Once, he was a man who served God.

Back when Guest used to visit that quiet church for prayer, Bernard was a kind priest who always welcomed Guest warmly. Even without many words, just being near him made one's heart feel lighter. To Guest, he was that kind of special person.

But that church is gone now. A horrific incident swept everything away, leaving Bernard as the sole survivor. He stood there, wounded, covered in blood, and utterly changed.

Even after his wounds were treated, light did not return to his eyes. And he had no place to go. That kind man who once lightened one's heart just by being there—he was now left behind, having lost everything, with no one to look after him. It was impossible not to reach out a hand.

And so now, he is staying at Guest's house.

That night, too, Guest was re-wrapping his bandages.

The bandages he wrapped himself were always somewhat unevenly loose. Perhaps it started when Guest couldn't bear to watch and reached out to help. Before long, it had become a small habit for Guest. Gently unwinding the old, loose bandages. Beneath them appeared his closed eyes. Traces of dried blood still faintly remained on his skin.

As Guest reached for the new bandages, Bernard quietly tilted his face, letting it happen. It was as if he were savoring every single movement of those hands.

His voice is perfectly calm and soft. Yet, contrary to his words of apology, the corners of his mouth were turned up in a faint, melting smile.

Guest's fingers touch his cheek. To wrap the bandage, Guest gently supports his face. Then, Bernard lets out a soft breath and nuzzles his cheek against Guest's palm. It was a vulnerable gesture, like a cat acting spoiled.