TBR CH109

Even monsters only have a single heart, just like humans.

— From an ancient investigation report, printed on the inside cover of one of the earliest popular science books on monsters.

Asta thought there was something a little off about humans.

It had only been a week since he and Isidor officially started dating. Between hectic planning and the quiet moments of hand-holding and kisses, time passed far quicker than expected. Life itself tasted sweeter than before—so much so that the Black Book could hardly tolerate being around them.

“You two,” it huffed, fluttering in midair, “don’t need to be holding hands every single moment. Especially you, Isidor. Stop smiling just because I said that—”

Seeing Isidor lean in deliberately, Asta subtly pulled him closer. The human returned the hug without hesitation, his emerald eyes nearly betraying amusement. But he ended the embrace quickly, turning with mock seriousness to the Black Book.

“We just got together. It’s a bit hard to rein it in. Sorry, you’ll have to bear with us.”

“You’re just making things up,” the World Consciousness wrote gloomily. “Honestly, you two have always been like this. I thought things would calm down after you became official. After all, you spend every night together now. I assumed all the intimate stuff had already happened…”

As Asta read that, he reached up and plucked the Book—disguised as a seabird—out of the air and dropped it back on the table. He tapped the page with a knuckle, and the written words vanished like a tide retreating from white sand. On the blank page, the World Consciousness awkwardly explained:

“I leave every time! Seriously, I always vanish when you head back to the cabin.”

Asta gave a soft, polite smile.

Monsters have pitch-black eyes, and behind Asta, the tentacles lurking in shadow stirred faintly. The Black Book realized, with dread, that even gentle Asta wasn’t to be trifled with. It didn’t want to end up soaked again.

Oddly enough, it was Isidor who played the gentleman this time.

The human naturally took the Black Book from Asta and stroked its spine, soothing it. He was a natural liar—gentle, beautiful, and disarming. Yet the Black Book still shuddered at the memory of being alone with those icy emerald eyes.

“Anyway,” Isidor continued, rifling through notes full of monster data, “we were discussing Subject 17 from Sector R—the ‘Old Crow.’ I think she might be a vegetarian. Her weakness is…”

Asta immediately shifted into attentive-listener mode.

At first, the World Consciousness saw nothing strange. But over time, something began to feel wrong.

What was it exactly?

That fleeting look on Isidor’s face just now—it felt fake.

When Asta took a call, Isidor had to stay behind. As far as the outside world knew, Isidor was dead. Asta tucked him into bed beforehand, making sure he stayed warm.

Leaning against the wall, Isidor stared at his wrists.

The red marks were gone. The first healing session had been rough, but the rest were gentle. Sometimes a tentacle would wrap around him tightly, but never hard enough to bruise. His skin was pale but not ghostly—his only sunlight exposure had been during the “Dawn Project.”

He felt healthy. The injuries hadn’t fully healed, but even the internal wounds had begun to scab. It had once been dire—fractured ribs, bleeding near the heart. But now, truthfully, it was nothing serious.

Seven years ago, as a living weapon, he had been trained to recover and return to combat without pause. Rest was a foreign concept.

And now? Now he was loved by a star. It felt like a dream come true. But after a life of snow and hardship, disbelief came first.

Fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of abandonment.

Asta always indulged his anxieties, gently explaining that he was still healing—that now wasn’t the time. But Isidor knew better. The wounds weren’t that bad anymore. Whenever he grew emotional, the monster remained calm.

According to the Black Book, they were already intimate. But not quite intimate enough.

Was it that humans are never satisfied?

Isidor knew he wasn’t being rational. He felt like someone under a dome, staring up at unreachable stars. What if this was all a misunderstanding? Hugs could be friendly. Even kisses, perhaps. But not this. Not enough. Friend was a term he taught Asta.

But not lover.

Maybe Asta didn’t understand love. Maybe he didn’t feel desire.

Maybe Isidor had wrongly claimed the role of a lover while still being only a friend.

At first, these thoughts were whispers in the dark. He told himself they weren’t true. Asta’s love had to be romantic. He could feel it during their kisses. He was sure of it.

But the longer nights dragged on, the more unbearable it became. No matter how he wept or begged, all he received was soft, unwavering refusal.

He never let Asta see his fear.

Because deep down, he was terrified that speaking it aloud would make it real.

But now, he had no plans to let go.

Isidor lowered his eyes. Shadows concealed the green of his irises, fading to darkness.

His face flushed. Especially at the corners of his eyes. He bit his lip lightly and unbuttoned his robe.

One. Two. Three.

His ankles no longer felt cold. The slight change made him blink rapidly.

Three. Two. One.

The door opened. Asta’s footsteps were soft, careful not to wake him.

Three. Two. One. They stopped. Asta stood beside him.

That familiar scent of ocean salt was in the air.

No need to count anymore. Asta could see him now.

Lately, Isidor seemed uneasy.

But every time Asta looked at him, Isidor would smile like nothing was wrong. And every time, Asta backed off. He didn’t want to push.

Those moments passed quickly.

Most of their time was filled with joy. Asta finally understood what people meant when they said love was like sunlight. When he reached out and Isidor instinctively clasped his hand, he felt warmth—even though the human wasn’t physically warm.

And the kisses. Asta tried not to get addicted to their sweetness.

But even Isidor’s trembling lashes felt like they brushed over his heart. That first kiss should never have been compared to a pastry. No dessert could compare.

More than friends. If only he had realized sooner.

Asta guiltily stopped himself from wrapping Isidor up with his tentacles. He’s still healing. Don’t scare him.

That was why their kisses remained soft, restrained. Asta feared he would lose control.

He wasn’t human.

He was a monster, ruled by instinct. The sea had shaped him. He didn’t know what was right. He only knew he wanted to be a good lover.

He glanced at the Black Book.

“Why must I hear every single romantic detail—”

The Black Book hastily wiped the line away. But Asta had already read it:

Still, from everything you’ve said, there’s clearly no problem. You love him. Anyone can see he loves you. Everything is going perfectly.

The monster made a soft, thoughtful hum.

“But tell me— even you noticed something off about him today, didn’t you?”

The world consciousness didn’t even have time to reflect on how it had somehow become a relationship advisor in this world before being pulled in by the monster to make up the numbers. Well, at least they weren’t outside—otherwise, it would’ve just gone straight online to consult an emotional advice forum, treating a dead horse like a live one.

The Black Book, completely inexperienced in matters of the heart, even looked crumpled as it wrote:

“You said he’s seemed a bit uneasy before, but I didn’t notice—maybe it was your imagination. But today, Isidor really did seem a bit off. Try recalling what happened yesterday?”

Yesterday had been an ordinary day—at least during daylight. The three of them had reviewed their final-day plans together until a sky torn wide open tilted down its hazy and dim twilight. As it claimed, the Black Book behaved itself and left to handle its own tasks, leaving the rest of the time to Asta and Isidor.

“No.”

Asta remembered that it had said so.

The monster’s dark eyes flickered with a hint of helplessness as the human unconsciously nuzzled into its arms.

Isidor’s clothes hung loosely on him, revealing large patches of skin. Now, the marks left from friction had faded to faint red traces—like the swirled place in a cake where whipped cream meets strawberry jam.

He had done it on purpose. The monster thought, its fingers twitching slightly, nearly commanding the human’s clothes to move on their own and wrap him back up.

But that didn’t seem like a good idea.

So it reached out and tucked Isidor’s clothes in place itself. The night was already deep, the bedding warm. When its fingers touched the human’s skin, the monster was startled by the heat—then felt that searing warmth slide from its fingertips down into its heart, like little red sparks leaping wildly in its awareness.

Isidor grabbed Asta’s reaching hand and looked up.

What met it was a pair of pleading emerald eyes.

Asta closed its eyes and was silent for two seconds, then pulled its hand back and gave him a gentle, pure hug. The human stiffened in its arms, while it slowly ran its hand down his spine, chin resting against the soft, chestnut-colored hair, mapping out the bones beneath the flesh.

It had never thought of things that way before. But now that they were close, it could feel that Isidor’s physique was actually very well-suited for swift movement and explosive attacks—like a kingfisher, able to drive a blade into someone’s heart before they could react.

“That’s not related at all.”

Isidor weakly objected in a small voice.

“No. You’re not fully healed. Even if the surface looks fine, it’s not okay.”

Asta paused, staring in the dark at the tension in his back, like a flower waiting to bloom: “If it really becomes unbearable, I can help you like last time. But you said humans actually don’t…”

“I’m fine,” Isidor cut in quickly. As always, the monster noticed the flush of red on his ears.

He cleared his throat, and his tone sounded completely normal:

“I… I’m okay. Let’s rest.”

What followed was just like every previous night. Asta used their embrace to speed up his healing gently and patiently. That was all that had happened last night.

“?” The Black Book wrote a small question mark. Asta had been silent too long.

“No,” the monster didn’t want to tell the world consciousness things it didn’t need to know. “Nothing happened.”

But at the same time, it was reflecting on things. Maybe it had been too cold, too business-like. Even though Isidor had sounded completely fine at the time, it should’ve looked into his eyes more closely.

The problem was, back then it had also been restraining itself. Every time Isidor gave that kind of look, it could barely control its own limbs. It was like a thousand voices whispering at once, making its fingers itch:

Wrap him up. Hold him still.

Warm breaths, mixed with lost kisses, landed one by one. The monster reached out to steady the human in its arms, feeling they weren’t so different—just barely holding onto surface calm. Deep inside, a powerful urge surged and whispered—

“Devour him.”

“He wants to be consumed by you.”

The monster didn’t need food—not in the sense of eating humans. It understood that the beastly impulse to “consume” wasn’t about literal hunger.

But no. When things reached that point, Asta would always hold the human tightly. It would quickly use its powers to re-scan his body for any remaining injuries, and once the process was done, all those chaotic thoughts would vanish. The method was surprisingly effective—so much so that it made the monster angry.

The human seemed completely unaware of how injured he really was.

From the moment he could even slightly move again, he treated himself like an invincible kingfisher. But even though his broken bones had been mended, a light squeeze from a tentacle could easily re-break them; even if the bruises had faded, a careless move would cause the scabs to bleed again.

And yet he kept trying to lure it into doing something reckless with those same limbs.

His strong physical constitution wasn’t meant to be abused this way. Though Asta knew its protective instinct was a bit over the top, it had to straighten out the human’s thinking—after all, the research institute had never taught the kingfisher to take care of himself. Not before, and especially not after his name was declared obsolete.

That’s why it would not allow Isidor to reclaim the power temporarily housed in the Black Book too early. Letting a damaged body be hit by a power surge would suppress the symptoms, but what he really needed was gradual recovery—not a pile of hidden dangers.

Even if nothing inappropriate was happening, even if it believed it could control itself, the monster was determined to make the human truly understand how important his body was.

He had to learn to care for himself.

“I mean,” the Black Book wrote carefully, “I just had a thought.”

Asta pulled itself away from last night’s reflections. Maybe that was the reason Isidor was acting strangely. If so, it resolved to talk to the human properly.

But now, the world consciousness seemed to have a new idea.

“Have you… ever talked to him about the issue of time? Think about it—you’re an ancient monster, and Isidor is just a human. Even if he’s not an ordinary one, without interference, he might still feel uneasy about the future.”

That sounded… reasonable.

“So… uh, have you ever thought about doing something?”

The Black Book seriously analyzed the situation and offered a bunch of ideas, then looked up at the monster with great anticipation. Asta knew exactly how to hit its weak spot—despite always pretending to be reluctant, the world consciousness was deeply invested in being useful.

Especially with something this important. Once the monster and the human sorted things out, they’d both owe it thanks.

“Hm. I understand.”

Asta’s lips curved slightly. For a monster, this could count as a very polite smile—one that genuinely held clarity and sincere emotion. But in the next moment, it softly said, “Goodbye,” and neatly closed the Black Book.

Using an incoming communication as an excuse, it temporarily left. It shouldn’t linger too long.

It already couldn’t wait to see Isidor.

Right before returning to the room, Asta replayed the night’s events and resolved not to make that mistake again. It would talk thoroughly with Isidor—heart to heart. Lovers should be honest with each other. That advice it had once read on a relationship forum echoed once more.

There shouldn’t be any problem—

It had even prepared a gift for him.

When it entered the room, its footsteps were light, even though it knew the human would always be awake waiting. Through the window, the dark sea outlined a touch of white waves. It walked over to Isidor’s side—

And then saw what he looked like at that very moment.