When White returned, the door clicked shut behind him, and with it, the fatigue of the day lifted just a little. A warm, Savory aroma wrapped around him like a blanket—it was the smell of rice and soy, of comfort. For the first time all day, he felt like he was truly home.
"Welcome back, Papa!"
Bell bounded into him, clutching a bunny-shaped rice ball in both hands as if it were a treasure. Her face was bright; her cheeks flushed from excitement.
"What's that you've got there?" White asked, pointing at the ridiculously cute rice ball.
She lifted it proudly. "Big sis Aisha made it!"
"…Really?" His eyes narrowed. Of all things he expected their resident phenomenon to do, cooking was nowhere on the list.
Then she appeared.
Aisha walked out of the kitchen wearing a pale-yellow apron tied neatly at her waist. A tray of dishes rested in her hands, steam curling above them. "Oh… so you're finally back." Her voice was warm, casual—almost too casual.
White blinked, staring openly. Aisha, who usually hovered like some mysterious shadow, now looked… almost human. The apron suited her in a way he wasn't ready to admit.
"…What?" She stopped, realizing his gaze. Colour touched her pale cheeks. "Why are you looking at me like that? Haven't you seen a girl in an apron before?"
Caught, White grinned like an idiot. "You know… you actually look—"
Thud!
A knife buried itself into the wooden doorframe an inch from his face. Aisha's hand gleamed with another blade, her eyes narrowing. "Did you say something?"
He laughed nervously, holding up his hands in surrender. "Nope. Didn't say a thing."
Bell piped up happily, oblivious. "But Papa's right! Big sis Aisha is adorable! Like an angel!"
"…More like a dark angel," White muttered under his breath. Aisha's glare froze him solid.
"Big sis Aisha, you're beautiful," Bell continued seriously. "And your cooking is amazing. You're number one!" She paused dramatically. "…No, actually number two. Big sis Elsa is still number one."
Aisha's smile twitched. "…Should I be happy about that or depressed?"
Suppressing his laughter, White sat with them at the table. Whatever threats she threw, the meal spoke louder. Each bite burst with flavour.
"I never imagined you could cook like this," he admitted honestly.
She tilted her chin, feigning pride. "Please. I'm a phenomenon who knows everything. Cooking is child's play."
Bell leaned forward, cheeks puffing in excitement. "Papa! Tomorrow's the picnic! All of us together!"
White groaned inwardly. A picnic—with invisible companions… that'll look normal. Not suspicious at all. Out loud, all he could manage was a resigned, "I can't do anything about it, can I?"
Dinner slowed. The tension thinned. For a moment, life felt… almost ordinary. Then Aisha's tone shifted.
"So," she asked casually while cutting into her food, "how are things with Aris… and Zen?"
White sighed. "With Aris, maybe there's progress. Just a little. But Zen… nothing. Still no chance to see him."
The weight of the answer hung between them like unspoken grief.
Curiosity gnawed at him. Quietly, he ventured, "Aisha. I want to ask something… can you give me an honest answer?"
Her fork clinked against the plate as she set it down, meeting his gaze evenly. "If I'm allowed to answer… I will."
He hesitated, but finally spoke: "Luna once told me… that when emotions become uncontrollable, they take form. A creature born of despair, or rage. One that devours its host until they break completely. Tell me… is it possible to stop such a thing? To eliminate it? For the person to return to normal?"
Even Bell's humming from the couch quieted.
Aisha's eyes hardened. "Forget about that. Trying is useless. Emotions aren't toys you can erase. No one can change that except one way. At best…" her voice softened, "…you can give them peace. Distractions. Reasons to keep going until they're ready to face themselves."
"…I asked because of Zen. And Aris." White's voice cracked. "The weight they're carrying—it feels like their emotions have already taken form. If those creatures exist… isn't something terrible happening to them right now?"
Silence.
Finally, Aisha spoke. "Then all you can do is be there. Be yourself. Create moments that matter. Sometimes… it isn't force that saves someone. It's gentleness."
Her words carried both comfort and helplessness. White nodded, but the knot in his chest only tightened.
Hours later, Bell retired to her bed, leaving Aisha and White alone at the table. The ticking clock was the only sound. Then…
"…About the price."
Her sudden words dropped like lead into water.
White blinked. "The… what?"
"The price for your wish," Aisha said softly, her eyes not leaving his. "When you asked Bell to find Aris. Did you pay it?"
Cold rippled into his fingertips. "But—that didn't cost me anything."
Her lips curved faintly. "Exactly. Which means it's yet to be collected."
His stomach churned. "Then… does that mean something's going to happen? To Zen… to Aris…?"
"How could I know?" she replied, too casually. "All I know is, nothing comes free."
His chair scraped back sharply. "Don't act like you don't know! You brought this up—you must have some idea what's coming! Tell me!" His voice was louder than he intended, desperate.
She sighed, standing. Her gaze softened with something he couldn't read. "I've said this before. I'm not here to cause you trouble. But you're right… there are things I know. And many things I don't."
White slammed his fist against the table. "Then why? Why stay here? If you're not human, what are you? Why still exist in this world?"
His words echoed against the walls, hot and raw. Aisha didn't answer. She turned slowly, her shadow long in the dim light.
Just before vanishing, her whisper lingered:
"…Sometimes, I wish I knew the answer too."
Then her figure broke apart into black mist, scattering into the air like smoke through a crack in the world. And White was left staring at nothing.