Chapter Twelve.
By some miracle, Klein made it out.
He wasn't entirely sure how.
In fact, he wasn't entirely sure how he had managed to leave that strange place, find his way outside, locate transportation, and somehow end up on a bus heading home.
The entire journey existed in his mind as a series of disconnected fragments.
Klein sat by the window with his shoulders slightly hunched, his body pressed as far into the corner of the seat as possible. His head rested against the cool glass, his eyes half-lidded as the city passed by in a blur.
He was exhausted.
Not the ordinary kind of tired that could be fixed by a cup of coffee and a few hours of sleep. His entire body felt heavy, as though someone had replaced his bones with lead and filled his muscles with sand.
His back ached.
His legs felt weak.
And his lower body...
Klein's expression tightened.
He didn't even want to think about it.
At this point, his brain seemed to have abandoned him entirely. He couldn't remember which street he'd walked through, how long he'd waited for the bus, or even when he'd decided that taking public transportation was a better idea than simply collapsing somewhere on the sidewalk.
Somehow, he'd gotten on. He was going home.
That was enough.
Klein closed his eyes.
Shower. Food. Sleep.
In that order.
Preferably without having to think about anything else.
Unfortunately, the bus ride wasn't nearly as peaceful as he wanted it to be.
At first, Klein didn't notice the stares.
He was too exhausted.
Then he felt it.
Someone looking at him.
Klein opened his eyes slightly.
A middle-aged woman sitting across the aisle had been staring.
The moment their eyes met, she quickly looked away.
Klein frowned.
...Was she looking at me?
He dismissed it.
Probably nothing.
He turned back toward the window.
A few minutes passed.
Then a young man sitting several seats ahead glanced over his shoulder.
Their eyes met for barely a second.
The young man immediately turned around.
Klein's frown deepened.
Okay.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Then another passenger glanced at him. An old man wearing a monocle. For some inexplicable reason, the sight made Klein's skin crawl.
And another.
Some were subtle about it—a quick sideways glance before looking down at their phones. Others weren't nearly as discreet, staring for several seconds before suddenly becoming fascinated by the scenery outside.
Klein slowly straightened.
Why is everyone looking at me?
His first instinct was to check whether something was wrong with his clothes.
He looked down.
His shirt was wrinkled, but otherwise normal.
His trousers were slightly disheveled from his earlier struggle to get dressed, but nothing particularly unusual.
Then a woman near the front of the bus glanced toward him again.
Her eyes lingered around his neck.
Klein's hand immediately rose to his collar.
"..."
His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin there.
He froze.
Oh.
Right.
The marks.
Klein's face slowly heated.
He pulled his collar higher.
It didn't help.
If anything, it probably made him look more suspicious.
Don't look.
He stared firmly out the window. He saw all sorts of things outside: a morning stall, a red-haired customer waiting in line for a snack, pedestrians hurrying along the pavement...
Nobody is looking.
A few seconds passed.
Klein glanced at the reflection in the glass.
Someone was looking.
He immediately turned back toward the window.
They're definitely looking.
His ears burned.
He tugged at his collar again, trying to conceal as much of his neck as possible. Unfortunately, the faint reddish marks were still visible above the fabric.
Worse, there were several of them.
Klein suddenly became painfully aware of how suspicious he must look.
His hair was a mess.
His clothes were rumpled.
His complexion looked terrible.
His movements were stiff because practically every muscle in his body hurt.
And now he was sitting on public transportation with his collar pulled halfway up his face, looking like he had just escaped from a particularly questionable situation.
Klein closed his eyes.
I hate my life.
The bus continued moving.
He could feel another pair of eyes on him.
Then another.
Klein resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.
Why couldn't I have simply stayed home today?
He briefly considered getting off at the next stop and walking the rest of the way.
Then his aching legs reminded him exactly why that was a terrible idea.
Klein remained seated.
Silent.
Humiliated.
And increasingly convinced that every passenger on the bus knew something he desperately wished they didn't.
By some miracle, he eventually made it home.
Klein stood in front of his apartment door for several seconds, staring at it as though he had never seen it before.
"..."
He blinked.
He looked down at the key in his hand.
When had he taken it out?
More importantly, when had he unlocked the door?
Klein slowly pushed it open.
The familiar sight of his apartment greeted him.
His old sofa. The small table beside the window. The stack of unopened mail he'd been meaning to deal with for several days.
Everything was exactly where he remembered leaving it. For some reason, that sight gave him an overwhelming sense of relief and unease.
Home.
He had actually made it home.
Klein stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The moment the lock clicked into place, his shoulders sagged.
"..."
He stood there for another few seconds.
Then his body made the decision for him.
Shower.
Food.
Sleep.
In that order.
Preferably without having to think about anything in between.
Klein dragged himself toward the bathroom, his movements sluggish. Every step reminded him of the soreness that had settled into his muscles.
His shoulders ached.
His back hurt.
His legs felt weak.
And his lower body...
Klein's face tightened again.
No.
He was not thinking about it.
Before he could even open the bathroom door, his phone vibrated.
Klein stopped.
The familiar ringing filled the quiet apartment.
"..."
He stared at the screen.
Roselle.
Klein's eyelid twitched.
Not now.
His entire body was begging him for a shower, food, and several hours of unconsciousness. He had absolutely no energy left to deal with whatever nonsense Roselle had gotten himself into this time.
The phone continued ringing.
Klein stared at it.
He almost let it go to voicemail.
Then he frowned.
Roselle had followed that strange woman yesterday. And Klein hadn't heard anything from him since. For all he knew, Roselle could have gotten himself into some serious trouble.
With a reluctant sigh, Klein answered.
"What?"
His voice came out tired, hoarse, and noticeably irritated.
There was silence on the other end.
Then—
A loud, miserable sob.
Klein froze.
"...Roselle?"
Another sob.
This one was considerably louder.
Klein's exhaustion vanished.
"What happened?!"
Roselle's voice came through between ragged breaths.
"K-Klein..."
"Are you hurt?"
"I—"
Roselle broke down again.
Klein's expression became increasingly alarmed.
"Roselle, what happened?!"
"I'M NOT A VIRGIN ANYMORE!"
"..."
Silence.
Klein stared at the wall.
His brain stopped.
"...What?"
"I'M NOT A VIRGIN ANYMORE!"
Roselle wailed again, sounding as though he'd just received a terminal diagnosis.
Klein slowly lowered himself onto the edge of his bed.
What the hell? You have never been a virgin for the longest time.
"That's what you're crying about?"
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"
"I really don't."
"I was scammed!"
Klein's brows furrowed.
"Scammed?"
"That woman!"
Klein immediately remembered yesterday.
The strange woman Roselle had mentioned.
"You followed her?"
"Yes!"
"And?"
Roselle inhaled shakily.
"She wasn't a woman!"
Klein blinked.
"...What?"
"She was a man!"
There was a long silence.
Klein's expression slowly went blank.
Then—
A strangled sound escaped him.
He covered his mouth.
His shoulders began shaking.
"Klein!"
"I'm sorry."
"You are NOT sorry!"
"I am."
"You are laughing!"
"I'm not!"
"You absolutely are!"
Klein pressed his lips together, desperately trying to regain his composure.
He failed.
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"HAHA—"
"KLEIN!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
He wiped the corner of his eye.
This was terrible.
Absolutely terrible.
But somehow, after the morning he'd just experienced, Roselle's misfortune was almost therapeutic.
This is karma.
He couldn't help it.
Roselle had never been particularly good at keeping his pants on whenever an attractive woman appeared.
And now he'd apparently been tricked by someone who wasn't even a woman.
Klein nearly laughed again.
Then his smile gradually disappeared.
"..."
He looked down.
His own thoughts suddenly turned against him.
Because, unfortunately, he wasn't exactly in a position to laugh. He had also spent the previous night with a man.
In fact...
Klein's face slowly reddened. He had been the one to make the first move. His expression became complicated.
...This is getting uncomfortable.
He silently listened as Roselle continued lamenting his fate.
"How could this happen to me, Klein?!"
"You followed a stranger because you thought she was attractive." Klein could only sigh and listen to his somewhat unhinged senior.
"I was deceived!"
"You still followed her."
"I was under the impression she was a beautiful woman!"
"And isn't he pretty?"
"Yes!"
Klein rubbed his forehead. See? You even admit it.
"Roselle, calm down."
"How am I supposed to calm down?!"
"You survived."
"That's not the point!"
"You're alive."
"That's also not the point!"
Klein sighed.
"Then what's the point?"
There was a brief silence.
Roselle's voice became quieter.
"...It wasn't even bad."
Klein froze.
"...What?"
"I said it wasn't bad."
Another pause.
Roselle sounded genuinely confused now.
"I mean... I thought I'd hate it. I thought I'd feel completely disgusted afterward. But I don't."
Klein's expression twitched slightly.
Roselle continued, sounding almost offended by his own confusion.
"And that's what's bothering me!"
Klein stared at the floor.
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
Roselle groaned.
"He was a demoness—or whatever the hell he was—and somehow..." He hesitated. "The experience itself wasn't unpleasant."
Klein closed his eyes.
This conversation had taken a direction he hadn't expected.
Roselle sighed.
"...The taste of a demoness ain't bad."
Klein's eyebrow twitched.
That is definitely something I never expected to hear before breakfast. And I could confirm, this man really is crazy.
But beneath the absurdity, he understood the confusion.
Roselle had probably spent the entire morning trying to reconcile what had happened with what he thought he was supposed to feel.
Klein let out a quiet sigh.
"Roselle."
"What?"
"Stop thinking about what you're supposed to feel."
There was silence.
Klein continued.
"You were deceived, and that's something you have every right to be upset about. But don't force yourself to hate the experience just because the circumstances weren't what you expected."
Roselle didn't answer.
Klein looked toward the bathroom.
His reflection in the mirror caught his eye.
Messy hair.
Exhausted face.
And faint marks still visible around his collar.
His face warmed.
He quickly looked away.
"As long as both people know what's happening, agree to it, and are safe..." Klein hesitated.
"Then I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with two adults being together."
Roselle was silent for a moment.
"...You're surprisingly reasonable about this."
"I have to be."
Klein stared at the floor.
"Times have changed."
He paused.
"Besides, being overly conservative about something like this doesn't magically make people happier."
There was another silence.
Then Roselle quietly said,
"So you wouldn't judge me?"
"No."
Klein sighed.
"I'd judge you for following a suspicious stranger because you thought they were attractive."
"...Klein, I've never told you this before, but you really do have a rather twisted sense of rationality."
"The hell are you talking about? Between the two of us, I think you have the more twisted sense of logic."
"That's fair."
Klein leaned back slightly.
"Just be more careful next time."
"I will."
"Good."
"..."
Roselle suddenly asked,
"Wait."
Klein's stomach tightened.
"What?"
"You sound strangely calm about this."
"..."
Klein's eyes drifted toward the bathroom door.
He remembered the unfamiliar bedroom.
The handsome young man.
Those black eyes.
That infuriating smile.
His own hands moving before his brain could catch up.
And the aftermath.
His ears slowly turned red.
"Because I'm tired."
"That isn't an answer."
"It is today."
Roselle hummed suspiciously.
Klein immediately interrupted.
"We'll talk about this properly when we meet."
"Fine."
"And Roselle?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't follow any more suspicious women."
"...What if they're really beautiful?"
"Especially then."
Roselle laughed weakly.
"Fine."
Klein sighed.
"Get some rest."
"You too."
The call ended.
Klein lowered the phone and stared at the blank screen.
Silence returned to the apartment.
For several seconds, he simply sat there.
Then his gaze drifted toward the bathroom.
"..."
His face heated again.
Consensual.
He remembered that much.
At least, he was fairly certain.
He had made the first move.
But then again—
The drugs.
Klein covered his face with both hands.
"Why am I thinking about this?"
He groaned.
There was no point denying that the experience had felt good.
That was probably the most embarrassing part.
Klein slowly lowered his hands.
"...Forget it."
He stood up.
Shower.
Food.
Sleep.
Those were still the priorities.
Everything else could wait.
Especially the memory of a certain handsome man with black eyes.
Klein walked toward the bathroom.
He stopped before the door.
"..."
Then, very quietly, he muttered,
"Still a psychopath."
And finally stepped inside.
Klein stayed in the bathroom far longer than he intended.
At first, the shower was supposed to be quick.
Wash away the sweat. Clean himself up. Forget everything that had happened.
Simple.
Except it wasn't.
Every time Klein thought he was finally done, he noticed another lingering trace of the previous night and had to clean himself again. The more he tried to convince himself that he was being thorough, the more irritated he became.
"Such a bastard…"
Klein muttered under his breath.
His face was already burning.
He stubbornly refused to think too hard about how those traces had gotten there in the first place. Unfortunately, his body seemed determined to remind him.
The soreness hadn't disappeared either.
If anything, after being under the warm water for so long, he became painfully aware of just how tender he was. The repeated strain had left him irritated and uncomfortable, and even the slightest movement made him wince.
Klein stared blankly at the tiled wall.
This is ridiculous.
He had endured all sorts of injuries during his engineering work. Burns. Cuts. Bruises.
None of them had ever been this embarrassing.
He carefully finished cleaning himself and straightened, only to immediately regret the movement.
"...Ow."
His face twisted.
Definitely a psychopath.
There was no other reasonable explanation for how one person could cause this much trouble in such a short amount of time.
Klein eventually gave up on trying to make himself feel completely normal. He shut off the water, dried himself, and reached for his robe.
He hadn't realized how much time had passed.
The apartment was quiet when he stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still damp and his robe loosely tied around his waist.
Klein yawned.
Food.
That was the next priority.
His stomach gave an almost immediate response.
"...Finally."
He shuffled toward the living room.
Then—
Ding-dong.
Klein stopped.
His tired eyes slowly shifted toward the apartment door.
Food delivery?
That made sense.
He vaguely remembered thinking about ordering something earlier.
Without bothering to check his phone, Klein walked toward the door and reached for the handle.
The moment his fingers touched it, he paused.
Wait.
Had he actually ordered anything?
He frowned.
No.
He hadn't.
Klein's expression slowly changed.
...Then who is that?
The doorbell rang again.
"Coming."
His exhaustion overruled his caution.
He unlocked the door and pulled it open.
And immediately froze.
A familiar young man stood on the other side.
Black hair.
Handsome features.
That same infuriatingly calm expression.
Those black eyes.
"Don't randomly leave your ID around. They can be tracked."
As he spoke, Amon slowly stood up.
Then, with almost infuriating casualness, he reached into his pocket and took out a crystal monocle.
Klein's pupils contracted.
Amon slowly raised it to his right eye and put it on.
The corner of his lips curled upward.
Klein's entire body went rigid.