A leg.
A simple drawing of a leg from hip to foot.
"Oh!" Her golden eyes go wide with genuine delight. "Oh, this is perfect!"
"My leg?" I say, my voice hoarse.
"Your left leg, specifically," she says, turning to face me. "I get to control your left leg now."
She walks toward me, and there's something predatory in the way she moves. Something excited.
"Do you know what this means?" she asks, stopping in front of me. "I can make you walk. Make you run. Make you stumble at exactly the wrong moment. Make you fall when you need to stand."
She crouches down, her hand reaching out to tap my left thigh.
"Or I can just turn it off," she says, looking up at me with that terrifying smile. "Make it dead weight. Make you drag it behind you. Make you crawl."
I feel it the moment she claims it.
A sensation like cold water running down my leg from hip to toe. Not painful. Just... invasive. Wrong. Like something foreign has taken residence in my body.
My leg still feels like my leg. I can still feel the ground beneath my foot. Still feel my jeans against my skin.
But there's something else there now. Something watching. Waiting.
"Perfect," the goddess says, standing up. She's practically vibrating with excitement. "This is going to be so much fun. I can't wait to play with it."
She steps back, admiring me like an artist admiring their work.
"Your nose and your left leg," she muses. "I wonder what I'll take next. Maybe something important. Maybe something you really need."
She walks back to the wheel, running her hand along its edge lovingly.
"But for now," she says, turning to face me again. "Let's see how you handle this."
She crosses the distance between us in two steps and presses her hand against my chest. Right over my heart. Right where Renna's pickaxe pierced me.
"Good luck, Kaito," she says sweetly. "Try not to die too quickly this time. I want to finish my tea."
And she pushes.
.
.
.
The world shifts.
One moment I'm on the clouds with the goddess's hand pressed against my chest.
The next, I'm back in the mine.
The transition is jarring.
The warm golden light replaced by cold darkness.
The open sky replaced by rough stone pressing in from all sides. The only illumination comes from the lantern ahead of me, casting flickering shadows on the tunnel walls.
I'm walking. Pulling the cart. The wheels creak and groan behind me, heavy with ore.
And ahead of me, silhouetted against the lantern light, is Renna.
She's walking deeper into the mine, leading the way. Her tool belt sways with each step. Her pickaxe rests on her shoulder. Her auburn ponytail swings as she moves.
I gasp.
The sound echoes slightly in the tunnel.
Reality crashes over me like a wave.
I'm back. Right before she kills me. Right before she drives that pickaxe through my chest.
My hand goes to my chest instinctively, feeling for the wound that isn't there yet. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it shaking my ribs.
She's going to kill me.
In just a few minutes, we'll reach that section with the rare minerals. And if I don't do something different—if I let it play out the same way—she'll stab me in the back.
Again.
I need to run.
But I can't just bolt. Not here. Not in the narrow tunnel with the cart behind me.
The moment the sound changes—the moment the wheels stop rolling, the moment my footsteps break rhythm—she'll know something's wrong.
She'll turn around. She'll see me trying to escape.
And she's faster than me. Stronger than me. She proved that already.
I need to be smart about this.
I force myself to keep walking.
Don't panic.
Keep pulling the cart. Keep my footsteps steady and even.
But I'm not looking at the mine anymore.
I'm looking at her.
Last time—before she killed me—I was watching her body. The way her hips moved. The curve of her ass in those tight leather pants. The flex of her back muscles through the vest.
Now I'm watching her differently.
I'm watching the pickaxe on her shoulder. The way her hand grips the handle. The relaxed posture that could become a killing stance in an instant.
I'm watching for any sign that she knows. Any indication that she's aware I've been here before. That I know what's coming.
But she just keeps walking, confident and calm, leading me deeper into her trap.
The smell of the mine fills my nose. Earth and stone and dampness. Mineral deposits and old wood from the support beams. A hint of mold where water has seeped through cracks in the rock.
Just normal mine smells.
No blood. No rust. No death.
The goddess wasn't lying. Last time, she was controlling my nose, warning me with the stench of blood. Trying to tell me something was wrong.
This time, there's no warning. Just the ordinary smell of underground stone.
Which means I'm on my own.
I need a plan. Need to figure out how to escape before we reach that section where she'll try to kill me.
My eyes dart to the cart behind me. My pickaxe is in there, lying on top of the ore we collected. Within reach if I need it.
Could I...?
Could I kill her first?