith in his words, after all. He assumed that even if you still intended to keep traveling by yourself, you at least had every intention of giving him a proper goodbye before you went.
Oh, look at that, he had thought. She isn't just abandoning me to head home all alone.
He began to ponder what he would do the moment you walked back through that door. He imagined casually bringing up the itinerary for the day as if nothing were amiss, perhaps suggesting that the two of you go sightseeing around the island. He pictured how cute you would look as the hours ticked by and you grew increasingly anxious over your inability to say goodbye—your eyebrows dropping into a troubled frown, utterly paralyzed because you believed that speaking the words aloud would bring a permanent end to everything.
And when that moment came, he was going to lay it right out for you.
Aren't we a married couple?
He fully intended to shove the reality right in your face under the guise of a joke, teasingly asking if you had already forgotten. The legal documents you had filled out believing they were nothing more than a temporary whim were flawlessly, undeniably real. You had bound yourself to the name of Leech. You were his wife. You had officially become the wife of Floyd Leech.
He stepped off the bed and stretched his limbs. It was right then that the telephone rang from the front desk.
It was a notification informing him that you had left a piece of luggage in their care for him, and had officially returned the card key.
"Huh?"
An utterly dumbfounded sound slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
Just as before, every single one of your belongings remained in the room. When he flipped your shoulder bag upside down, a massive bundle of cash packed into a paper bag fell out with a heavy thud. Resting on the desk was your smartphone, still plugged into its charging cable.
And yet, you had returned the card key.
You had absolutely no intention of ever coming back here.
"We have the luggage you left in our care, but—"
"Forget it. I'm comin' down."
Cutting the clerk off with a brief murmur, Floyd stepped out of the room. If you had no intention of returning to this place, there was absolutely no point in him waiting around inside this room any longer.
Moving with swift, urgent strides, he headed straight for the front desk and claimed the luggage you had left behind.
It was a paper bag, large enough to fill his embrace. Resting inside was a hot dog, still radiating a faint warmth, along with a thick stack of bills. At that exact second, an unimaginably foul premonition gripped him.
The entirety of your fortune had been left behind in the room. Floyd had confirmed that fact with his own eyes. Then what on earth was this cash?
Did you sell the car?
Of all your belongings, that was the only thing capable of being converted into this much hard currency. But it made absolutely no sense. You had been constantly stating your intention to return to your hometown. You claimed that you bought the car and set out on this road trip for that exact purpose.
Even if you were planning to use a terrestrial mirror, you would still require a means of transit. There are no public mirrors on this island. One cannot enter this island without crossing the bridge, and the same absolute rule applies when attempting to leave. Therefore, if you truly intended to continue your journey, there was no logical universe in which you would ever willingly part with the car.
The pit of his stomach turned leaden, as heavy as if he had swallowed a stone. A foul premonition sent a violent shudder crawling straight up his spine.
Activating the magic laced into the ring, he checked your exact coordinates. You weren't that far from the hotel yet. At his pace, he could easily close the distance and catch up with you.
The exact second he reached that conclusion and prepared to burst through the grand entrance, a sudden shock—resembling a sharp snap of static electricity—burst lightly against the base of Floyd’s left middle finger.
It was a notification. It meant the protection magic he had woven into the ring had just been triggered.
He ground his molars together. By now, the foul premonition was ringing inside Floyd's head like a screaming alarm.
"That absolute piece of work…!"
What did you do? Leaving him abandoned behind you, what on earth did you do?!
Sprinting with that frantic desperation pounding in his chest, you likely never in a million years imagined the state of Floyd's mind when the destination he finally reached turned out to be a completely deserted clifftop. You probably never even dreamed that he would go searching for you to begin with.
It was resentful. That sheer cold-heartedness made him resent you from the very depths of his soul; with a countenance resembling a hollow wraith, he let out a short, hollow chuckle.
He had absolutely no intention of letting you escape.
And so, as if chasing straight after your shadow, Floyd kicked off the ground and dove headfirst over the edge of the cliff.
Falling. Plummeting. Sinking down.
A mere fraction of a second before being swallowed by the deep, dark blue ocean, he severed the active effects of his human potion, reverting fully to his original form.
Tearing straight through the garments wrapping his frame, a massive, powerful tail fin erupted into existence. His dorsal fin flared wide, slicing cleanly through the wind as he plunged into the sea. With a heavy, resonant thud, his gargantuan form submerged vividly beneath the cresting waves. Hardly a single drop of spray was left behind.
Without pausing to breathe, Floyd dove directly down to the seabed in a single, fluid motion, scooping your drifting, unconscious frame into his arms as you hovered in a state of suspended animation, perfectly enveloped within his pre-cast protection charm. Compared to Floyd’s true, colossal form, your body was impossibly small, fragile, and delicate.
Grip tightening as he pulled you into a fierce embrace, he pressed the tip of his nose against your neck. Against his nuzzled nose, a tiny, faint pulse fluttered—thump, thump.
Flooded with a wave of relief that you were undeniably alive, Floyd immediately surged back toward the surface.
He rushed you straight to the hospital without a moment's delay. Thanks to Floyd's protection magic, you were completely uninjured, and you hadn't swallowed a single drop of seawater. You had merely lost consciousness from the sheer impact of the plunge off the cliff. However, because the staff noted symptoms of mild dehydration, they put you on an intravenous drip as a precaution.
Tracing the back of his fingers along your cheek as you lay sleeping amidst the stark white sheets, he whispered into the quiet room.
"Little Shrimpy, weren't ya supposed to be headin' home?"
To Floyd's question, you offered absolutely no answer, remaining submerged in your deep, heavy slumber. You had wanted to go home for so incredibly long. You had relaxed so beautifully, your expression softening with pure, unbridled joy whenever you shared stories of your countryside hometown with him, celebrating that you were finally allowed to return.
And yet, you threw your body off a cliff and into the ocean.
It made absolutely no sense.
While he had fully intended to ask you about those circumstances, the moment Floyd took his eyes off you for a mere fraction of a second, you woke up and instantly attempted to flee again.
Whether it could even be called a rational attempt to escape, however, was highly debatable. By the time Floyd rushed back to the hospital room after being summoned by the doctor, you had already ripped the intravenous drip straight out of your arm and were raging like a lunatic, violently smashing the metal stand against the window. It was a state of sheer, frenzied panic, resembling a pathetic, wild beast caught in a trap. Both the doctor and the nurses were calling out to you from a safe distance, but it seemed as though you couldn't hear a single thing.
Over and over and over again, you slammed the stand against the glass. The only sounds echoing through the hospital room were your ragged, wheezing breaths—which sounded almost like screams—and the heavy, echoing clang, clang of the metal rod striking the window.
Unable to bear the sight any longer, Floyd brushed past the attempts to restrain him and stepped straight into the room. Snatching your upraised hands from behind, he locked your arms tightly within his embrace to completely halt your movements, asking, "What ya think you're doin'?"
When you looked up at Floyd, your pupils were entirely dilated. You were in a state of absolute, blind terror. It was no wonder no one else's voice could reach you.
And yet, despite all of that, you still managed to recognize Floyd.
"…Floyd-san," your voice called out to him, slurring heavily and barely intelligible.
In an instant, the frantic strength completely drained from your arms, and the metal stand dropped onto the floor with a hollow clatter. With a casual flick of his foot, Floyd kicked the rod across the floorboards, sliding it far away from your reach. You didn't seem to notice or care in the slightest. Beaming with a total, implicit faith that as long as Floyd was here, you would be perfectly safe, you let out a long, shuddering breath and surrendered the entire weight of your body into his arms. It was as if a terrified, microscopic beast had finally found its parent.
And this was despite the fact that you had fully intended to die entirely on your own without saying a single word to him. Despite the fact that you had looked down on every single one of his promises, fully prepared to abandon him and leave him behind, the moment you placed such an innocent, defenseless trust in his hands, he was utterly powerless against it. He had been completely won over.
The realization that he was the sole existence capable of bringing you peace pierced straight through Floyd's chest like an unremovable splinter.
"Jeez…"
Murmuring his complaints, Floyd effortlessly scooped your frame into his arms and carried you all the way back to his personal suite at the hotel. If you were that terrified of the hospital, he could simply hire a private doctor to come to the room. He had remained by your side, waiting for you to open your eyes—bringing the story right back to the present moment.
The luxury sedan, which had been gliding silently through the dark streets, smoothly crawled to a halt. The distinct sound of car doors operating echoed through the quiet night air as the rear passenger door was opened from the outside. Floyd dragged his lanky frame out of the backseat, lifting his eyes to take in the building looming before him.
It was a highly sophisticated estate. While it lacked vulgar extravagance, it was far from overly simplistic; it was a piece of modern architecture that radiated a crisp, flawlessly streamlined elegance. From the distance, the rhythmic crashing of waves filtered into the air. The vast ocean expanded directly behind the estate.
Erected on the very edge of the island known as paradise, this grand manor was none other than the private residence of the island's sovereign, the absolute ruler of the territory—Azul Ashengrotto.
Just as Floyd began making his way toward the main entrance, Jade's voice called out to his back.
"Floyd."
"What?"
"Do you honestly intend to present yourself before Azul looking like that?"
A tight, heavy crease immediately knitted the space between Floyd's brows. He thoroughly detested rigid formality. And yet, he was perfectly aware that he had already incensed Azul by going completely missing without a trace for over a month.
Left with no other choice, Floyd lazily gave a light wave of his left hand. With a soft, sweeping shuu, a flurry of luminous particles enveloped his torso, instantly swapping out the garments wrapping his frame. The loud, flashy Hawaiian shirt vanished, replaced by a premium, impeccably tailored suit that matched Jade's piece for piece.
Even so, his way of wearing it was drastically different from his twin's. He wore no tie whatsoever, and the top three buttons of his dark-colored dress shirt were left completely undone, exposing his bare skin deep down his chest.
Jade stepped forward, falling into perfect alignment at Floyd's flank. Now that their attire was unified under the matching suits, the two of them looked more like a flawless mirror image than ever before.
There was absolutely no need to ring the doorbell. As if the household had been waiting explicitly for their arrival, the massive front doors glided open from the inside with absolute serenity. A perfectly aligned row of servants bowed their heads with deferential grace.
"Welcome home, Master Jade. Master Floyd."
Offering a lazy, dignified nod, Floyd sauntered heavily into the estate.
It wasn't a greeting meant for a guest. The words they used to receive him were explicitly "Welcome home." To every servant in this household, Floyd was recognized as an authority secondary only to the master of the estate himself.
The master of this grand manor was Azul Ashengrotto—a brilliant, young merchant who had surged up to the surface from the northern depths of the Coral Sea, achieving catastrophic commercial success on land. And standing firmly at his flanks, supporting him completely as his absolute right and left hands, were the twin moray eel merfolk—Jade Leech and Floyd Leech.
A faction of the very merfolk who owned and governed this entire island. One of the sovereign rulers of paradise.
That was the true, terrifying identity of the man known as Floyd Leech.
"Where's Azul?"
"Master Azul is waiting in his study."
"Okay~"
The study was located on the second floor. The two of them climbed the staircase, heading toward the room. Following a light knock on the door, they stepped inside.
Azul was at his executive desk, buried in a stack of documents he was currently reviewing. Noticing their entry, he slowly lifted his gaze, his faintly glowing, pale blue eyes locking onto them. His loosely waving silver hair gleamed like a crown.
"…You have finally returned, I see."
His voice was laden with bone-deep exasperation.
"We're back~"
"Good grief. Where on earth have you been idling about?"
"Just a little trip, maybe?"
Utterly unbothered by Azul’s scowl, Floyd slouched heavily into the sofa set positioned right in front of the executive desk. Disregarding all manners, he lifted one leg, resting his heel carelessly over his opposite knee. Sprawling out against the backrest, he directed nothing but his gaze toward Azul. At his side, Jade began brewing tea with practiced, seamless movements. The crisp, soft clink of porcelain echoed through the room.
"Your report."
At Azul’s brief prompt, Floyd cast his eyes toward the ceiling. He searched his memory. Since it had been over a month ago, it took him a moment to recall the details. After a brief pause, Floyd recited a handful of names from memory. They were the names of the ringleaders who ran the underground syndicate in the Shaftlands—or rather, saying they used to run it would be more accurate now.
"I went and had a proper 'chat' with 'em. I doubt they'll ever dream of liftin' a finger against our side again."
He had thoroughly trampled everything—their people, their buildings, and their business. He had taken the shoes off the grunts Jade cleaned up back here and lined them up neatly right in front of those trembling, terrified executives. This is the island of the merfolk. If land-dwellers carelessly lifted a hand using the laws of the surface, it was only natural they would be met with the unyielding logic of the deep. He told them he was returning the shoes since they wouldn't be needing them anymore.
After all, one has no need for feet beneath the waves.
"Splendidly done."
At Azul’s praising tone, Floyd narrowed his eyes into a slim, amused crinkle. Then, slowly pushing himself up, he sauntered over to Azul’s executive desk. Planting his arms right beside the scattered documents, he leaned his face down from above, peering straight into Azul’s space.
"Hey, Azu~l."
"What is it?"
"See, there's somethin' I want."
He wheedled sweetly, his tone carrying the exact cadence of a child throwing a tantrum for candy. Azul lifted his eyes, his expression brimming with suspicion.
"I do not happen to keep rewards on hand for a moray eel who suddenly slacks off and goes missing without a trace."
"Come on, it's fine. I did my job perfectly, didn't I?"
"The issue is what transpired afterward. You cut off all communication for nearly a entire month. Who do you think was left to handle your cover-up during that time?"
"Jade, obviously."
Azul grimaced, looking exactly as though he had swallowed a bitter bug. In all likelihood, that was the absolute truth. Standing by the wall, still brewing the tea, Jade let out a quiet, rumbling chuckle from the back of his throat.
"That puts you one favor in my debt, Floyd."
"I'll pay ya back eventually~"
Jade didn't seem to care in the slightest about Floyd's lazy, unmotivated response. He possessed the distinct vice of actually enjoying being dragged around by Floyd's unpredictable whims; as long as there was no deceit in Floyd's promise to return the favor eventually, he remained remarkably indulgent. That being said, he was hardly a brother generous enough to completely wipe the slate clean. The exact moment something arose where Jade wished to force his own way, he would ruthlessly execute that debt as a binding right. But that was a bridge to cross when he got there. The Floyd of that future moment would simply handle it in his own way.
Jade placed the cups filled with the exceptionally fragrant tea onto a tray, carrying them over to Azul's executive desk. Letting out a microscopic sigh, Azul stacked the documents he had been reviewing and slid them to the side.
Despite the presence of a magnificent sofa set in the room, gathering around Azul's executive desk had somehow become the absolute tradition whenever the three of them were together. Floyd perched himself carelessly on the very edge of the desk, while Jade stood flawlessly upright beside him, elegantly tilting his teacup. Floyd dampened his lips with the premium blend, and then, as if discussing the most mundane thing in the world, he laid it out for Azul.
"Half of the revenue from my turf for the next three months."
Azul lifted his eyes, his gaze sharpening with deep suspicion.
"For what?"
"The price for my reward."
"I believe the exact moment you provide a price of your own accord, it ceases to be a 'reward.'"
"Stop splitting hairs."
Floyd knitted the bridge of his nose with an annoyed, lazy twitch.
Azul immediately began clicking the abacus inside his mind. On this paradise island, the territory Floyd managed and held as his personal turf was centered around the restaurant sector, along with entertainment facilities like the casinos and bars. For context, Jade managed the lodging accommodations such as the hotels, while Azul personally oversaw all other commercial venues. On an island that explicitly sold tourism as its primary commodity, the income generated by the entertainment facilities under Floyd's jurisdiction accounted for a massive percentage of their total wealth.
Half of that entire revenue, sustained for three whole months.
"Let us hear it," Azul murmured, his eyes narrowing into a sharp, beaming smile.
There was no telling what manner of reckless absurdity was about to fly out of Floyd's mouth, but it was, at the very least, entirely worth listening to.
Planting his elbows on the desk, Azul clasped his fingers together, only for Floyd to slide a brief glance toward him and open his mouth as if discussing the most mundane thing in the world.
"Hey, so, I got married."
"Pardon?"
At the bombshell statement dropping straight from Floyd’s lips, Azul choked, coughing up his tea. Frantically wiping his mouth with his hand, Azul cast a desperate look toward Jade. Did you know about this? his eyes demanded.
In response, Jade merely narrowed his eyes into a smooth, seamless smile. I was informed of this just a moment ago myself, his silent expression answered.
Azul let out a deep, heavy sigh.
"Wait, wait, wait. What on earth possessed you to let things end up like that?"
"I dunno, just kind of the mood and the momentum?"
"Do not go getting married based on a mere 'mood and momentum'!" Azul barked, snapping down on him. "Do you have even the slightest grasp of your own standing?!"
"But she was super spooked~"
"Do not 'super spooked' me!"
Azul delivered a crisp, sharp reprimand. To Azul, Floyd was a subordinate, but he was also a co-owner of their business. Floyd had invested his own funds when they originally bought out this island, meaning he held equal rights to the property. And if Floyd had truly married, his wife would now naturally share his assets. The woman who had become Floyd’s wife would possess the legal right to stick her nose into the management of this island.
Worse still, if Floyd should happen to die by some freak accident, every single shred of his fortune would automatically belong to the woman who became his wife. While Azul held absolutely no personal interest in Floyd’s romantic endeavors, the three of them were bound to the exact same ship. From the perspective of preventing an unauthorized hemorrhage of their collective wealth, Azul’s honest grievance was that he wanted a formal consultation beforehand. In truth, he would have compelled Floyd to sign a prenuptial agreement or two.
However, given that the announcement was delivered in the past tense—“I got married”—the union was undoubtedly a done deal. It was a massive, throbbing headache of a situation. Azul kneaded his temples firmly with his fingertips.
"The exact moment you seek a divorce, you must absolutely—"
"Ain't gonna happen."
Before Azul could even finish his sentence with “consult me first,” Floyd cut him off with a swift, flat denial. Floyd’s voice was completely dry. It was a casual, unbothered tone, bearing not a single ounce of heavy emotion. And yet, it carried an unyielding weight.
"I'm never gettin' a divorce."
The repeated statement rang out with absolute nonchalance. It was a quiet, almost blunt tone, as if he were merely stating an undeniable law of nature. Precisely because his voice held that chilling lack of hesitation, Azul and Jade quickly exchanged a brief, knowing glance.
A man who harbored no lingering attachments to anything, drifting whimsically like the waves—that was the exact nature of Floyd Leech. He had routinely scattered his name across a myriad of fleeting trysts in the past. Yet, he had always belonged to no one, thoroughly indulging in his own absolute freedom. Now, a man like that claimed he had officially registered a marriage. Binding his own freedom in accordance with the laws of the surface, he had locked you into the seat of his wife. And just as he had explicitly declared before Azul, he had absolutely no intention of letting you escape.
Azul let out a long, bone-deep sigh. If a merman had truly fallen for a woman and claimed her with that degree of obsession, there was precious little they could do as outsiders. At most, they could merely begin arranging the necessary damage control for any impending fallout.
"…Very well. And what exactly do you intend to demand from me, in exchange for half of your turf’s revenue over the next three months?"
"I need ya to give me permission."
"For what?"
A foul premonition gripped him. A tight, heavy crease immediately knitted the space between Azul's brows. Floyd spoke in a light, almost singsong cadence.
"See, there's this research institute over in the Shaftlands. They study stuff like ancient magic and artifacts dug up from ruins."
"Go on."
"Their sponsor recently pulled out, so the facility's officially slated to close down. I want ya to let me buy up the whole thing."
"Are you saying you wish to invest in it?"
"Nah-nah."
Floyd shook his head from side to side. His eyes melted, dropping into a lazy, beautifully sweet crinkle.
"I'm plannin' to burn the entire place to ash."
"――…"
Azul let out a deep, suffocating sigh. If it were true that a single shred of happiness escaped every time one sighed, Azul must have been abandoned by a catastrophic amount of good fortune over the course of this brief conversation. Though, naturally, Azul was hardly soft enough to let his luck slip away without extracting a steep price in return.
"……"
Sliding a brief look up at Floyd, his twin brother appeared entirely unchanged from his usual self. A familiar smile played at the corners of his lips, and his eyes were softly curved into a warm, gentle crinkle. Yet, he was entirely serious. He fully intended to execute it. Even if Azul refused to grant his permission, Floyd would still move forward with the destruction.
The fact that he was bothering to frame it as a request for "permission" was merely his way of offering a nuisance fee. Because depending on the sheer scale of the wreckage Floyd was about to cause, the scattered sparks would inevitably rain down on Azul as well. Or perhaps, this was simply Floyd's twisted version of a consultation. He was gauging the exact boundaries of how far he was allowed to go.
Azul let out a short breath, fixing Floyd with a sharp, piercing glare.
"I will permit you to destroy the infrastructure and a portion of the data."
"Which part is off-limits?"
"Leave the people alive," Azul delivered the command, short and absolute.
Floyd pouted his lips into a sullen scowl, puffing out his cheeks. It was the volatile reaction of a sulking child. Yet, that very display made it chillingly obvious that the "everything" he had fully intended to incinerate included not just the facility itself, but every single human being tied to it.
"But that's the main course."
"Civilians leave a paper trail."
If it were an illicit syndicate like the one Azul had recently ordered Floyd and Jade to systematically crush, a few members abruptly vanishing off the face of the earth wouldn't prompt the police to move with any real urgency. In that underworld, criminals were constantly fluid, and sudden disappearances were hardly a rare anomaly. In fact, the authorities frequently turned a blind eye to syndicates devouring each other.
However, the personnel at the research institute Floyd was discussing were undoubtedly straight-laced citizens. If seemingly innocent, law-abiding civilians became casualties, the police would not remain silent. While the twins were far too meticulous to ever execute a sloppy job that left a glaring trail, once an official investigation was launched, the probability of the authorities unearthing thread after thread until they linked back to their operations was never zero. It would undeniably make doing business a massive chore. That was exactly why Azul drew a hard line.
"……"
Floyd narrowed his mismatched eyes, staring down at Azul for a long, quiet interval before finally offering a thoroughly reluctant nod to Azul's reasoning.
"Fiiiine, I guess I'll spare the people~"
"Please do."
Floyd scratched the back of his head with a lazy scuff, looking explicitly disappointed. Then, he effortlessly hopped off the edge of Azul's executive desk. The conclusion of that movement signaled that his piece of the conversation was done.
Sauntering heavily toward the exit, Floyd abruptly caught his stride as if a sudden thought had crossed his mind, turning back to face Azul and Jade.
"Oh, by the way."
"Yes?"
"About my fortune Azul was so stressed out over."
"Yes."
"I don't think ya need to sweat it."
"Oh?"
Azul and Jade quickly exchanged a brief, calculating glance. Given that Floyd was a man who normally executed his sudden whims without a single shred of hesitation, could it be that he had actually exercised a proper degree of caution when it came to a permanent commitment like marriage? Had he gone out of his way to finalize a prenuptial agreement without even needing to be prompted by Azul?
Floyd flashed a brilliant, beaming smile at the two of them.
"See, Little Shrimpy genuinely thinks I'm just an insanely good-looking freeloader."
Leaving them with only that bombshell declaration, Floyd sauntered out of Azul's study. Left behind in the silence of the room, Azul and Jade once more locked eyes with each other.
"Surely, that must be…" Azul groaned, the words sticking in his throat.
Jade smoothly picked up the remaining thread. "…some strange, inverse breed of marriage fraud, perhaps?"
The twins' completely rational, straight-faced criticisms never did manage to reach Floyd's ears.
