It felt like his belly was so full it was about to burst, and it was scorching hot. His legs were spread wide to either side, and for some reason it felt as though his entire body had been flung open. His body was left exposed, receiving something inside it. He couldn’t move at all.
“Blaine.”
“Hng, uagh…!”
At that moment, he felt the blazing thing that had been filling his belly begin to pour out, and Blaine screamed as he shook his head violently from side to side. His legs, flailing without his awareness, wrapped around something and pulled it back in. As soon as he did, the mass of fire that had been slipping out shoved into his insides again, surging upward. A shock slammed into the back of his head. His vision reeled, and from the base of his skull down his spine, a sharp, electric thrill shot through him. Somewhere between the pain and the crushing pressure, he sensed something faint. Something unknown, indescribable… achingly sweet and numbly tingling…
“Ah…!”
The agonized, gasping screams spilling from Blaine’s mouth gradually began to take on a strange, breathy tone. Each time the thing inside his belly withdrew a little and then thrust back in, the sensation that seeped in through the pain was unbearable. It made his toes curl on their own, scattered tears from his eyes, sent shudders through his hips, and above all forced shrill, broken moans from between his vocal cords.
“I-it’s… coming out—”
“You look like you’re in a lot of pain, so I’m easing it in little by little. Is it that hard on you?”
“Don’t… don’t pull back… it’s weird…”
“But if I shove it all in at once, you’ll definitely tear, you know.”
Something soft brushed against his soaking-wet chin and then fell away. Unable to think straight, he flailed at the air like a madman until his hands caught onto something, which he clutched tightly. His trembling body, drenched in cold sweat, pressed against warmth, and it felt like he might just barely survive.
“Aaaagh—!”
A horrific scream burst from Blaine’s mouth as his eyes flew wide in shock, echoing throughout the spacious room. Clinging desperately to the warm mass in front of him had eased the torment a little—when suddenly, the object inside his belly plunged deep and struck somewhere inside. Startled, he instinctively pulled back, but solid arms wrapped around his waist, blocking the movement. The thing that was pushed firmly upward filled a single point deep inside Blaine’s body.
Though he had no way of knowing that it was pressing against the very deepest point where his stinger—now gone—had once begun, he could instinctively feel it alongside the blinding pleasure flashing across his vision. He was alive.
“Ah… huh…?”
A wave he couldn’t tell was relief, pleasure, or pain came crashing over him, and the tension drained completely from his body. As his vision clouded over, Blaine drooled tears and saliva alike, his eyes half-open as he lost consciousness.
***
“Blaine…”
“……”
“You’re not going to eat today either?”
A gentle voice soaked through with concern reached him. The large figure curled up at one edge of the bed, wrapped tightly in blankets, flinched. The blanket slid down just a little with the tremor, revealing a man’s roughened face.
It was a mess. His eyes were hollow and sunken deep, dark shadows hanging beneath them. His skin, once dark like spilled black sugar syrup, had turned dull and parched, and his lips were cracked and dry.
A man with ash-white hair approached the tightly bundled mound of blankets and placed a hand roughly where his shoulders were presumed to be. With his other hand, he gently stroked the blanket-covered back.
“Try to eat at least a little. I’ll help you.”
“……”
“At this rate, you’re really going to ruin your body, hmm?”
The coaxing voice was achingly kind. After days of this repeated several times a day with no reaction, the man finally lifted just his eyes, staring blankly at the one before him. His features looked as though they had been sculpted and assembled by hand, silky threads densely wrapped around silver beads where his eyes were—eyes drooping heavily with worry. Watching them blink softly at him, Blaine gave a slight nod.
The man’s face brightened instantly, as if someone had lit a flame.
“You made the right choice! Come on, over here. Careful now.”
His body, stiff and creaking after days spent curled in the same position, was guided by hands that were gentle yet firm. Still wrapped in his blanket, wobbling unsteadily, Blaine was led to a wooden chair at the table. The man carefully held his arms with both hands and sat him down.
Blaine gazed gloomily at the spread before him: all kinds of appetizing dishes, a drink containing small, bright-red wooden berries, and at the very center, a plate holding a lavish mound of the most beautiful flower blossoms. His lips parted.
“Um… Hurel.”
“Yes, Blaine. Do you need something?”
“…Bees don’t eat flowers…”
Unlike pasta, risotto, sandwiches, and other foods meant purely for the pleasure of taste, there was a separate meal that was absolutely essential for living. For bees, that was honey. But judging by that pretty, radiant face—and apparently just as refreshingly empty a brain—the spider didn’t seem to know that.
“What? Don’t bees eat flowers like butterflies?”
“Strictly speaking, butterflies don’t eat flowers either. It’s not the flowers—they eat the honey inside.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Looking at Hurel’s beautiful brows drooping low and those silver eyes, swollen and shimmering as if they might burst into tears at any moment, Blaine let out another deep sigh. His body, having gone four days without even a glimpse of honey, was screaming with hunger.
“For now, if you keep not eating anything, your stomach’s going to get irritated, so at least have some soup. Okay?”
Of all things, he knew that much. Idiot, Blaine thought dully. With sunken eyes, he merely nodded. Hurel’s complexion brightened a little as he pulled a chair over and sat close, holding the bowl of soup. He carefully scooped some up and offered the spoon with pristine white fingers and neatly groomed fingertips. Blaine opened his lips.
The thick, rich, velvety liquid slipped past his crackling lips and touched his tongue. A savory, slightly salty flavor spread through his mouth.
It was better than expected. It didn’t ease his hunger at all, but it improved his mood just enough that Blaine obediently parted his lips for the urging spider. Watching him with clear delight, Hurel raised his thumb and wiped away the soup clinging to the corner of Blaine’s mouth, where his lips were split and cracked.
“You need to regain your strength.”
Hearing that, Blaine let out a hollow, exhausted laugh. After fainting from that unbearable pain and waking again, he’d cried hysterically, wailed in denial, and screamed like he’d lost his mind—but by now, he’d come to the painful realization that none of that mattered anymore.
Calming his dejected thoughts and considering things slowly, the spider in front of him hadn’t really done much wrong. Trying to eat him—well, that was instinct. Thinking of his precious stinger being torn out still made his eyes burn, but strictly speaking, whether the stinger broke or was pulled out didn’t actually change anything. Either way, he couldn’t return to the hive.
Even if he somehow forced his way back crippled, only death awaited him. Being brutally chased away would’ve been the best possible outcome. More likely, he’d be beaten to death for shamelessly returning with a body that couldn’t even work anymore. No—he was certain that’s exactly what would happen. That was the nature of honeybee society, where everything functioned perfectly, turning like precisely meshed gears.
A bee with nowhere to return couldn’t possibly survive alone. No matter the outcome, it was all the same. Just a matter of time. In the end, from the moment his stinger snapped, whether it was pulled out or not was never the important point.
Of course, there was no way the pretty-faced idiot had done what he did with any consideration for sparing Blaine a faster or less cruel end to his bee life. The fact that Blaine was miraculously still alive in this state was proof of that.
And then, suddenly, the unfamiliar foreign object now lodged behind him—where his stinger should’ve been—felt disturbingly vivid. It sent a shiver rippling down his spine. A suffocating sense of alien intrusion, and a faint, seeping revulsion.
