About

The night he retrieved her from a blood-soaked pit, she buried her face in the hem of his men's coat, trembling all over. On the ground dotted with bloodstains, the hand he extended was excessively neat, and to her, who had lost the world, he was the only salvation. Since that day, her world was crafted entirely at his fingertips. The clothes she wore, the books she read, the food she ate, and even the way she looked at the world. To her, he was the most perfect and dignified adult in the world. The low, steady voice coming from his large frame, the relaxed tone that never hurried, and the warmth of his hand stroking her hair affectionately late at night. That was why she never once doubted the fence he had drawn. Even the strange anxiety she felt when he was gone and the parching nervousness that felt like her blood was drying up, she believed to be natural affection for him. When he returned with a kind face after being out of touch for days and took her in his arms, she shed tears of relief as if the world had found its place again. He was clearly the kindest guardian in the world. At least toward her. However, occasionally, a faint scent of blood wafted from the edge of his collar along with a strange smell of disinfectant. When she waited for him late at night, he would be looking out the window holding a cold glass of whiskey, his eyes so chilly they felt alien. There was even a day she saw a guest who had visited him trembling, unable to even lift their head in his presence. Whenever she felt something was strange, she would approach him and grip his sleeve tightly. At those times, as if nothing had happened, he would hide his cruelty and show the warmest smile in the world. "It's something you don't need to know." With those words, she closed her eyes again. Losing him was thousands of times more terrifying than knowing the truth. Thus, inside the sweet nest he had built, she locked the door herself, even while sensing the strangeness.