The Warning in Her Smile
Refusal. I still couldn't recall my own name, but the experience moments ago had somehow sharpened my sense of beauty. Lying there with my head pillowed on her thigh, I looked up at the child diligently cleaning the fluids from me with the showerhead and muttered, "The kid's got a rather fierce look in her eyes..."
Just as I'd said, her expression—brows slightly furrowed over those bright yellow eyes—felt somewhat mischievous. "Hm~? What is it, all of a sudden~?" Her tone had returned to its usual playful lilt, unlike the earnest way she'd been rubbing me earlier. How could she flip her attitude so easily, like turning over a hand? It was hard to tell which version was the real her.
"Usually you feel like a cat... but earlier you were so gentle, it surprised me." At my words, she let out a small laugh and looked down at me, her expression back to the one I knew well. A somewhat vicious look. One that seemed to provoke me. Yet it wasn't contemptuous. In the end, it was rooted in affection, and since her appearance matched my tastes anyway, it didn't really matter.
"Which look do you like better, oppa?" The sound of running water stopped. A sudden chill spread across my body as the heat drained away—a piercing cold that made every hair stand on end. When I came to my senses and looked at her face, a cold smile had settled there. The sight of her tightly closed lips stirred the same déjà vu, terror, and disgust I'd felt the day before, filling my chest.
I'd carelessly stepped into a place I shouldn't have touched. She hadn't shown open intimidation like last time, but the meaning was clearly a warning. I forced a casual smile onto my lips. "I like any look. You're my little sister, after all." I voiced the fabricated answer, hoping it was the right one.
She smiled again and turned the showerhead back on, carefully washing my body. ...
"Take your time and come out~" Having finished washing me, she had already slipped back into her usual cute tone. Leaving me behind, she closed the bathroom door and went out first. When I gathered my thoughts, I realized the same kind of fluids that had covered my body were now completely gone from hers as well. If that had been all, I might have assumed she'd simply rinsed herself off while I was distracted. But as she brushed past, only the sweet, pleasant scent of body wash and conditioner lingered on her skin.
Come to think of it, it had been the same when we first entered the bathroom. Even when I'd lain with my head on her body, which had been covered in semen until moments before, I hadn't smelled any foul odor—not even the usual scent of sweat. She had become clean without any visible process. Yet even after witnessing this grotesque sight again, the affection I'd felt mere minutes ago hadn't cooled. A human who had experienced this kind of pleasure in succession could never return to normal. It remained true that I'd trembled at the pleasure she gave and thought I wouldn't care what happened to me. Still, occasionally, when something strange leaked out from behind her solid shell, I felt a fear like facing something not human—a instinctive revulsion, not rational. This sensation, like flinching at the sight of something foreign, didn't seem to stop just because I was aware of it. ...
When I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, the closed door to her room came into view. I knocked lightly and called out a little louder. "Ai, are you in there?" No answer. Maybe she had fallen asleep. I pressed my ear to the door, but no sound came from inside. Trying not to dwell on it, I headed to the living room and put my clothes back on, just as I'd left them. Having satisfied my lust, hunger now stirred. I opened the fridge door—nothing had changed since I'd closed it yesterday. ...She'd said she'd eaten. But there was no sign anything had been taken out. The fridge, full of frozen and instant meals, showed no trace of anyone's touch.
Our morning conversation came back to me. Naturally, I pictured her sitting in front of the TV. ...
After finishing my meal in the kitchen, I didn't feel like going to my room, so I lay quietly on the living room sofa. The house was desolate, with almost no furniture and not a single form of entertainment. Even the TV she'd been watching was unplugged. What had she and I done in a place like this? The image of an empty house due to absent parents lingered in my memory. Her appearance seemed slightly different, but the existence of a younger sister itself remained in my mind. Yet the fact that I still couldn't recall basic details like her name suggested my brain was still broken.
The warm afternoon sunlight dyed the white living room floor. The color of the light and the faintly warm indoor air told me early summer had arrived outside. The sounds of bicycles and cars passing by the window drifted in. Because the road was narrow, they passed quietly without honking. The cries of cicadas and birds, fitting for the season, were also faintly audible. Lying on the sofa, I turned my head toward the window. Untrimmed grass and a completely dried, leafless dead tree caught my eye. The yard was as empty as the inside of the house, with no flower beds or potted plants. It looked withered even in summer, so it must have been dead. The house was a single-story detached home. The white noise from the infrequently traveled road brought a suitable fatigue. With memories full of gaps here and there, living like a beast driven only by desire felt rather pathetic. Even so, my eyes soon began to close on their own, as if all my questions weren't worth worrying about. ...
In my dream, I was alone in some room. I thought it was my own dark room with all the lights off, but the musty smell and the dust-filled air that hindered my breathing told me it was a place that didn't exist in my memories. Lying on the dirt-smelling floor, I hugged something and cried for a long time. Wishing, and wishing. I couldn't remember at all what I'd wanted. Only the sound of my heart burning black and beating quietly echoed in the cramped, smelly room. I couldn't remember why my heart hurt either. Like phantom pain, as if cut by a nonexistent blade, it simply ached quietly. ...
When I woke up on the sofa, drenched in cold sweat, it was late evening. I'd thought I'd only closed my eyes for a moment, but the view outside the window had already turned into pitch-black darkness where nothing could be seen ahead. Only the sound of leaves rustling against the wind quietly echoed through the house. The deserted road was completely empty, with no sign of human presence. I lay still in the living room, covered in dark shadows because the lights weren't on. Suddenly, the suspicion that I was alone in this house flashed through my mind. Terror surged again—this time different from the fear I'd felt toward the child. It was the opposite. It was the terror of her absence. The fear of being left alone again. The fear that I was living alone in this empty, sorrowful house.
I thought of her room. I wanted to see the child who must be inside. With heavy footsteps, I hurried toward her room. Without knocking, I roughly opened the door and saw her lying on the bed with the lights on, staring quietly at the ceiling. "Huh? Oppa, weren't you asleep?" Her voice, turning toward me, was its usual cheerful tone. From the lack of drowsiness in her voice, it didn't seem like she'd just woken up.
Right. This, too, was clearly abnormal. The "phone she left behind" she'd used as an excuse on the first day was nowhere to be seen in the room. And that wasn't all. In an empty room with no furniture except the bed, like mine, what kind of girl would just lie there staring at the ceiling without sleeping? If she was going to hide and imitate, she should do it properly. Ah, everything about her bothered me. Yet I, already thirsty for the comfort she provided, closed my eyes, lay on the bed, and pulled her into my arms.
"Eh, eh? What~ Did you have a nightmare?" Well, it was a nightmare. A nightmare that remained unchanged even after waking. Craving affection in the arms of some grotesque thing claiming to be my little sister—what else could this be but a nightmare?
"Puhihi... That tickles~ Oppa turned into a baby~" Even so, if I had to choose one, the nightmare after waking was far better. Being alone was enough now. It didn't matter what kind of existence it was. As long as something was by my side, that was enough. Silently burying my face in her stomach, I struggled desperately to escape the chaotic thoughts cluttering my mind. But my efforts were worthless. The moment her warm hand gently stroked my head, the throbbing headache instantly lightened, as if nothing had happened.
"Feeling better?" Still with my head buried against her, I nodded. She smiled and brought her head closer. "Want to do something that feels good...?" she asked briefly. Her sweet voice whispered in my ear.