Ah… ahhh… Leiira…
The voice—too young, too fragile to be heard now—vanished the moment his eyes fluttered open. As his lashes lifted, clear droplets traced the corners of his eyes, pooling at the curve of his ear. Leira blinked dazedly, fingers twitching as if his very blood were draining from his body. He lay in bed, the blankets meticulously tucked around him, as though someone had carried him here.
Every inch of him ached as if his bones might shatter. The bedroom was dark, the only light the silver glow of moonlight spilling through the window.
The moonlight was bright.
Bright enough to judge every right and wrong in the world.
A man sat with his back to the moon.
His posture was slumped, his usual proud neck—trained never to bow—bent like a broken soldier’s. Dark lashes cast shadows over hollow cheeks. Leira knew this man. Too well. Knew the weight of his body, the unhesitating touch of his hands, the way his breath had once burned against his skin. Yet now, he was a stranger.
“E… Edwin…”
His voice was hoarse. The man lifted his head slowly, as if dragging it through tar. The storm had passed; the night sky was cloudless, moonlight pouring in like liquid silver. Through the damp strands of his hair, the wounds Leira had left on him were exposed—raw, unhidden. Leira stared at them for a long, silent moment.
“……This isn’t a dream, is it?”
It’s not a dream… He murmured it again. The skin that had always been smooth as white marble, unyielding as stone—now bore marks he’d never seen before. He didn’t need to touch them to know they weren’t human. Black scales glinted around the edges of the jagged, reddened wounds. Countless nights, countless hours spent tangled together, and never once had he seen such a thing on Edwin’s body.
The green eyes that had always burned with cold reason and sharp wit were dull now, lifeless. He looked exhausted, like a sentinel worn down by decades of loneliness, teetering on the edge of collapse.
“Edwin…”
“……Yeah.”
“I don’t understand anything.”
“……”
“It all feels like a dream…”
Leira reached out slowly. Edwin didn’t stop him, even as his fingers drifted toward the wound on his forehead. The touch was light, almost clinical, tracing the scales before pulling away. The retreating hand held no emotion, yet Edwin flinched as if sliced by a blade.
“Edwin…”
“……”
“Explain it to me.”
“……”
“I don’t understand anything…”
“……”
“It’s not a dream.”
……Isn’t it? Leira exhaled shakily, as if the truth were a weight crushing his ribs. Edwin remained motionless, a statue carved from silence. Leira didn’t press him. He waited.
“You…”
That was all he managed. The silence stretched. Edwin’s lips trembled—just slightly.
“Promise you won’t abandon me.”
The answer came out of nowhere. Leira frowned in confusion, tilting his head. Edwin’s jaw tightened.
“Promise you won’t throw me away.”
Leira’s brows knit deeper.
“That’s what you’re—”
“Promise me!”
The quiet voice suddenly sharpened. Edwin’s eyes reddened. His usually flawless features twisted—lips that had once curled into affectionate smirks or roguish grins now snarled. His broad chest heaved, struggling to contain the storm inside. Leira had never seen him like this.
“You want me to ask?”
“……”
“If I ask, then what?”
“……”
“If I ask… what happens then?”
“Edwin.”
“You told me not to think about it. That it was just one mistake. That it’ll never happen again, so forget it.”
“Edwin…”
Leira’s voice cracked with unshed tears. Edwin stared at him, his sapphire-bright eyes frozen, watching the tears pool like he was observing a stranger.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“……”
“We’ve been pretending this whole time, haven’t we? You don’t need to remember now. Forgetting’s better. But—”
“……”
“Don’t abandon me.”
You can’t. Edwin’s murmur was barely audible as he stood from the chair. The moonlight made his skin look corpse-pale.
“Go back. The carriage… no. It’s too late. Stay the night. Sleep here. I’ll call a carriage in the morning.”
“Edwin!”
Panicked, Leira tried to lunge for him—but his body, sluggish and uncooperative, betrayed him. His arm shot out just as his legs gave way, sending him tumbling off the high bed.
THUD!
Edwin, who’d been turning toward the door, flinched at the noise. Leira lay on the floor, clutching his ankle.
Normally, his body would’ve moved before his mind even registered the fall. But now, his limbs refused to obey. Edwin stood frozen, staring down at him like he was something unfamiliar. Something fearsome. Leira groaned, gripping his ankle.
Edwin didn’t move closer. Didn’t flee. He just… watched. As if he’d broken some ancient taboo and turned to stone mid-glance.
“Edwin…”
“……”
“It hurts…”
“……”
“I’m in pain…”
Leira’s voice broke. Edwin covered his eyes, as though the sound alone were too much to bear. He stumbled back until his spine hit the door, then slid down it, collapsing to the floor. He looked utterly shattered—like a man who’d just received news of a loved one’s death. For a long moment, he said nothing, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“……I wanted to be…”
“……”
“Like you.”
“……”
“That’s why I did it.”
“……”
“I don’t know if I was wrong… or if the world just has to be different for me, no matter what I do…”
“……”
“……That day, it was so hot. It was summer, and I…”
……was so small. So insignificant. Edwin’s voice was fragile, like a dying ember, but his lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. Even now, with his deepest wish twisted beyond recognition, the memory still dragged that expression from him.
He told Leira about the little black snake.
A naive, foolish creature who knew nothing of the world. A tale of a merciful human and a snake who mistook itself for one—beautiful as a fairy tale, yet Leira struggled to believe he was the protagonist of that story.
The scorching season when the sun blazed like a curse. The sprawling estate, always bustling with people. The glass tank, the doting hands of a young master… and the black snake.
The snake in the story was a fool. So foolish it forgot it wasn’t human. It wore human skin, mimicked human ways, until it forgot it was anything but human. It walked on two legs, held hands, played the part of a dutiful son and citizen. It wore fine clothes to shield itself from heat and cold, used delicate utensils to refuse eating like a beast.
But its nature was vile. Black scales, sinister green flashes in its eyes—it was destined to crawl on its belly.
Leira listened to the cold, relentless self-loathing and couldn’t believe it. Not the words, nor the depth of the hatred Edwin didn’t even realize he carried for himself.
His voice was calm, almost clinical, as he listed the facts. Too detached for a confession, yet it carved something sharp and jagged into Leira’s chest. He thought of how Edwin sometimes called his own body a slab of meat—how he’d laugh bitterly, treating himself like carrion. That cruel, self-mocking tone now layered over this revelation, devoid of even a hint of self-pity.
Leira couldn’t move. He didn’t know if it was the story that paralyzed him, or the realization of the abyss of self-hatred Edwin didn’t even know he carried.
He had no answers.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
I’M CRYINGGG, WTF WITH THIS SUDDEN ANGST😭😭😭😭