The Witch (8)
I slept deeply. Truly, I slept like the dead. The kind of rest that left a refreshing clarity in its wake. Azazel wondered how long it had been since she'd last experienced such a comfortable night's sleep. It was so warm, so enveloping, that it almost felt painful.
She pressed her right hand against her temple and sat up. Plop. A damp towel slipped from her forehead. A wet compress? She brushed her forehead with the back of her hand and felt the lingering moisture. Her gaze fell blankly to the towel that had landed on her thigh.
“A wet towel… who…?”
“Are you feeling more awake now?”
The voice was so pure it seemed almost impossible—clear and transparent, like the chime of crystal. Azazel turned her head on reflex. There stood the woman she had resented, envied, and bitterly coveted, watching her with genuine concern.
She rubbed both eyes with her left hand, half-convinced she might be hallucinating. But her retinas unmistakably reflected Aria.
Her brain, somewhat restored after deep sleep, began spinning rapidly.
“………Why am I here?”
“Ain found you collapsed in front of the door.”
That’s right. She had lost consciousness right in front of him. Only then did the memory of her own pathetic state come rushing back. She had spent the night tossing and turning, haunted by nightmares, and had sought out Ashtain in a half-broken mental state. After pouring out complaints that bordered on a plea, she had simply collapsed. As if begging to be seen. As if declaring that without him, she was this wretched. She had fainted as though showing off her misery.
Looking back, it was utterly disgraceful. The thought that this woman had witnessed that humiliation made Azazel’s mouth go dry.
“……Is that so?”
“Yes.”
The conversation died. An awkward silence stretched between them. It was uncomfortable. After all, this was the very person she had condemned so viciously. No matter that she was the Saintess, she surely couldn’t welcome Azazel’s presence.
“How is your body?”
Aria’s question caught her off guard. Was she actually worried? About her? What a soft-hearted fool. Hadn’t Azazel viciously slandered and insulted her?
Azazel shot a sidelong glare at the Saintess, who was calmly folding the damp towel. Perhaps she was mocking her. No matter how much you thrash about, Ashtain is mine. Maybe this gentle concern was nothing more than a performance born of that sense of superiority.
Thinking that, her words came out sharp.
“What does it matter to you?”
“I heard you collapsed without any ointment. I thought it was only natural to ask, in case there might be something wrong with your body. If I made you uncomfortable, I apologize.”
What is this? Azazel had expected biting sarcasm, but the sincere worry on the other woman’s face left her deflated. She chewed her lip with a sullen expression.
“……Hmph. How kind of you, worrying about someone else. I suppose you’re not worried because Ashtain is already yours, right?”
Her tone was bleak. Aria looked troubled.
“Ain isn’t my property.”
“Ha, so you’re saying you’re his property?”
Instead of the immediate denial Azazel had expected, the answer came after a noticeable pause.
“Y-yes? Ah… that might actually be… kind of nice……”
Is her head filled with flowers? Noticing Azazel’s icy stare, Aria cleared her throat.
“N-no, that’s not it either.”
“Hmm.”
Aria tried to act nonchalant, but Azazel had already heard every last one of her filthy desires. With a completely flat expression, she spat out a single word.
“Bitch.”
“……That’s rather harsh language.”
“You like getting fucked that much? I heard everything, you know.”
“Y-you heard it all?”
“Wasn’t that on purpose? I thought you were broadcasting your mating sessions to the whole neighborhood.”
“……I can’t even look you in the eye.”
It was a lukewarm reaction. There was no satisfaction in snapping at someone like this. If I killed you, Ashtain would be devastated, wouldn’t he?
Azazel glared at Aria with venomous eyes before roughly tousling her own hair. That wouldn’t fix their relationship. It would only drive it toward ruin. Even if she killed this girl, would Ashtain ever turn to her? He might hate her, but he would never look at her again.
Perhaps sensing the strange atmosphere, Aria shrank back like a small animal and asked,
“Miss Azazel?”
More than anything, how could she kill someone who looked at her with such kind eyes?
Azazel let out a long, miserable sigh.
“……Where is Ashtain?”
“He went outside to exterminate some monsters.”
“Heh, same as always. That obsessive need to wipe out every last monster. Must be hard on you too, huh?”
“Pardon?”
Aria tilted her head. Was it really necessary to call it an obsession? If one’s brother or sister had been killed by monsters, she thought such a reaction was only natural.
Azazel continued without paying attention to Aria’s response.
“Eat, hunt monsters, rest, hunt monsters. Even on days off, hunt monsters. It’s just monsters, monsters, monsters. I used to wonder if his head was stuffed with nothing but them.”
The words were harsh, but on some level, Aria understood. When she had first met Ashtain, his life had been much the same. Still, it had been mentally easier than her time in the cult, so she hadn’t found the pattern as unbearable as Azazel did.
“It wasn’t that hard for me. When I was truly exhausted, Ain would suggest we rest.”
At the word “rest,” Azazel’s mouth fell open.
“That monster-obsessed bastard actually rested? In my time……”
In my time, he never rested. Why was this woman the only one receiving special treatment?
Frustration piled up in Azazel’s chest. Of course, she was overlooking one crucial fact: the difference in ability between Aria and herself. Aria had been powerless. Azazel was capable. Naturally, Ashtain had ended up devoting more attention to Aria. Personality played a part as well. Aria had followed his brutal pace without complaint, even until her body broke. In contrast, Azazel had done nothing but complain. It was obvious which of them he would treat more gently.
“……Anyway, he’s a madman when it comes to monsters.”
Azazel muttered with an exasperated expression. Though Aria didn’t say it aloud, she felt a pang of pity for her.
“I understand.”
Understand? What was this Saintess even saying? It wasn’t funny. Azazel snorted and lifted her chin.
“What could you possibly understand about that obsessive fixation?”
“You lost your older sister to monsters, didn’t you? So of course you would——”
“Wait. What did you say? Lost my sister?”
Aria realized from Azazel’s reaction that she had made a terrible slip of the tongue. He never told her. The realization brought both relief and self-loathing for having carelessly blurted it out.
“…………It was a slip of the tongue.”
To Azazel, it was absurd. If he had that kind of past, he should have just told her. Then she could have understood. Why had he told this woman but not her? Was it because this woman was special?
Her chest felt suffocatingly tight.
The two women fell silent again. This silence was twice as uncomfortable as before. Azazel rubbed her face with both hands, then tilted her head back.
“Seriously, my mood is ruined.”
“Is it because of me?”
“It’s not because of you, so stop worrying about it.”
Even if she said not to worry, sharing the same room made it impossible not to glance over. When Aria kept sneaking peeks at her, Azazel laughed bitterly at herself. I really am pathetic.
“More importantly, given his personality, I doubt he would have left the two of us alone together.”
Just as Azazel said, Ashtain had been reluctant to leave them by themselves. He feared that negative emotions might drive her to harm Aria.
Aria replied softly,
“I told him to go.”
“As expected of the Saintess. You have quite the courage. What if I did something to you?”
“Because I believed we needed to have an honest conversation.”
At the weight of those words, Azazel closed her mouth tightly. An honest conversation. What would that even look like?
“You love him, don’t you? Ain.”
It was a direct fastball. Azazel felt as though she had been stabbed.
“If that’s the case, what will you do? Will you step aside?”
Aria looked at Azazel slowly. She felt sorry for the pain in the other woman’s expression. She felt guilty for stealing his love. Many emotions swirled inside her. But she could not yield. Not anymore.
In the past—when she had still been bound by the Sex Cult—she might have hated herself and given up on Ain. She would have thought that the dirty, broken, half-witted version of herself was no match for Azazel. But not now.
Ain wanted her too. He whispered that he loved her every day. He gave her self-worth she had never possessed. This wasn’t one-sided love. It was mutual, complementary. How could she possibly give that up?
The man who had made her frozen heart beat again. The man who had opened her closed-off world. The man who had become her everything—how could she ever let him go?
“No. This place… I can never yield. Even if it costs me my life.”
At those words, Azazel’s face twisted. But that was all. She hid her emotions.
“Is that so? So you dragged me into this just to say something so trivial……”
“It’s not ‘trivial.’ I’ve simply become honest with my own heart.”
There was dignity in her voice. The noble resolve of a Saintess who refused to be swept away by any storm. Azazel waited silently for her to continue.
“Are you being honest with your current feelings?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Why don’t you confess to Ain that you love him?”
It was a blatant rebuke, a direct challenge. Azazel had never imagined hearing such words from this woman.
“……That’s……”
“Do you really think getting angry and throwing tantrums will make Ain like you?”
The words tore into her flesh, crushed her bones, and stabbed her organs. Azazel was at a loss for words. Aria continued.
“Your behavior is frustrating.”
“You… how dare you say that to me……”
“Are you just waiting for the other person to notice your feelings?”
Her breath caught. It was the heart of the matter. The exact bullseye. How could this woman pinpoint it so precisely? Maybe she wasn’t a Saintess but an archer.
“That kind of feeling doesn’t even deserve to be called love. If you truly like someone, you have to express it. You have to approach them sincerely. Why are you waiting? Why do you want him to notice on his own? No love can ever be realized that way.”
The words piled up like layers of sediment, pressing down on Azazel. Heavier and heavier. She felt like she would be crushed to death beneath their weight.
“What I feel——!”
So Azazel shouted.
“Is none of your damn business!”
Her voice trembled. Tears streamed down her face. Her expression twisted.
One girl looked at another girl. At those sincere words, the black-haired girl smiled gently.
“Because I like Ain too.”
That smile was so perfectly saintly that Azazel felt her insides churn.
“What does that matter! Are you trying to tell me you’re superior?”
Aria shook her head.
“No.”
“No? What do you mean no! Did you want to see me break down like this? What a lovely hobby! Fine, I admit it! I like Ashtain. I love him. That’s why this situation is driving me insane! Being stolen from by you, just sitting here sucking my thumb, feeling so pathetic and worthless and miserable that my heart feels like it’s shattering! It’s ridiculous! I feel like I’m going crazy!”
Azazel panted harshly, breathing ragged. Aria gently took her hand. Azazel flinched and tried to pull away, but Aria only held on tighter.
“You know how to express yourself.”
“………What are you doing?”
“Confess to him.”
Azazel let out a burst of laughter. It could only be called a bitter chuckle.
“And if he rejects me? What about my miserable, broken heart then? Will you take responsibility?”
“Do you want someone else to take responsibility for your love?”
Why? Her eyes burned. Her heart swelled.
“……….”
“I don’t think so. You wouldn’t want to see it end so vaguely.”
Azazel wondered how she had ended up in this conversation. Where had she first gone wrong?
“So confess to him. To Ain.”
Azazel’s lips wouldn’t move. Still, she managed to speak.
“You’re cruel.”
“Because a Saintess is meant to guide lost lambs onto the right path.”
“Is a path of thorns the right path?”
“Sometimes there are things one must endure. Trials that must be overcome.”
“………You and your pretty words.”
“Still, if it’s truly too difficult… would you like to lean on me?”
“What?”
Aria smiled awkwardly.
“They say a hug can bring comfort.”
The Saintess opened her arms. Her large, soft breasts came into view. They do look pretty cushiony.
Slowly, Azazel leaned into Aria’s embrace. Without a word, Aria quietly held her. Soon, the sound of muffled sobs filled the room.