"I could really go for a strawberry milkshake right now…"
Nicholas muttered to himself as he wandered the aisles of the convenience store. Grocery duty had somehow fallen to him again—yet another responsibility to stack onto his overfilled plate. He picked out a few items, dropping them into his shopping bag before heading toward the register.
Then he stopped.
The store was too quiet.
No music playing, no buzzing refrigerators, no idle chitchat from other customers. It was just him… and the cashier.
Nicholas tried not to stare, but it was hard. Don't be rude, he reminded himself.
The cashier was tall—toweringly so. They had dark, almost charcoal-black skin, and wore a strange, uneven hat. More than anything, though, they looked sick. Malnourished, maybe. Like someone had stretched skin over a skeleton and called it done.
And… were they naked?
Nicholas's brain flagged it as wrong, but not in a way he could put into words. A deeply instinctual wrongness.
Trying to ignore it, he started placing items on the conveyor belt, keeping his gaze low. If he tried to make eye contact, he'd have to crane his neck up like he was studying the ceiling.
Too tall. Way too tall.
Still, his eyes flicked briefly to their name tag.
It read: Wend—
The rest was too faded to make out. Nicholas squinted, then decided not to question it.
Probably Wendy.
"That'll be twenty-four dollars and seventy-five cents," the cashier rasped.
The voice made Nicholas wince. It wasn't just hoarse—it scraped, like rusted metal against glass. He looked up as he passed the money over.
And instantly wished he hadn't.
Their eyes were empty. Not blank—empty. Like swirling voids were staring back at him. The deer skull resting on their head seemed fused with their rotting face, as if they wore death like a crown. The rest of their body wasn't any better—bones visibly jutting beneath pitch-black skin, so thin it looked painted on.
Nicholas swallowed hard, handed over the money, and left without another word.
Outside, the cold slapped him in the face.
"Brr… It's freezing." He hugged his jacket tighter. Summer had supposedly arrived, but the city felt like it had been dipped in ice. "Should've brought something thicker…"
Snow lined the sidewalks in messy piles, untouched by shovel or boot. It looked like the world had simply given up on trying to stay warm.
Nicholas trudged on—until he noticed something poking from one of the mounds. Fingers. A foot.
Limbs.
Pale skin, turned dark blue from the cold, reached out from beneath the snow like discarded mannequins.
Nicholas stared.
Then walked on.
He didn't say anything. Didn't scream or panic or check for a pulse. He just walked. Step by step, through the dead, cold silence.
Focused entirely on getting home.
Nicholas walked on, groceries in hand, boots crunching the snow beneath. But the sudden flap of wings froze him in his tracks.
He turned his head.
A tiny humanoid figure was perched on his shoulder.
It wore modern clothes, complete with sneakers and a hoodie, though the demon wings and tiny horns made it hard to take it seriously. What stood out most, though, was its hair—silver, like polished steel. Nicholas couldn't remember silver hair being common. Not naturally, anyway.
"Are you staying out of trouble~?" the little devil whispered, voice sweet and syrupy in a way that made his skin crawl.
Nicholas frowned. "I am. Now get out of here."
Despite the command, he didn't swat it away. He knew better.
It could kill him. Easily. So, he kept his tone level and his movements calm.
"Hmmm~ Nah. You're fun to watch. I think I'll stick around," the devil said, reclining on his shoulder like it was a lounge chair.
Waste of breath.
Nicholas kept walking, one arm full of groceries, the other bearing a devil.
"Hey, hey, hero," the devil called again, his grin widening. "Don't you think those people need help?"
Nicholas glanced at the nearby snow piles. Once more, limbs stuck out—blue, stiff, frozen. People buried like forgotten trash.
"They do," he replied curtly.
"Then… why don't you help them?"
Silence.
"…Because I can't do anything."
The devil's smile warped, a black mist shrouding his features. Nicholas could feel the malice radiating from him.
"Ohhh~ But a certain someone could, right?" he teased in a singsong voice.
Nicholas's jaw tightened. "…No. That person's dead. You killed them. Remember?"
"Hehe~ Yes, I suppose I did…"
The two fell silent after that. Neither spoke nor moved. Just the sound of the wind howling across the street.
Then Nicholas dropped his groceries and knelt beside one of the snow piles. He began to dig.
The devil blinked, surprised by the sudden movement. He fell off Nicholas's shoulder, but caught himself midair, wings flapping.
He hovered there, watching.
Nicholas's face was a mess—creased with panic, eyes wide with desperation. He clawed through the snow, hands going numb as he dragged one of the frozen bodies free.
The face of the corpse stared back at him. Frozen in fear. But also confusion. The kind that screamed:
Why me? Why now? Why not someone else?
That same expression marked all the bodies he could see.
"Dammit…!" Nicholas cursed under his breath, voice trembling.
The devil just floated there, grin widening. "Didn't you say you couldn't do anything?"
Nicholas turned, eyes blazing with fury. "Dammit! I wanted to at least try! Is that so wrong?!"
The devil chuckled. "It's not wrong, per se. Just… pointless. They're already dead. You're simply too late."
His smile stretched unnaturally wide—knowing as if he understood something Nicholas didn't.
Nicholas's heart thudded. A cold knot tightened in his stomach.
"Wait… you're not talking about them, are you?" he asked, gesturing to the snow-covered bodies.
The devil didn't speak. He just nodded.
Nicholas felt the ground fall out from under him.
"You'd better get moving," the devil sang. "The storm's almost here~"
Nicholas ran.
He dropped the groceries without a second thought.
Home. Home was all that mattered now.
Nicholas ran—sprinting with every ounce of stamina he had left.
It didn't take long. When he finally reached the house, he stopped cold.
It was full of holes—walls crumbling, windows shattered, snow drifting in like it belonged there.
Panic surged. He pushed the door open and rushed inside, fearing what he might find but knowing he had to face it.
And then he saw it.
At the top of the staircase…
His brother's corpse.
Despair clawed at his insides, dragging him into a pit he couldn't escape. But something else took root as well.
Fury.
A hatred deeper than anything he'd ever known. A vengeful, hollow rage that threatened to swallow everything.
He ascended the stairs, every step heavier than the last. At the end of the hallway—
A monster.
Clad in regal, tattered purple robes, its entire form was made of bones, bound together by dark magic. A thing that shouldn't exist.
And in its skeletal grip… was his father.
Their eyes met.
"Why… why were you lat—"
The words never finished. The monster cleaved his father's head off like he was nothing.
Dead. Just like that.
The creature slowly turned to look at Nicholas. But the young man no longer had tears to shed.
He stared at the blood spilling across the hallway floor, down the steps, soaking everything in red. The corpses of his family bled together in one grotesque pool.
His legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees.
The monster loomed, yet made no move. It seemed to wait… watching.
Nicholas wanted to scream. To cry. To lash out. To do anything.
But all he could do was stare into the blood—his reflection mingled with that of the creature towering over him.
He lifted his head slowly.
A searing pain cut through his neck.
SHIEK—
His throat had been slit.
He choked, gurgled, and gasped for air he couldn't reach. Blood spilled from his mouth as he dropped into the pool, hands clawing at the floor in vain.
But then—
Something changed.
Thick, black blood began to seep from his wound. The monster recoiled, visibly unnerved.
Through the pain, Nicholas lifted his head once more.
And in the black pool… he saw something staring back.
Not a boy.
A dark knight, clad in shadow, his eyes blazing with a vengeful blue flame.
Nicholas's trembling hand reached for the reflection.
The monster lunged, blade swinging to sever the hand.
But it was too late.
Nicholas touched the black pool.
His eyes met the creature's.
They burned.
With fury. With purpose. With power.
Dark fog burst from the blood-soaked ground, a howling mass that consumed everything in sight.
"AHH—!" Nicholas jolted upright, heart pounding in his chest.
His eyes darted around the room.
He was in bed.
He was safe.
He exhaled, long and slow.
"…Another nightmare."
Nicholas wiped the sweat from his forehead, deeply disturbed.
The last few weeks, he had been waking up from nightmares consistently. And yet the strangest part of them all—
"What was it about again?"
He couldn't remember. Only that it was terrifying… and that some kind of hatred burned within him.
He got up from his bed and grabbed a water bottle from his desk. His lips were dry, and he was terribly thirsty. He checked his phone.
"Wednesday… What happened yesterday again..?" he murmured.
"Right…"
He'd gotten into another fight. However, it wasn't like he'd been looking for one.
***
"What happened to you?"
His father's voice was calm, but sharp.
Nicholas had been too stunned to reply at first—surprised his father was even awake at such an hour.
"Don't look at me like that. Did you really expect me to sleep while you still weren't home? I was worried… And for good reason."
His father's eyes scanned him.
Dirt, blood, dust. His clothes were torn, and bruises were visible through every hole and rip.
"Who did this?"
The voice wasn't raised, but it boomed—a quiet kind of fury.
Nicholas found it terrifying how intimidating his father could make himself without raising his voice.
"I… I need you to be honest with me, son."
His father's voice cracked, just barely, but Nicholas caught it.
He wanted to tell him everything, he really did, and yet...
"..."
He chose silence. No hesitation. Just the quiet resolve of his keeping his secret only to himself.
"...Nicholas—"
"A random thug."
His father rubbed his face with both hands.
"A thug… did this to you?"
Nicholas flinched internally at the disbelief in his father's voice.
"He was about to assault a woman," Nicholas continued, his voice more rehearsed than genuine. "What exactly he planned to do, I don't know. But he had her pressed up against a wall with a knife to her neck."
"...And you stepped in?"
"There was no one else."
His father stood slowly from his chair and walked over. The living room, lit only by a single lamp, was swallowed in shadow—shadows that twisted and cloaked the familiar into something ominous. Even his kind father looked menacing in that moment.
He raised a hand.
Nicholas closed his eyes. He didn't know what to expect.
Then—
A soft hand landed gently on his head.
Nicholas opened his eyes just in time to be pulled into a firm, shaking hug.
"I'm… I'm just glad you're alright."
Nicholas took a breath and returned the hug.
"Me too…"
"...Are you, though?"
"..."
"...This isn't the first time you've come home like this."
"..."
"I'm not going to punish you for doing the right thing."
"..."
"You may think less of me for saying this, but…"
"..."
"You and your brother… you're everything to me… No one else matters. And I can't stand the thought of losing one of you. Let alone both of you."
"..."
"A parent should never have to bury their children. It's not how the world should work. I want happiness for both of you, Nicholas. A chance to live a full life. But this…"
His voice cracked again.
"I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"..."
"Go rest. I'm sure you've had a long day."
"…I love you, Dad."
There was a pause. A silence filled with weight.
Then—
"I know. I love you, too, son."
***
Nicholas rubbed his eyes in the present.
"I've made a real mess, haven't I?"
Now that everything was coming back to him, he realized just how much of a blunder he'd made by letting his father see him like that.
"I don't want to make him worry… to make him suffer."
And yet, somehow, he had a talent for just that.
A special gift for making everyone around him suffer.
…
Trying to shake off the depressive thoughts, Nicholas made his way downstairs to the kitchen and started preparing coffee. This time, with milk.
"Nicholas? You're drinking coffee?" his father asked, unable to hide his surprise.
"With milk," Nicholas replied, as if that somehow justified the decision.
They spoke casually, like the heavy conversation from last night had never happened.
Nicholas almost wondered if it had been a dream.
But he knew better.
This was simply how he and his father operated—pretending everything was normal, trying not to worry the other by acting differently.
"...Hey, don't you have somewhere to be? Right about now?" his father suddenly asked.
Nicholas shot him a confused look.
"I think you mentioned something about school yesterday. You didn't tell me what it was, though."
School..?
"PFF—" Nicholas spat out his drink and received a light smack to the head.
"Don't waste it."
"Fuck, I'm late!"
"Don't swear either," his father muttered, though this time he let the curse slide. "...Want me to drive you?"
"...Please and thank you."
***
"You're late."
"..."
He didn't offer an excuse or a rebuttal.
"Why were you late?"
Nicholas shuddered. Why does that sound familiar…?
He couldn't even meet Sydney's eyes.
"I overslept," he said simply.
Sydney narrowed her eyes. "And that's supposed to excuse you?"
"No. You asked why, and I answered. That's all."
The two stood in silence for a moment.
Nicholas looked around the gymnasium. Dozens of tables were set up, decorated, and arranged neatly. But what really caught his attention—
—was the crowd.
There were far more people here than he expected.
He recognized Ethan and what he assumed were his usual crew, Lillie flanked by her bodyguards, Average-kun with his group, and—strangely—Tod with his two friends. And then a few stragglers he couldn't place.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Mind telling me what happened here?"
Sydney's face turned red. She averted her eyes.
"Miss Prez," Nicholas said, tone casual but firm. "Can't exactly help out if I don't know what I'm walking into."
Sydney sighed and explained: Lillie and Average-kun were meant to arrive at a set time, but somehow a bunch of others showed up alongside them. She figured someone must have overheard her plans and spread the word.
"Guess that explains the stowaways," Nicholas muttered. "Probably hoping to talk to Lillie. But what about that group?" He pointed toward Ethan's crew.
"They're apparently friends with Lillie," Sydney replied stiffly.
"Alright... What about those three over there? The bully and his two lackeys?"
"I have no idea. They don't have any clear connection to this whole love story. They offered to help, though… and I didn't see a reason to turn them away." She sighed again—this time, sounding more like a disappointed editor than a student council president.
She's treating this like a book instead of real life, Nicholas thought, amused.
"Alright. Let's see what I can do." He cracked his neck and stepped forward.
"Try not to do anything stupid."
"'Stupid' is subjective."