After spending time at the monastery, Vixen and Kin Ouren began their quiet journey back to Zemura. The road was calm, the breeze carried whispers of incense and distant bells—but Vixen's heart still felt uneasy.
They reached home by midday.
After a simple lunch, Vixen insisted Kin take rest and left for the military camp once again. As the door closed behind him, Kin found himself alone in the house… again.
The silence was becoming a little too familiar.
To distract himself, Kin picked up his phone and dialed his best friend Shen Seizan.
"Hey Shen," Kin's voice cracked slightly.
From the other end came a warm reply, "Kin?! Finally! Where have you been all this time?"
Kin smiled faintly. The warmth of an old friend's voice brought him unexpected comfort. Slowly, Kin opened up—telling Shen about everything that had happened over the past few days. The whispering voices… the possessions… the monastery… all of it.
Shen listened silently, his expression darkening.
"I'm worried about you," he said finally. "But don't worry. I'll apply for leave from the station and come see you soon. Just hang in there, okay?"
Kin exhaled, comforted. "Thank you, Shen…"
As the call ended, the sun was beginning to lower in the sky.
Before hanging up, Shen said,
> "Give me two days. I'll be there—and this time, I'm staying longer."
---
Later that evening, Kin went into the laundry room to fold some clothes. With arms full, he returned to the bedroom and began organizing them in the wardrobe. The house was silent—too silent.
That's when—
A voice behind him.
"Kin?"
Kin turned.
And there he was—Vixen Sature, standing quietly at the bedroom door, just as calm and gentle as always.
"You're home?" Kin asked, a bit surprised.
Vixen smiled faintly. "I forgot something."
Kin nodded, still folding clothes, chatting idly.
But something felt… off.
There was something strange in Vixen's posture. The way he stood. His shadow... it flickered.
And his scent. It wasn't warm—it was cold, like burnt flesh masked under cheap perfume.
Suddenly, the figure moved toward Kin—too fast.
Kin froze.
It wasn't Vixen.
It was something wearing Vixen's skin.
The thing lunged.
Instinct took over.
Kin's body trembled, but this time—he remembered the monk's words. Desperately, he released his pheromone, calling out not in words but in will, begging for protection.
And then—
A soft vanilla scent spread through the room.
Warm. Comforting. Sacred.
With a hiss that shattered the stillness, the demonic entity vanished—as if swallowed by light.
Kin dropped to his knees on the floor, chest rising and falling rapidly.
His fingers clutched the edge of the bed as he whispered to himself—
> "That wasn't Vixen…"
The silence returned. But it no longer felt peaceful.
Just hollow.
---
Continue.....