"Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."
Hedidn’t want to deceive anyone. But they were. What lies was thiswhite ghost telling those that were outside of this prison, of thiscell? He didn’t know, he man never know. Stories of some feral beast,a monster that growled and snarled and bit. That wasn’t him, no.Perhaps somewhere in this vast catacomb of endless cells and roomsthere was something like that. But Koujaku? No. He was only an objectof the deceptive, not the one doing the deception. What dampened hisface was tears, not saliva, not blood as he looked up from where hewas.
Ifhe had been that beast once, he did not remember it. This facade,this false figure before him claimed that he was down here for hisprotection, for his own good, but…
Wordsfelt harsh on his tongue, foreign. They didn’t have a fluid roll likehe felt they should—but—they had a sandiness, a grit. He almostwanted to spit afterward, but he restrained himself. Were thesemoments of sanity—were they only fleeting? He didn’t know, nor didhe give the white visage before him enough trust to ask?
Hisshoulders were bowed and his voice still haggard. But he managed tospeak, his eyes like garnet fixated upon the floor. Dark, shadowed,sunken in. How long since he had seen daylight? How long since he hadfelt warmth? He didn’t know, didn’t remember. He didn’t remember muchafter… after… after Aoba entered his mind.
“Deception…it isn’t romance—it’s truth. Truth… is romance. A truth thatyou… that you won’t give to anyone else…”
Hewould have given that truth to Aoba. But not this… person. Thiswasn’t Aoba, this figure draped in alabaster and carmine; this was aghost. A mockery. It was someone different, someone that stillclaimed a love for him, even,even if he was a beast,or at least that was what he said. He was not a beast.
Heas not a beast… was he?
Whydid this body feel so foreign…
Andit seemed with that the mind broke once more from those fleetingmoments of sanity, and teeth were bared as lips pulled back into asnarl. Deceit. Was he only deceiving himself—?
Thisperson before him, wasn’t Aoba.
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