Several minutes had passed since the arrival of Takashi's group, which now included Meylen as well.
However, that didn't matter.
The main thing was that they had finally reached a safe haven where they could catch their breath.
But even here, Saya remained on guard: she understood that she and her loved ones were far from true safety.
Danger lurked not only outside, but also... inside.
Saya's face wrinkled into a grimace full of unspoken anxieties.
As soon as Meylen stepped away for a short while, Saya's father decided to inquire about what had happened.
His tone was dry and direct—neither soft nor stern. Yuriko, on the contrary, questioned her daughter cautiously, understanding what she had been through, but still driven by care and curiosity. She wanted to learn everything in more detail to better support her.
The onlookers around perked up as well, pricking up their ears: there wasn't much else to do.
There was plenty of work, but to simply distract and relax the mind, nothing suitable could be found. Everyone sought salvation in their own way: the handy ones dug out a deck of cards and passed the time with a game of poker, others leaned against the wall, immersed in reflections on what they had experienced, and inevitably slid into self-flagellation.
Soichiro caught the interested glances and his daughter's awkwardness. To avoid exacerbating it, he suggested moving to a more private place.
Saya didn't object—only casting a quick glance at the others in her group, still lost in their thoughts.
Shizuka stood casually, examining her nails, which had grown out and clearly needed trimming. She clicked her tongue, but then noticed the disheveled appearance of several people in the crowd—those who clearly felt out of place.
Deciding to get to direct work, she approached Soichiro and calmly said:
"Takagi-sama, I'm the school nurse," she said. "I can at least try to help those who aren't feeling well."
The man nodded graciously: in such times, every specialist was worth their weight in gold, and the fact that she wasn't a full-fledged doctor, but just a nurse, didn't matter.
He gave orders to his people to show her the medical supplies and the improvised pharmacy they had managed to assemble.
Shizuka, delighted, clapped her hands:
"In that case, I'll leave you! I'll get to work."
Soichiro merely nodded, and she left, accompanied by a pair of guards.
Takashi was silent, immersed in thought, while Rei fidgeted under the scrutinizing gazes of Soichiro, Yuriko, and Saya.
Noticing their state, Saya whispered something in her father's ear.
He listened, nodded, and approached the pair:
"You should rest and collect your thoughts," he said calmly. "There are free rooms in the mansion. I'll arrange for someone to escort you."
Rei's eyes lit up with gratitude.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Takagi-sama!" she replied with sincere respect. "Takashi and I won't delay you."
Grabbing the stunned Takashi by the hand, who obediently trailed after her, she hurried forward. The escort was momentarily taken aback by her determination—Rei clearly burned with the desire to seclude herself and bring the guy to his senses. And judging by her resolute mood, Takashi was about to cease being "inexperienced" in that sense.
Saya caught this impulse and frowned, even snapping to herself inwardly, but as soon as she met her father and mother's gazes—her fervor faded, leaving only disappointment.
Soichiro had long noticed Saeko, the daughter of Busujima-sensei. They were acquainted, and their paths had crossed more than once. He hesitated, clearly wanting to talk to her, to pry something out, but at the same time, he kept glancing at his daughter, torn between them. After a heavy sigh, he decided to deal with Saya first, but couldn't resist and greeted Saeko, who stood a bit lost:
"Saeko, make yourself at home," said Soichiro. "Your father and I are not strangers, you know that."
She nodded silently, seriously and gratefully. Soichiro smiled for a moment, but immediately hid it behind his habitual stoic mask. Involuntarily, memories surfaced of their rare meetings—especially that one when the little girl trained in the dojo from morning till night, and then with a serious little face greeted him for the first time.
Ah, what times... — he thought, but said nothing more, deciding to leave the younger Busujima alone with herself.
This might not have been the best decision. Soichiro either didn't notice or didn't want to notice the emotional turmoil Saeko was in.
She was tossing inside, her world threatened to tear apart, plunging her into even greater darkness and making her vulnerable to vile attacks like those thrown by Meylen.
As soon as the Takagi family left, leaving her alone, Saeko decided not to linger in place. She simply went for a walk around the estate to be in silence and sort herself out.
Perhaps she would finally find a purpose—or at least a path forward.
Or perhaps this would be the end.
***
Solitude rarely passes without a trace. It forces a person to dig into their thoughts, sift through memories, and relive the past.
Saeko Busujima was no exception.
Wandering the estate without a specific goal, she immersed herself in her anxieties and reflections.
She didn't remember her mother—she had died during her birth, and her father rarely spoke of her.
Therefore, Saeko had no memories or warm feelings associated with her mother.
Her relationship with her father?
It resembled more the bond between teacher and student than family closeness.
Of course, she loved her father and was grateful for everything he had done for her, but their relationship lacked warmth.
Saeko held no grudge against him, but sometimes, observing other families—how parents and children communicated with genuine warmth and closeness—she felt an emptiness in her soul.
At times, it even seemed to her that she envied these relationships, though she tried not to attach importance to it.
Her father, the elder Busujima, was a strict, disciplined man devoted to traditions.
He honored his family's legacy and strove to instill these qualities in his daughter. Their lineage was renowned as descendants of samurai who had preserved a unique fighting style and ancestral lands.
Usually, in samurai families, girls were not taught martial arts, but Saeko became an exception.
Her father, deprived of a male heir, decided that his daughter was quite capable of continuing the family business. Gender didn't matter—he allowed no weakness and raised her according to strict canons.
Bones cracked, muscles ached, Saeko often cried, but her father remained unrelenting. She had no choice but to grit her teeth and continue, not understanding why.
Over time, the training became routine, like brushing teeth or going to the bathroom.
Saeko participated in numerous tournaments: sometimes she lost, sometimes she won, but her father was always dissatisfied and made her work off defeats with additional loads.
Time passed, skills grew, and imperceptibly she became the kendo champion of her country.
Saeko hoped for praise—one kind word would suffice—but her father coldly said:
"Winning the championship is a given. No need to be proud. Our family expects no less!"
His words deeply wounded Saeko, and she withdrew into herself for a long time.
One day, lingering at the club until dark and returning home, she encountered a drunk man who saw her as easy prey for harassment.
Saeko was distracted and depressed, but his breath caused disgust, and everything around irritated her.
Unable to endure, she struck him. The man was physically strong, but Saeko, having undergone rigorous training, managed to deliver a powerful blow, and he howled in pain. Adrenaline surged, Saeko breathed heavily—for the first time, she felt truly alive, with a mix of joy.
Succumbing to this feeling, she looked at the man kneeling and delivered a series of blows. She paid no attention to his pitiful cries for mercy. At the same time, Saeko noticed on her face an insane smile, uncharacteristic of her, and with each moan of the victim, her heart filled with jubilation.
Inflicting pain turned out to be frighteningly pleasurable.
But this feeling quickly gave way to horror and guilt.
Her father had always taught her righteousness, discipline, and adherence to moral norms, without deviating from them.
Using skills for self-defense was justified, but what she had done crossed the boundaries of the permissible.
It was a crime.
Saeko panicked, imagining what her father would say, how the family's reputation would suffer. He always said that disgracing the Busujima name was unforgivable.
Saeko looked around in horror, searching for cameras, but found none and calmed down a bit. The man had already lost consciousness from pain shock, emitting only incoherent sounds.
The first thought—to drag the body into the bushes, hide the traces. But then a plan matured in her head.
To portray the victim.
Saeko's clothes were almost in order, only slightly rumpled, so she tore them, her bra and panties, turning them into rags. Then she squeezed out tears and screamed for help.
Less than an hour passed before passersby heard the cries. A bewildered couple passing by called the police and tried to console Saeko, who was already mentally preparing for what followed.
The events that unfolded next resembled a theater of the absurd. The police arrived, took the man, and called Saeko's father to the station.
At the police station, they questioned her about what happened only after her father's arrival—interrogating a minor without a guardian was against the law.
Saeko told everything as it was, but with added vivid details and a touch of acting, as if she was born not for the sword, but for the stage.
The more she spoke, mixing truth with fiction, the darker her father's face became, and the police, recording the statements, also frowned.
They threw a cloak over Saeko to hide her torn clothes—it was given by those same passersby, now acting as witnesses.
When the man woke up, covered in abrasions and bruises, his first reaction was anger and curses. But the police were already nearby in the ward, heard everything, and began an investigation.
For him, this turned into trouble: it turned out this wasn't his first such incident, and now the breaking point had come.
The man tried to defend himself, but in vain—the elder Busujima was an influential man with wide connections, so the violator's fate was sealed.
Saeko observed this from afar and, seeing his moral sufferings—not physical, but emotional—caught herself feeling a strange pleasure.
When their gazes met, the man's eyes filled with horror and madness: Saeko's face at that moment shone with joy, with narrowed eyes and a wide grin that she barely concealed.
The others noticed nothing, deciding that the man had simply gone mad—he was spouting nonsense at her, and they had to calm him down.
In the end, the court issued a verdict, and the case was closed.
***
After that, Saeko was in a suspended state.
Replaying the events in her head, she realized that she had ruined a person's life, although she could have gotten by with a fine or simply pushed the drunk away and left. Her actions, manipulations, and lies evoked a sense of guilt in her. She had discovered something new in herself, dark and frightening. This side of her personality, which she tried so hard to suppress, caused disgust. Saeko decided to strangle it within herself, never to let it break free.
Time passed, and life returned to its usual course. Her days became gray and monotonous: morning training, breakfast, school, clubs, training again, and home. Weeks merged into months, and months into years. Saeko had no clear goal. Excellent grades, the title of national kendo champion, a wealthy family—she had everything, but she didn't know what she wanted. She simply drifted with the current of fate.
But on one ordinary weekday, which should have passed as usual, everything turned upside down. First, people began devouring each other, turning into monsters and coming back to life, sowing death and fear. Then—a sudden meeting with a small group of survivors and the appearance of a strange chat group.
That still somehow fit in her head, but then Meylen...
Recalling their meeting, her attacks and immoral attitude toward others—unaesthetic, wrong, simply evil—Saeko couldn't help but admit: for some reason, this woman seemed so... free?
Saeko didn't want to admit it, but she felt envy and jealousy toward the dark goddess. She, unburdened by morality, simply did what she wanted.
Is that even possible?..
Being in the mansion, she wandered its corridors. It was already getting dark outside, and Saeko, unable to find peace, immersed herself in thoughts. Turning the corner, she suddenly bumped into something soft and warm.
Raising her head, Saeko saw that same irritating, pompous, infuriating face—the one she had just been thinking about.
Meylen was in her element: as always, doing whatever came to mind.
Now she wanted to stroll, unwind, drink wine, and look at the moon. But fate brought them together unexpectedly. Meylen's gaze fell on the bewildered Saeko, whose face resembled the muzzle of a beaten puppy. Involuntarily, she touched the cheeks of her swordswoman, still stunned and not immediately coming to her senses.
Meylen stretched them apart, then squeezed them together, making Saeko's expression increasingly irritated, angry, and full of rage.
"What are you doing?! Stop immediately!"
"No!"
"What do you mean 'no'?! Let go of my face!"
"Coo-coo, no!"
With these words, they began to bicker. Saeko tried to pull away and break free from the grip, but this only spurred the dark goddess on—it gave her immense pleasure to torment her ward.
Finally, Meylen stopped when Saeko's cheeks turned red and swollen, and tears spurted from her eyes. Of course, this didn't truly touch her, but she was tormenting her lover, so she softened and let go.
Saeko, offendedly rubbing her cheeks, stared at the culprit—and what a fool she was! In her thoughts, Saeko had just been justifying this woman's actions, trying to idealize her image.
And now?
Take my words back! What an unbearable woman!
But suddenly she felt something at her eyes and, coming to her senses, saw: Meylen wiping her tears with a black handkerchief. The goddess's gaze was full of guilt and remorse, which made Saeko uneasy.
Perhaps... she's not so terrible?..
After wiping the tears, Meylen, after a short silence, asked:
"What is my flower thinking about? Your face was so gloomy that I had to resort to one of my numerous talents! So feel free to thank me—the most beautiful, magnificent, and simply enchanting woman in the whole world!"
As soon as Meylen said this, Saeko's reddened eye twitched.
Meylen truly was unbearable. Her behavior went beyond common sense, which couldn't help but irritate Saeko.
Sighing heavily, she couldn't hold back:
"Can't you be at least a little normal and serious?"
Meylen blinked in confusion, as if trying to comprehend the question. Saeko already regretted asking it, realizing she had wasted her words.
"Oh, Saeko dear!" exclaimed Meylen after a brief reflection, shaking her head and looking at Saeko like an uncomprehending child. This gaze clearly didn't please Busujima.
Meylen pondered: should she share her thoughts on this or move on to the main point?
But seeing that Saeko wasn't quite ready yet—rather, halfway—she decided to spend time on words.
Why not bind her swordswoman tighter and finally open her eyes?
"I see you don't understand anything," began Meylen. "But that's okay! If you don't see, I'll help you see clearly. And then—it's up to you."
Saeko was slightly taken aback: Meylen's tone was no longer as playful as recently, and a cool smile appeared on her face.
It seemed a serious conversation was about to follow.
Saeko swallowed, in anticipation. What would she say?
"Shall we go for a walk?" suggested Meylen. "Along the way, I'll tell you about the meaning of life. Or at least about how this world works."
Without waiting for consent, Meylen hooked her arm and dragged her along. Saeko had no choice but to trail after, barely keeping up with the dark goddess. She walked casually, examining the interior, and selected the right formulations, leaving Saeko in tense anticipation.
"I'll start with your question," she spoke. "What does 'normal' mean? For whom? For people? For other beings? You see, Saeko, the concept of 'normality' simply doesn't exist. It's just frameworks that societies impose on themselves to survive and control."
Saeko listened attentively, without interrupting. Meylen, slightly clearing her throat, continued:
"We are all different, with unique desires, thoughts, and experiences. There is no single standard—only systems that evolve over time. In ancient tribes, norms were simple: survival, division of roles. With the development of civilizations, religions, laws, classes appeared—tools for those in power to maintain control. The Middle Ages with its fanaticism, the Enlightenment with the illusion of equality... Everything changed, but the essence remained: the strong dictate, the weak obey."
She paused, gathering her thoughts, and continued:
"Laws maintain order, but they are convenient for the elite. Why do the rich avoid punishments, while ordinary people don't? The system teaches: study, work—and you'll succeed. But it's a myth. Connections are more important than talents, and freedom is a privilege of the few. I've seen this for centuries: people struggle for existence instead of living. Development gives technologies, but not equality. Why not provide everyone with food and shelter? Because the system feeds on inequality."
Saeko listened, struck by how Meylen laid everything out on shelves. Her words sounded simultaneously simple and stunning.
"Before, I observed people like children," continued Meylen with an understanding smile. "In childhood, the world seems bright: games, family, without worries. But reality bursts in—deception, envy, exploitation. You help, and you're used. You try, and places are taken by those with connections. Why can't we trust and support each other? Instead—competition that pulls down."
Her voice became softer, as if she immersed herself in memories.
"When you try to go beyond the frames, to show individuality, society pressures: 'Don't stand out.' The rich enjoy freedom—eat what they want, travel—while others survive. I've had enough of this illusion. I chose to live my way: wake up when I want, do what I like. No one will stop me because I've gone beyond their norms."
Meylen stopped, her gaze became sharp, almost piercing.
"You know, Saeko, how many others' opinions I've heard? They hurt, make you doubt. But I've grown above that. I don't care about 'should': work for pennies, mortgage, family on schedule. Why should that concern me? I want to choose freely—and I advise you the same. Listen to your heart, not the crowd. Rely on those who are truly nearby."
The words fell, and Meylen embraced Saeko, who was in a daze from the poured-out ideas—alien, but deeply penetrating into consciousness, not letting go.
Involuntarily, from Saeko's lips escaped:
"Tell me… am I a thing to you?"
Saeko herself didn't understand why she said this and covered her mouth with her hand, not expecting such frankness from herself. Meylen blinked, then bestowed a warm, loving smile, touching the violet hair—this caused a shiver down the swordswoman's spine.
The fingertips slowly stroked the smooth strands, gradually moving to the cute little face, intensifying the tension.
Saeko stared expectantly into the beautiful, enchanting orange eyes, swallowing saliva; her heartbeat quickened to a frantic rhythm, echoing in her consciousness, her ears reddened—Meylen noticed this, smiling even wider.
Words were not needed.
Touching the little face, feeling the softness of the skin, the warmth, the beat of life. The skin, formerly white, blushed. Saeko breathed heavily, her chest trembled; she retreated until her back pressed against the wall—nowhere further.
Meylen's face approached closer and closer, the warm breath intensified the heat inside. When their noses almost touched, their lips met, the foreign tongue invaded the mouth. Saeko stared with her eyes, in response the same looked back. The kiss intensified, the pressure became harder, breathing stalled, and Saeko let out a muffled moan:
"Mmm..." full of passion and desire.