It Stings
It stings. From time immemorial, blood—human blood, that is—hasn't been a popular material. Even as a ritual catalyst, unless you're cursing a specific individual, there are always better options from monster blood. And if you really need it, humans are a dime a dozen anyway. Of course, blessed bloodlines or rare mixed-blood types are in high demand, but good luck getting your hands on those—they're rarer than stars in the sky.
So... it's not a familiar ingredient, that's all. I just didn't think of it. Plus, there's that instinctive revulsion. If someone called me a hypocrite for using monster blood without issue, I'd have nothing to say. My occasional healing potions have troll blood in them, after all. Call it a personal preference. It's like asking a vampire to choose between cold soup and animal blood—they'd pick fresh blood every time.
Why the sudden ramble? Because I had to deal with blood.
There sat Cecil on the chair opposite, beaming with that flawless, bright smile. Today was no different. She'd promised to help with anything... but I couldn't shake the unease. The guilt was inevitable.
Still... better than transmutation. Steeling myself, I showed her the well-sharpened knife. The gleaming blue edge looked vicious, like it could slice through anything. My hand trembled a little.
"Asha-nim?"
"Yeah..."
A small beaker sat on the table. Anyone quick on the uptake would guess what came next. I'd prepared a healing salve right away—no issues there. So... why the anxiety?
I stood there sweating bullets, speechless, until Cecil tilted her head.
"Does Cecil need to do something for you?"
...Sharp as ever.
With a sigh, I opened my mouth. No point delaying—it would just waste time.
"It's... kinda iffy, maybe... but I need a bit of your blood. Just a little... Uh, say no if you're uncomfortable."
Cautiously, I broached it, and Cecil smiled brightly in response.
"It's fine. If Asha-nim wants it, Cecil can give as much as needed."
...A little scary. That blind devotion felt almost too much. It was just blood, not an organ transplant, but her accepting it without a hint of hesitation, smiling all the while... If I had to say if it felt good or bad, it'd lean toward good. Or maybe my modern sensibilities from my past life were the issue. Was this the bond between homunculus and creator? Who knows.
Thinking about it, Cecil seems a bit different from the homunculi in the texts. Whether they lack records of emotions or just omitted them, there's nothing about them smiling or showing feelings. Master never mentions it, so maybe I'm overreacting. Or perhaps it's in texts I haven't seen.
"Asha-nim?"
...Not the time to dwell. Like me, Cecil's a little special now. Yeah, let's go with that.
"...Then, if you could."
"Yes!"
I handed her the knife, and without a moment's pause, she slashed her palm. No trace of fear—pure boldness. My face paled instead.
"C-Cecil, don't just—"
Blood dripped from her palm into the beaker: plip, plip. Watching the white glass turn red made my hands shake more.
Cecil tilted her head like nothing was wrong, squeezing and releasing her palm to let more flow.
"Asha-nim? What's wrong?"
"..."
Seeing her like this really drives home she's not human. But her blood was redder than any human's—like a crimson gem.
When the beaker was half full, I pressed a handkerchief firmly against her hand.
"Asha-nim?"
"This... should be enough."
Her healthy-looking face seemed a touch paler. I opened the medicine kit on the table, discarded the bloodied cloth, and applied ointment meticulously.
Cecil watched me smile, painless, as if my caring for her delighted her more than anything.
Waiting for the wound to close, I asked,
"...Didn't it hurt?"
"A little sting, but if it helps Asha-nim, it's fine."
"..."
What could I say? Did I even have the right? Like a duckling imprinted on its mother—blind loyalty. No, I made her this way.
"Cecil."
"Yes! Asha-nim!"
...That's why I had to say it.
"...Think about your body a little. If it hurts, say it hurts. If you don't like it, say no—I won't blame you."
Cecil tilted her head, still not getting it.
"It didn't hurt much for Cecil. And it's Asha-nim's request, so Cecil likes it!"
"...I see."
Confirming the bleeding stopped, I pulled her into a hug.
"...If it ever happens again, tell me then."
"Got it!"
Whether she truly understood... who knows. She just looked happy being held, stroked. Like nothing else mattered.
...Blind love. My mouth tasted bitter.
Maybe I should do something. She'd used trades well when Claudia taught her, but lately, no demands.
...I'd been slacking too. So, I had to step up.
"Cecil."
"Yes!"
"Anything you want... by chance?"
"Something Cecil wants?"
She lifted her head from my chest, eyes sparkling at me.
...Her honesty here makes me think she's just wired differently.
"Yeah, you gave me your blood... so you can ask for fair compensation."
"Hmm... That's hard. Cecil's happy just like this."
I chuckled, stroking her hair.
"No need to overthink. Something you saw on the way here, food you want, clothes to try— or toys, even."
She loves food... maybe that's it. She doesn't claim her share, so I had to provide.
After pondering, Cecil smiled and whispered in my ear.
...Caught off guard by the unexpected request. She sensed it, face falling.
"Is it no good...?"
...Why so perceptive? Some alchemists hate sharp kids—maybe this is why.
Now her dilemma was mine. Not as tough as slashing her palm... but still.
Scratching my cheek at her downcast eyes, I replied,
"...Okay. But I need your blood now, so... later."
"Really?!"
"...Yeah."
Might be karma. ...I'd prepare in the meantime. Tinkering while researching the blood.
"Rest up—you gave blood," I said, grabbing the beaker of sloshing red and leaving the room.
Time was short; had to hurry to Master's workshop.
Opening the door, I saw Master smoking spirit grass, Veronica reading.
They noticed, eyes meeting mine. Master stubbed out her pipe; Veronica closed her book.
Master spoke first.
"No issues?"
"...No."
"Good... You look more worn than that child."
"...A bit."
Master took the beaker of Cecil's blood, placing it in a preservative case. It'd clot otherwise.
But... the mood felt off. Master pocketed it, picked up a knife, and approached.
I flinched back—only to feel a soft cliff behind me.
Veronica's ant-like voice: "...Sorry."
She gripped me tight. No escaping her hold with my delicate frame.
My heart pounded wildly.
"W-Wait. This isn't what I think, right?"
"It is. You're an outlier too—not just the child."
Struggling just rubbed against her warm body.
The blue blade neared.
"G-Gently, please..."
"Think gentle stabbing hurts less?"
...Fair point.
Fuck! I cried internally. Who knew "you look more worn" meant this.