INV 81

Jae had a strange dream. It was a dream where a beautiful, snow-white person called out to him in a sweet voice.

He didn’t know the face, yet he couldn’t understand why he felt such a sorrowful longing in that moment.

Perhaps it was because that light was something never permitted even once in Jae’s life. Jae lived a life of being beaten with a poker from a furnace. No, he lived a life worse than that. It was a life like an ashtray. That was simply what the life of a misfortune-absorber was like. A vessel intended to catch the phlegm spat out by others. A life that was nothing more. Since he was a mere yōkai, people felt free to pour violence upon him. That was why Jae’s name was Jae—Ash.

And yet, the person in his dream looked at someone like him with such warmth, it was mournful and miserable, stroking his hair over and over again.

The more he did, the more easily Jae fell into misery. He felt ashamed, wondering if his own filth had rubbed off on those delicate, beautiful hands that touched him. At the same time, a sharp cynicism welled up, thinking that since the man had touched him so fearlessly, this much was only natural. Then, he was suddenly dragged into a fathomless despair. How strange the heart is. What boiled over was a gray despair. He hated the man for shining alone. He wanted to ruin the beautiful man. He wanted to drag him down into his own filthy and hideous world. And he could not bear the self-loathing he felt for thinking such things in the first place. He was so full of hatred and shame that he never wanted to face him again…

“If you are awake, you should get up.”

It was then. The lattice door covered with rice paper slid aside with a clatter, and a figure stood there, cutting through the faint light pouring in. A voice resonated low, like the hazy dust floating in the air. It was that very same sweet tone he had heard in the dream. Even though there was a frosted strictness to it, what dwelt within was not loathing or contempt, but merely affection; Jae’s eyelids flickered. However, at the same time, he squeezed his eyes shut intentionally. Somehow, he felt he had to pretend to be asleep.

Was it because he feared that upon waking, everything would vanish like bubbles? Was it because the strange voice tickling his ears felt just like the dreamscape from last night? If this was a dream, was it because he never wanted to wake up?

Even though Jae’s behavior made it obvious to anyone that he was awake, the figure with the jewel-like voice said nothing more. This wasn’t what he wanted. He would rather hear just one more word. Should he pretend to wake up now? He felt irritable and unstable. Just as Jae swallowed his dry spit with a gulp, fortunately and miraculously, he sensed the figure tucking in his long sleeves and stepping inside the door. Having endured with his eyes forced shut, Jae felt the fine hairs all over his body stand on end as the man brushed past his side.

Mysteriously, the scent of an unknown flower drifted from the man with the jewel-like voice. Though Jae did not know it now, the fragrance flowing from him was that of sweet osmanthus. For Jae, who had lived a life miserably faithful only to his purpose as a misfortune-absorber, it was an excessively rich and brilliant scent. A dizzying shock, as if he might lose his mind just by encountering it, filled his nasal cavity and ravished his sense of smell.

Dressed in simple white robes, the Nameless One knelt in a corner of the room, neatly placing porcelain bowls and silver spoons onto a small tray. Since the child was awake, he intended to prepare and feed him a meal. He wanted to put flesh on that gaunt body where the ribs were visible. Meanwhile, Jae, listening to the clinking sounds with his vision blocked, wondered what the noise was and subconsciously pricked up his ears. His fox-shaped ears shot upward in an instant; watching the child who still mistakenly thought he was successfully pretending to sleep, the Nameless One almost let out a laugh. However, fearing the boy might think he was being mocked, the Nameless One suppressed the smile with effort.

During all this, Jae felt a peculiar sense of buoyancy, as if he were floating high atop a cloud.

If this was a dream, it felt like he should be waking up soon, but strangely, the sense of happiness would not fade.

Why was the man he saw in his dream still by his side? Why wouldn’t the voice that called him so sweetly leave his side? And who are you? He thought he had heard the name in the dream, but he couldn’t remember it. He only remembered that the pronunciation, which had flickered past, was very elegant.

Though he could not recall what that name was even in his memories, he remembered the name the man had given him. Chacha. Ridiculously cute. Unfitting for someone like him. Lovely… A pronunciation he feared might melt away inside his mouth.

If it were a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

But this had to be a dream.

“Wake up, Chacha.”

Because Jae was destined to die.

Though it was a fact you, beautiful as you are, do not know.

Jae was born because he had to die. A being born solely to die is what Jae—the Calamity—is.

Fate cannot be changed.

Therefore, the love you give was a poison that would kill Jae.

If there was a fate from which one could not escape, there was no way it wouldn’t be painful. There was no way a person who made him want to live wouldn’t be recorded as a brand of pain.

Jae slowly lifted his eyelids.

Revealed were reddish-gold eyes that had resigned from everything.

“Weren’t you hungry?”

What approached was a kind, affection-filled voice.

But Jae had to die.

So, things like love could neither be received nor offered.

“Drop dead. Human.”

At the venomous curse, the Nameless One’s fingertips flinched for a moment.

In the midst of the silence, rain began to fall.

On the day a strange master and disciple began living together in a thatched house deep in the mountains, the rain fell for a long time as if foretelling their fate.

⋆˙⟡

He had vaguely known that taking in a disciple would be exhausting, but he hadn’t realized it would be to this extent. The Nameless One, feeling quite piqued, gave a bright smile and snatched Chacha up.

“Let go of me!”

“Think about it. Would you let go if you were me?”

Even after four seasons had passed, Chacha did not open his heart.

Today, too, Chacha was attempting to flee.

Stupidly, did he not realize that this entire mountain domain was the Nameless One’s territory? Did he not know that the Nameless One’s power permeated from the deepest parts of the mountains to the shallowest?

The way he tried to escape endlessly was almost pitiful.

In fact, ever since taking Chacha in, the Nameless One had maintained several layers of barriers throughout the mountains. It wasn’t because he was worried about Chacha running away, but to protect the world from the demonic power Chacha possessed.

Chacha had an especially wicked demonic power. It was a power like a toxin that polluted its surroundings. It was a wicked energy so great it was hard to believe he was a young yōkai—to the point that one might wonder if all the yōkai in the world had been born with such terrible power, perhaps the world would have seen the downfall of all immortals and the dominance of yōkai by now.

For now, he seemed to be suppressing it desperately… but one never knows when the limit will be reached. To prepare for that time, the Nameless One was doing his utmost to maintain the barriers constantly.

It was likely due to being used as a misfortune-absorber; the Nameless One surmised as much. Unlike back then when he was like a boy, he had now grown quite like a young man, and his skin was fair and clear—but when he first saw him, hadn’t he been covered in all sorts of vulgar phrases written in ink? The Nameless One knew better than anyone about such tricks. Because the Nameless One was…

“Ha! Would I let go? Of course I’d let go, I’d have thrown me away! Aren’t you the one who’s crazy? Why the hell are you keeping someone like me around!”

“…What?”

The Nameless One reacted a bit slowly.

That was how much Chacha’s words made no sense to the Nameless One.

No, he understood them far too well.

Because he understood them so well, conversely, he couldn’t understand anything at all.

This terrible self-loathing, as if aiming a blade at one’s own soul, was something familiar to the Nameless One as well.

But why did this child end up having such sad thoughts?

The Nameless One instinctively felt that he needed to have a proper conversation with him. For four seasons, while the body of the boy-like yōkai child took in nutrients and bloomed into a young man, they had been unable to have a proper face-to-face encounter. The Nameless One was a god of exorcism and an immortal belonging to the celestial realm, while Chacha was merely a yōkai disciple.

However, it wasn’t just because of those external conditions that they couldn’t face each other. It was largely because Chacha showed such an intensely violent rejection. Because the Nameless One thought he was rebellious and found it hard to accept an immortal master of human origin, he hadn’t intentionally crushed him with power to make him pour out his inner feelings.

The thought crossed his mind that perhaps that had been the problem.

‘I suppose I just have to suppress him with force.’

It was a strange conclusion, but he had an intuition that this was the only way to break the current stalemate. As soon as he decided, the Nameless One hoisted Chacha, whom he had been holding by the waist, and threw open the door to his room. Chacha was flustered by the sudden change in height, and as soon as he was tossed onto the bedding, he tried to spring up and escape. However, the Nameless One’s scent was wafting far too sweetly inside the room. Ah, he couldn’t endure it like this. Chacha hesitated for a moment. And because of that very hesitation, he was caught firmly in the Nameless One’s grasp.

“…Ugh! What is this!”

Chacha looked up at him with a defiant gaze, then lost his words.

The Nameless One was practically pinning Chacha down and mounting him, and that sight brought Chacha a strange pleasure…

No, it was because it stirred a sense of greed.

That is to say, Jae—the Calamity—looked at this white-haired master who saw him as a mere disciple, yet was nonetheless beautiful.

‘I want to violate him.’

He simply wanted to violate him.

The name of the desire he had suppressed for four seasons, yet which had ultimately accelerated his physical growth because it could not be hidden, was…

“…Are you… erect?”

Was it the appetite of a yōkai, or the lust of a man?