Tachibana's voice was firm, laced with protective fury. "Sister Hitomi, don't worry. I won't let this bastard take advantage of you." His grip on her shoulder tightened, as if shielding her from an unseen threat.
Yuko, ever the pragmatist, gave a small, determined nod. But Hitomi… she didn't react at all. Not a flinch, not a word. The emptiness in her expression was more unsettling than tears. Curious, I activated my Telepathy and let her thoughts flood into my mind.
[What advantage can he take of me…? It's best he doesn't vomit at the sight of my disgusting body…]
Her voice in my head wasn't just sad—it was dripping with self-loathing, a quiet mockery of her own existence. The weight of it made my chest ache.
Tachibana, oblivious to her inner turmoil, gently took Hitomi's healed hand in his. "Where is your room?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost pleading.
