TBR CH91

As the dawn approaches, the stars fade.

— Excerpt from ‘By the Lake of Nalun’, a long lyrical poem by the renowned poet Kristin from the last century.

—

After Isodor left, John sat in his seat, lost in thought for a while.

Seven years had passed. In those seven years, his teacher had been at the institute but had never spoken to him. They had no opportunity for contact. When John was still fledgling, he didn’t dare disturb Isodor’s life rashly.

The “Kingfisher” was no longer the figure who never parted with a weapon, appearing almost gentle upon entering the office.

John had indirectly inquired about Isodor’s current life. He got along miraculously well with Project α, which was why the institute had temporarily halted further actions against him. He was gentle and composed in his interactions, always wearing a smile. His colleagues had a good impression of him, though few had deeper connections with him. He had taken an ordinary person’s name, blended into ordinary life, and become a fragile, harmless human.

What struck John as most unbelievable was that Isodor seemed to genuinely enjoy this life.

When Isodor walked into John’s office, his gaze passed over John and fixed on the gun barrel aimed at his forehead. In that moment, despite countless mental preparations, the captain of the special forces felt cold sweat soak his back. It was in that instant he clearly knew the soul of the Kingfisher had not yet departed.

At that moment, Isodor instinctively rubbed his fingers, though his hands held no weapon.

Though his teacher’s attitude toward him reminded John of the Isodor from seven years ago, in truth, his current aloofness, compared to the oppressive aura of the past, could almost be called gentle. Perhaps aloofness was better. When Isodor thanked him politely, John was gripped by an overwhelming sense of dread. Being stared at too long by those emerald-green eyes made him feel like prey.

After all, no matter how harshly his teacher treated him, it was only natural.

John couldn’t control his thoughts. Over the past seven years, it was as if this were a nightmare he could never escape, a curse he could never break free from. He had lied, done terrible things, but that wasn’t the full extent of it. He remembered, amidst the mangled flesh and horrific stench, the Kingfisher moving lightly as a god, slicing through monsters’ bodies, firing bullets into human skulls. And John, eyes tightly shut, clung to his teacher’s hand, smelling the blood on him.

Then came a nightmarish trial. Isodor sat quietly in the defendant’s seat, like an unmoving statue, with only those green eyes still vibrant.

How could this happen? John thought. How could this happen? What had he done? Until suddenly, everyone’s gazes pierced him. Seven years ago, at fourteen, he had already learned to kill, but under their stares, he felt like an immature child, stiffening, shrinking.

His teacher slightly tilted his head, looking in his direction. Those eyes were still as vivid as the Kingfisher’s feathers.

He knew what he was supposed to say. They tirelessly told him, corrected him, taught him the “right” words. But John couldn’t stop trembling. The suppressed thought of “this shouldn’t be done” surged again. He opened his mouth, imagining himself shouting the truth before everyone, as if he were a hero.

In reality, his voice was barely audible, and everyone’s gazes stabbed into him like needles.

“…Yes,” he said, avoiding those emerald-green eyes. “It was him. I saw it with my own eyes.”

—

As Asta slowly rose from the seafloor, the researcher had already reached the tide’s edge.

Isodor hadn’t brought anything today. In theory, the pile of sweets he bought yesterday had already exceeded the sugar limit. Humans didn’t know about the monster’s accidental destruction of the sweets, and with his mind preoccupied, skipping a day was a reasonable decision.

Strangely, the monster in the sea didn’t immediately extend its tentacles to find him. Isodor widened his eyes, the sea breeze brushing lightly over his pupils, causing a thin sheen of moisture that made their green hue even more vivid. The seawater was a deep green, with faint shadows wriggling in its copper-rust tint. Isodor let out a breath.

Since the incident with Hill, he had grown increasingly terrified of loss.

He couldn’t take the slightest risk; he had to meticulously bury his past. Humans knew monsters despised deception, but if not for deception, how could he have gotten close to it, gained its touch and friendship, or kept his gentleness free of bloody traces? He knew what he once was, so he could only let the lies persist.

He had thought about confessing, but the words couldn’t break free from his lips, cutting countless wounds inside him like shards of glass.

Isodor had already tasted the agony of nearly losing it.

His human heart ached as if it would shatter, his human eyes unable to stop the tears. He stood dazed in the monster’s apologetic embrace, wondering how he had become so fragile. He once didn’t need protection; few weapons could truly make him bleed. He had been trained to be indifferent to death and didn’t fear it.

Kingfisher.

That was his only name back then.

Asta had spent too much time underwater. It silently extended a tentative tentacle toward Isodor’s location.

The tentacle blended with the seawater’s color, sprouting eyes that peered at Isodor’s expression through the surface. The human seemed slightly puzzled by its delay, standing still as if lost in thought.

Then he blinked, half-knelt on the beach, dipped his palm into the water, and softly said, “Asta, are you watching me?”

Through the water’s surface, the black, cracked pupils on the tentacle briefly met those emerald-green eyes. Asta almost thought Isodor had seen through its disguise, but the human’s gaze passed over the tentacle, looking toward the distant sea.

An ordinary human, of course, couldn’t see through a monster’s special abilities, nor would they know that with a slight effort, the spear-like tip of its tentacle could pierce their fragile throat.

If that was the case, it would observe his reaction a bit longer, see if he’d panic, if his expression would betray his true thoughts, or what kind of pleas he might utter…

These thoughts swirled in the monster’s mind, but its tentacle still gently and slowly crawled ashore, abandoning its disguise, wrapping around the human’s unusually pale ankle, unexposed to much sunlight.

Isodor touched the tentacle, cold and damp. Sensing the human’s touch, it softened considerably. But even so, Asta didn’t appear immediately. The tentacle coiled around his ankle, not pulling him anywhere, just slowly wrapping around, tightening gradually. The rough surface grazed his fragile skin, leaving faint red marks.

The researcher’s expression grew serious. “Did something happen?”

Asta manipulated the tentacle, countless limbs responding to its command. A human could hardly imagine coordinating thousands of arms, but for the monster, it was as simple as lifting a finger.

It controlled its strength to soothe the human who wanted to see it, yet still couldn’t make up its mind, so it anxiously coiled around Isodor, unaware of its own actions. Only when Isodor asked did it snap out of it, loosening its tentacles.

The seawater parted as if sensing something. After a slight delay, Asta decided not to use its tentacles to take Isodor to the cabin. Instead, it transformed into a human form directly from the water and stepped onto the shore. It reached out to pull Isodor up. The researcher didn’t mind his half-kneeling posture, with sand on his knees, which the monster brushed off.

Whenever Isodor saw it, his eyes always carried a smile.

“Nothing, just… yesterday…” The words nearly slipped out, but the monster’s expression remained unchanged. It raised its eyes to meet Isodor’s, its dark pupils revealing, upon closer inspection, a swirling mix of countless eerie colors.

Should it lay everything bare, or keep it hidden from Isodor?

“…Yesterday, the sweets we bought accidentally fell into the seawater,” Asta said, smoothly changing the topic. Thinking of those soaked desserts, its mood genuinely sank. When facing someone close, it almost resembled a drenched little animal seeking comfort. “They’re completely ruined now.”

The nonsense from “Flower” hardly counted as evidence, and the faint oddity it had noticed was even less substantial. The monster decided not to tell Isodor any of this. What if he felt hurt by these suspicions?

Asta was, of course, no pitiful creature. Even as it spoke, countless deadly tentacles lay quietly coiled in the seawater behind it. But this didn’t stop its words from having a significant effect. Making the monster miss out on sweets felt like an unforgivable crime. Isodor’s expression flickered between guilt and “it’s so cute” a few times.

“I didn’t bring any sweets today…” Isodor said, deciding to make amends. “If you want some, I can go buy them now. What flavor would you like?”

“No need to make a special trip,” Asta replied. “I’m not that desperate. It’s just a pity. The sweets we bought yesterday were the first ones we picked out together at the bakery. They felt… special.”

What was different? Was it because it was the first time leaving this place, or because they stepped into a human bakery with its dazzling array of goods? Or perhaps the emphasis was on that soft “you”? The taste of sweets was all the same, and the varieties weren’t particularly unique. Since Isodor started bringing it sweets every few days, Asta had already tried most of them. It didn’t harbor much dislike for this artificial sea domain, nor did it have any obsession with leaving. So, it must be—

“We can go out together again,” Isodor said, only realizing how bold it sounded after the words left his mouth.

Asta silently stared at him for a few seconds. Being watched by the monster’s intensely oppressive eyes was far from pleasant; an ordinary person might have fled in fear. But Isodor was long accustomed to it, even able to read meaning in the monster’s silence. He tilted his head slightly, incredulous, suppressing a smile.

The human reached out, stepping closer to give the monster a hug.

Being hugged by a monster was a unique experience. Asta could control its tentacles perfectly at other times, but during a hug, perhaps due to emotional shifts, the tentacles always joined its arms, coiling around the human in circles. It was like a beast seizing its prey, biting down and never letting go.

Isodor could sense Asta’s mood had been off all day; its expression practically screamed, “Hug me.” The reason might be the ruined sweets, or perhaps something else. Before he could think further, the silently coiling tentacles left him slightly breathless. He took a deep breath, quietly spreading his hand to rest on the monster’s back.

At first, Asta wasn’t skilled at mimicking humans. Both humans and monsters had hearts, but when transforming into a human, Asta often misplaced its heart. Now, beneath Isodor’s palm, through the veneer of humanity, he could feel the monster’s heart beating clearly.

For a monster, the heart’s location was a secret—a fatal vulnerability.

The monster caught the ordinary, mundane scents on the human—coffee and the faint ink of documents. It quietly embraced its friend, or rather, the most important person it spent every day with, finally feeling a sense of relief, as if nothing else mattered. Isodor said nothing, and the only sound was the sea breeze drifting lightly around them.

It heard the human’s heartbeat. How many beats per minute did a human heart have? Last time, it hadn’t counted its own clearly. Now, counting Isodor’s, it found the number higher than it remembered. Perhaps its understanding of human biology was still lacking.

“Would you ever lie to me?” the monster asked.

Isodor seemed not to hear clearly, or perhaps understood completely, and quickly answered, “No.”

It was a foolish question. Asta suddenly recalled a secret it had already revealed. A monster’s heart was its most fatal point, requiring utmost caution. Like the heart of a severed-limb nest, hidden within its seemingly indestructible shell. Asta’s form spanned the sea domain, making its weakness nearly impossible to find.

But it had, indeed, told Isodor.