Samael spotted Terror-chan from a distance.
It was too early to feel nostalgia—only a single day had passed since they'd been separated. And yet, the sensation that welled up inside him was unmistakable.
Returning there… felt like coming home.
The group's camp was cold.
Not physically—but humanly.
He could feel it clearly now: those people were together out of necessity. Survival. Nothing more. There was no real affection, no genuine respect—just forced coexistence under the constant threat of death.
And because of that, they drifted apart from one another.
They ignored boundaries. Dismissed each other's problems. Made no effort to understand another's discomfort.
Maybe some of them had excuses.
Maybe Elizabeth, for example.
But Samael doubted that was true for most of them.
Even within her own group, Elizabeth was isolated.
Strange.
She didn't engage in casual conversation. She didn't share trivial moments. Her interactions revolved around survival, leadership, responsibility.
There were times when she barely seemed present at all.
As if she were there only physically.
Samael didn't like that place.
That was why returning to Terror-chan felt… refreshing.
Even if the way they treated him—like a tool, a useful object—was uncomfortable, it was at least honest.
He didn't like them.
And until recently, Elizabeth had been part of that same group in his mind.
But now… it was different.
Understanding her condition made him realize that she treated everyone that way. Not out of conscious disdain. Not out of malice.
It was simply… natural to her.
That made him uncomfortable.
And confused.
Were they friends?
No.
But they were beginning to learn how to deal with each other.
To understand what caused discomfort—and what didn't.
Their relationship wasn't built on duty. Nor on deep emotions.
It was survival.
If either of their lives were truly at risk, neither would sacrifice themselves for the other.
And that was clear to both of them.
Still, they were no longer strangers.
They had become people it was comfortable to be around.
People before whom there was no need to pretend.
No need to hide parts of oneself.
It was a strange relationship.
Different from what he had with Layla.
Layla was comforting because she respected boundaries. Because there was mutual care. A bond built on quiet respect.
Elizabeth was different.
They knew each other's problems.
It was a relationship built on sincerity.
At first, forced.
Then… natural.
After all, once someone already knows the worst about you, hiding the rest loses its meaning.
The worst…
They both already knew.
Samael took a deep breath as he approached Terror-chan.
Plans began to form in his mind.
And this time, he was certain of one thing:
He didn't want to return to that human coldness anytime soon.
"So this is where you lived?" Elizabeth asked, observing Terror-chan closely.
"Yes," Samael replied.
"I can tell," she said, sweeping her gaze over the improvised decorations scattered across the giant skeleton.
Samael followed her gaze for a moment.
"Don't you find it strange… living inside a giant skeleton?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Elizabeth thought for a moment before answering.
"It doesn't make sense to judge housing in a place like this," she said. "There's no such luxury here."
She paused briefly, then added:
"Besides, this place gives off a different kind of comfort than the camp."
Samael blinked.
"You feel comfort?"
Elizabeth sighed slowly.
"How many times are you going to ask whether I feel this or that?" she shot back, clearly irritated.
"Sorry…" Samael murmured. "You're just… intriguing."
She studied him for a few seconds.
"I'm human," she said at last. "And I feel somewhere between seventy and eighty percent of normal human emotions."
The statement was dry. Direct. And yet, there was something almost… assertive about it. As if Elizabeth were making a point of clarifying that fact.
"Sorry…" Samael repeated. "I can't seem to rein in my curiosity."
"Since you've asked so many questions," Elizabeth said, "it's only fair that I ask one too. Right?"
"Yes," he answered without hesitation.
She watched him carefully.
"Why are you so afraid of people?"
The question was too direct.
Samael took a few seconds before replying.
"I don't know…" he admitted. "I think I developed that irrational fear after my first nightmare."
Elizabeth frowned slightly.
"…What do you mean?"
"I don't remember anything that happened there," Samael explained. "I only know I lived there for four years."
She stopped walking.
"Four years?" she repeated. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen," he replied. "I entered my first nightmare… early."
Elizabeth looked him up and down, as if recalculating something.
"You're older than me," she commented. "You don't look it."
Samael felt immediate discomfort.
"What do you mean, 'don't look it'?" he asked. "Are you calling me childish?"
"I'm saying I'm more mature than you," she replied naturally. "Even though I'm a year younger."
"That doesn't make sense," Samael shot back. "I'm not childish. I'm just more sensitive than you, you insensitive person."
The words came out completely naturally.
Too late, Samael realized what he'd said.
Elizabeth blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then, to his surprise, the corner of her lips lifted slightly.
"Sensitive, huh…" she murmured. "That's an interesting way to put it."
Samael looked away, his face heating up.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know," Elizabeth interrupted. "And I'm not complaining."
She turned her gaze back to Terror-chan.
"Maybe that explains why you feel more comfortable here than around people."
Samael didn't respond.
But for the first time since arriving on the island, that observation didn't hurt.
It simply… made sense.
"Enough small talk. Let's focus on what matters," Elizabeth said, breaking the mood.
"What do we do about that thing?" she asked, clearly open to Samael's ideas.
He thought for a few seconds.
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "We don't have a high enough vantage point to attack from a distance. And there's no way to approach without being affected by the mental influence."
He paused.
"Besides, we don't even know how it works."
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully.
"Yeah…" she murmured. "We abandon them."
"What? But—" Samael tried to object.
"Do you have a better idea?" Elizabeth asked.
He fell silent.
"I'm not risking myself for strangers I've known for four days," she added coldly.
Samael said nothing.
He didn't have a real bond with those people—but leaving them to die like that…
"Ah… you did say you were sensitive," Elizabeth commented.
She glanced at him sideways.
"If it makes you feel better, put all the blame on me. Not that it really matters."
She turned her gaze forward.
That was the closest thing to comfort Elizabeth knew how to offer.