"This isn't much either." After playing cat-and-mouse for long enough, the Long-haired Wraith snapped his fingers, white mist instantly spread across the hall, condensing into tentacles that bound the six struggling ghosts into caterpillars, leaving only their heads exposed.
But even at this stage, they still refused to give up, stubbornly wriggling their bodies as they slowly moved toward Kisaragi Chiyo.
"No, this won't do." With a wave of his long hand, the Wraith directly hung the six ghosts from the ceiling, using them as decorations alongside the magnificent crystal chandelier.
Don't touch him.
"This is also for your own safety." After confirming that the other party was hardly aggressive, the Dark-purple-eyed Wraith no longer paid any attention to the six ghosts hanging from the ceiling, swinging left and right like pendulums.
He turned to look at Kisaragi Chiyo, who was standing outside the gate and hesitating to enter, blinked slowly.
The cold moonlight shone in from outside, casting a hazy glow over Kisaragi Chiyo as she stood under the moonlight.
The man and the Wraith stared at each other for a long time, but in the end, the Wraith was the first to yield.
Thus, Kisaragi Chiyo got his wish and obtained a path that the Wraith had specially cleared for him.
The polished floor was just wide enough for one person to pass, creating a sharp contrast with the dust-covered ground beside it.
"If you have a germophobia, couldn't you have hired cleaners to clean the house beforehand?" The Wraith suppressed it, but in the end, he couldn't help but complain.
I'm sorry, but that really isn't possible.
Why?
"Because I have no money." Kisaragi Chiyo gave a reason that could not be blamed.
“..”
"And yet you were planning to take a taxi back before." The Wraith fell silent for a second, quickly finding the flaw in his argument.
After all, one had to realize that the cost of taxis in Tokyo was exorbitantly high, a fact that was known to almost everyone.
"Because the editor said this can be reimbursed," Kisaragi Chiyo gave a very pragmatic answer.
"I'm starting to suspect that the reason you agreed so readily back then was because you finally found a free cleaner delivered right to your doorstep." Although the Wraith didn't mind being used as a free cleaner, it didn't stop him from taking the opportunity to make a few small requests.
"Oh?" Kisaragi Chiyo's eyebrows twitched slightly upon hearing this. Her misty-gray eyes rolled beneath her thin eyelids before she turned her gaze toward the Wraith, who was diligently cleaning beside her.
"Tell me, I might consider it," the raven-haired youth said, adopting a posture that suggested he was ready to hear the details.
"You don't need to be so wary of me." The Dark-purple-eyed Wraith smiled. His originally pale face was half-hidden in the darkness under the moonlight. He curled a strand of long hair that rested on his chest around his fingertip, then let it go.
I have no intention of doing anything to you." The Dark-purple-eyed Wraith was extremely patient; he had always been skilled at waiting. "If you don't believe me, then just wait for time to prove it.
"You're being quite redundant." Unfortunately, Kisaragi Chiyo was not buying his sincere and warm act.
My, how cold.
"What I'm trying to say is that you and I, I and you—we should at least exchange names, considering our shared experiences." The Wraith never missed an opportunity to try and close the distance between himself and Kisaragi Chiyo.
"I don't have a habit of using intimate terms with strangers." As expected, Kisaragi Chiyo rejected the other's request once again.
At least from Kisaragi Chiyo's personal perspective, she simply could not imagine herself calling him by such an intimate title, nor could she imagine her tone or expression when doing so.
"Alright, alright." The Wraith let out a soft sigh, a look of resignation crossing his face.
“Hara Kenji.”
A pale hand reached out before him, slender and well-defined, emitting a soft, lustrous glow under the moonlight like cold jade or pure white porcelain. The nails were neatly trimmed, showing a slight bluish-grey tint, but that only served to enhance the hand's beauty. Kisaragi Chiyo knew that just moments ago, this very hand had easily punched a ghost right out of the window.
"Then for now, might I have the honor of knowing your name?" The Wraith, who called himself Hara Kenji, lowered his eyes and looked at him with a smile, the drooping corners of his eyes revealing a hint of innocence. His dark-purple-eyed gaze was like opaque glass, like a shard of stained glass from a cathedral window; even though it had been broken and covered in dust, it still carried breathtaking color.
They say a name is the shortest curse, to hand one's name over to a non-human is a dangerous thing.
But as long as the other party wanted to, finding out was only a matter of time, so hiding his identity or giving a fake name was utterly pointless. Kisaragi Chiyo never cared about stepping into danger; he judged in just a few short seconds that such a choice was more suitable for him, then he gave his own name without the slightest hesitation.
“Kisaragi Chiyo.”
Kisaragi Chiyo reached out, using her bare, injured hand to lightly brush against the other's fingertips; although she knew it was an impossible feat, Kisaragi Chiyo still experienced the sensation of having touched him.
It was a truly wonderful and indescribable feeling, one that you couldn't even categorize as a positive or negative emotion.
"It really is warm." Hara Kenji let out a soft chuckle. Even though the distance between the man and the wraith was like an insurmountable chasm, it was not a literal distance. It was the boundary between life and death, between this world and the next—a line so distinct. They were meant to be two parallel lines that would never intersect, yet even with such clear understanding, he still wore an expression that said, *I feel your presence.*
A warm expression appeared on his pale face. As Kisaragi Chiyo watched him, she felt as if she were looking at that little girl who repeatedly struck matches; the other party must know all too well that the illusions appearing in the burning flames were only a fleeting warmth, that by relying solely on this, the final end would still be to freeze to death on a vast, white snowy night.
Oh, she had died long ago.
Then it's fine.
Kisaragi Chiyo lowered her eyes and withdrew her hand, subconsciously rubbing her fingertips together in an attempt to dispel the chill.
So the person who was chilled was actually only him, right?
Author's Note:
----------------------
Thank you, little angels, for adding this to your collection. Mwah! 0330
Chapter 12
Kisaragi Chiyo rarely had dreams, but this time, on his first night in his new home, he had a rare dream.
A young child with black hair ran across the sand in the park, holding a paper airplane. As he ran, he looked back and shouted, "Let's see whose paper airplane can fly higher!"
Then he let go, the paper airplane flew from the child's small palm. It strained against the wind to fly higher and further, heading toward the magnificent, burning sunset, toward the horizon that divided the distance evenly.. but clearly, it was nothing more than an ordinary paper airplane. Its body, made from a piece of a blank notebook torn out carelessly, wobbled through a few turns before plummeting rapidly into the layered shadows of the foliage.
"What a shame." The young child picked up the paper airplane that had fallen to the ground, his cute, childish face full of regret, but he soon broke into a smile again, saying something with a grin to the companion who had followed him from the side.
Kisaragi Chiyo did not hear those words clearly, because all of his attention was captivated by the child's eyes.
Those eyes were like the September midday sun, hiding the heat and brightness of summer. Or perhaps they were like glass marbles submerged in water, with floating light shimmering upon them, the tiny specks of light as vivid and bright as swimming goldfish.
They were a pair of innocent eyes, as soft as purple iris petals.
*
Even after opening his eyes, Kisaragi Chiyo's mind still felt somewhat dazed. He stared at the light-colored patterns on the ceiling, attempting to trace their twisted lines with his gaze. His body was nestled in a soft, luxurious large bed, warm and comfortable, carrying a dry and familiar faint fragrance; everything seemed to be urging and tempting him, suggesting that sleeping for another five minutes would be perfectly fine.
But Kisaragi Chiyo had long since become wary of such sweet traps; he moved the hands resting at his sides, attempting to break free from the control of the duvet, but in the next second, he was drawn by the faint sound of a page turning in the room.
The handsome long-haired man sat in a cushioned chair only a few steps away from the edge of the bed, his legs crossed, with a thick novel spread across his thighs.
The man with dark-purple eyes had his eyes cast down, looking completely absorbed in the story, his expression focused. His long black hair was spread behind him like ink, with a few stray locks occasionally falling playfully over his chest and onto the book, only to be quickly tucked behind his ear by his hand.
“You're awake.”
As if only now realizing Kisaragi Chiyo's gaze, Hara Kenji raised his head, shifting his attention away from the story in his book. He curved his eyes, a gentle arc appearing on his lips, his every movement appearing casual yet somehow deliberate.
Good morning, Chiyo-chan.
Kisaragi Chiyo: ".."
Kisaragi Chiyo did not wish to make much of this title. He sat up, after a few seconds of silence, he finally asked a crucial question.
“You aren't going to sit there all night, are you?”
"Is that not allowed?" Hara Kenji smiled, not denying Kisaragi Chiyo's guess. He tilted his head and blinked innocently; when he smiled, he always gave off an elusive impression, as if even a simple answer was meant to make you guess.
Daylight filtered through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting an ethereal, hazy quality over the light in the room. As a Wraith, the non-human man's skin exposed outside his clothes was as pale as ever, almost no different from the expensive white porcelain vase resting on the table beside him.
He sat in that chair facing Kisaragi Chiyo, a scene and posture that Kisaragi Chiyo could almost vividly imagine: after he had fallen asleep last night, in the pitch-black room, how those dark eyes, shimmering like ghostly green flames, had stared at her without even a single blink.
That behavior was too heavy and too eerie; Kisaragi Chiyo was not curious about the thought process behind his actions.
You agreed to this yourself.
Seeing that Kisaragi Chiyo remained silent, Hara Kenji closed the book, smiling as he thoughtfully reminded his housemate of the things he had personally agreed to last night.
He emphasized the words "personally" and "specifically" with extra weight, before repeating the conversation word for word.
"Of course I remember." Kisaragi Chiyo pulled back the covers and got out of bed; his hair was naturally fluffy, after sleeping through the night, it looked even more like a slightly exploded dandelion.
"You really don't like wardrobes?" Kisaragi Chiyo felt a bit of regret about this; after all, the wardrobe in this room was quite large, large enough to fit four or five people with room to spare.
"I'm sorry, I really don't have that kind of hobby," Hara Kenji chose to decline politely once again; after all, if he were hidden inside a wardrobe, his field of vision and movement wouldn't be particularly convenient.
Alright then," Kisaragi Chiyo said, nodding. "In that case, I'm going to turn it into a workshop.
Hara Kenji: "?"
He blinked slowly, his expression filled with confusion. "Working in a wardrobe?"
"Yes." Kisaragi Chiyo didn't think this little hobby was anything shameful—oh, she should probably say, nothing for a ghost to see.
It's just a personal preference.
Hara Kenji fell silent. He felt that this might be due to the generational gap between himself and the current youth, but he was always willing to respect the preferences of others. Thus, after a few seconds, he enthusiastically asked Kisaragi Chiyo if he needed any help.
"We'll talk about that later." Kisaragi Chiyo quickly remembered the matter of the upcoming deadline despite having not written a single word, but after a brief second of inner guilt, he quickly cast it to the back of his mind.
At least, regarding work matters, they would have to wait until after breakfast.
*
The villa, which had originally been covered in a thick layer of dust, had been made brand new after Hara Kenji's diligent cleaning last night; even some of the upturned wooden floorboards that had been violently damaged were repaired so well that the traces were almost invisible.
The villa's hall had excellent lighting. Kisaragi Chiyo curled up on a red velvet cushioned sofa, feeling the warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the large glass windows.
And directly above him, the six ghosts that Hara Kenji had hung from the ceiling overnight had completely given up resisting; they were now like bats in a cave, quietly choosing to become part of the magnificent chandelier's decorations.
"I think we can skip the Halloween decorations altogether," Hara Kenji drifted out from the kitchen, his long black hair loosely tied behind his head with a light purple ribbon. His voice was lazy and carried a hint of a playful smile, making Kisaragi Chiyo unable to help but think of the descriptions often used in novels to depict such a voice.
A cello's deep, low voice.
But Hara Kenji was different; he would have been a better fit for the violin, or if you went a step further, a minuet.
"My pleasure." A violin-like, light and rhythmic voice fell beside his ear, the pitch rising at the end with a teasing hook. It had to be said that as a housemate, Hara Kenji actually had a quite pleasant personality in certain aspects.
At the very least, after seeing the other person manipulating those tentacles with such single-minded intensity last night, Kisaragi Chiyo had very happily crossed daily cleaning off her to-do list.
"Did you make this?" Kisaragi Chiyo looked at the food, which had been meticulously plated before her; it was obvious that it couldn't have come from a convenience store or anywhere else.
Japan has no breakfast shops, so fast food from convenience stores has become the choice for most people. Of course, one could choose to cook for themselves instead, but unfortunately, Kisaragi Chiyo had not unlocked that particular skill.
It wasn't that he hadn't tried before, but in the end, he had been defeated by the many instances of the phrase "an appropriate amount" appearing in the recipe his friend had given him.
*
The toast was toasted to just the right level of softness, with a very cute little bear face drawn on it in chocolate sauce, even the apples were cut into rabbit shapes for easy eating.
“Of course.” Hara Kenji sat facing Kisaragi Chiyo, resting his cheek in one hand, his dark-purple eyes curving into two crescents, “I am the almighty Lord Hazama.”