Blame v2c11

Everything felt very distant. Even when death came close, he’d lived in such a haze that he’d never once seen his life flash before his eyes.

Amidst all this, only Evil’s actions felt like reality. Evil Endem seemed like someone who had mixed in alone from reality into a world where everything was like a dream. However….

‘People don’t change.’

Cheche leaned his back against the bath wall and closed his eyes.

People don’t change. Evil wouldn’t change either. Even if he suppresses and endures his true nature like this, he’ll eventually return to his original form.

Cheche didn’t trust people. The things he’d experienced from when he was very young until now had made him this way. A world where nothing changes is no different from a dream. Cheche’s world existed in a hazy and distant unreality. If Evil truly changed, Cheche’s world would completely change as well, but… for now, he didn’t consider that possibility at all….

***

Cheche thought Evil, having left like that, would be embarrassed when facing him the next day. Because he’s someone who embarrasses easily (if those who knew Evil, including James, had heard this, they would have thought he was talking about a different person with the name Evil), once he came to his senses, he’d be embarrassed about having walked around with something standing. However, Cheche’s prediction was completely off.

First of all, the breakfast scene was different from before. Cheche finished his meal with one fried egg and toast half the size of his palm as always, but Evil only managed to empty three eggs, five slices of toast, and two plates of salad. Even amidst this, it was quite surprising that he pushed a salad plate in front of Cheche with a sullen face.

Hips, who had returned after stopping the head chef and assistant chefs from immediately hanging themselves in suicide, quietly asked Cheche.

Of course, writing with pen on paper so as not to be caught by the person who hears everything.

Did something happen to the young master?

Cheche also wrote with pen.

I don’t know

“Fuck, what are you whispering about?”

Evil, who had gone upstairs to get his hair done, shouted from the second floor.

“N-nothing at all, Evil-nim. I apologize.”

Hips quickly apologized and hurriedly crumpled the paper and put it in his pocket. To Hips, who winked as if asking him to forget the question, Cheche nodded to indicate he understood.

Cheche was also very concerned about Evil’s reduced food intake. Evil ate only half his usual amount not only at breakfast that day but also at lunch, and he didn’t pick fights with or tease Cheche. That evening he slept at the mansion, but the next day he declared he’d sleep outside for a while, plunging the mansion’s servants into despair.

“He probably went to the Endem family’s private hospital. It’s a well-soundproofed place, so he often goes there to rest. It’s the same hospital where you were hospitalized, Cheche-ssi.”

Hips freely revealed where Evil had gone to Cheche, who hadn’t even asked. At the news of Evil’s staying out, the old butler was extremely dejected.

The bathroom that had been destroyed as if someone had smashed it with their fists was restored to its original state in just two days.

Cheche, who was about to enter the bathroom, discovered an unfamiliar box in front of the door. It was a box containing various medical supplies including gauze, bandages, and burn ointment. After checking the contents, Cheche closed the lid and moved the box to a corner of the study. He could tell who had left it there without asking.

He sat at the desk to study as always, but the first aid kit kept catching his eye and he couldn’t concentrate.

Cheche’s prediction had missed the mark. Evil Endem wasn’t embarrassed about the incident in the bath.

He was… reflecting. He himself wouldn’t consider it reflection, but his behavior of hiding in front of Cheche told the story.

Even when he tried to look at his book, his gaze kept turning toward the first aid kit. With his chest feeling ticklish, Cheche rather took his book and left the study. But even in the bedroom where the first aid kit wasn’t visible, it kept circling in his head, so that day he closed his book early.

After spending the weekend alone at the mansion, when Cheche woke up at work time on Monday, Evil had already returned fully recovered. Evil Endem’s reflection had lasted exactly four days, it seemed.

Evil, who knew Cheche used the stairs instead of the elevator, had been looking up the stairs from downstairs with his neck craned, and when Cheche came down, he quickly turned his head elsewhere. Cheche spotted the blond-haired man sitting on the sofa and greeted him.

“Director, did you sleep well?”

“Uh, you.”

“I slept well.”

“Fuck….”

As soon as their eyes met, he spat out a curse with a heavily frowning face.

“Come here.”

“…….”

As Cheche approached, Evil grabbed his thin wrist and rolled up the long sleeve to his forearm. There was a 3cm-long cut on the inside of his forearm.

Because Evil had said he’d be at the hospital “for a while,” Cheche had thought he’d only see Evil at the company today. If he’d known he’d run into him in the morning, he would have sufficiently stopped the bleeding and treated the wound after making the cut last night. It was only a very small wound, but Evil would definitely smell the blood.

Seeing Evil’s red eyes grow coldly sunken, Cheche tried to subtly pull his arm away, but Evil instead pulled him closer.

“Sit.”

Cheche didn’t want to anger Evil, so he obediently sat beside him.

Evil, who brought the medical supply box from Cheche’s room with telekinesis, indiscriminately sprayed disinfectant and then wrapped it with bandages.

“Why did you get this wound?”

“I don’t know.”

“Right. I didn’t expect you to answer properly anyway.”

Evil’s first aid was extremely clumsy. He held the wrist with one hand to keep it from moving, poured disinfectant liberally with the other hand, then wiped it all away with cotton. As if thinking wounds must unconditionally be wrapped with bandages, he wound the bandage around the thin cut ten times, and not only that, though the injury was on the inside of the forearm, he papered the entire arm from the forearm to the wrist with bandages. It was even extremely loose because he’d used too little force.

Unable to watch any longer, Cheche opened his mouth.

“Director, you don’t really need to use bandages.”

“Shut up. You’re a liar, so I don’t trust you.”

“If you’re going to use bandages, you need to tighten them more.”

“Crazy, what if it breaks?”

“It won’t break.”

“If it breaks. Then will you take responsibility? Huh? Who are you to be so confident it won’t break? What do you know about your arm? This is really ridiculous.”

Cheche briefly wondered if this arm wasn’t his but something Evil had entrusted to him.

“You’re being fucking frustrating.”

“I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your habit.”

“…….”

“And, since we’re on the subject, why are you on the bed…”

“…….”

“Why on the bed are you….”

Evil twitched his cheek, trying to say something, but didn’t finish to the end.

He rolled down the sleeves he had rolled up, but the bandages were so loose that the fabric puffed out, and white bandages were visible even at the wrists. It was a somewhat ridiculous sight. Evil glared as if displeased, but didn’t take any particular action.

“You’re going around like this all day today.”

“……”

“Why? Got a complaint?”

“No.”

“Good, you shouldn’t. If you keep getting yourself hurt on your own from now on, you’ll keep looking like this, so be prepared.”

“Yes.”

Even though Cheche answered, Evil’s mood didn’t improve easily. However, he didn’t take out his frustration on Cheche either. Evil stood up from his seat, saying they should eat.

Cheche looked down at the arm Evil had played with.

It was a bit ridiculous… and… that thin, small wound… became a little embarrassing.

***

It had already been four weeks since Cheche entered Evil’s mansion. Cheche tried not to become accustomed to or comfortable with this life, but the benefits were forced upon him. He had to enjoy a life incomparably more comfortable than before with the most uncomfortable feelings.

One of those things was the commuting method. Since the chauffeur took him directly from right in front of the central mansion to the Center’s underground parking lot, Cheche’s clothing gradually became seasonless. Now, at the end of November, Alcity had passed early winter and become full winter, but Cheche didn’t feel the need for an overcoat.

Today too, Cheche came out of the central mansion wearing only a sweater, and the car had already arrived in front. Since Cheche had always sat blankly in the car waiting for Evil, he tried to board the car this time as well. However, today the chauffeur made one suggestion before opening the door.

“How about viewing the garden? Since it’s warm today.”

Since coming to the mansion, sharp winds had been blowing continuously (though of course Cheche rarely had occasion to be exposed to the sharp winds), but today the sun had been out since morning, making it clear weather for winter. Cheche accepted that suggestion and went out to the garden. The chauffeur and Hips followed behind Cheche like vassals attending their master.

The desolate garden with no trees, flowers, or even grass sprouting, with nothing to see, was the servants’ pride.