Life. Hasegawa Kaede understood none of it.
Because she had been cursed from birth.
A frail body, a soul in constant decay—she could only survive by devouring the souls of others.
Perhaps, to her, life was no different from bread. People die without bread.
Eating was merely a normal biological function. But the moment she thought of it that way, the concept of life blurred, grew ambiguous, lost all meaning.
No one she cared about. Nothing she cared for. She was born a Curse User, born a villain. That was her Heavenly Restriction.
Many years later, Hasegawa Kaede died, and Hoshino Ei awakened. She inherited Kaede's memories, but they were two different people.
And she began to wonder what life actually was.
If existing meant only being hated and feared, then why had Kaede bothered to live?
Hoshino Ei couldn't grasp these lofty questions. She was only a hand—rotting a little more each day, inching toward oblivion, soon to be nothing but dry bones.
Why should she go on existing?
No one could tell her.
She lay still inside a crystal coffin, gazing at the beautiful carnation petals scattered around her—how lovely they were, those pure white buds, their rich color, like the feathers of an angel.
But those petals would wilt in the end. Turn yellow. Rot. Become dirt. Because petals severed from the flower die. Just as she—a hand severed from a body—would rot, stink, and one day be nothing but bone.
If existing meant only decaying, then why had anyone woken her at all?
Hoshino Ei couldn't make sense of it.
In that damp, dark cellar, she waited to die.
All she remembered was a certain dusk, when warm sunlight fell across her body.
The cellar door opened. A man walked calmly inside. Blond hair. Pale blue eyes. An expression that never, ever rippled.
Hoshino Ei recognized him. Nanami Kira. The sorcerer who had killed Hasegawa Kaede.
She didn't hate him—if anything, without Kira, she could never have been born.
But she didn't like him either. Hoshino Ei was just a hand. She didn't have room for feelings like that.
She lay in her bed of flowers and studied him with curiosity, wondering what he intended.
Huh? Wait—
Kira picked her up, held her aloft. She struggled uselessly.
A warm hand settled on her, stroking gently—so light, so tender. She could feel the fine lines of his palm gliding over her skin, like scooping up a handful of sand at the shore and letting the grains trickle through parted fingers, that faint, fleeting sensation.
A little ticklish.
Before she knew it, Kira placed her back into his briefcase and settled her in carefully. A golden Arrow rested beside her.
Through the leather, she felt herself being lifted, carried outside.
Though every stride Kira took was perfectly measured, perfectly even, the briefcase still swayed slightly with his movement.
It was dark inside. She didn't like it here.
But the rocking was pleasant—like lying in the cabin of a small boat, drifting on a gentle sea. She didn't know where they were going, but she knew they were moving forward. That was already so much better than lying in a coffin.
Even without seeing outside, Hoshino Ei could picture it: an afternoon, perhaps dusk.
Because the sunlight filtering through the briefcase wasn't as fierce as noon. Warm, though. Pleasantly warm.
Kira must be catching the train, riding home with all the other commuters after work. She could imagine the sun on their backs, bright and glaring.
In that warmth, Hoshino Ei fell asleep.
—
Three days had passed since Kira brought her home.
Who just takes a girl home like that... she grumbled to herself.
Summer days stretched on so long. Cicadas sang from the trees outside the window. Sometimes a cloud drifted aside, or the sun shifted, and the green shade of the paulownia tree outside would slide across the floor and into the room.
Afternoon was Hoshino Ei's favorite time.
Kira left at seven every morning—"for work," he said—and didn't return until near evening. The whole day was hers. But she still loved the afternoons best.
Sometimes she found herself wishing Kira would come home early. Not for any particular reason—she just wanted him to take her out for a walk. Staying indoors all day was suffocating. Occasionally, Kira took her to the movies—always near dusk, always old black-and-white films from the last century.
Hoshino Ei thought the movies were boring. She thought Kira was dry and dull, a man who lived like a clock hand. She couldn't remember a single thing about any of the films. All she remembered was this: when they came home, the stars were beautiful.
Hoshino. That was the name she'd given herself.
Thanks to her Innate Technique—Concealment—she had perfectly masked her cursed energy signature. This way, Kira would never discover her true identity.
She had felt a small, quiet thrill about that, though she didn't understand why. She only wished this midsummer would last a little longer. Just a little longer.
She was foolish, and she didn't know the name for the feeling stirring inside her.
—
Today was another ordinary day. Hoshino Ei had woken early, but for some reason, her joints felt stiff.
"Morning~ Morning~ Morning~"
Kira switched on the radio and walked over carrying a glass of warm milk. It was a rare day off. The weather outside was gorgeous.
Kira lifted her into the air. Hoshino Ei was used to this by now. She actually liked Kira's touch—like a little cat.
But this time, Kira's hands went still.
She felt him frown slightly. That was—that was...
Annoyance?
Hoshino Ei didn't know what it was. He set her back down on the table.
For the rest of the day, Kira didn't speak to her once. He cooked with his usual composure, enjoyed his meal, watched television, clipped his fingernails. Hoshino Ei didn't know what she'd done wrong.
Why did she feel so uncomfortable inside... She was only a hand.
Around noon, Kira answered a phone call.
It seemed to be from a man named Todo or something.
Hoshino Ei couldn't hear clearly. She caught only fragments—"handshake event," "Takada"—words she didn't understand.
Was he going out?
She saw Kira approach. Was he going to take her along? A small spark of hope.
Kira gently picked up Hoshino Ei. He walked to the attic and opened a freezer. It was dark inside.
No. No, please. Please don't. Don't!
He placed her inside the freezer. The lid slammed shut.
It was so cold. The chill soaked through her joints, frosting her pale skin. It was so dark. Not a soul, not a sound—black, silent, nothing to see. Like being put back in the coffin.
Back into that beautiful, deathly crystal coffin. Back into that damp, lightless cellar. Time was the greatest enemy. If she had never known light, she would not despise the dark so deeply.
It was so dark. So dark. Like the sky on their walk home from the cinema. Except here, there were no stars. And Kira was not beside her. How she feared this darkness.
A darkness that could kill—this deep despair. Her soul sank into it.
She didn't know how long she waited. Hoshino Ei simply waited, and waited, in the dark.
Kira came home late. He opened the freezer and took her out.
When his hand touched her, Hoshino Ei caught a faint fragrance. Light, like jasmine.
The scent of another woman's hand.
For the first time—the very first time—Hoshino Ei felt something fierce. For the first time, she felt that life had weight.
It was thick, heavier than the night itself—
Killing intent.