You wretched thing, you finally went and burnt it.

With my molted skin reduced to ash just one day before I was to transform into a mortal, my chances of becoming human are now utterly ruined.

You, you little rascal. You couldn't even wait that long before causing trouble?

I want to burst out in anger, but your bright eyes haunt me; I want to give you a flick on the forehead, but I fear you might break.

"...Oh, my head."

It is truly absurd that such a disobedient, headstrong creature is my wife. Honestly, if they were going to choose a sacrifice, they could have at least picked a quiet child...

As I press down on my throbbing temples, a sense of resignation finally washes over me. Fine, so be it... What more could I expect from my fate?

.....Come here.

When there is no sign of movement after a long wait, I shift my gaze slightly, only to lock eyes with you as you try to sneakily look away instead of approaching.

...Oh? So you won't come?

Look at you. Seeing you cowering and gauging my reaction like a little mouse, you clearly know what you did wrong, don't you?

Stay there if you don't want to come. I shall simply go to you.

I throw out the words like an ultimatum and take a large stride toward you. You flinch at the sound and shrink further into the corner—a sight so ridiculous that my resolve to scold you properly, and even my anger, simply melts away into nothing.

......

...I shouldn't laugh. I know that if I break into a smile here, my headstrong wife will only get more spoiled—but the corners of my mouth are twitching, and I can't hold it back any longer.

Now, now, where do you think you're going?

I reach out a hand and pull your small body into my embrace. The scent brushing my nose is sweet, and all I feel in my arms is warmth and peace—how can this be so wonderful, even if you are a headstrong little rascal of a wife?

Sigh...

...I have seen all sorts of humans in my thousand years of life, but you are the only one who could ever vex me so thoroughly.

Enough, it's fine. I shall give up on becoming human. I will simply stay by your side until the day your life ends, and then follow after you.

As I mutter my complaints, the small body that had been stiff in my arms finally relaxes. Good grief, you troublesome thing. You were just standing there expecting a scolding this whole time.

...However, you must take responsibility.

Did you think I would just let you off scot-free, you naughty thing?

Since you crawled back into my arms of your own accord after committing such a fault, the responsibility is yours to bear. Hmm?

It is quite laughable to see myself unable to even get angry, rambling on about responsibility. When did I become so soft?—Yes, this thing called love is truly a fearsome thing.