Rin stood at the sink, washing dishes.
The tap dripped faintly, its metal stained with spots of rust, while the basin itself bore the marks of age—it was quite old, perhaps eight years or a little more.
The plates she handled showed small cracks along their rims, some with chips missing around the edges, each one threatening to give way under her touch if not handled carefully.
The dim yellowish light of the lone bulb overhead cast long shadows across the kitchen's peeling walls, desperately needing repairs, much like the rest of the house.
As she picked up another plate, the light caught her face, highlighting the weariness etched there. Her shoulders sagged as she let out a slow breath—not from the strain of scrubbing, but from the weight pressing against her thoughts.
Should I… or should I not?
Her mind drifted back to the same dilemma. Ezakiel's confession lingered like a stone in her chest, pressing on her heart.
It wasn't something she wanted to confront in this moment. She considered putting it off for a few more days, but ultimately, it felt unfair to leave him waiting without an answer.
What should I do?
She closed the tap, leaving some plates in the basin, and dried her hands on the towel nearby.
She walked to the bedroom, where her sister lay on her bed—or mattress, one might say—with a blanket pulled over her and the light bulb still casting a soft glow.
"Done so quick?" Sayuri said, her tone filled with surprise.
After all, she had never seen Rin do the dishes this fast—not that she knew Rin hadn't actually finished them—but she was here for something like… advice, one might say. This wasn't a simple matter, and Rin wanted her sister's input as well.
"Nah… I'm done with the dishes. There's something troubling my mind, and I need your advice," Rin said, walking over to her sister and sitting down.
Sayuri noticed the heaviness in Rin's voice, and her expression grew worried. With concern, she asked, "Is everything fine?" She shifted a little, sitting up straighter on the mattress.
"I don't think so…" Rin replied, her eyes lowered before she finally spoke. "It's about Ezakiel…"
"I see. What about him?"
Rin hesitated, fingers fidgeting in her lap. "How do I say this…two days ago or so, he confessed to me—that he loves me. And… I haven't given him an answer yet."
Sayuri's eyes widened. "Oh…"
Rin hurried on before her sister could jump to conclusions. "But he wasn't helping us because of that. He told me himself—said he couldn't just leave a girl like me in that much trouble. He also said he'd be okay if I rejected him, that he'd still help however he could."
Sayuri paused, taking it in, then cleared her throat. "So what about you? What's your answer—what do you choose?"
Rin let out a shaky breath. "I don't know. On one hand I'm grateful for everything he's done—it feels almost cruel to turn him down. But on the other hand, I don't…feel the same way. Would it be more cruel to pretend I loved him just to keep him? I don't think I could live like that. I don't want to lie to him, or to myself."
Sayuri sighed softly, her tone gentle but firm. "Then you don't have to. A relationship built on one-sided love and lies won't last—it only brings pain and suffering along the way." She coughed lightly, then continued, "Perhaps you should just tell him honestly that you don't feel the same. Didn't he himself say he'd be fine with your answer, whatever it was? Then it shouldn't be so hard."
Rin lowered her eyes. "It's just…"
"Listen, Rin," Sayuri said, cutting in with quiet conviction. "Just because someone helps you doesn't mean you owe them love in return. That's a wrong notion to carry. Gratitude and love aren't the same thing."
Rin didn't answer. She sat still, quietly listening to her sister's words.
"Then again," Sayuri continued, her voice softer now, "one more thing you can do is wait a little longer. Give yourself time—see if any sparks awaken in your heart. Who knows? You might actually fall in love with him." She leaned back on the bed, her eyes half-lidded in thought.
"It's rare to find a good man like him, someone who helps people like us without conditions. Though…" she gave a faint smile, "I suppose one could say his parents' Christian upbringing shaped him that way. And maybe—just maybe—God Himself wants you to have a relationship with him."
"Like Ruth and Boaz?" Rin asked quietly.
"Ah, yes—the story of Ruth and Boaz. That's one way to put it." Sayuri gave a faint smile. "Confidently, this is almost exactly like their situation. Ezakiel is Boaz, you are Ruth… and I suppose that makes me the mother-in-law."
Her words trailed off into a sudden, violent cough. Rin's eyes widened, and she quickly rushed to fetch the water bottle from beside the bed, pressing it gently into her sister's hands.
Sayuri sipped slowly, her breathing uneven. "I should… haaa… haaa… sleep," she managed, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
Rin gave a small nod, not wanting to press further. She stood, leaving the room in silence, and returned to the kitchen where the last of the cracked plates still waited in the dim yellow light.
...
"I must say, that was certainly an unexpected event," Aiag said, her voice calm yet tinged with formality as she raised her teacup. The grassy green mindscape swayed with the gentle wind. "I trust it was not overly traumatizing for you, Tatsuya?"
Tatsuya replied with a painful expression, his tone blunt. "Perhaps not… but it was painful as hell!"
He could still feel the phantom sting of the monster's punches on his back, even though the system had healed him completely.
"I see." Aiag set her cup down lightly, her eyes narrowing with quiet thought. "Still, it would be remiss not to acknowledge that this incident has, at the very least, revealed one fortunate truth."
Then she paused and corrected herself. "No—scrap that. Not one truth, but two."
"What are they?" Tatsuya asked.
"First, it has shown us how you must truly be trained," Aiag said.
"Train me properly?"
"Yes. At first, we had no clear direction, so we relied on the system's methods. But it seems now we must alter that approach. Such methods will not serve you against foes like the centipede you faced today—or yesterday. It's hard to say; in this mindscape, midnight has long passed." Aiag's gaze sharpened. "And second—do you recall the two evils I told you dwell in Adachi?"
Tatsuya nodded.
"Good. That centipede monster was one of them," Aiag said.
"Wait, really?" Tatsuya said.
"Yes, it was. I felt the same cold darkness—the evil and malice within its heart—when it radiated its power in anger. It was so dark, so vile, it nearly made me retch," Aiag said as the wind stirred again, her hair flowing as she drew a steadying breath.
"It was that bad?"
Aiag nodded slowly, her expression tight with discomfort.
"However," she went on, "there is one thing that troubles me. It lacked the true killing instinct—towards you, and towards Tsumi."
"Huh? That thing was beating me to death! It would've killed me if I hadn't managed to teleport away!" Tatsuya exclaimed in shock.
"I know how bizarre it sounds, but it is what it is," Aiag said, her hand rising to her chin, fingers brushing thoughtfully against it. "It was furious at you, yes—enraged that you tried to scatter it. That is why it struck you down, why it pushed you near death's edge. But still… it did not seek to kill you outright. Nor did it turn its malice upon Tsumi."
"For what reason?"
"I don't know — we have almost no clue, but it won't be good. This is the first time I've seen a monster like this. Whatever the case, that thing should not still be breathing…" Aiag said. She paused, then added, "I'm making a special — no, personal — request: kill that thing before it accomplishes whatever it seeks. If this evil were to join forces with the other one in Adachi, the consequences would be catastrophic."
Tatsuya let out a slow breath as he absorbed her words. The stakes were suddenly very, very high.
And very painful.