100011000100010101

she/her ✦ personal and multifandom blog, NOT SPOILER-FREE ✦ 18+ ✦ NSFW tag is "the good stuff"

[shepherds-of-haven]

The public demo for Shepherds of Haven (Twine version) will be available to play on 7/7!

This updated release features the game's brand-new engine, UI, music, art, maps, and more—plus new story content to explore!

If you'd like a notification and a direct link to the demo sent straight to your inbox on launch day, please feel free to sign up for the mailing list! You get a free digital download as a gift if you sign up now! :)

Get Notified on Launch Day

[pdrrook]

👁️Fool Me Once Full Release, added:

last 3 chapters, (over 150k words)

multiple branches, 2 major routes for The Summoner, all endings (3 premature)

epilogues (with variations)

minor fixes to the demo, larger navigation buttons for mobile and PC

guide/lore book added (You DON’T need to purchase/follow the guide to finish the game)

WARNING for dark fantasy setting, dubious morality, blood, gore, graphic violence and depiction of death, on-screen murder, possible cannibalism and minor animal cruelty (demon characters), vomiting, suggestive themes, tyranny. Reader discretion is advised. 

[Download]

[englishotomegames]

Homicipher (文字化化)

Release date (Windows, Steam) English, Japanese and Chinese: November 1st, 2024

"When the protagonist wakes up, they find themselves lost in a different world. As they learn the words of the mysterious monsters that speak a strange language, they search for a way to escape. Along the way, will they fall in love with the monster men who come to their aid...? Really?

In this alternate world, a different language is used. Players will interpret and decipher characters' words through expressions, gestures and the objects they point to.

This is a point-and-click adventure game. Players will investigate items to learn words or engage in conversation to progress."

This is a commercial game by Yatsunagi! It is an otome game with horror, point-and-click, puzzle and typing elements. You can buy it from DLSite here, or from Steam here!

[conchmeat]

Ayn SSR - Death Instinct

Chapter 1 - Return

Once upon a time, there was a tiger who did not know it was born as a tiger. It first realized its identity because many of its friends had died.

In anger, it bared its claws and fangs at its enemies and soon had a ground full of corpses.

So, this is how I should act—

it thought, looking at its claws, remembering to always keep them sharp.

It used everything it saw to hone its claws and fangs, finding joy every time it pierced its prey.

BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD.

When it came back to its senses,

it was comfortably soaking in a bathtub made of flesh and blood,

enjoying the warm and sticky touch.

It learned to suck, play, and even make handy weapons out of the flesh and blood.

This is how it became a fearless and elegant tiger,

showing a smile to every visitor, openly displaying its sharp fangs.

Ah, but this was not enough.

It reached out, greeting everyone.Its claws had become the sharpest thing in the world, and no barrier could withstand them.

So, it waved its large hand and reached out to its new friends—

Ah. BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD. Indeed, this was its only identity.

After the journey concerning the fragments of White City ended, Patriarch invited me to return to his planet with him.

His reason was "to help decipher the information contained in that fragment," though I didn't believe him much when he first spoke.

Even so, I agreed to the request and synchronized with him, lying in the hibernation equipment on his starship.

...To be honest, I don't know why I did it.

He needed hibernation for the round trip because the time on the way couldn't be skipped, but I could have used the Traveler's power to go home and rest for a few weeks. He obviously thought of this, so when I walked to that empty hibernation pod, he showed a surprised expression. But he quickly smiled, squinting his red eyes—

As if to say, "Thank you."

…And so, I returned to this great hall.

This was my first-time experiencing hibernation. If not for the unmistakable date on the starship's calendar, I wouldn't have believed I had been traveling in space for over a month.

When I crawled out of the hibernation pod, I was dazed for a while before finally raising my hands to pinch my cheeks.

My body temperature had long returned to normal, so I didn't feel any special sensation…

Instead, I was met by the still half-asleep Patriarch across from me, who openly mocked my cheek-pinching gesture. But his expression when he first sat up was also very bewildered, wasn't it? I thought to myself. It felt like I exchanged my embarrassing moment for a chance to peek at his. Even though what I get in exchange is actually completely unpredictable.

…Gambling. This is the only word to describe this journey.

I pushed open the great hall door and stepped into the morning light.

When I turned around, Patriarch was leisurely walking through the door.

He walked forward step by step under my gaze, finally sitting back on his throne filled with swords.

Little Painter: If the Infinite Empire find out you are carrying a Traveler on a starship without reporting, won't they come to investigate?

Patriarch: Why doesn't Miss Traveler mention that the hibernation pod could have directly lock you inside?

Little Painter: Coincidentally, I was just about to ask that in my second sentence.

Little Painter: It shows I'm quite brave, wandering the universe for over a month with a general of opposing stance without reservation.

Patriarch spread his hands, still wearing that smirking expression.

I thought he would bring up the "serious business" to discuss, but instead, he put his arms on the armrests and started tapping his fingers idly. He tapped while staring at me with interest.

I tilted my head, mimicking his gesture — which signified provocation and disdain — he laughed and began speaking.

Patriarch: Little Painter, I have another request.

Little Painter: What's the reward?

Patriarch: It's gratifying that your first reaction is no longer to refuse.

Little Painter: Given your decent credibility and return rate, I can listen to your terms.

Patriarch: Alright, but I haven't thought of a reward this time… Maybe I'll just have you work for free.

I shifted my weight, remaining silent. Patriarch snapped his fingers, and a red velvet chair appeared behind me, suspended by thousands of thin threads.

Little Painter: What for?

Patriarch: Sit down.

I observed the chair for a while and then sat on it. In the blink of an eye, I was transported to the highest step.

Little Painter: …?

Now I sat directly opposite him, less than a meter away. I instinctively blinked, watching this smiling tiger cross his legs.

Patriarch: I want to try sleeping.

Little Painter: Huh?

I stared at him, his expression unwavering, seemingly unaware of any ambiguity in his words.

Patriarch: The most primitive kind of sleep, without dreaming or consciously staying awake.

When he added this, I understood what he meant.

This man — previously on that snowy night around the fire — had mentioned to me that "he could never let himself lose consciousness." Perhaps because he treated dreams, which ordinary people use to relax, as a weapon. He never sleeps without purpose, sleep equals hunting.

And now, he said he wanted to try "the most primitive sleep."

Little Painter: You pulled me this close to supervise your sleep?

He nodded generously — but if there was any generosity in this act, it couldn't be that he generously offered his sleeping face?

I suddenly realized the absurdity of my thoughts and shook my head to dispel them.

As a result, he frowned, looking aggrieved.

Patriarch: You don't want to?

Little Painter: …No.

I subconsciously cleared my throat.

Little Painter: I was just thinking… I don't understand the rules of your ability, how can I tell if something is wrong?

I could roughly guess that the sleep problem he needed “supervision” for wasn't something ordinary people could think of. Any weapon is like a double-edged sword, he had to avoid situations where it might harm himself.

Patriarch: This chair is designed to suppress anomalies, so your supervision is just a double assurance.

He reached out and knocked on the swords behind him. Indeed, from the first time I saw them, they had all been pierced into the throne from the outside.

Patriarch: Most likely, nothing will happen, but if it does, I'll react faster than you. I've been manipulating dreams for hundreds of years, and my sensitivity to anomalies is sufficient.

Little Painter: Is this why you never sleep anywhere else?

Little Painter: Every time I woke up, I saw you sitting by the bed, and the moment I moved, you acted as if you hadn't slept at all.

Little Painter: Actually, it's me waking up that alerted you, you needed this immediate reaction vigilance, right?

Patriarch didn't speak, just collapsed into his chair. The throne, up close, indeed looked very comfortable, perhaps it was his "bed."

Patriarch: So, Miss Traveler, will you help me this time?

Little Painter: What if I don't?

Patriarch: Then I won't sleep.

I sighed inwardly.

How should I put it, I could already guess this response completely. I stood up, walked to him, and for the first time looked down at him from this angle.

He curled up in his soft red "mattress," tilting his head like a cat.

I bent down, lifted his shoulders, and pressed them properly against the chair back.

Little Painter: Sleep.

Patriarch: ?

Little Painter: You sleep, but with a proper posture to prevent nightmares effectively.

He smiled and straightened his head back.

So, I sat opposite the throne, waiting for his sleep.

He silently watched me for a long time, this time there wasn't any intimidating sharpness in his gaze, so I just propped my chin and stared back in silence. At some point, he seemed to have finally had enough or was satisfied, grinned at me, and closed his eyes. For some reason, this expression always reminded me of a tiger in the zoo—

Showing a thin smile in a life of captivity, yet its essence was intimidating.

After all, when visitors see a tiger smile, it is always in a cage.

If the cage were unlocked, no one knows what would happen.

The tiger in the cage fell asleep.

I kept my attention, yet at some moment,unconsciously, I lost awareness.

Threads crisscrossed around, dense like iron bars.

The threads rose simultaneously, making a clicking sound as if a cell door opened.

I realized, to my horror, that I was lying on an altar, my left hand pulled up by the figure in front.

Patriarch?: Come now, return to your rightful place—

Patriarch?: O sacrifice of joy and peace.

Chapter 2 - The Cross

In just a moment, I was hoisted into the air, my limbs bound backward to something. It's not that I lacked acuity, but when I instinctively tried to use my traveler ability, nothing happened.

The person holding me looked up at me, his lips curling into a smile, one hand still gripping my wrist. He rubbed the spot over my pulse a few times, then let go, seemingly regretful.

Little Painter: Wait—

The last part of my body not bound by the threads was pulled completely back as he released his grip.

Only then did I see clearly that what was behind me was a… hanging cross. The places where it touched my skin felt sticky, and a faint smell of blood filled my nostrils. Blood… This realization sent a shiver down my spine.

I immediately started struggling, and the person below me smiled as he spoke.

Patriarch?: This is a dream.

Patriarch?: Don't forget, you were already contaminated before you met me for the first time, completely unguarded from the start.

He folded his arms and took a step towards me. His expression was one of complete mockery, combined with a chilling composure.

Little Painter: Who are you?

Patriarch?: I'm someone you know.

Little Painter: The person I know won't do this… He would either not limit my abilities to make it a fair fight, or they would limit them but not take advantage of me.

Travelling, illustra, bone sword, or any ability I knew, none worked here. I'd already tried. This limitation I had known about since the first time I met Patriarch… in that story about enslavement, I had always been in such a passive state.

Patriarch?: Fairness? As expected, those who were enslaved never feel they're being enslaved.

Patriarch?: Even with their lives in the hands of others, they lack the awareness to escape. A moth to the flame is just a conditioned reflex, but you seek to deceive yourself with some lofty value.

I didn't fully understand what he was saying.

I kept struggling, trying to intimidate him with my gaze. Yet, all my actions seemed worthless to him. He shook his head in disappointment, stepped closer, and placed the sword he was holding against my neck. The sword was still sheathed, so I wasn't afraid.

And so, the next second was utterly terrifying.

A sensation of something piercing through the palm of my left hand.

It was quick, as simple as scissors cutting paper. I looked there in shock.

The sword had instantly unsheathed and pierced my palm, nailing it to the wood of the cross.

Little Painter: ——!!

Blood, drop by drop, seeped from the wound.

I opened my mouth wide but found I couldn't even scream. That was my hand, my bones, and my joints, I belatedly struggled, but even my senses felt disconnected.

I watched my fingers tremble like a spectator, my brain frantically trying to block out the pain by deceiving itself.

Patriarch?: No sound. Are you brave or just too scared?

Patriarch?: Come on, tell me, do you still think this is fair?

Little Painter: I… don't know what you… mean…

Patriarch?: Still deceiving yourself, unwilling to cry out even after suffering so much.

A sword identical to the first materialized out of thin air.

He brought his fingers together, mockingly placed the tips to his lips.

He rotated his palm down, and the sword flew towards me.

This time it was the same side's forearm. I didn't know if it cut through the bone.

Little Painter: ————!!

Patriarch?: Oh, it seems you are quite brave. Though the belief you hold may be foolish, you are still a unyielding seeker of the truth.

Patriarch?: Alright, I'll reward you with three questions. I will answer them all, as you said, I am very "fair."

Who are you?

Patriarch?: Didn't you ask that already? Wasting a question, still foolish.

Patriarch?: But fine, I'll elaborate a bit more. I am the… bad side of someone you know. Although that's not entirely accurate, let's call it that for now.

Patriarch?: I recall someone once said, I am neither good nor bad. Hmm, now I agree with that, because who says being a sadist is bad and obedience is good?

Little Painter: ……

Why?

Patriarch?: "Why," you ask? Because the controlled version of me in reality is completely relaxed and asleep right now?

Patriarch?: He hasn't slept for a very long time, so he forgot what happened last time he fell asleep… oh no, he remembers, but he thinks he's perfectly integrated now without any cracks.

Little Painter: Last time… what happened?

Patriarch?: Still worried about me? Dear Traveler, should I call you selfless or foolish? At this point, are you not thinking about self-preservation, eager to feed yourself to the beasts?

Little Painter: ……

Little Painter: Why… me?

The pain started to break through my brain's barrier. My jaw was already numb from clenching, and I knew I couldn't hold out much longer.

The person scrutinizing me, until now, never showed any expression I was familiar with.

He just smiled cruelly and mockingly. I couldn't believe it, but it was true.

Patriarch?: Because you're a "good person."

That sentence shattered my last bit of sanity.

Patriarch?: You are too good, and you should be punished for it.

Chapter 3 - Jealousy

After he said those two sentences, he began circling around me.

I couldn't tell if he was observing or waiting. Perhaps I had gradually lost the ability to process my surroundings as time passed. The pain and the feeling of blood dripping were nauseating, and every blood vessel in my head pounded like noise.

I had no choice but to grit my teeth and close my eyes to focus my attention.

I needed to leave here. This was the only thought I could hold onto.

No matter what means, without delving into what exactly had happened, I needed to protect myself first. Only after that could I think about anything else. I endured the pain, trying to grasp some clue from my memories.

The only thing I was certain of was that this was a dream. Regardless of how I entered it this time, his abilities and rules wouldn't fundamentally change.

Little Painter: Ugh—!!

My forehead can only feel cold. My hair must be stuck to it by sweat, but I couldn't sense any perception of details.

I coughed up blood, and then my lungs started heaving. This wound was on my chest, another piercing but not fatal.

My vision went blank for a long time before clearing again.

He was still smiling. Not even with much pleasure, just smiling purely.

He reached out and cupped my cheek, doing nothing more but staring sharply, as if to imprint every detail into his mind. No empathy, no pain, no pride, no enjoyment.

I let myself go limp, resigned. Whether it was giving up or whatever else, I could finally stare at him mechanically, just as he did at me, without any emotional response.

Patriarch?: Good, you've learned to strip away emotions. Even if you eventually escape, I have accomplished something.

Little Painter: ……

Patriarch?: Your instincts are teaching you to protect yourself, to stop thinking, to stop asking, to stop expecting anything from the outside world.

Patriarch?: Now, your consciousness contains only yourself—this is the state closest to the essence of life. Learn this, and you can always survive.

Little Painter: ……

I stopped speaking entirely.

Finally, he fell silent, takes a few steps back, and snapped his fingers, causing the ground to rise into layered steps.

These steps formed a seat for him, merged into the ground, and then extended back to my feet in reverse. He sat down, legs spread, fingers crossed, with a curious expression. Time seemed to freeze like that, with only the still-uncoagulated blood dripping off the blade.

Little Painter: …How long do you plan to keep me here?

I finally asked. He lifted his head with a surprised expression on his face. But he said nothing, only tilted his head, one hand slowly twirling nearby as if to show he was thinking hard about something.

Then he spread his hands, ending the exaggerated gesture in silence.

Little Painter: ……

Little Painter: You want me to guess.

He loudly affirmed with a "Hmm."

Little Painter: You enjoy… manipulating others… you like seeing them fear you.

His smile grew brighter.

Little Painter: That's pathetic.

Patriarch?: Hmm? What did you say?

He stood up, making a show of effort. …It's all just a facade, I understand that.

Little Painter: Curling into yourself… only daring to intimidate, not to trust... that's what's truly pitiable.

Patriarch?: …Oh?

Little Painter: Do you want to repeat the process on me? In cruelty, to survive… abandoning trust… believing in violence.

Little Painter: But there are so many people in the world… if you don't cooperate with others, they will cooperate with each other… you'll lose the part of the world that can be used for yourself.

Little Painter: Violence can protect you… but it can't help you grow.

His expression froze for a moment. There was still no… part that I was familiar about it, and I admitted to myself that I couldn't give him a clear definition now.

After a moment, he turned, walking up the steps on the opposite side, hands clasped behind his back, and chuckled.

Patriarch?: Is that why you feed yourself to danger?

Patriarch?: Still foolish, but not too hard to understand. I look down on it, but I can take it seriously.

Patriarch?: But I must say, you're still thinking of changing me, still seeing me as that… person you like to be.

Little Painter: ……!

Patriarch?: How foolish is that? Why not discard these thoughts to avoid such confusion?

He turned back, this time with a malicious expression.

He took one step at a time down the stairs, approaching me.

On the highest step, one step away from me, he lowered his gaze, and enveloped me in his shadow. I was extremely terrified and confused… This difference in height and the distance of our conversation were no different from usual,

Yet he finally crossed these interactions and leaned in close.

…He was kissing me.

It was horrifying, especially as he pressed down on my pierced hand. I fought with all my strength, even though my limbs were barely able to move.

So I finally headbutted him, the sound so loud it stunned me.

He looked at me unexpectedly, only a little surprised, but it finally showed.

He withdrew his hand, thought for a moment, and placed his hand on the hilt of the sword in front of me, the one that had pierced my chest. Quickly, he pulled it out.

Blood spurted out, darkness covered my vision, and I almost saw death.

Patriarch?: What will it take for you to admit you're wrong or beg me for mercy?

Patriarch?: Many prisoners have been nailed to this cross. I interrogated them like this, but of course, never so intimately as with you.

Patriarch?: No one can escape this dream. They either use intelligence to survive, or wake up in the real world with their limbs intact but their spirits forever damaged.

Patriarch?: Saying this makes me doubt myself… What intelligence could you possibly have that would warrant such an elaborate effort?

Little Painter: If you want me to admit I'm wrong and beg for mercy… it means you don't believe you're right…

Patriarch?: …

Little Painter: I have never… thought I was absolutely right…

Little Painter: When have I ever denied you when we talked?

Little Painter: When have I… ever sincerely said you were wrong… Which time in our exchanges wasn't… me confirming you?

…No, I seem to be too… too irrational.

I felt something rolling from my eyes, which shouldn't be happening. Maybe physiologically, I was at the limit of my collapse, and I almost couldn't control my reactions anymore. If considering past bonds in the face of danger is foolish and confusing… How could I not be confused after so much interaction and trust?

I am just a human made of flesh and blood, my brain not precisely controlled like a machine.

…I started crying. The tears blurred everything.

Even though he grabbed my chin, it seemed insignificant at this moment.

He lifted it, staring directly into my eyes, this time without a smile.

Patriarch?: You begged for mercy.

Little Painter: ……

Patriarch?: But begging for mercy is no different from dying. You are strong, why not hold back your tears?

Little Painter: …At least I'm not dead now.

I struggled to control the physiological reaction of crying, staring into his eyes.

Little Painter: Even if I truly died… dying here would be a relief…wouldn't it?

He was stunned.

Little Painter: Every time I die in a dream… I wake up in reality.

Little Painter: As long as I wake up, there is still a future…

Little Painter: But if I die here, you will have nothing left.

Patriarch?: ……!

Little Painter: Whether it's a victim to torment or an outlet for venting. So many questions, so much harm... you'll lose your subject.

Little Painter: If you remain asleep under his "control"… when was the last time you woke up?

Little Painter: Only when you harm others can you feel alive… it's sad

Little Painter: Then come harm me. I still have a path, while you have nothing but this.

Patriarch?: …Ha, still playing the saint?

Patriarch?: Self-sacrifice is the most foolish thing in the world, you're only alive now by sheer luck!

Little Painter: This is not self-sacrifice. I am not someone who doesn't know how to retaliate after being hurt.

Little Painter: Ah… yes, I understand. You might have seen too many people like that… As you said, those enslaved people…

I felt like I was facing death without fear, slowly pulling up a smile.

Little Painter: So, you think that goodwill in the world only appears when the benefactor is enslaved… And that enslaving other is a despicable act, even worse than straightforward violence, right?

Little Painter: But whether I approach you or reject you, it's not because of enslavement… It's my choice, a risky investment, because I can afford to win or lose.

Little Painter: But you seem… to have no choice.

Little Painter: Is it you who repeatedly enslaves others with violence in dreams, or are you the slave… who can't see a future and can only throw yourself into a cycle of three hundred years of hard labor?

Little Painter: I suddenly think you're quite pitiful… Lord Patriarch.

My voice suddenly choked.

This person, at the end of my words, grabbed my neck directly.

First with one hand, then with clenched teeth and burning eyes, the other hand trembled towards me.

Little Painter: I'm too kind to you, so you want to kill me…

I looked into his eyes, my tears rolling down again.

Little Painter: It can't be just for such a simple reason, right?

That suspended hand finally pressed down too, the doubled force bringing a burning pain.

Little Painter: You're so fragile, asking me to hate you…

His fingers trembled, his eyes widening almost to the point of splitting. I couldn't make a sound anymore, but I still used my last strength to move my lips.

Little Painter: But I… will really… hate you…

Little Painter: When I truly can't bear it… and hate you… everything will be… too late.

Crack. My neck was snapped.

The world turned into a void, and my consciousness gained a freedom more painful than enslavement. I felt as if I had died, wanting to linger in a world pretending nothing ever happened.

But no, the stabbing pain rising from deep inside my viscera woke me up, forcing me back into my senses.

I instinctively stood up from my seat, the world shaking as if about to collapse.

A stomach-turning pain came from my gut, and my eyes couldn't see anything, so I clutched my abdomen and knelt. I collapsed onto a blood-red carpet, my body light as paper.

So cold, so cold.

In my last conscious moments, a back of someone's hand felt the hot temperature on my forehead.

Someone stood up in front of me, but I didn't want to think about anything anymore. I felt like I had truly died once, whether in body or mind.

So for now… let me sleep.

Chapter 4 - The Lonely One

It seems I am dreaming.

Many shadows, representing nightmares floating around, but they are separated from me by a sheer curtain. I am at the center of total darkness, unable to make a sound, yet feels extremely safe. The shadows have ghostly forms, lunging at me with claws and fangs each time, but they all dissipate upon touching the sheer curtain surrounding me. I do not need to be tense, and lost all my vitality…

I eventually sat down, hugging my knees, realizing where the sheer curtain came from.

In the end, I still woke up.

I don’t know why I chose to wake up, as my body and mind were too weak to move. But after seeing the first thing before me, I seemed to understand my subconscious.

It was a pair of female hands, gently changing the wet cloth on my forehead under soft lighting.

Little Painter: ……

Little Painter: Your hands… feel comfortable.

My voice was so hoarse that even I didn't recognize it. My throat was so swollen it felt like two lumps of coal were stuck in it.

Blindfolded Nun: You're awake.

The hands, which had accidentally touched my forehead, stopped as soon as I spoke.

It seemed to be a young face, though her eyes were covered, it didn’t hinder her awareness. She gazed at me, hesitated for a moment, then gently placed her hands on my forehead.

Her hands were cool enough to disperse the heat, and I quickly understood her identity.

Blindfolded Nun: You've had a high fever for three days. Now it's the period of temperature fluctuation, so we need to avoid cooling too much to prevent catching a cold.

Blindfolded Nun: But don't worry, your body is strong, and with the medicines here, you just need to rest.

Little Painter: ……

I nodded with difficulty.

Each time in my dreams, when I felt I was burning up to the point of death, it was these hands that brought a cooling sensation. She was a revived corpse, devoid of a living person's warmth.

Such a thing that could bring the dead back to life… only that person could do it.

Blindfolded Nun: Shall I give you some water to drink?

I responded with my eyes but did not get up, simply letting myself lie in bed.

After my temperature was measured, I listened to her footsteps slowly fade and the door close. Finally, I turned my head to stare at the ceiling. The chandelier emitted a soft glow, enveloping me like a gentle stream.

The glass lampshade was engraved with a silver and black pattern, depicting a scene reminiscent of the son of god's suffering in human texts.

I suddenly turned away, clutching my stomach and dry-heaving.

In my mind appeared an identical pattern, imprinted on a red velvet background. It was that person's… hat.

…So that's what it meant.

After that, time became fragmented and flowed by like water.

I didn't ask where I was, nor did I ask about the origin of the medicines and food. I just quietly waited for the nun to knock and enter at mealtime, and quickly fell asleep when the moonlight framed by the window pane turned into a watercolor painting.

That person did not appear, and I didn't want him to, because even I didn't know how I would react if I saw that face again.

Do I hate him? At least up to this point, my physiological reactions have become deeply ingrained. It's not like a machine that can be changed at will but a wound that requires effort to numb, cut open, disinfect, and heal.

Do I despise him? I don't know. I still can't determine how to reconcile the image from the dream with the real person.

Does he want me to hate him? …I don't know the answer to that either.

Do I love him? …

I leaned against the headboard, drawing one knee up and resting my head on it, closing my eyes in thought.

I can't say I don't love him, at least before this incident, I couldn't deny it. We’ve been through so much, so many things, that if the answer was no, I would have turned away at any crossroads long ago. “Feeding oneself to the beast” — this saying is inappropriate, yet it holds some absurd truth.

If I hadn't always been gambling and wading through this sea of fire, everything from the past would have ceased to exist.

This person is an enemy.

Without a doubt, whether judged by his alignment or the events at our first meeting, this conclusion is 100% certain.

My initial entanglement with him was because of—

The Dream House Incident

It was the Dream House on Earth. At that time, he was clearly the mastermind behind many tragedies.

Being captured by the Dream Realm during a spirit wandering

During one of my spirit wanderings, I was captured by the Dream Realm because of my identity as a traveler, unable to shake off the unknown source of pollution.

However, after that, through various twists and turns, I began to pay attention to him, even becoming more and more concerned as our contact increased.

Why is this? What is so striking in my eyes? …I don't know. I don't know.

The only somewhat clear thought is that in front of this person, even if I am pretending, I can still be myself.

I can shout and place all my anger and beliefs into the blade of my sword.

Even if it means confronting him with a sword, he can straightforwardly grasp it and thrust it into his own body.

Even questioning his words, breaking his defenses, never met with rejection or arrogance, and even reaching out to embrace him, he didn't know how to refuse.

As for this most recent journey…

When he silently gazes at the night moon.

I see a solitude vast enough to contain everything.

…I am attracted to this solitude.

I know only a dangerous environment can nurture it, shaped from both inside and out, deep and bottomless, it can be a vessel or devour souls. And he is strong, mentally strong, knowing how to navigate the mix of black and white, how to let a damaged depression gather clear water and become a mirror reflecting all things. But in that dream, the gray and white turned to pitch black. I was indeed frightened by this pitch black…

And I don't know how it will change in the future.

Another many days passed, and the physiological reactions of the usual time gradually weakened. I felt my nightly dreams becoming clearer, the sheer curtains enveloping me thinning bit by bit, slowly letting me touch reality as time passed.

The content of the nightmares was, of course, that bloody cross…

The pain from that time replayed, still startling me awake in the middle of the night. In reality, I panted to calm down, using real senses to prove I couldn't die in that nightmare, I could still survive the wounds. The isolated memories and senses wouldn't disappear, they were just buried.

And the person perhaps separated from me by a wall was trying, when I wanted, to help me dig them out as safely as possible.

…Then, one day, the nun knocked and entered as usual.

Under her gaze, I ate half of my breakfast, ensuring my stomach wouldn't react too badly.

When she picked up the tray and turned, I spoke.

Little Painter: Call your master. Right now.

Chapter 5 – The Young Tiger

I waited in the room alone, my heart racing.

It was fear and anxiety, I knew, and I kept taking deep breaths, trying to contain them.

After what felt like a long time…

There was a knock on the door. I opened my mouth.

Little Painter: …Come in.

I could barely make a sound, but the other person heard me.

Seeing this person again, I was much calmer than I had imagined.

He walked in with his head slightly lowered, his gaze fixed on the floor. After the door was carefully placed against the wall, he had to turn around and look up.

This time, there was no evasion in his gaze, his expression was as calm as mine, but I could see the tension.

Little Painter: Why didn't you come these days?

Patriarch: ……

Little Painter: If you don't answer, I'll assume your nun is also a part of you, and you're just staring at me ambiguously.

Patriarch: No.

He shook his head suddenly, as usual, answering quickly only to this kind of question.

Patriarch: The attendants here are all dead. They have their origins and pasts, I just… fulfill their wish to continue existing.

Patriarch: I don't control them.

Little Painter: Okay.

I nodded, gradually getting used to the feeling of my blood rushing due to nervousness.

Little Painter: So, why didn't you come yourself?

Patriarch: …I was afraid of scaring you. I should only come when you need me.

Patriarch: Such wounds… can't be healed by mere apologies or seeking forgiveness. A little stimulation can tear them open again. My presence would destroy your efforts.

Little Painter: …You seem to understand these things well.

Patriarch: ……

Little Painter: You seem to have gone through a lot, there's no need to be humble about it.

I said, my gaze subconsciously shifting to the side.

Little Painter: You know how deeply I'm hurt. You might even know how painful and hard it is to heal these wounds.

Little Painter: I know you wouldn't tear open someone's wounds in reality. But in that dream… you have a tendency to make others experience the same pain as you.

It was difficult to say, but I made myself turn my head to face him. Patriarch opened his mouth wide, his gaze trembling slightly.

Little Painter: I don't think you're a "bad person." I said, simple good and bad are too narrow.

Little Painter: But after this incident… how can I trust you?

I looked into his eyes.

Little Painter: How do you want me to trust you?

Patriarch: …I don't know.

He suddenly turned his face away, his gaze falling to the void again.

Patriarch: I am bad… Of course, a part of me is bad. You don't need to make excuses for me.

Little Painter: …That's not what I mean.

Patriarch: I've always measured myself this way, I've long been accustomed to it, using it as a weapon.

He swallowed and looked at me again, this time with a look of aggression in his eyes.

Patriarch: I won't change, and I can't change. It's my foundation, even if it hurts more people, it's still my backbone.

Patriarch: This is me. I'm sorry I hurt you, you can take any revenge you want, but I—

Little Painter: I don't want you to change yourself.

I stood up. He was stunned, as if a hundred sentences were stuck in his dry mouth.

Little Painter: No, the word change is too broad. If you want to change something for me, I'd be happy.

Little Painter: What I mean is… I don't want you to break yourself to prove you didn't mean to hurt me.

Patriarch: ……

Little Painter: In that dream… you did intend to hurt me. That's a fact, clearer to me than anyone.

Patriarch: ……!

Little Painter: Nothing you do can cover up this fact. How you prove it doesn't matter.

Little Painter: I accept this. In fact, the harm has already been done. If I didn't accept it, I'd be deceiving myself—

Little Painter: What I want to ask you now is, will it happen again in the future?

Patriarch: No.

He enunciated heavily, still in that urgent mode of wanting to prove something.

Little Painter: Okay, then if it happens again, I will use my strength to pierce your heart.

Little Painter: I believe I will survive, and when that time comes, I will not hesitate to exact revenge.

Little Painter: I said in the dream, by then, everything will be too late. You won't be able to call me back, I will truly hate you.

Patriarch: …Okay.

He drew his gaze close, as if still unable to digest these words.

But eventually, he responded, completely affirmatively, I could sense sincerity in that expression. My racing heart gradually calmed down. A great deal of pressure was gradually dissipating, leaving behind a feeling of fatigue and relief.

I took a deep breath, and in the end, I even… subconsciously smiled a little.

Little Painter: Do you really understand what I'm saying?

He was genuinely puzzled. It was still his usual look.

Little Painter: I said, by then you won't be able to call me back.

He remained dazed, finally giving a look that said, "Of course I heard."

Little Painter: …You should go now. We still have a lot to talk about later.

Patriarch: ……

Little Painter: I haven't forgiven you. I accept you, and I reserve the right to fair revenge, understand?

He finally left in a daze, stopping just outside the doorframe, unable to suppress the urge to look back.

Little Painter: You came back even without me calling you.

Little Painter: If you didn't want to stay, there wouldn't be any talk of calling back.

I walked to the door and looked at him,

one hand on the door frame, the other on the door handle.

He looked at me, his lips slightly parted, but in the end, he said nothing.

Little Painter: We'll talk next time.

I heard my heartbeat return to normal and gently closed the door.

That night, patriarch had a dream.

In my sleep, I sensed it. It appeared through the sheer curtain in the form of wind, perhaps a subconscious opening from him to me. I didn't suppress my curiosity and walked towards it with my old wounds not yet scabbed over. I started gambling again…

Like being drawn to deep water, the deeper the water pressure, the more I could see the wonders of the seabed.

This dream realm was an endless battlefield.

Countless skeletons piled up on the ruins, lingering lives whispering among the broken limbs.

The cotton-like armor they wore flickered into the uniform of the Infinite Empire when I touched them.

This burning ancient battlefield was a dreamscape transformed by the subconscious…

To cover up a once real scene, so that when it appears, it is no longer so cruel and bloody. But, in the real past, did the Empire's army lose the battle?

Or is this not a defeat but a pure sacrifice for building success?

"Were we… abandoned…?"

"The test of the new weapons… turns out we were all data…"

"If we were stronger, more cunning, maybe we wouldn't have died so foolishly…"

"Major… I'm sorry…"

I reached down. The soldier, whose flesh was a bloody mess, lost his breath before I could touch him.

His pale gaze futilely cast towards the western horizon. I paused there, for a long time, before rising to walk towards what he was looking at.

And then I discovered that the yellow earth beneath my feet was made of bodies, the hands reaching upwards spilling blood, like sculptures fixing my ankles in place.

Little Painter: ……

Little Painter: Where… are you all looking?

I straightened up and looked west from this hill of bones. Another hill of corpses rose from the horizon, and a figure appeared there.

Crows mourned. Flags drooped.

That person sat at the top of the bones and blood, laughing and surveying everything around. His lips, tongue, hands, and feet were all bloodstained, his chest split layer upon layer as if hellfire was about to break out, sacrificing the original lamb and turning it into a demon born into the world.

He savored this perversion, seeing it as the only pleasure.

BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD.

That young tiger extended its claws, mourning its friends by devouring

It got used to swallowing, used to eating,

Used to stuffing everything into its broken body.

If it were stronger, more cunning,

With violence as its bones, making everyone submit beneath it,

Would its friends, its comrades,

Escape the misfortunes of this wretched world?

If not domination, then submission

Is there another way? No other way

I don't see the resting place of countless bones in this world.

Better to bury this erroneous cycle in fire with my own body,

To revel in absurdity and pleasure with it.

Chapter 6 - Trembling

After that time, I still lived on Patriarch's planet.

If one must say this was my subconscious trying to rebuild our relationship…

I admit it, and there's nothing wrong with admitting it.

The day after that conversation, I asked him to practice swordsmanship with me every day until I fully recovered.

Little Painter: You're not allowed to fight back, not allowed to use anything other than a wooden sword, and you can't complain when I hit you. Can you do that?

Patriarch: Yes.

So, my daily routine became breakfast—beat him—lunch break—beat him—dinner—beat him—sleep, with occasional breaks for studying and painting. I enjoyed it so much that I even found myself childish.

He didn't fight back or complain, even when I accidentally cut him one day, leaving a small wound—

I was stunned. He merely touched the wound with his hand, observed the blood bead, and then licked it off his finger. …At that moment, his tongue looked beautiful.

I couldn't understand why someone's first reaction would be that, but I didn't bother to think about it.

But what troubled me was that since that accidental dream, he had become increasingly silent. I always had to keep asking him questions to get him to speak, especially on topics where he felt the need to prove he still had some semblance of kindness. Otherwise, he would only respond with single words like “mm” or “ah.”

I didn't like this state. Or rather, I didn't want to stay in this state.

I could feel the joy rising in my heart each time I attacked him, wanting to exchange emotions with him, and he would occasionally smile during intense fights. That smile was genuine, and I believed he also found some comfort in our swordplay, but outside of that context, he wouldn't speak. He still avoided direct confrontation with me, and on this monotonous and dull planet, it was extremely frustrating.

So that night, after washing up, I fell silent while looking at my nightgown.

I walked from the bedroom to the outer hall.

The nun's sewn nightgown was solemn and long, making me feel like I wasn't lounging at home but preaching among pews, exuding authority and sanctity.

The long hem made noise as I moved, so when I appeared at the corner connecting the hall and the corridor, Patriarch looked up.

He spent most nights sitting on that throne, sometimes dealing with rare matters, sometimes just staring blankly.

Now, he was sitting with legs crossed, one hand supporting his chin, and a book perhaps from some civilization resting on his lap, looking at me in surprise.

I didn't speak.

I traced his figure with my eyes again, although we had faced each other countless times day and night, it still felt fresh.

As long as he wore his usual mask, As long as he maintained that silent, apologetic yet evasive defense…

No one could truly touch him, and every interaction would slip away like water on ice.

So who could say this didn't make him intriguing?

I climbed a step and suddenly remembered the last similar scene when I first hugged him. Since then, an embrace like that was impossible.

So tonight—

I stopped at the highest step. He remained seated, with the high walls behind him confining him to this narrow space.

Patriarch: …Is there something you need?

He looked up, still in that guarded, infallible tone.

I made a final judgment in my mind, and then—

Crossed the last step between us. I approached him, my knees touching the front edge of his seat.

The chair's width allowed me to squeeze into the space beside his legs.

His eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned back. He wanted to pull away but ended up sinking completely into the red surroundings.

I leaned down and gently touched his cheek.

The wound I once inflicted had healed, leaving a very faint scar. This was real flesh, different from what I saw in the dreams, a tangible body that could get hurt and feel pleasure—

I almost lost control of my actions, watching his eyes dumbfoundedly, rubbing the scar with my thumb.

Patriarch: You…

I slowly sat on his lap.

He was clearly shocked, but as I touched him more, he didn't move. If that's the case… Can I assume he also desires this contact?

Just like I used to suppress such thoughts deep in my heart, urging myself every night not to fantasize.

I placed one hand on his waist and leaned forward slightly.

We were so close that I could clearly feel each other's breaths. Following my heart, I tilted my head and gave a light kiss.

The thin lips trembled upon contact, almost stopping his breath.

Patriarch: …Are you still sober?

When we parted, he asked this.

He finally placed a hand on my shoulder, and the resistance in his legs caused the book on his lap to fall to the ground.

His eyes were filled with something blurry, but he remained alert, just like he did during every brief rest.

Little Painter: I'm very sober. I just want to know… Are you sober?

Little Painter: Are you sober enough to give me a clear answer? Or will you continue to avoid all my questions, pretending to be asleep?

Patriarch: ……

Patriarch: I don't think you'll be happy. This kind of thing… shouldn't involve me, I'll only disappoint you.

Little Painter: How do you know without trying?

Little Painter: Besides, how can you be sure that just being with you wouldn't make me happy?

He was stunned.

His breath slowed, as if time had stopped. The hand on my shoulder weakened, and a light touch changed its shape. I stared at his face for a long time, long enough to believe this was the answer.

I shifted my weight onto his legs, holding his face, and resumed the kiss.

This time, his stubbornness finally lessened.

His neck slowly relaxed, his head resting lightly on the cushion of the chair. I gave him a kiss as light as a dragonfly touching the water, and he responded clumsily and slowly.

His hand slid from my shoulder to my back, cautiously mimicking an embrace, then climbed to the back of my head.

…This scene was so beautiful, so beautiful. So much so that when I remembered the thin swords at my waist, for a moment, I almost gave up my revenge.

Little Painter: Huff…

I broke off the deepening kiss, unable to suppress a breath.

He slowly opened his eyes, the watery lake in them, still patiently watching my movements. I reached to my waist for the three thin swords, each as thick as a finger but sharp enough.

When I held the first sword in front of his palm, his pupils contracted slightly, then… he seemed to sigh at the absurdity.

Patriarch: Go ahead.

He looked at me as if this was what he expected all along.

I removed his glove, aimed the sword tip at his palm, feeling a twinge in my heart but still delivered the strike accurately. He groaned, the smell of blood filling the air, his fingers trembled, then relaxed like shedding armor.

I stared at his face. He only felt the pain for a moment before looking back at me with a smile as if he had finally been forgiven.

Patriarch: Continue.

I felt my eyelids tremble. I closed my eyes, swallowed hard, and reached for his collar, removing the metal.

This military uniform had too many decorations. I almost grew impatient, so he extended another hand to help. Such compliance was… strangely satisfying.

I pulled down his collar, revealing the skin underneath, then leaned down to kiss it.

Patriarch: ……

I touched the spot where the sword would pierce with my fingers and lips.

I couldn't bear it anymore, it was completely different from the suppressed anger and frustration I felt while planning. At that time, I thought my anger was just… truly furious about that dream. But now, I realized what angered me was the chasm between our hearts, so close yet so distant, sharing the same longing but separated by a vast abyss.

…But if this is what he needs to forgive himself, then let's do it.

I placed the thin sword against his skin and used half my strength to pierce it.

He took a deep breath, his brows furrowing.

His adam's apple moved up and down, finally making a sound.

Patriarch: I've never been so afraid of pain.

Patriarch: I'd rather strip away my senses… but then I wouldn't feel you.

A seed of longing in my heart swelled instantly with his words. That strange feeling spread through my veins, bringing heat and joy.

Little Painter: …Should we continue? I don't want to…

Patriarch: You said you wanted revenge, my traveler.

Patriarch: Just a little more, and we'll be even.

Patriarch: This is my first time… being even with someone.

Little Painter: ……

I gritted my teeth and plunged the third sword into his forearm. The blood pooled on the seat, deeper and more beautiful than the original red.

Little Painter: Can you still move like this? How will you heal…

Little Painter: —Don't tell me it's an excuse to make me stay another month or something.

I changed my posture. He chuckled.

Patriarch: Such minor wounds won't immobilize me, what do you take me for?

I was silent, looking at the skin under the clothes.

Unfastening the inner shirt, I saw layers of scars. This person could operate purely in a spiritual state. But sometimes he returned to this body, and now I might understand why. This irreparably damaged flesh bore his wounds and past.

I remembered him once saying, "Because life is associated with fragility."

Little Painter: Alright, I suppose such an injury is nothing to you…

After thinking for a long time, I still said this.

If this indeed meant nothing to him, then instead of indulging in self-pitying sympathy, I should follow along with his proud demeanor.

I lifted his chin again, bringing my face closer to his.

Little Painter: Then can I continue?

He was silent for three seconds, averting his eyes.

Little Painter: If you continue to be silent and passive, I'll take it as your real consent.

The person in front of me did not move, so I slid my hand inside his shirt from the edge.

Those smooth, hard lines, stacked with scars. I finally touched that part of him, feeling his whole body tense for a moment.

He groaned, furrowing his brows and looking at me, his lips parted, revealing breaths he couldn't conceal.

Entwining, approaching, merging.

Two hearts with no boundaries, conveying messages through swords and scars.

Neither owed anything, neither forgave, thus they could be free and unrestrained.

It was a faster and increasingly vigorous surge, like the explosive signals sent from the universe. His mind gradually drifted, for some reason recalling a scene from years ago.

He had lost his past, joined the empire, learned to fake smiles, thinking he had integrated into the order.

However, his soldiers all perished in a concealed experimental battle, shattering his mind and body, transforming him from a lamb to a shepherd in an instant. He fought, consumed, ascended, continuously growing stronger.

To the point where he could raise a toast amidst the stench of charred flesh and fat, jokingly celebrating with new soldiers who feared him as he wished.

…However, such days abruptly ended one day.

He woke from a normal sleep, finding himself unable to move. This body rejected all his will, or perhaps, it was the mind itself rejecting everything he forced himself to do. He struggled to report to the higher-ups through the system, claiming his body was broken and needed repair.

The person “repaired” by drugs boarded a new mission's starship.

Imperial Ayn: ……

He looked around the universe in confusion, suddenly feeling everything becoming black and white, drifting away from him.

Why is he here, what is he doing? Flipping between black and white, turning between compliance and violence, stumbling back and forth, where would he finally belong?

He felt his lips stiffen, wanting to call out his name, but couldn't make a sound.

Just then, a violently expanding ripple appeared on the screen.

The waveform was so large that he couldn't ignore this content unrelated to the mission. He activated the starship's visual system, looking in that direction. A planet was shattering—

No, a planet was healing itself in an incomprehensible way.

Starship AI: Detected intense emotional energy fluctuation, this waveform indicates death emotions.

Starship AI: The magnitude matches the life response on the planet, speculated to be due to imperial harvesting activities.

Empire Ayn: Harvest? …No one is harvesting there.

Starship AI: This inference is based on the fact that all life on the planet died at the same time.

Starship AI: Detected an unrecorded reaction pattern… preparing to record and report to the central hub.

Empire Ayn: …Stop.

Empire Ayn: I need to review and confirm the data before reporting.

Starship AI: Understood.

He hesitated, trembling, walking towards the empty edge of the bridge, gazing into the vast universe.

The planet emitted a dazzling light, he knew light also needed time to travel, the life afterglow he saw had already perished in the other's reality.

But what a strange, miraculous sight this was.

He stared dumbfounded at this incomprehensible scene, making the first decision of his life that deviated from orders.

Empire Ayn: Change the navigation target, head towards the detected planet at full speed.

Starship AI: This planet is unrelated to the current mission, changing course will be reported, do you wish to proceed?

Empire Ayn: …I want to go. I must go now!

Starship AI: Understood.

The starship slowly changed speed, drawing an unknown arc in the vast universe, like the trajectory of his soul. He stood on the transparent bridge, inexplicably, reaching out towards the slowly expanding bright light—

Reaching out—

Until enveloped in this bridge of death and rebirth—

Seeing the white flowers blooming at the peak of life—

Patriarch: ……

In reality, he reached out, this time he indeed touched something. It was her face, her eyes, containing an entire universe.

It is alive. It seemed he could finally live.

[rainekotka]

New SFX coating for Nanami and Watanabe Source: bilibili

[satoshi-mochida]

Dark fantasy otome visual novel The Red Bell’s Lament announced for Switch - Gematsu

Voltage has announced dark fantasy otome visual novel The Red Bell’s Lament for Switch. It will launch digitally worldwide in spring 2025 with English and Japanese language support.

Here are the first details, via the teaser website:

About

“Humans: fragile, fleeting, beautiful.”

Staff

Story / Development: Voltage

Director: Nachi (Voltage)

Scenario: Yuzuki

Illustrator: Norita (Representative Works: even if TEMPEST)

Background Art: Minoru Akiba (Studio Jack) (Representative Works: Pokemon movies)

Soundtrack: Yamato (Heart Company) (Representative Works: “Timeless Blue” from Free)

Theme: 9mm Parabellum Bullet (Representative Works: “Inferno” from Berserk)

Opening Theme: “Sakebi -The Freedom You Need-“

Ending Theme: “Asakage -The Future We Choose-“

Watch the announcement teaser trailer below.

Announce Teaser Trailer

English

Japanese

[majunju]

"pat the robot on its head" say less

[majunju]

xiangli yao

[majunju]

recharging.......

[tofupixel]

⭐ So you want to learn pixel art? ⭐

🔹 Part 1 of ??? - The Basics!

Hello, my name is Tofu and I'm a professional pixel artist. I have been supporting myself with freelance pixel art since 2020, when I was let go from my job during the pandemic.

My progress, from 2017 to 2024. IMO the only thing that really matters is time and effort, not some kind of natural talent for art.

This guide will not be comprehensive, as nobody should be expected to read allat. Instead I will lean heavily on my own experience, and share what worked for me, so take everything with a grain of salt. This is a guide, not a tutorial. Cheers!

🔹 Do I need money?

NO!!! Pixel art is one of the most accessible mediums out there.

I still use a mouse because I prefer it to a tablet! You won't be at any disadvantage here if you can't afford the best hardware or software.

Because our canvases are typically very small, you don't need a good PC to run a good brush engine or anything like that.

✨Did you know? One of the most skilled and beloved pixel artists uses MS PAINT! Wow!!

🔹 What software should I use?

Here are some of the most popular programs I see my friends and peers using. Stars show how much I recommend the software for beginners! ⭐

💰 Paid options:

⭐⭐⭐ Aseprite (for PC) - $19.99

This is what I and many other pixel artists use. You may find when applying to jobs that they require some knowledge of Aseprite. Since it has become so popular, companies like that you can swap raw files between artists.

Aseprite is amazingly customizable, with custom skins, scripts and extensions on Itch.io, both free and paid.

If you have ever used any art software before, it has most of the same features and should feel fairly familiar to use. It features a robust animation suite and a tilemap feature, which have saved me thousands of hours of labour in my work. The software is also being updated all the time, and the developers listen to the users. I really recommend Aseprite!

⭐ Photoshop (for PC) - Monthly $$

A decent option for those who already are used to the PS interface. Requires some setup to get it ready for pixel-perfect art, but there are plenty of tutorials for doing so.

Animation is also much more tedious on PS which you may want to consider before investing time!

⭐⭐ ProMotion NG (for PC) - $19.00

An advanced and powerful software which has many features Aseprite does not, including Colour Cycling and animated tiles.

⭐⭐⭐ Pixquare (for iOS) - $7.99 - $19.99

Probably the best app available for iPad users, in active development, with new features added all the time.

Look! My buddy Jon recommends it highly, and uses it often.

One cool thing about Pixquare is that it takes Aseprite raw files! Many of my friends use it to work on the same project, both in their office and on the go.

⭐ Procreate (for iOS) - $12.99

If you have access to Procreate already, it's a decent option to get used to doing pixel art. It does however require some setup. Artist Pixebo is famously using Procreate, and they have tutorials of their own if you want to learn.

🆓 Free options:

⭐⭐⭐ Libresprite (for PC)

Libresprite is an alternative to Aseprite. It is very, very similar, to the point where documentation for Aseprite will be helpful to Libresprite users.

⭐⭐ Pixilart (for PC and mobile)

A free in-browser app, and also a mobile app! It is tied to the website Pixilart, where artists upload and share their work. A good option for those also looking to get involved in a community.

⭐⭐ Dotpict (for mobile)

Dotpict is similar to Pixilart, with a mobile app tied to a website, but it's a Japanese service. Did you know that in Japanese, pixel art is called 'Dot Art'? Dotpict can be a great way to connect with a different community of pixel artists! They also have prompts and challenges often.

🔹 So I got my software, now what?

◽Nice! Now it's time for the basics of pixel art.

❗ WAIT ❗ Before this section, I want to add a little disclaimer. All of these rules/guidelines can be broken at will, and some 'no-nos' can look amazing when done intentionally.

The pixel-art fundamentals can be exceedingly helpful to new artists, who may feel lost or overwhelmed by choice. But if you feel they restrict you too harshly, don't force yourself! At the end of the day it's your art, and you shouldn't try to contort yourself into what people think a pixel artist 'should be'. What matters is your own artistic expression. 💕👍

◽Phew! With that out of the way...

🔸"The Rules"

There are few hard 'rules' of pixel art, mostly about scaling and exporting. Some of these things will frequently trip up newbies if they aren't aware, and are easy to overlook.

🔹Scaling method

There are a couple ways of scaling your art. The default in most art programs, and the entire internet, is Bi-linear scaling, which usually works out fine for most purposes. But as pixel artists, we need a different method.

Both are scaled up x10. See the difference?

On the left is scaled using Bilinear, and on the right is using Nearest-Neighbor. We love seeing those pixels stay crisp and clean, so we use nearest-neighbor. 

(Most pixel-art programs have nearest-neighbor enabled by default! So this may not apply to you, but it's important to know.)

🔹Mixels

Mixels are when there are different (mixed) pixel sizes in the same image.

Here I have scaled up my art- the left is 200%, and the right is 150%. Yuck!

As we can see, the "pixel" sizes end up different. We generally try to scale our work by multiples of 100 - 200%, 300% etc. rather than 150%. At larger scales however, the minute differences in pixel sizes are hardly noticeable!

Mixels are also sometimes seen when an artist scales up their work, then continues drawing on it with a 1 pixel brush.

Many would say that this is not great looking! This type of pixels can be indicative of a beginner artist. But there are plenty of creative pixel artists out there who mixels intentionally, making something modern and cool.

🔹Saving Your Files

We usually save our still images as .PNGs as they don’t create any JPEG artifacts or loss of quality. It's a little hard to see here, but there are some artifacts, and it looks a little blurry. It also makes the art very hard to work with if we are importing a JPEG.

For animations .GIF is good, but be careful of the 256 colour limit. Try to avoid using too many blending mode layers or gradients when working with animations. If you aren’t careful, your animation could flash afterwards, as the .GIF tries to reduce colours wherever it can. It doesn’t look great!

Here's an old piece from 2021 where I experienced .GIF lossiness, because I used gradients and transparency, resulting in way too many colours.

🔹Pixel Art Fundamentals - Techniques and Jargon

❗❗Confused about Jaggies? Anti-Aliasing? Banding? Dithering? THIS THREAD is for you❗❗

As far as I'm concerned, this is THE tutorial of all time for understanding pixel art. These are techniques created and named by the community of people who actually put the list together, some of the best pixel artists alive currently. Please read it!!

🔸How To Learn

Okay, so you have your software, and you're all ready to start. But maybe you need some more guidance? Try these tutorials and resources! It can be helpful to work along with a tutorial until you build your confidence up.

⭐⭐ Pixel Logic (A Digital Book) - $10 A very comprehensive visual guide book by a very skilled and established artist in the industry. I own a copy myself.

⭐⭐⭐ StudioMiniBoss - free A collection of visual tutorials, by the artist that worked on Celeste! When starting out, if I got stuck, I would go and scour his tutorials and see how he did it.

⭐ Lospec Tutorials - free A very large collection of various tutorials from all over the internet. There is a lot to sift through here if you have the time.

⭐⭐⭐ Cyangmou's Tutorials - free (tipping optional) Cyangmou is one of the most respected and accomplished modern pixel artists, and he has amassed a HUGE collection of free and incredibly well-educated visual tutorials. He also hosts an educational stream every week on Twitch called 'pixelart for beginners'.

⭐⭐⭐ Youtube Tutorials - free There are hundreds, if not thousands of tutorials on YouTube, but it can be tricky to find the good ones. My personal recommendations are MortMort, Brandon, and AdamCYounis- these guys really know what they're talking about!

🔸 How to choose a canvas size

When looking at pixel art turorials, we may see people suggest things like 16x16, 32x32 and 64x64. These are standard sizes for pixel art games with tiles. However, if you're just making a drawing, you don't necessarily need to use a standard canvas size like that.

What I like to think about when choosing a canvas size for my illustrations is 'what features do I think it is important to represent?' And make my canvas as small as possible, while still leaving room for my most important elements.

Imagine I have characters in a scene like this:

I made my canvas as small as possible (232 x 314), but just big enough to represent the features and have them be recognizable (it's Good Omens fanart 😤)!! If I had made it any bigger, I would be working on it for ever, due to how much more foliage I would have to render.

If you want to do an illustration and you're not sure, just start at somewhere around 100x100 - 200x200 and go from there.

It's perfectly okay to crop your canvas, or scale it up, or crunch your art down at any point if you think you need a different size. I do it all the time! It only takes a bit of cleanup to get you back to where you were.

🔸Where To Post

Outside of just regular socials, Twitter, Tumblr, Deviantart, Instagram etc, there are a few places that lean more towards pixel art that you might not have heard of.

⭐ Lospec Lospec is a low-res focused art website. Some pieces get given a 'monthly masterpiece' award. Not incredibly active, but I believe there are more features being added often.

⭐⭐ Pixilart Pixilart is a very popular pixel art community, with an app tied to it. The community tends to lean on the young side, so this is a low-pressure place to post with an relaxed vibe.

⭐⭐ Pixeljoint Pixeljoint is one of the big, old-school pixel art websites. You can only upload your art unscaled (1x) because there is a built-in zoom viewer. It has a bit of a reputation for being elitist (back in the 00s it was), but in my experience it's not like that any more. This is a fine place for a pixel artist to post if they are really interested in learning, and the history. The Hall of Fame has some of the most famous / impressive pixel art pieces that paved the way for the work we are doing today.

⭐⭐⭐ Cafe Dot Cafe Dot is my art server so I'm a little biased here. 🍵 It was created during the recent social media turbulence. We wanted a place to post art with no algorithms, and no NFT or AI chuds. We have a heavy no-self-promotion rule, and are more interested in community than skill or exclusivity. The other thing is that we have some kind of verification system- you must apply to be a Creator before you can post in the Art feed, or use voice. This helps combat the people who just want to self-promo and dip, or cause trouble, as well as weed out AI/NFT people. Until then, you are still welcome to post in any of the threads or channels. There is a lot to do in Cafe Dot. I host events weekly, so check the threads!

⭐⭐/r/pixelart The pixel art subreddit is pretty active! I've also heard some of my friends found work through posting here, so it's worth a try if you're looking. However, it is still Reddit- so if you're sensitive to rude people, or criticism you didn't ask for, you may want to avoid this one. Lol

🔸 Where To Find Work

You need money? I got you! As someone who mostly gets scouted on social media, I can share a few tips with you:

Put your email / portfolio in your bio Recruiters don't have all that much time to find artists, make it as easy as possible for someone to find your important information!

Clean up your profile If your profile feed is all full of memes, most people will just tab out rather than sift through. Doesn't apply as much to Tumblr if you have an art tag people can look at.

Post regularly, and repost Activity beats everything in the social media game. It's like rolling the dice, and the more you post the more chances you have. You have to have no shame, it's all business baby

Outside of just posting regularly and hoping people reach out to you, it can be hard to know where to look. Here are a few places you can sign up to and post around on.

/r/INAT INAT (I Need A Team) is a subreddit for finding a team to work with. You can post your portfolio here, or browse for people who need artists.

/r/GameDevClassifieds Same as above, but specifically for game-related projects.

Remote Game Jobs / Work With Indies Like Indeed but for game jobs. Browse them often, or get email notifications.

VGen VGen is a website specifically for commissions. You need a code from another verified artist before you can upgrade your account and sell, so ask around on social media or ask your friends. Once your account is upgraded, you can make a 'menu' of services people can purchase, and they send you an offer which you are able to accept, decline, or counter.

The evil websites of doom: Fiverr and Upwork I don't recommend them!! They take a big cut of your profit, and the sites are teeming with NFT and AI people hoping to make a quick buck. The site is also extremely oversaturated and competitive, resulting in a race to the bottom (the cheapest, the fastest, doing the most for the least). Imagine the kind of clients who go to these websites, looking for the cheapest option. But if you're really desperate...

🔸 Community

I do really recommend getting involved in a community. Finding like-minded friends can help you stay motivated to keep drawing. One day, those friends you met when you were just starting out may become your peers in the industry. Making friends is a game changer!

Discord servers Nowadays, the forums of old are mostly abandoned, and people split off into many different servers. Cafe Dot, Pixel Art Discord (PAD), and if you can stomach scrolling past all the AI slop, you can browse Discord servers here.

Twitch Streams Twitch has kind of a bad reputation for being home to some of the more edgy gamers online, but the pixel art community is extremely welcoming and inclusive. Some of the people I met on Twitch are my friends to this day, and we've even worked together on different projects! Browse pixel art streams here, or follow some I recommend: NickWoz, JDZombi, CupOhJoe, GrayLure, LumpyTouch, FrankiePixelShow, MortMort, Sodor, NateyCakes, NyuraKim, ShinySeabass, I could go on for ever really... There are a lot of good eggs on Pixel Art Twitch.

🔸 Other Helpful Websites

Palettes Lospec has a huge collection of user-made palettes, for any artist who has trouble choosing their colours, or just wants to try something fun. Rejected Palettes is full of palettes that didn't quite make it onto Lospec, ran by people who believe there are no bad colours.

The Spriters Resource TSR is an incredible website where users can upload spritesheets and tilesets from games. You can browse for your favourite childhood game, and see how they made it! This website has helped me so much in understanding how game assets come together in a scene.

VGMaps Similar to the above, except there are entire maps laid out how they would be played. This is incredible if you have to do level design, or for mocking up a scene for fun.

Game UI Database Not pixel-art specific, but UI is a very challenging part of graphics, so this site can be a game-changer for finding good references!

Retronator A digital newspaper for pixel-art lovers! New game releases, tutorials, and artworks!

Itch.io A website where people can upload, games, assets, tools... An amazing hub for game devs and game fans alike. A few of my favourite tools: Tiled, PICO-8, Pixel Composer, Juice FX, Magic Pencil for Aseprite

🔸 The End?

This is just part 1 for now, so please drop me a follow to see any more guides I release in the future. I plan on doing some writeups on how I choose colours, how to practise, and more!

I'm not an expert by any means, but everything I did to get to where I am is outlined in this guide. Pixel art is my passion, my job and my hobby! I want pixel art to be recognized everywhere as an art-form, a medium of its own outside of game-art or computer graphics!

This guide took me a long time, and took a lot of research and experience. Consider following me or supporting me if you are feeling generous.

And good luck to all the fledgling pixel artists, I hope you'll continue and have fun. I hope my guide helped you, and don't hesitate to send me an ask if you have any questions! 💕

[ilta222]

ruined cherry blossom city ✶ tip jar • links

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟵 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘂𝗺

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

My second night at Obsidian was by no means peaceful.

Lord Gilbert invites me to eat the cookies with him on the bed in an ill-mannered way.

But I can't taste it.

When I cast my eyes down, cold fingers grabbed my chin as if to say no—

Gilbert: "Hey, I want you to tell me one thing too..."

Gilbert: "You haven't made eye contact with me once today. Why?"

The blood-colored eyes, which do not reflect any emotion, loom in front of me.

A faint exhale mingled with the breath, and my breathing became shallow.

Emma: "… I feel like it."

Gilbert: "You're still reeling from yesterday, aren't you?"

Emma: "If you know what I mean, don't ask."

Gilbert: "I'm asking you because I don't know. ...How can we make up?"

Emma: "It's not like we're fighting."

Gilbert: "You're mad at me, aren't you? For saying, "You'll be glad if I die."

(Even though you know.)

I gently brush off Lord Gilbert's hand, keep my distance from him, and nod.

Gilbert: "You are such a saint that you would respect even the life of a villain. Aren't you kind?"

I understand, but it doesn't add up. I think that's how Lord Gilbert is feeling right now.

(Even if he is the worst of the worst, Lord Gilbert is—)

Emma: "… The owner once told me that Lord Gilbert used to be a boy with a beautiful heart."

Gilbert: "Ahaha, what is that?"

Emma: "And he even told me that I am like Lord Gilbert."

Gilbert: "… Huh?"

I felt the atmosphere around Lord Gilbert sway slightly.

Emma: "I am often told by Rio and others that "I take care of others and neglect myself..."

Emma: "Lord Gilbert, you also did this in the beginning, didn't you?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "There are different criteria for evaluating a beautiful heart…"

Gilbert: "Let's define beauty in your case as "having more love for others than for yourself."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(I wasn't aware of that, but if everyone says so, I have to admit it.)

I am not neglecting myself by any means.

I'm just happy when people around me laugh... That's all.

Emma: "If Lord Gilbert's root is the same as mine, then you chose the path of becoming evil yourself for the sake of others."

Emma: "There had to be a price to pay to correct the deceit and corruption."

Emma: "I think that's what this is all about."

Gilbert: "No way, is that what you think of me?"

Lord Gilbert tries to laugh it off, but his eyes are not smiling.

It didn't seem to be a misguided consideration.

Gilbert: "And even if that were true, then what is beyond that?"

Gilbert: "Are you going to say, "You are actually a good person. So you shouldn't die?"

Gilbert: "Ahaha, don't do that, okay? That's disgusting."

Emma: "I won't say it. Whatever the reason, Lord Gilbert chose the path of evil."

Emma: "It's ridiculous to think you're a good person, and I've never thought so."

Gilbert: "Then you don't mind if I die, do you?"

Emma: "You're taking this too far!"

Gilbert: "Yeah? I think death is the norm for villains."

Emma: "I think it's cowardly. When you die, it only makes you feel better."

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "Ahaha! Yes, that's right. I see, you're the type of person who wants to make life a living hell, aren't you?"

Gilbert: "So when I think about you being angry... well..."

Emma: "Don't get me wrong! I don't care if it is a living hell or not."

Emma: "It's just... just..."

Emma: "… It's just too unrewarding."

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

(This person... Why is he trying to fulfill his ideals even at the cost of his own life?)

If it were me—I wouldn't be able to fulfill such a great ideal for a stranger.

Not unless you have someone really close to you—someone that you absolutely want to protect from deceit and corruption.

(Me and Lord Gilbert are different. But if we're similar, then maybe...)

Emma: "My definition of a friend is "someone who is fun to be with, makes you laugh, and makes you want to wish them happiness."

Emma: "And Lord Gilbert is my friend."

Emma: "… If you're my friend, don't try to leave me."

(I really don't think it should be rewarded.)

(Including the Blood-Stained Rose Day, Lord Gilbert does things that are unforgivable.)

I can't honestly wish for happiness, either.

I even feel like there is blood in my words.

(So, only in this room.)

(Only when it's just the two of us…)

Emma: "I... did not dislike Lord Gilbert's malicious kindness."

Emma: "Why would I want to kill such a person?"

(If I could kill, I wouldn't be in such pain all the time.)

(That's why... I got so angry.)

Gilbert: "… That's so sweet it's repulsive."

(. . . . . .)

The words of rejection were wrapped in a countless number of thorns that I didn't expect to be aimed at a friend.

Gilbert: "If my single word can set Rhodolite on fire, and killing me won't do that—"

Gilbert: "Are you still going to say, "I don't want you to die," when you have to make a choice like that?"

Gilbert: "Me or Rhodolite. If such a balance is held out in front of you, you won't hesitate."

Emma: "No, I am lost. I'm lost and confused, and I will find another way."

Gilbert: "What if a lot of people die in the meantime?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "That's what I am to you."

Gilbert: "You can't be with me unless you're ready to kill me."

Gilbert: "Unless you want to be a traitor in the truest sense of the word…?"

(It was Lord Gilbert who first offered me a "friend," so why is he pushing me away like that?)

(… It's as if you want me to wish you dead.)

I knew from the beginning that Lord Gilbert's definition of "friend" was different from mine.

But when the perceptions don't mesh this well, I am beyond angry and in despair.

(If Lord Gilbert thinks that way, he shouldn't have been so kind to me in the first place.)

(What he says and what he does are in contradiction.)

(I wonder if he wants to make me suffer. ...that's a possibility.)

Gilbert: "Hehe... just the right opportunity. I have something I was going to give you when we get back to the castle."

(In this way…?) **

Lord Gilbert stands up and takes a small case out of the drawer of his office desk.

The lid of the case, which was obviously made of high-quality material, was opened, and as I approached it and looked inside, I saw that it was something of a shape I had never seen before, something I had no idea what it would be used for.

(… I don't know what it is, but I know it's not good.)

It's a polished piece of silver.

When I look closely, I can see that the metal is decorated with delicate roses.

The metal had a rotating golden round thing on it and a bright red rose charm on the black part that appeared to be the handle.

Gilbert: "Yes, Little Bunny."

Lord Gilbert makes me hold it with a smile.

It felt so comfortable in my hand as if it had been made for me.

Gilbert: "That face... you've never seen it in Rhodolite, have you?"

Emma: "Is this common in Obsidian?"

Gilbert: "No. This is a prototype that I made, so it's not on the market."

Gilbert: "But it's easy to use."

Lord Gilbert grips the cylindrical silver part and presses it against his own chest.

I instinctively had a bad feeling that made me break out in a cold sweat.

Gilbert: "First, this is a safety device, so remove it, then turn this. And if you finally pull the trigger—"

Gilbert: "Even Little Bunny could kill people easily."

Emma: "Ah..."

It slips from my hand, and Lord Gilbert grabs it before it hits the ground.

Gilbert: "Don't drop it because it might explode if it oscillates."

Gilbert: "Well, there is no live ammo in it right now. Don't forget to load it properly when you use it for real."

Emma: "Lord Gilbert, this is..."

Gilbert: "It's a gun."

(Oh, my god!)

(No, wait, is this a gun in the first place?)

The guns... I believe they were a new type of weapon that has been seen on the battlefield in recent years.

But the guns I learned about from books would not be so small or easy to handle.

(It's totally different from the guns I know.)

(Even though Obsidian is an advanced country in military technology, this is...)

My fingertips tremble at the thought of holding a tool that could easily take someone's life.

Lord Gilbert noticed this, put the rose gun on the desk, and gently wrapped his hand around mine.

Gilbert: "You know as well that my gift is to accept or be accepted."

Emma: "I don't have any use for this stuff!"

Gilbert: "Right now? You might think this is a murder weapon."

Gilbert: "But in other words, it could also be a "weapon needed to protect what is important" to you."

Gilbert: "But I'm sure you'll have limited opportunities to use it. As long as I'm here, your life isn't in danger."

Gilbert: "But you see, I am your greatest enemy and world disaster, protecting you."

Gilbert: "There will always come a time of choice. There's no harm in having it."

(How can you say that?)

(... Do you really want me to kill you?)

Emma: "I will not accept this time. I will never, ever accept this!"

I tried to shake his hand off vigorously, but Lord Gilberto tightened his grip and…

Gilbert: "You're not very understanding."

He pulled out a nearby chair and forced me to sit down.

Then he kneels down in front of me and pulls up my skirt.

Emma: "What are you doing!?"

Gilbert: "If you resist, I'll tie you up, okay?"

Emma: "Unreasonable..."

Gilbert: "You're a hostage, so you have to understand."

Cold fingertips touch my thighs, and my body trembles involuntarily.

(What are you really doing...?)

I seriously thought about kicking him off, but he didn't seem to want to touch me, instead, Lord Gilbert picked up something like a leather belt that was on the desk and began to wrap it around my leg.

Gilbert: "Yep, it fits."

Smiling with satisfaction, he attaches the gun to the belt.

Apparently, it was an accessory for carrying a gun.

Gilbert: "Carry this weapon with you at all times."

(… You're not listening to me at all.)

When I appealed to him with my gaze as if I couldn't understand his words,

Lord Gilbert notices this, softens his eyes, and for some reason bites my thigh.

Emma: "Hey, why would you do that!?"

Gilbert: "Oh, am I mistaken? You had a cocky look in your eye, I thought you wanted me to bite you."

Emma: "You know that's not true, right?"

Gilbert: "Hehe…"

With a confident smile, Lord Gilbert clenched his teeth, far from feeling sorry.

The mark on my thigh was painful... yet there was a glamor that I couldn't look at directly.

Gilbert: "But if you don't, you'll die, okay? That's what this place is about."

Emma: "… Don't you hate authority?"

Gilbert: "That's that, and this is that."

Gilbert: "This is Obsidian. Even if you don't like it, you have to accept my gift..."

Gilbert: "Even with this, you must not resist."

A cold hand lifts my leg and then bites me on the calf.

It felt different than trying to instill fear in my body... and force me to obey.

(I'm not scared... just embarrassed.)

His tongue crawls over the bite marks, and my legs tremble.

I was about to say stop — but I gasped.

(… What's with that face?)

His red eye, which rarely reflects emotion, seems to have a somewhat melancholy look.

The sad face that makes my heart clench, whether Lord Gilbert is aware of it or not...

(Does it only look that way because I'm looking down?)

(No... but...)

When I stopped resisting in confusion, Lord Gilbert raised his head, and our eyes met.

Gilbert: "Oh, your face... You're in so much pain and suffering."

(What do I look like?)

Gilbert: "Wouldn't it be easier if we just hated each other?"

Emma: "… I agree. I wish I could manipulate my emotions to my liking."

Gilbert: "If you could do that, though, you wouldn't be human."

Laughing softly, Lord Gilbert bites me again.

Sooner or later, my legs were going to be covered in bite marks.

(He's doing terrible things to me... but I can't refuse him.)

(I wonder… if I've been trampled.)

Gilbert: "…… I'm sorry."

(Eh...)

The faint sound of a voice makes me gasp.

But Lord Gilbert only smiles refreshingly, and his red eye flickers.

The heart of the trampling beast was never revealed.

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟰 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘂𝗺

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

The White Rose Festival is being consumed by blackness in the presence of Prince Gilbert.

In front of the many gathered masses, Prince Gilbert stood before me.

Gilbert: "What do you think is the easiest proof of friendship, Little Bunny?"

(… I don't know.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Yves: "Now Obsidian has become a hostile, abhorrent nation..."

Yves: "There was a period of time when we were trying to open diplomatic relations and establish normal diplomatic ties with Rhodolite."

Yves: "My mother then came from Obsidian to Rhodolite in marriage as a token of our friendship."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(I don't want to know...)

Gilbert: "Yes…"

Prince Gilbert's face fills everything—

Gilbert: "It's love."

Cold lips that I don't think belong to a human take my breath away.

It was only a moment... yet the events that took place felt like an eternity.

(Why…)

The noise around me and the situation I am in now seem like a distant dream.

Yves: "Prince Gilbert!"

Rio: "Emma!"

It was Yves and Rio who pulled me away from Prince Gilbert when all I could do was stand there in a daze.

Rio pulls me offstage, and Yves confronts Prince Gilbert.

I am sure it is not my imagination that my back seems to be shaking in anger.

Gilbert: "Heh, you guys want to tear down our friendship."

Yves: "This… This cowardly approach is not friendship!"

Gilbert: "You know what? Your very existence is proof of that."

Gilbert: "Well, it didn't work out that way in the past. I don't screw up like that."

Gilbert: "As long as I'm loving the little rabbit, Rhodolite is safe and sound. Wouldn't that make you happy?"

Yves: "… I cannot rejoice in the peace that comes from Emma's sacrifice."

Gilbert: "Sacrifice is cruel. We might be in love with each other."   //   "It's terrible to sacrifice, even though we may be in love with each other."

(What do you want, Prince Gilbert? Seriously, what do you want me to do?)

Rio: "Emma, let's go."

Emma: "But, Yves—"

Rio: "Yves will be fine. You're in more danger right now."

Just as Rio said, I feel countless eyes on me even though I'm retreating offstage.

It was as if something for which only Prince Gilbert had been taking all the blame a while ago was starting to hit me.

(Prince Gilbert… I don't really understand.)

(That's the most... painful.)

══════════════════

(. . . . . .)

(…Huh …?)

Suddenly, I woke up.

I returned to the court without seeing the White Rose Festival through to the end,

I was supposed to be in my room, hiding from the people who showed off all sorts of emotions.

That has somehow changed places.

(It's not a dream… is it?)

(This is Prince Gilbert's hideout.)

The dustiness is gone, and it is easier to breathe than before.

When I woke up lying on the bed, I heard the sound of a book slamming shut in the distance.

Gilbert: "Have you woken up? How are you feeling?"

Emma: "… How am I…?"

Gilbert: "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, since it looks like he used some medicine."

Emma: "Medicine…"

(… Oh, that's right!)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "Who are you?"

The figure who appeared at the right moment in my room was a man who wore a hood over his eyes.

Neither the doors nor the windows opened.

The man who appeared suddenly, as if he had blended into the room from the beginning, quietly moved around behind me without uttering a single word—

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "… It was Prince Gilbert's doing, wasn't it?"

I feel the haze in my head gradually clearing.

Prince Gilbert smiled refreshingly and put the book he was holding back on the shelf.

Gilbert: "I thought you would want to see me."

He walks up to me with leisurely steps and sits on the bed.

When I instinctively tried to escape, cold fingers intertwined with mine.

Our intertwined fingers, filling in the gaps, caught me like a lover.

Gilbert: "If you go back to the court now, we won't have time to talk, will we?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "What's with the disapproving look?"

(… Of course I disapprove.)

(I was taken out like this, and everything that happened at the festival.)

Gilbert: "You told me. You wanted me to like Rhodolite."

Even when I glare at him, Prince Gilbert just laughs it off.

Gilbert: "For me, the Rhodolite is you."

Emma: "… What do you mean?"

Gilbert: "I mean it just the way it is. You see, I've been with you ever since I came to Rhodolite, right?"

Gilbert: "Because of that, my memories of the Rose Country are filled with you."

Gilbert: "Loving Rhodolite is the equivalent of liking you, whom I hate."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "… I'm still trying to be nice to you, right?"

Gilbert: "Coming to terms with each other in a non-violent way... Yeah, it's just ideal."

Prince Gilbert's words are as sweet as a cake topped with a lot of cream.

The moment you put it in your mouth, it is so sweet that you raise your eyebrows—it is that kind of sweetness.

(I certainly wanted friendship. I want to fill the gap between Obsidian and Rhodolite…)

(… But…)

Emma: "What is the value of "love" without a heart?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chevalier: "—It seems that Eyepatch is provoking a civil war."

Emma: "A civil war!?"

Right after Prince Gilbert's uproar, it was Prince Chevalier who took me away from Rio.

Without any answer, I was thrown on his shoulder and taken into the round table room, where only the eight princes and Sariel are allowed to enter.

Chevalier: "That declaration in front of the public would be synonymous with giving up a woman if you want to build a friendly relationship."

Chevalier: "If we protect you, our friendship will fray; if we abandon you, we will have a peace that is only apparent."

Chevalier: "Whatever the actual situation, it has been engraved in people's perceptions."

Chevalier: "Tomorrow, many people will be coming for you."

Chevalier: "There will be quarrels between those who wish to befriend Obsidian and those who do not."

Chevalier: "… Some people may try to kill you, some people may try to get close to you, and so on."

Chevalier: "Naturally, many voices will reach the royal family. If we make the wrong choice, it could lead to a massive uprising."

Emma: "… Oh, no…"

Chevalier: "It seems that the Worldwide Disaster has begun in earnest... Interesting."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "... Prince Gilbert's 'like' isn't the same as 'like'."

(If you really want me to like you, you shouldn't mess with Rhodolite.)

I clasp the hand that is holding me back and dig my fingernails into his cold skin.

Even so, Prince Gilbert's smile never falters.

Gilbert: "Is this what it means to fall in love with me?"   //   "You know what I like about you?"

Gilbert: "I used to love everything like a fool."

Gilbert: "Like you, from the flowers on the side of the road to the stranger, all of them."

(Oh…)

Gilbert: "But along the way I realized. I am a "prince of the Land of Deceit and Corruption."

Gilbert: "… Everything I love betrays me."

Gilbert: "So I changed my mind. I thought, "Why don't I just control everything I like?"

Gilbert: "The more important things are, the more you trample them and take them into your hands."

Gilbert: "Don't betray me, stay by my side for the rest of my life."   //   "I hope you won't betray me and that you'll stay by my side for the rest of my life."

(… That's not—)

I was about to open my mouth when Prince Gilbert pushed me down on the bed.

Before I could even get halfway up, he buried his face in my neck and bit me as hard as he could.

Emma: "It hurts."

My body trembles with an instinctive fear that my skin will be torn off.

Fear easily made me shrivel up emotionally.

Gilbert: "I'm going to love you. I'm going to love you and the country of Rhodolite."

Gilbert: "Fufu… I'm looking forward to tomorrow."

(I... what did I do wrong?)

(… Was it wrong of me to say, "I want you to like me," to Prince Gilbert?) //   (… Wasn't it wrong to say to Prince Gilbert, "I want you to fall in love with me"?)

(No, it's not a mistake. It's just that Prince Gilbert's "like" is distorted.)   //   (No, it's not a mistake. It's just that Prince Gilbert's "love" is twisted.)

Emma: "Prince Gilbert… the 'like' you get from dominating is one-sided."   //   "Prince Gilbert... the "love" that you gain by ruling is one-sided."

Emma: "… That kind of thing is lonely—"

I gasp as I start to say it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "I don't know what "lonely" means."

Emma: "You don't know?"

Gilbert: "I mean, I've forgotten how to define "loneliness."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "I told you, didn't I? I've forgotten what it's like to be lonely."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "That's fine. I am satisfied."

Gilbert: "It feels good to like someone and not be betrayed, doesn't it?"   //   "It feels good to be able to fall in love and not betray you, right?"

(… How many things do you have to betray to get to that point of view?)

I don't know the Obsidian country, and I don't know Prince Gilbert's past either.

However, there are some things that I have seen.

Emma: "Prince Gilbert's heart is full of scars."

Emma: "… You've been hurt so much that you've probably forgotten how much pain you're in."

Gilbert: "Well, what do you think?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "… I don't like this. Do you sympathize with me?"

Emma: "Yes, I sympathize."

I feel heat in the inner corners of my eyes and turn my face away.

(He's the prince of an enemy country, he's a terrible person, and he's a big villain who can say that he controls people without hesitation…)

I found traces of conflict in the process leading up to it, and it was heartbreaking.

(… He's the kind of person who carefully keeps the letters he received from his family a long time ago.)

(I can only imagine... but I think he used to be more loving.)

At least he's not the beast like he is now.

(I know it's a selfish wish, but...)

Emma: "… How can I turn you back into a person?"

Unintentionally, the mutterings spilled out.

The smile faded from Prince Gilbert's face.

Gilbert: "No one wants that."

Emma: "Aah…!"

He bites me on the neck with the momentum of being torn off again, and tears seep down my face.

Gilbert: "Will you stop meddling too much? It's an eyesore."

Gilbert: "I don't need your sympathy. You're just a prey to me."

Gilbert: "It's better not to say big things when you're being hunted, okay?"

(… I'm scared.)

Tears stream down my cheeks and wet my neck.

I grimaced, my face soaked with tears of hurt, and this time he licked me gently with his tongue.

Over and over again... My body responds to his touch, which is reminiscent of an affair on a bed.

It was painful and unpleasant, but there was also an unknown sensation that I had never felt before—

When I tried to escape, I was held by a strong force.

His cold body seemed to take my temperature away from me.

Gilbert: "Don't run away. If you upset me, I'll destroy your country... okay?"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

(His voice is so… gentle though…)

Gilbert: "I hate you, but I'm trying my best to like you."

Gilbert: "Then shouldn't you make an effort to like me too?"

His lips were buried in my neck, sucking up my skin.

One-sided dominance is what Prince Gilbert calls "trying to be liked"…   //   Prince Gilbert calls this one-sided control "trying to fall in love", but...

Emma: "… This is wrong."

Gilbert: "Then teach me, a beast, what true love is."

Gilbert: "一If you can?"

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟯 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation

If one were to ask which is more difficult: dominating people through violence or making compromises through communication,

It would definitely be the latter—trying to resolve everything through communication would be more difficult.

The little rabbit knows this, but she has not given up on communication.

And I've made up my mind that I'm not going to get involved in anything but violence,

On the contrary, she is willing to endure violence.

It may be a perfect score for the woman with the most beautiful heart in Rhodolite.

But I feel sick looking at her.

(… I made it happen, but I thought you would break sooner.)

Succumbing to people's violence and giving up on communication because it is impossible, the little rabbit herself becomes tainted with malice.

The pure white heart is now dyed black, and the "Final Judgment" is over.

But it was not easy to do so. The little rabbit is brazen.

(But…)

I stood in front of the little rabbit's room and gently opened the door.

As expected, there was a little rabbit lying on the bed and crying.

No matter how beautiful your heart is and how noble your beliefs are...

A heart stabbed with malice can't be okay.

(… A villain never misses a vulnerable prey, right?)

I hide my presence and sneak up on Little Bunny to look into her face.

Gilbert: "Wow, you're crying. Poor thing."

Emma: "!?"

The little rabbit, seemingly unaware of my presence, froze like ice.

Gilbert: "You must have let your guard down. But too bad, I wouldn't leave such a fun situation unattended."

The little rabbit raised her upper body and covered her face with her hands.

Perhaps she didn't want to be seen so much, but she was red all the way to the tips of her ears.

(… So cute.)

Gilbert: "I was waiting in front of your room, making sure my presence went unnoticed."

Gilbert: "Oh, and I am here to remind you about the cookies. You promised me 1,000 cookies, right?"

Emma: "… Please wait five minutes."

Gilbert: "As much as you want. In the meantime, I'll look around your room."

Emma: "No, please don't!"

Gilbert: "Didn't I let you look around my room before?"

Gilbert: "I wonder if you have something to be so flustered about."

Gilbert: "But don't worry. Even if you have embarrassing proclivities, I will still accept you…"

Gilbert: "I'll keep quiet about it to the people around us. …Maybe."

Emma: "I have no such proclivities!"

Gilbert: "Then there's no problem if I look around, right?"

The purpose of visiting the little rabbit's room was not just to make fun of her crying face.

(… Yeah, I knew it.)

Feeling a sense of discomfort, I open the book lightly on the desk.

A dangerous needle was attached to the bookmark, and I retrieved it without being noticed.

(The violence is getting worse. …I should probably nail them down soon.)

(Anyway, this guy... yep, I'll kill him.)

All the malice directed towards the little rabbit is managed behind the scenes.

What kind of action is likely to occur, and what real harm is done to the little rabbit?

They don't even know they're dancing in the palm of a trampling beast.

Gilbert: "Have you read this?"

Withdrawing my evil schemes, I pointed to the black book so as not to seem unnatural.

It was a book I had given to the little rabbit on a whim earlier.

Emma: "Yes… I read halfway through."

Emma: "I thought about it again, but the main character of that book is amazing."

Emma: "Confronting the insidious crimes in the court many times…"

Emma: "No matter what obstacles stand in her way, she keeps looking forward and never cries or looks down."

Emma: "She had a dazzlingly pure and beautiful heart, and even the people around her were inspired by her…"

Emma: "… I don't think I can do it."

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

(I see... so that's what the little rabbit thought.)

(Certainly, I may have been too virtuous and lacked a sense of humanity.)

Gilbert: "The girl in the book might have cried, too, just not written down, you know?"   //   "The girl in the book might have been crying just because it wasn't written, right?"

Gilbert: "Even a girl with a beautiful heart has troubles and pains. It's natural because she’s human."

Gilbert: "… It's just that the author missed it."

Gilbert: "I've been imagining a girl who smiles happily every day, but I just haven't gotten to the deepest parts of her life." **

Emma: "I... see."

Gilbert: "That's right."

(After all, you must see the real thing in person.)

(This haul alone was worth the trip to Rhodolite.)

I turn my back to the book and once again wrap my hands around the crying face of the little rabbit.

She looked awful.

But somehow, I didn't think it was ugly.

Gilbert: "Honestly, I thought you were a young woman who never cried."

Emma: "… I do cry too."

Gilbert: "Yeah, it seems so. But you care about others and hide it."

Gilbert: "You keep killing your heart by saying "I'm fine"…"

Gilbert: "In the end, you will become a beast like me."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

(Saying "I'm fine" isn't okay.)

(… Just like I used to say, "It's okay" every time I killed someone.)   //   (Same as me, who used to say, "I'm fine" every time I killed someone.)

If you fake the pain of the wound, you will soon feel nothing, and even "okay" will become unnecessary.

If you don't feel pain, you won't cry.

Gilbert: "Crying means you are still human."

Gilbert: "You should take such good care of yourself."

Gilbert: "If you keep lying that you're fine, then I'll see... okay?" ***

(You shouldn't become a beast.)

(—No, wait... It's contradictory.)

(Why am I comforting you?)

(I'm the one who cornered the little rabbit, and I'm looking forward to seeing if she turns into a beast.)

(I would have rather thought about catching up or something…)

Something is preventing the evil schemes of the trampling beast.

I can't figure out what that "something" is, and it makes me feel uncomfortable.

(It's like I'm resisting myself. …It's weird.)

Gilbert: "Hey, do you want me to comfort you?"

Emma: "N-No…"

Gilbert: "Where do you want to be bitten?"

Emma: "What kind of comfort is that!?"

I tease the little rabbit in order to get rid of the discomfort that has built up.

The tears seemed to stop as we exchanged light banter.

I unconsciously breathe a sigh of relief when the little rabbit bites me as usual.

Gilbert: ". . . . . ." 

Emma: "Prince Gilbert?"

(… I should have made you cry more.)

(Ah, but it's unpleasant to see you cry for other people's malice instead of mine.)   //   (Ah, but it's unpleasant to see you crying from the malice of others and not of me.)

(I'm sure that's what this is.)

I pinch the soft cheeks of the little rabbit.

Although the tears had stopped, they were still wet.

Gilbert: "It's boring. You've already stopped crying."

Gilbert: "I thought it was funny to see you cry."

Emma: "Forget about it!"

Gilbert: "Ahaha, who are you talking to?"

Gilbert: "Come on, let's go, Little Bunny."

(… Let's distract ourselves by eating.)

I open the door and prompt the little rabbit to make cookies.

In doing so, I thought I heard a small, inaudible murmur.

Gilbert: "…? Did you say something?"

Emma: "No, nothing."

Emma: "Just… thank you."

Gilbert: "My kindness has bad intentions, okay?"

Emma: "Still, I feel a little better. I feel like I can do my best again tomorrow."

Gilbert: "… You do that a lot."

Emma: "I cried, but I don't want to give up."

Emma: "And besides, it's a good thing that Prince Gilbert came to Rhodolite…"

Emma: "As I thought, I want you to fall in love with me."   //   "After all, I want you to like me."

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

For a moment, I forget to fix my expression.

(What... is one of the reasons you endure that malice so silly?)   //   (Why... is one of the reasons why you endure such malice so desperately such a silly thing?)

(To a beast that has lost its love, it's all nonsense.)

Gilbert: "Is that what you were thinking?"

Emma: "… I was thinking. I wanted you to like me so much that you wouldn't want to trample Rhodolite."

(I see... the little rabbit was secretly harboring such a purpose…)

(… Maybe I'm getting so uncomfortable and inexplicable right now.)

(I just don't want that to happen.)   //   (But that's a problem.)

(… That's the only thing I can't accept.)   //   (… I just can't take that.)

Gilbert: "It's up to you, Little Bunny. Good luck?"

(If I'm really starting to like you...)

A new malice is rapidly growing.

It was an unexpected move that had never been planned before.

(I have to control you so that I can "like" you… right?)

[otomefiend]

Alfons Sylvatica & Elbert Greetia

Collection Event: The past records

Chapter 1

Every little snippet makes me love Al & El even more. 🙃

A little while before the little robin got lost in the dark night...

~~~

Liam: "What are you looking at, Al? Are those photos?"

Alfons: "Mhm, from the time when Lord El was a little boy. I came across them when rummaging through the valuables in his room.

Liam: "Ahh, what a little angel."

The album held by Alfons contained many photographs of Elbert.

Alfons: "This one is from the time when a photographer came to Greetia household demanding to take a photo of El and not taking a no for an answer."

Alfons: "I felt sorry for El, who looked stiff, unable to move."

Alfons: "Here, El was 10 years old."

Alfons: "This one was taken when he was put in a dress by some pervert(s) who wanted to take pictures of him in `a cute outfit while he was still pretty`."

Alfons: "Well, he certainly looked cute."

Liam: "If you know all of this, does it mean you were already with Lord El back then?"

Alfons: "It'd seem so, yes."

Liam: "Huh? But I can only see pictures of Elbert in here and not a single one of yours, Al?"

Alfons: "I don't like photos."

Alfons: "Besides, people behind the camera were satisfied with capturing Elbert."

Alfons: "I was pouting in a corner, playing with a cat."

Liam: "Haha, you went through such a cute phase yourself."

Alfons: "Excuse me. I'm breaking the new cuteness record with every passing moment."

Liam: "Still, it seems strange. Why are you with Lord El?"

Alfons: "Why are you asking this out of the blue?"

Liam: "Because... It seems El isn't capable to live without you, Al."

Liam: "You, on the other hand, don't seem like the type to stick to one place or one person."

Alfons: "That's just like you! I'm touched that you know me so well. Look, I'm crying."

Liam: "Jeez -- let me finish."

Liam: "I just thought that there must be a deeper reason for you to have such a long and meaningful relationship with someone."

Alfons: "...There's no deep reason for it."

Alfons: "Though if I had to say something, then it'd be that I left whether to stay with him or not down to chance, after he slowly grew on me..."

Liam: "Left it to chance?"

Roger: "Are you talking about that crazy game you play against El time to time?"

Roger interjected after suddenly approaching them and taking a drink from the shelf.

Liam: "Huh? You know about it!?"

Roger: "Does it mean that you don't?"

Liam: "Eh? Am I, by chance, the only one who doesn't?"

Roger: "Well, Jude and Ellis might not know since they recently joined the Crown."

Liam: "Phew, I'm glad it's not just me then."

Alfons: "I was having a pleasant chat with Liam."

Roger: "That's fine, I just invited myself in."

Liam: "So, what's the game you've mentioned?"

Alfons: "We call it the Dead or Alive Game."

Liam: "Dead or... what? Disturbing name."

Alfons: "Heh, your eyes lit up at the mere mention of danger."

Liam: "You know that 'curiosity' is my weakness, and you're trying to tempt me."

Alfons: "-- We try it once a year."

Alfons: "Will I continue to live by Lord El's side or... will I disappear?"

Liam: "How come...?

Alfons: "Well... at first, it was just an idea."

~~~

This was shortly after I had been placed in the care of the Greetia family.

Having just lost his father, Lord Elbert was very unstable.

As Liam had said, I didn't like the idea of interfering in people's lives,

So, unsurprisingly, soon enough I felt it was time for me to leave the mansion.

I guess being young back then, my consciousness opposed to the idea of leaving him alone. I decided to make a bet.

Alfons: "Lord Elbert, I've made you some tea. Would you like a cup?"

Elbert: "...... thank you, Alfons. ...no need to call me `Lord`.".

Alfons: "It's not because of you--- it's that butler of yours being a nuisance."

Elbert: "...... then, you can call me whatever you like."

Alfons: "Why?"

Elbert: "You're... my only friend."

Alfons: "...hmm."

Alfons: "So, um, the tea."

Alfons: "Which one would you like to drink?"

~~~

Liam: "So that's how the game started? Which part of it was Dead or Alive?"

Alfons: "One of the teas I brewed was an ordinary Darjeeling tea."

Alfons: "The other cup was filled with a poison that could take you to the other side after just one mouthful!"

~~~

[otomefiend]

Alfons Sylvatica

Collection Event: I want to know every inch of you

A very quick translation, so please forgive any errors/awkwardness. Here's to hoping Kate will manage to fluster this guy one day. Cause it ain't today.

~~~

Alfons: "Physical examination...?"

Kate: "Regular checks are performed as part of the Crown's healthcare system. Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated."

When Victor asked me to collect everyone's details, I called Alfons to the infirmary.

Alfons: "If that's the case, then go ahead. Do as much research as you like."

Kate: "There are some red marks on your neck and chest that..."

Alfons: "Hmm... those could be scratches from a cat or a dog."

(... if he says so. I shouldn't pursue the matter further)

Alfons: "I get marked easily. Would you like to test it yourself?"

Alfons ran his hand over his skin invitingly.

Crimson flowers blooming on his pale skin drew my gaze. The sight unsettled me and made me avert my eyes.

Kate: "No need to concern yourself with me!"

Alfons: "Oh, I see. That's a shame..."

~~~

(All right, now that I've learned all I needed to know)

Kate: "The assessment is over. Thank you for your cooperation."

Alfons: "Please wait. It looks like some fields are still empty?"

His finger tapped the corner of the record sheet I was holding.

(Huh...? I thought I filled it all in)

Indeed, the last item was still left blank. What was there ---

Kate: "The most important entry... 'erogenous zones'!?"

Alfons: "My my, this seems like an interesting section, don't you agree?"

Kate: "It must be a mistake! I'll go ask Victor!"

Alfons: "Why don't you just measure it according to the instructions?"

Alfons: "If it's a mistake, you can erase it later."

Alfons: "Lord Victor is busy, that's why he left this task to you, am I right?"

Alfons: "I don't think it's worth wasting time confirming this..."

(Ugh... he's probably right)

Kate: "T-then... could you shed some light? On your erogenous zones that is..."

Alfons: "Now then, you want to know where they are?"

Kate: "Yes?"

Alfons: "Thinking about it, it's hard to pinpoint the exact location..."

Kate: "... every day you return at dawn and yet you don't know?"

Alfons: "Uh-huh, haven't got a clue. Can you help me find out, Kate?"

Alfons: "Touch my body... Try to find a place that makes me feel good."

(I really should refuse...)

(...but he's right, I need to complete the records properly)

After pondering on it for a moment, a wicked idea came to mind.

(... this could be a perfect opportunity to expose Alfons' weaknesses)

Up until now, I had always been at his mercy.

But if I had succeeded, this was going to provide a perfect opportunity for a payback.

Kate: "...... fine, I'll do it. It's part of my task after all. Please, sit on the chair."

He sat in silence as I reached towards his body.

Observing his reactions, my fingertips slowly traced his chest, then stomach and finally his waist.

Alfons: "Haa... haa... ah, this is good. Keep it up..."

(Such exaggerated noises... it's definitely an act)

(How can I find his erogenous zones...)

Kate: "Does it really feel good?"

Alfons: "Yes, of course. Your clumsy attempt is quite entertaining..."

Alfons: "Besides, it's enlightening to observe the way you touch me."

Kate: "Enlightening...?"

Alfons: "All of the areas you're touching in your search... might be the very spots you find pleasurable yourself."

Kate: "Ugh...... absolutely not. My... this has nothing to do with me!"

Alfons: "Oh, are you going to stop? If it doesn't matter, I don't see a problem with continuing..."

Kate: "I think I've done enough research already!"

Alfons: "There are places you haven't explored yet. For example... inside my mouth."

Kate: "Inside your mouth..."

My gaze lingered on his thin lips.

Alfons: "Stir it with your tongue, taste it, suck it... check if it feels good."

Kate: "Yeah, yeah, how typical."

Alfons: "Well, without it, the form will be incomplete."

Kate: "Ugh."

Alfons: "... this is only for research purposes, right? It's your job to investigate after all."

Kate: "Fine..."

It felt wrong. It set off my alarm bells since I knew those were devil's whispers ---.

Alfons: "... As expected, you're an excellent fairytale expert."

How was it possible that one piece of praise could bring me so much joy?

Kate: "Nn...."

I carefully placed my hand on Alfons' shoulder and pressed my lips to his.

Then I wrapped my tongue around his and tried my best to stimulate him.

(It's a decent try, but... does it really make him feel good?)

Preoccupied with kissing him, I had no chance to pay attention to how Alfons was doing.

Alfons: ".... You're such a pitiful girl."

I heard him mutter in a gentle tone of voice ---.

Kate: "Huh!? Mnn...."

This time, it was Alfons' tongue that entered my mouth.

My head was spinning from kisses so intense that my earlier ones seemed like child's play in comparison.

(This is ridiculous...)

(I was supposed to look for Alfons' erogenous zones, and yet it was me getting lost in pleasure...)

When our lips finally separated, I was the one who was exhausted and breathing heavily on his shoulder.

Alfons: "....many thanks for your efforts in the investigation. You've been very helpful."

Kate: "You're wel...."

Alfons: "After all... that debauched face of yours might be what excites me the most."

Alfons: "... well, please write in your report that my whole body is an erogenous zone."

Alfons: "If there's a need to write anything to begin with..."

(......what?)

Hearing his strange remark, I quickly looked at the form... and noticed that the last section was nowhere to be found.

(No way, Alfons' ability to change perception...!?)

When I looked up to give him a piece of my mind, he was already gone.

~~~

Alfons: "Heh,... you troubled thing, so serious and so completely fooled."

~~~

[cheshireliam]

'Absolutely Obedient Maid' Collection Event

Jude Jazza

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

special thanks to @otomefiend for providing the story~ ♡

Jude: Some guy you don't even know demanded you to be his maid, and you were about to respond with “yes, understood”.

Jude: … Are you into that kind of stuff? I’m repulsed.

Kate: That’s not true…!

And why were Jude and I bickering again?

It started when a woman happened to bump into me while I was accompanying Jude as a fairy tale writer. She looked like a maid, and accidentally dropped the laundry she was carrying…

The man next to her who appeared to be her master was about to whip her, when I reflexively jumped in to shield her from him. The “deal” I made with the master seemed to have upset Jude.

Kate: I just thought that if I did the laundry, that maid wouldn't have to get hurt.

Jude: You have a strong sense of justice. I’m impressed (sarcastic).

Jude: There was no guarantee that laundry would be the only thing you'd be doing.

Kate: We can’t make sure of that anymore, though…

Before I could even nod, the master who said to me “if you shield her, you’ll be a maid and wash the dirty laundry” turned pale and ran away the moment he saw Jude.

Kate: It’s not always you see people turn pale at the mere sight of someone’s face. … Until that face was yours.

Jude: But thanks to that bastard, you don’t have to become a maid anymore, isn’t it?

Kate: What?

Jude: Are you going to leave your debt unpaid?

Kate: …!?

My body instantly grew tense like a reflexive reaction.

I was way too familiar with the weight of the words “indebted to Jude”.

Kate: … I- I’ll treat you to lunch as a thank you.

Jude: I don't want that.

Jude rejected my offer and stared down at me with predatory eyes.

Jude: A debt, huh… ah, that’s right.

His thin lips lifted into a sinister smile.

Jude: How about becoming my personal maid as a way to repay your debt? If you can do that for some stranger, you can do the same for me, yes?

Jude: I’ll show you just what it means to be in a contract of absolute obedience.

…

Jude: What? I can’t hear you. Say it again.

Kate: … Ggh.

Jude: If you don’t say it louder, I’ll stuff a cloth in that useless mouth of yours. You better do your best.

I was with Jude in one of his trading company’s warehouses, where I trembled with fury at his degrading comments.

Kate: … I will obey your every word, Master.

Jude: Sit.

Kate: … Huh?

Jude: Didn’t you just say you’ll obey me? Sit.

Sitting on a crate, Jude hurled heartless and shameful commands at me, and I gritted my teeth while obeying every one of them.

A shiver ran through my skin as I sat on the chilly warehouse floor.

Kate: … Rather than a maid, I feel like a dog.

Jude: You’ll obey my every command, so that makes you no different from a dog.

Jude stood and carelessly stepped on the hem of my long skirt with his fancy black shoes.

(I won’t be able to stand up quickly like this—)

Jude: Shall I rip these clothes off, put a collar on you, and take you on a walk?

Kate: A- Absolutely not…

Jude: Can a dog talk back to its master?

Jude: If you’re not willing to obey me, then you don't need this mouth.

He reached out to cover my mouth with his large hand, and I immediately apologised.

Kate: I- I understand. I was too thoughtless, I’ll reflect deeply on my actions…!

Jude: Oh, really? I’ll forgive you if you get on all fours and bark for me.

Kate: … gah 😖.

My face turned red in embarrassment from that humiliating command.

(...... I’ll even toss my pride into the sewers if it means I can finally put an end to this.)

I unwillingly got on all fours as ordered while glaring at Jude.

Kate: … ugh… woof.

Jude: Hah, you look like you want to chew your master’s head off.

Jude: … I like that defiant look in your eyes.

Kate: Wha…

Jude: I didn't plan to play around with you but…

Jude: I’m interested in hearing how you scream and cry.

Kate: …!?

He grabbed my arm and before I could process what was happening, he roughly pulled me up and pushed me against a wall.

Both my hands were pinned together against the wall, causing me to be unable to resist.

Kate: L- Let go… — ah!

My body jolted as he pushed his leg in between my legs.

(Are you kidding me right now, no way, is he serious?)

Jude: …

Jude stared coldly down at me with an unreadable expression.

Kate: N… No… ah

I struggled and tried to escape, and a sweet numbing sensation ran through my body when Jude’s knee rubbed against the spot between my legs it was touching.

My head turned into a mess, filled with feelings of fear, frustration, and shame.

Jude: … What are you so worked up for? I barely moved.

Kate: Move… please move your leg away…

Jude: Getting yourself off using your master’s body? You fail as a maid.

Kate: That’s not…!

Jude: How about you deal with this by yourself as punishment?

(... You’re the worst!)

His whispering in my ear sent shivers through my spine, my legs felt like they were about to give way.

Jude: If you saw another woman being treated the same way you are right now, what would you do?

Kate: …!? Of course I’d call for help…

Jude: Tch… you’re a real idiot.

His cold gaze didn’t look like he was mocking me, but rather he looked angry.

Jude: You’re supposed to answer “I’ll ignore it”. You didn't learn your lesson at all.

Kate: Wah—!?

He pressed his leg harder against me.

The sensation it made between my legs caused a noise to escape my mouth involuntarily.

(I- I can't believe I just made that noise…)

Jude: How do you expect to “help” someone with that weak little body of yours?

Jude let go and I fell to the ground, turning red in humiliation.

Jude: If you want to keep hanging around me, then drop all that sort of lip service and virtuous thinking.

Kate: …!

Jude: If you can’t do that, then just make up some bullshit excuse for the mission and go back to sleeping curled up in the castle, Princess.

I stabilised my ragged breathing and bit my lip.

(... Jude is warning me.)

(I can’t do that… I can’t abandon my ideals and my mission.)

(Also… why does he have to resort to such dehumanising methods to give me a reality check?)

(I… I want to understand him.)

I took a deep breath to pull myself together and faced Jude directly.

Kate: I choose neither option.

Jude: … Looks like I should've shut your mouth after all.

Jude muttered those words of displeasure and left the warehouse.

And I dragged my aching knees and body after him—.