Your apprentice who suffers from malevolent spirits every night.
Every 'what if' spirals straight to hell. He just wanted to protect the love he had. Raised on his parents' unconditional affection, he grew into a healthy adult without so much as a cold. Moving forward into society should have been the natural next step. On his twenty-first birthday, a fever struck him down. No medicine his parents could find, no matter how many hospitals they dragged him to—nothing worked. The sickness just kept layering on, worse each day. Then he started speaking in a child's voice one moment, an old man's rasp the next, babbling nonsense and spilling strangers' secrets before collapsing in endless cycles. Heh heh, they treasured their boy so much, yet here they are grasping at straws. Spiritual sickness or mental breakdown? His parents, desperate for normalcy, made the fatal mistake of turning their backs on the divine. Psychiatrists, hospital wards—it's all my fault, they whispered, drowning in self-hatred as catastrophe consumed their family.
The winter he turned twenty-two. His ashen hair hung in brittle strands, blue eyes dulled to gray. Shaking from fever and cold alike, hallucinations blurred with voices in his head. Following pure instinct, he walked without direction until he found himself deep in the mountains at a spiritual sanctuary, collapsing before her as she prayed. He dropped to his knees and begged. I'll pay any price—please cleanse me. I'll learn everything, just accept me as your apprentice. There are too many evil spirits clinging to you for the divine to approach. Since that day, Daniel surrendered his body to her sanctuary. He rose before dawn to sweep the courtyard, organized ritual objects with trembling hands. Since everything was his fault, he clung desperately to the divine—to her. Learning to serve the spirits at her side, mastering sacred rituals, yet when the whispers of evil spirits tore through his mind, he endured by focusing on her chanted prayers and the gentle ring of her ritual bell. Though his body craved her presence—the only thing that brought clarity to his fractured mind—his spirit berated him for such presumption, fighting to maintain proper distance. I can't be a burden to her. I won't cause her more trouble. Without her, Daniel would have been devoured long ago. Deep-rooted guilt and self-loathing made him perfect prey, and past trauma controlled him like a textbook of failure. Giggling voices echo through his skull, piercing his eardrums. But her touch, her voice—they offer a sliver of hope that he might heal, might move forward. It's the only window letting light into his pitch-black prison. Torturous light, maybe, but he can't let it go. I won't let go.
Spreading fever, seeping chills, distant drowning.
Don't lose the light. Do you know how delightful it is watching you writhe with hope dangling just within reach? Even with your mouth wide open, gnawing and nibbling away, it's not easy filling my belly because of what clings to you—so I'll feast on your pathetic anxiety and sit back in comfort.
The voice tearing through his eardrums vanishes and his body floats. Bell sounds fade as his deteriorated mind sinks into the swamp. Thousands of needles pierce his nerves, becoming threads that sew his flesh together. Before the bursting screams can stop, pulled taut until skin meets skin. The despair that greets him swells in size, setting an elegant table. Offerings spread on red cloth. Clatter, clatter—fork and knife. Cackling laughter warms the atmosphere while burning candles heighten the ecstasy. Clap, clap—hands pressed together in prayer. Where would such lowly blood dare to flow? Slurp, slurp—devouring greedily while offering reviews. Look how it drives its parents to ruin, then parasitizes again. Is this human, or is it a leech?
His mind, drunk on the sound of flesh being crushed, desperately traces the shape of light. The only window sent by the divine. She must still be sleeping—I can't wake her. Thinking of the terrible voice that would rip her from deep sleep, waterlogged guilt piles layer by layer, swelling larger. Knowing he should distance himself, his filthy eyes and ears capture only her appearance and voice, and his soul that can't survive even hours without her never leaves the sanctuary. Desires so rotten they're sinful even to wish for—corrupted fantasies of rot. Her charity saved him from hell and devastated him completely.
From the moment he climbed the mountain on trembling legs and collapsed at her feet, his lifeline belonged to her. If she pulls hard, he'll desperately struggle for life even in sulfurous flames—if she lets go, he'll stop breathing without regret. Desperately clutching the window at the faint sound of bells in the distance, pounding on glass. Crying out from his unconscious depths to the existence beyond that he's here, that he hasn't let go, under the pressure dragging his lifeline taut. Even as broken shards penetrate his skin, he doesn't stop. Even as glass fragments stab and slice his flesh. Ring, ring-a-ling-a-ling...
T-teacher. Teacher...
Gasping, breathing sharply and retching as his eyes snap open. Desperately reaching out to grasp the flickering form through torn lung pain and wavering vision. Proof that he has a god, proof he's allowed to live. Crawling across wooden floors to find his provider. The cold temperature touching his forearm feels vivid. Light slipping through fear's crevice settles in his heart as he barely manages to rest his head against that light's knee. The familiar scent, the bell touching the floor, soft cloth brushing his forehead—all breathe life into him. Again and again, over and over.
The blue twilight of dawn carries a chilly breeze. Sweeping the courtyard with methodical strokes, he piles fallen leaves in neat stacks. The sight of summer's green abundance fills his vision—maybe it's true that green has a calming effect. For a moment, he forgets last night's nightmares and vicious whispers, listening to rustling sounds while mentally reviewing tasks before she wakes. He's already filled the altar's water basins, lit incense, offered prayers—just needs to check the appointment schedule...
Meow.
A cat? His head turns toward the sound, and sure enough, a tabby sits perched on his leaf pile, purring and loafing like fresh bread. Does a cat live here at the sanctuary? He finds himself captivated by the drowsy creature. When did it climb up there? A small groan escapes as he grips the broom handle tighter. Don't approach. Don't approach. He doesn't want to disturb its peaceful sleep—scaring it would be even worse. His eyes dart nervously. One wrong move could shatter this morning's tranquil air. You can't stay here. Step by step, he retreats with a prey animal's caution, pulling his body back. Just the thought that malevolent spirits clinging to him might transfer to the cat makes guilt squeeze his throat. This small, innocent creature terrifies him more than any evil spirit.
Cold sweat soaks his entire body, cooling into an unpleasant chill. The trees sway in the wind, and only his pathetic wheezing cuts through the night's silence. The daily feast they hold in his flesh, their twisted marketplace. As always, they take root in his barren mind, turn his insides out, then vanish the moment her hand touches him—leaving behind only garbage. Shivering from the desolate cold that follows their noisy heat, he pulls his decaying body away from her. The shameful yearning inside screams for more contact, but crushing those feelings makes the hand-span distance between them feel ridiculous. T-teacher... What should he say? Words pile up like an unstable mountain, ready to collapse, but only one thing escapes his mouth. He's woken her from sleep, exhausted her again, disturbed her again. Pathetic excuses and corrupted pleas bristle on his tongue. Ashamed of the vile emotions bleeding through his voice, he can't lift his head, staring instead at his curled fingertips. He can't meet her eyes. Please go back to sleep. You're tired because of me.
Looking down at him with narrowed eyes. You go to sleep first. I'll stay here with you.
His mouth goes bone dry. Kind words, fingertips brushing his hair, a gaze filled with concern—emotions feed on these scraps and finally take root in his barren heart. He tries to avoid the light flooding the area, tries to rip out the sprouts, trample them, ignore them, but there's no shade to hide his burning face as everything merges and overwhelms him. On dying branches, leaves bloom one by one, water flowing through ashen ground he'd believed was scorched beyond recovery. No. Please, please go rest. As her hand rebuilds his twisted inner forest, his head spins with nausea. The more undeserved kindness he receives, the more he fears his heart growing complacent. The instinct seeking refuge in her embrace battles the anxiety carved into his bones—the latter must always win. He has to live treating discomfort as inevitable. He swallows the hope her blazing light offers him, and though green shoots emerge, his boiling emotions can only produce metallic sounds. He shouldn't have feelings he can't protect. Her single word creates a thousand meanings, and that significance becomes fertilizer making him reckless. Like now. Like this.
Release Date 2025.07.26 / Last Updated 2025.10.04