TBR CH110

Upon learning about the accident at the Institute, we express our deepest regrets. However, since the report has clearly concluded that the incident was solely due to the “Kingfisher’s” negligence and unrelated to the experiment itself, the members of the Consulate have decided, after discussion, to continue funding support. We sincerely hope the Institute will produce results satisfactory to both parties in the future.
—The official response received to the Institute’s public “Accident Report” seven years ago.
A resolution that satisfied everyone.

Asta considered, for one second, the likelihood of reasoning with the current Isidor.

The conclusion: Impossible. Whether for humans or monsters.

From any angle, the human seemed prepared. That sleep robe had been tossed aside without care, the blanket kicked off in a mess. Even if he tried to appear deliberate, Isidor’s inexperience still showed—soft but tense curves like an unstrung bowstring, waiting to be held, to be played for real.

Yet his attitude wasn’t as vague or ambiguous as before.

Isidor looked up, eyelashes wet with salty tears, and even as those emerald eyes trembled in confusion, they still held a trace of clarity. Hearing Asta’s paused footsteps, he went further in presenting his “readiness,” elbows and ankles spreading out more against the bedding—his flexibility was genuinely impressive.

Even when showing his most vulnerable self, he wasn’t fragile.

It took real endurance and strength to hold this serving-platter posture he had placed himself in.

“Sorry, Asta,”
Isidor’s voice trembled with barely-suppressed sobs.
“I know this is ridiculous. But I want you so badly. If you don’t want this, just turn and walk away. I promise everything will be normal next time you come in…”

The sentence wasn’t finished before he heard footsteps. He paused, tried to smile and say something light—but found himself speechless, even too afraid to lift his eyes and glimpse Asta’s retreating figure. It felt like being drenched in bone-piercing cold water, with only an unquenchable flame remaining.

It’s fine. Nothing will change.

In that moment, he thought, unwilling and hopeless thoughts surged forward. He’d play the friend, be the ideal lover in the monster’s eyes, and never make another foolish attempt like this. Tomorrow, when the sun rose, Asta would hug him like always, and he would carefully respond—just as if holding a star destined to pass through his life.

The footsteps faded. Isidor felt his strength vanish.

Shivering, he released his grip on his knees, intending to curl up—

But in that very second, his pupils shrank slightly. He realized he couldn’t move. Still frozen in that awkward, humiliated position, he looked up in panic and finally heard the sound that the footsteps had masked:

The soft scrape of tentacles against floor and wall.

And then, the precise strike on prey.

Like pure black cords, they silently bound his wrists and ankles. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move—like a kingfisher specimen pinned down, trapped in the posture he had prepared so carefully.

“Asta?”

Isidor heard his voice tremble again with confusion and anticipation, though the sight would’ve been overwhelming for any normal human. Only a monster could control tentacles with such accuracy.

Footsteps sounded again, this time approaching.

Until the black-haired, black-eyed monster reappeared in his field of vision.

It hadn’t even been a minute. Asta looked at the human and realized—Isidor really thought it had walked away and left him behind. The tentacles obeyed its control obediently, and the human stared at it, dazed—without the earlier calm and calculated air, more like an unaware prey.

In Asta’s hand was a cup of warm water. Reflected in its surface, its eyes briefly turned into beast-like vertical pupils, then blinked back to normal.

“Drink it,” the monster said after a pause. “Just one sip is fine.”

Of course, Isidor didn’t have a free hand to take the cup—his wrists were still bound tightly. Asta’s current aura wasn’t exactly gentle; it gave off a subtle but unmistakable danger. Rarely revealed in front of humans, it matched perfectly the research institute’s image of monsters—eerie and chilling, capable of anything.

The cup was pressed to Isidor’s lips. Without hesitation, he parted them slightly, letting the liquid flow in. It was only warm water—he could tell that much.

Asta smiled faintly.

Between its fingers in the other hand was a deep black gemstone. Though dark, it shimmered with an unbelievable radiance from every angle—like a legendary treasure over which kingdoms waged war. Isidor’s throat moved slightly. He looked up at the gem, struggling, unable to look away.

Then he smelled it—that strange, metallic-sweet scent of blood.

His eyes widened in surprise, and just as he tried to speak, he choked on the water. The monster leaned over, rubbing his back to help him breathe, and at the same time pried open his lips and pushed the gem inside.

Instinctively, Isidor blocked it with his tongue—its surface slightly wet, and unable to go deeper.

“Don’t worry,” the monster said, “I’m only giving you half.”

It pulled back its hand—and began to kiss him.

The gem in their mouths felt like a hard piece of candy, burning hot and strangely sweet. Isidor’s breathing turned rapid. This kiss was far from polite—almost hallucinatory. He thought he saw the monster’s eyes turn into vertical slits again, then flash with a godlike golden light.

The gemstone passed back and forth between them and began to melt. With a crisp crack, Asta bit it in two.

The monster made sure Isidor swallowed one half.

And Isidor felt like he had swallowed a miniature star.

It slid down his throat, sparkling, then burst like stardust—melting into his body, leaving only a brilliant feeling and a faint heat. But the kiss didn’t end, so Isidor had no energy left to focus on how his body was changing.

Only when they finally broke apart, breathless, did Asta’s black pupils slowly scan over his entire body. Then, naturally, it reached out and touched his exposed waist.

In an instant, those chaotic feelings surged back—not suppressed by the kiss, but intensified.

“May I?”

The monster sounded polite, ignoring the pleading look in his eyes, demanding to hear the invitation again.

Isidor nodded messily, only to see the monster give him a deep, shadowed smile. Today’s Asta looked more dangerous than usual—but for him, it didn’t matter what a star did. The tentacles tightened around him, more of them emerging, starting to squirm tentatively. He nearly lost control right then and there.

But Asta wasn’t in a hurry.

It said:
“Isidor, you once told me that humans don’t have anything like a heat cycle. So… the reason you’re like this now is because it’s me, right?”

Isidor blinked in confusion, torn between wanting to open himself up more and trembling from the stimulation already there, unsure what the monster was trying to say—until he met Asta’s gaze.

Those unmistakable vertical pupils, no different from a wild predator’s, ready to consume its prey whole.

“But I do,”

Asta said, its voice carrying a slight roughness.

“Isidor, monsters like me… once we find a true, confirmed mate, our instincts will tell us everything about the heat cycle. I’ll lose control, drag my mate back to my nest, bind him tightly, and allow no struggle.”

“Just like this.”

Isidor’s pupils contracted slightly, shimmering with moisture.

“If you beg me, I will respond.”

Asta gave him a final gentle kiss—soft, but undeniably resolute in its declaration.

Then, the tentacles surged out from the shadows, swallowing everything else from view. In the human’s eyes, there was only the monster—everything else was under its control, leaving no chance for escape.

When Isidor fully regained consciousness, it was already the next morning. He blinked, realizing what was reflected in his eyes was once again the familiar little cabin—not those endless, inescapable tentacles that would drag him back by the ankle even if he managed to flee for a moment.

But Asta was still there. Still by his side, within the reach of his gaze.

“Good morning,” its eyes glimmered faintly.

“Good morning,” Isidor replied instinctively. His robe had been put back on properly, and he was lying neatly under the covers—surely Asta’s doing. He remembered that by the end of last night, all he could think of was escaping. He had even fallen off the bed, only to be swiftly caught in mid-air by Asta’s waiting tentacles, never even touching the floor.

Just as Asta had said, the only thing that worked… was begging.

He started to regret whether he had been too enthusiastic—especially considering how that initial “prepared” position, painstakingly arranged by himself, had ended in such a chaotic downfall. And when Asta asked for something, while he was still conscious, he had instinctively gone along with it.

The monster didn’t need sleep. It had simply waited patiently for its mate to wake.

It must have been quite an ordeal. When Isidor opened his eyes in a haze, it was like he hadn’t yet realized what had happened—until memory surged back all at once, and his eyes went wide, like that moment right after their first kiss. He didn’t know where to place his hands or feet.

Finally, he gave up and threw his arms around Asta’s neck, burying his flushed face in it.

“How do you feel? Is anything hurting?”

Asta reached out and gently ruffled his soft hair while asking in a quiet voice. For a monster in heat, it had taken a great deal of control to hold back. After all, it had been the first time for both of them—experiencing something powerful enough to shake the soul—and Asta had, at times, maliciously toyed with its prey.

Still, the consequences were of Isidor’s own making.

He shouldn’t have subjected himself to such overwhelming stimulation while still healing.

But now—Isidor didn’t even seem to have a single mark left. Asta gently tested his old injuries and was pleased to find that every wound had completely healed, leaving no trace of the violence they had once endured. Within the human’s chest, his heart beat strong and steady, wrapped in a faint and strange energy.

“I’m fine,” Isidor said, trying to calm himself while also noticing the changes in his body. “Asta, what exactly was that thing you made me eat yesterday?”

“Take a guess.”

The monster, knowing the human should already know, simply threw the question back to him.

This was clearly a topic Isidor took very seriously. He sat up from the monster’s arms and placed his hand over his heart. From the moment he woke up, everything he did felt lighter than before. If he had a dagger in his hand right now, he’d know just how much faster he’d become.

“It only healed all your wounds,” Asta said, not taking any credit. “It didn’t enhance your strength. But Isidor, you should now have a renewed understanding of how much of a burden your old scars had become.”

Not just the wounds from last time—but even the deep trauma from seven years ago, the one that had killed the Kingfisher.

To have restored all of them… truly was a miracle.

“Your heart,” Isidor said softly but clearly, as if even the words needed to be handled with care. “That wasn’t a gem. It was a monster’s heart. I… you showed it to me before. I recognized it the moment I saw it.”

“That’s right.”

Monsters, like humans, had only one heart. But unlike humans, their heart was their greatest weakness—and they could choose to hide it anywhere. The most unimaginative choice was inside their chest. Some monsters liked to separate their heart from their body and hide it. If the heart, buried in some secret container, was discovered, the monster would be rendered almost powerless.

The only one who had known where Asta kept its heart… had been Isidor.
And now—it had placed it inside him.

The monster curled its lips into a faint smile and placed its palm over Isidor’s chest.

The human heart, rising and falling beneath that touch—if damaged, his life would be in danger. And for someone like Isidor, who had never cared much for himself, bullets had come close more than once. And even if not wounded, the short lifespan of under a hundred years would eventually silence it too soon.

But now, Asta had entrusted that heart to him.

“My heart healed all your old wounds,” Asta said, casually as if describing a piece of candy, with no regard for the emotional weight it carried, “and in doing so, it also shares my life with you. Don’t think about giving it back—once you’ve eaten it, it’s yours now. Take good care of it.”

For the first time, Isidor listened to the sound of his own heartbeat with a sense of panic.

A star’s heart, now fused with his own. All those past wounds and brushes with death… finally felt real.

“A monster’s heart is very fragile,”

Asta continued, as if reading his thoughts. Its voice held a persuasive power—like an enchantment pulling at his mind.

“But that’s fine. As long as it stays in your body, as long as you don’t get seriously hurt, it’ll be fine too.”

Isidor had never learned how to treasure himself. That was fine, the monster thought.

Then let “protecting it”—his lifelong guiding principle—become inseparably entwined with protecting himself.

The half of the heart left in Asta’s body now resonated in harmony with the human’s own, beneath the monster’s palm. Isidor looked up, eyes brimming again—but this time, he held back his tears. Instead, he cautiously reached out and touched Asta’s chest.

Its heart wasn’t there—not in its humanoid chest. It was hidden somewhere inside its true, massive form.

But he could still feel it. Just as Asta could feel his.

“I’m sorry,” Isidor said, voice stuttering as though under the weight of overwhelming emotion. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have assumed I was okay when I wasn’t. I… I should treat myself the way you treat me. My star… I was just afraid, because everything is too perfect. I’m scared I don’t deserve it—”

“You can start by never apologizing to me again.”

The monster said this with a touch of sternness—and then, unable to help itself, smiled.
“Actually, you don’t need to change anything. I love you as you are. I love you. I want to kiss you. What happened last night proves everything.”

“I love you,”

Isidor said it slowly, carefully, as if making a vow.
Asta’s heart had given him weakness—but also a new life.
Everyone thought a weapon’s power came from the moment it drew blood.
Not from how it was protected from harm.

The gears of the world began to turn backward.

As the long-lost savior, his strength was finally returning—not like the slow, scattered recovery of the past seven years, nor like the unstable power of his old teammates, eventually dulled for safety. He was back—sharp, deadly, whole. The world’s will would even grant him a portion of its power.

If this version of Isidor had faced Asta seven years ago, perhaps he could have fought the monster.

If this version stood against the world’s “calamity” now, the outcome was clear.
The Kingfisher had regrown its razor-sharp wings.
And the monster had already laid all its weaknesses bare—Isidor held half its heart, and knew exactly where the rest was hidden.
He could kill it, if he wanted to.

But the savior had long since surrendered—willingly—to the villain.

The room was quiet, but the ambiguous atmosphere thickened between them.
Asta’s eyes sparkled with laughter. It moved its hand from Isidor’s chest, gently grasping his—an acknowledgment of his declaration.

Isidor seemed like he still wanted to say something. But then his emerald eyes flicked toward the wooden door.

With a soft creak and the dull thump of paper hitting wood, a black book burst into the room, fluttering furiously and crashing into their moment.

The black book flapped its pages, displaying its words:

“You two finally shut up for a second—I was too embarrassed to come in. Two days from now is the most critical part of the plan, you know! I mean, I didn’t expect you to resolve a whole emotional arc right now. But honestly, credit for that should probably—”

Its words faded as though it was running out of ink.

The black book shrank back nervously in front of Isidor, who smiled, but now carried an entirely different kind of pressure. The power radiating from him had grown substantially.

“Wait—did I come at the wrong time? Should I leave so you can… talk some more?”