In exchange for your name, I will give you a new one.
In exchange for your heart, I will make you my better half.
And in exchange for your head, I will grant you the power of the Headless Horse, for I shall be the Dullahan.
Arise, my Deadly Nightshade.
---
It was the most realistic dream he had ever had.
Under the crashing weight of the darkness, an unbearable pain surged through his entire body.
In the faint light he could see, there she was—crying while looking at him.
He steadied his arms and his resolve so he wouldn't falter, so the pain he felt in his heart wouldn't fall onto her as much as his tears and blood already had.
As his vision slowly faded to darkness, he remembered telling her his name—the one he should have spoken long ago.
He remembered confessing that his heart had always been hers since the day they first met.
Though he wondered why—and even laughed a little—when she asked for his head.
And when the darkness finally engulfed him, as if the abyss itself had swallowed him, he felt a soft sensation on his lips along with a sweet taste that overwhelmed the metallic tang lingering in his mouth.
Then he heard her voice calling out to him, saying his name—
'Name… Was that really my name?'
He sat up on the bed, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu from his dream. He tried to remember his name, clutching his head with both hands—
'Head… Ehh?' He thought, as his hands caught nothing but black smoke.
The thing that had always been there, connected to his neck above his shoulders, was missing.
The storage that had always been filled with the fantasy stories he had read in manga and manhwa, light novels and web novels, and watched in anime and movies.
The vault that hid all his dirty, deepest, darkest secrets.
The hard drive barely processing how he would handle his daily life and college activities.
The head that had always been thinking of her these past few months, weeks, and days.
He immediately got off the bed in panic, sprinting toward the mirror fixed on the wall beside his closet. Looking at his reflection finally confirmed his suspicion.
He had lost his head—not figuratively, metaphorically, emotionally, or romantically, but literally.
'Wait, calm down for a bit. If I don't have a head—'
If he didn't have a head, then he didn't have eyes as well.
So how could he see his reflection in the mirror—see that there was nothing on top of his shoulders, or the black smoke pouring out of his decapitated neck?
In fact, how could he see—or rather, perceive—his entire room and everything within it? Especially the girl still sleeping on his bed.
Her beautiful sleeping face, her elegant and dignified long, vibrant-blue hair, and her alluring, slender hourglass figure wearing nothing but undergarments—everything he could perceive about the girl sleeping soundly and comfortably, almost naked, in his bed told him who she was.
She was the girl named Afina Azure, one of the goddesses—he meant students—at his college.
The one he secretly admired—who was he kidding?—he was hopelessly in love with her. Enough to—
—ARGHH!—
A pained and panicked scream echoed within him as his brain—inside his missing head—overloaded with all the information from his surroundings, giving him an excruciating headache and severe nausea that made him want to vomit, even though he didn't have a mouth.
Every piece of clothing inside his closet, every book on the shelf, items on top of his desk and under his bed—even his secret stash of lewd—
"Stop screaming inside my head!"
Her voice and words, though harsh and laced with irritation, pulled his mind back from slowly crumbling into madness, fear, anxiety, and confusion about what was happening to him.
A pillow flew past his shoulder, tossed by the girl. It was supposed to hit him in the back of his head—but since he didn't have one, it hit the mirror in front of him and landed in his hands instead.
When he slowly turned around to look at the girl—not that he needed to, since he could perceive everything in his room—he saw her kneeling on the bed, holding the bedsheet with her left arm to cover herself and clutching her head with her right as if enduring the same excruciating headache.
Her face was flushed red to the tips of her ears, blushing in flustered embarrassment as she glared daggers at him.
That made him realize it wasn't only her who was in her undergarments—wearing nothing but a blue bra and panties—but him as well, as he was wearing nothing but a black trunks.
He immediately covered himself with the pillow in his hands, not wanting to embarrass the girl any further. Yet one question still lingered in his mind.
Why are they almost naked?
"Don't even think about it!" The girl shouted again as if she could hear everything he was thinking.
Did something happen between them?
"As if, you freaking horse!"
Regardless of the impossibility—or possibility—seeing the girl he loved—
At that thought, the girl turned even redder, as if her entire body was blushing.
Maybe it wasn't only his thoughts she could hear. Perhaps she could feel his emotions as well. And possibly, it was the same for him.
He could feel her embarrassment, her rising body warmth, and her heart pounding faster and harder. It was like they were connected—
"Pervert!"
Well, he couldn't help but think about it and feel excited. He was indeed a bit of a pervert—not in a bad way, just a little, like most guys his age.
And now that he had calmed down from his fear, anxiety, and confusion, there was another thing he couldn't help but want to try.
If he could perceive everything in his room—including what was inside the closed closet, drawers, and boxes—then perhaps he could see past the bedsheets, through her undergarments—
"Do that and I'll really let you die, you pervert horse!"