“I’m back…”
Kaoru Hoshitani pushed the door open and spoke softly.
His voice was a little hoarse, carrying the fatigue of a long trek, and more than that, a calmness forced into place with great effort.
In his hand he carried a plastic bag bought from the mall, printed with the logo of a budget supermarket.
His fingers had gone pale from gripping it for too long.
The warm yellow light in the entryway fell over his lowered head, casting a small shadow beneath his eyelashes.
“You’re so late, Kaoru. I was just about to go out and look for you.”
Aina Saida, who had been sitting on the living room sofa, sprang up almost immediately. Slipping into her slippers, she hurried to the entryway.
Her face, etched with the anxiety of waiting, was now replaced by relief and concern.
She naturally reached out to take the bag from his hand. When her fingertips brushed the back of his hand, she felt an unusual chill.
“Sorry,”
Kaoru shifted slightly, avoiding her overly direct touch as he handed the bag over. His gaze remained fixed on the seams between the floor tiles.
“Shopping… took a bit longer.”
His tone was steady—almost normal. It was the result of countless rehearsals in his mind on the way home—
using the most ordinary voice to say the most everyday words, to conceal the storm raging underneath.
Aina took the not-very-heavy bag and casually set it on the low cabinet by the door, where it made a faint plastic rustle.
Her attention was entirely on her boyfriend; she didn’t immediately notice his evasive movement.
If the entryway light had been a little brighter, if she hadn’t been temporarily blinded by the relief of his return, she might have noticed the alarming details:
The deer-like eyes that had once been so clear were now slightly swollen, the whites laced with tired bloodshot veins.
His lips, usually a healthy pale pink, were oddly discolored, with a tiny, barely noticeable split on the lower lip.
Beneath the calm expression he was forcing, his facial muscles were stiff—especially the fragile, unnatural curve at the corners of his mouth.
The deepest flaw lay in his eyes: no longer gentle or dependent, but a bottomless depth of forcibly suppressed pain and emptiness, as if part of his soul had been torn away, leaving only a thin layer of disguise.
But the entryway light was not bright enough. Its warm yellow hue softened all edges.
And Kaoru kept his head lowered, his thick lashes hiding most of his gaze, allowing the fatal cracks to remain concealed.
After setting down the bag, Aina almost instinctively opened her arms and pulled that familiar, wonderfully tactile body into a hug.
Her cheek pressed against his soft hair, her arms wrapping around shoulders that felt slightly thinner than usual. She sensed the momentary stiffness of his body—stiffness that quickly, forcibly relaxed.
She took a deep breath.
Instead of the familiar fresh citrus scent of their usual shampoo, her nose was filled with a richer, more layered fragrance—slightly cool, unfamiliar.
“So nice…”
She rested her chin lightly on top of Kaoru’s head, murmuring in surprise.
“Did you change your shampoo, Kaoru? This smell… it’s kind of different.”
The body pressed against hers trembled violently—almost imperceptibly—the instant she finished speaking.
The tremor was brief and swift, so much so that it could have been mistaken for an illusion.
Kaoru’s heart pounded wildly in his chest. Of course he knew exactly where the lingering, inescapably pleasant scent came from—
From the bathroom of that luxurious villa, from expensive shampoo and conditioner brands he didn’t recognize, carrying the refined aura of money.
The scent was like an invisible brand, reminding him of the nightmare he had just escaped.
“…Yeah,”
He heard his own voice striving to remain calm, though the tail end betrayed a trace of tension.
“It was… a small trial bottle they were giving away during a mall promotion. I just… tried it.”
A lie, like the first falling domino. Once it began, countless more were required to prop up the crumbling illusion.
A man who, until today, had almost never hidden anything from his girlfriend, now stood on fragile ice woven from lies, every step perilous.
Aina didn’t think too deeply about it.
The new shampoo did smell good, and the discovery even lifted her mood a little.
“I see,”
she smiled, rubbing her cheek against his hair.
“It smells really nice. Why don’t we both use this one from now on? It really suits you.”
“Let’s… not,”
Kaoru refused almost immediately, his voice carrying a barely concealed urgency.
He couldn’t imagine living every day with a scent tied to that woman—it would be a continuous mental execution.
Aina assumed he was just being frugal again, worried about the price.
She tightened her embrace, her voice gentle and full of hope:
“Don’t worry about money, Kaoru. I officially start my new job the day after tomorrow. The pay’s a lot better than before. We won’t have to live so tightly anymore.”
She painted a picture of the future, trying to pass that joy and sense of security on to him.
After speaking, she pulled back slightly to look at his face.
In the dim entryway light, his cheeks seemed a little more flushed than usual. His refined, flawless features appeared softened by the hazy glow, giving off an unfamiliar beauty—fragile to the point of being heart-stopping.
That strange allure made her heart skip a beat, and a wave of affection and closeness rose within her.
Without thinking, she leaned down toward those unusually colored lips, wanting to place a gentle kiss.
“N—wait!”
Like a startled deer, Kaoru abruptly turned his head away, dodging her kiss.
At the same time, he raised his hands and pushed her shoulders away with a flustered but unmistakably firm force.
The rejection was far too obvious—completely unlike his usual gentle dependence.
He immediately realized how abnormal it was. Before Aina’s puzzled, slightly stunned gaze could settle on him, he hurriedly explained, speaking fast:
“I—I bought something to eat at the mall just now. My mouth… my mouth tastes kind of strong right now, so… it’s not good…”
That wasn’t entirely a lie.
There really was a strange taste lingering in his mouth—a faint metallic sweetness mixed with an indescribable bitterness.
The source of that taste, of course, was not any mall snack.
The confusion in Aina’s eyes slowly faded, replaced by understanding and a trace of regret, but more than anything, consideration.
She knew Kaoru was always very clean, even a little germ-conscious.
“I see,”
she said lightly, letting go and not pressing him further.
“Alright then. Oh, by the way—are you going to shower? I’m about to.”
“Shower…”
The word was like a key, instantly unlocking another floodgate inside Kaoru—one filled with shame and desperate need.
Yes. He needed a shower.
Even though he had already rinsed himself in the luxurious bathroom of that villa, the sensation hadn’t cleansed anything. If anything, it felt like covering filth with another layer of false fragrance.
Even now, he felt that every inch of his skin, every pore, was coated in invisible dirt and humiliation.
He needed water. He needed the familiar scent of their soap. He needed… some kind of “purification,” even if it was only psychological.
A thought—carrying self-destructive atonement and intense longing—suddenly forced its way into his mind.
“Let’s…”
He lifted his head and looked at Aina. In the dim light, his eyes were unnaturally bright, filled with a desperate fragility.
“Let’s shower together…”
He paused, lowering his voice even more, almost a whisper, yet charged with an undeniable plea.
“But… don’t turn on the light.”
“Don’t turn on the light?”
Aina froze, completely unable to understand the strange request.
The bathroom had no windows; without the light, it would be almost pitch-black.
“Why? How are we supposed to wash in the dark?”
Kaoru didn’t explain—he couldn’t.
He simply repeated himself in an almost stubborn, slightly trembling voice, even carrying a rare hint of spoiled coaxing:
“Hey, don’t worry about it… just go get the clothes…”
His abnormal behavior deepened Aina’s unease, but seeing his pale complexion and those eyes glistening in the dimness, she swallowed her questions.
Maybe he was just too tired today. Or in a bad mood, wanting comfort in a special way? That was how she convinced herself.
“…Okay.”
She nodded and turned toward the bedroom to fetch their pajamas.
When Aina returned to the living room with neatly folded, soft, clean sleepwear, Kaoru was already standing silently at the bathroom door, waiting.
They entered the narrow bathroom one after the other.
Out of habit, Aina reached for the light switch on the wall—but her fingers were gently yet firmly stopped by Kaoru’s cold hand.
“We agreed. No light.”
His voice sounded especially clear—and especially tight—in the enclosed space.
Aina withdrew her hand. That strange feeling in her chest deepened again, but she didn’t argue.
The bathroom door closed, cutting off most of the living room light.
Only a faint, diffused glow filtered through the frosted glass in the upper half of the door, bathing the small dark space in a hazy gray-blue light.
It was just enough to make out the outlines of the fixtures—and each other’s blurred silhouettes. Facial features were swallowed by shadow. It was truly a place where you could barely see your own hand.
The reason Kaoru insisted on darkness was now painfully clear—
He couldn’t let the marks on his body be seen.
Hickeys. Finger marks. Faint bruises.
They were brands of sin etched into his once unblemished skin. Any trace of light could expose them, shattering this fragile peace beyond repair.
In the darkness, the soft rustle of clothing sounded unnaturally loud.
Kaoru’s movements were hurried, tinged with panic, as if desperate to shed this “outer skin.”
He tossed the clothes he removed—the newly bought high-neck sweater and jeans—onto the washing machine lid.
Then he walked straight under the showerhead, not even waiting for Aina to finish undressing, and reached out to turn on the water.
Warm water poured down with a roar, soaking his hair and body.
He didn’t test the temperature like he usually did, nor did he wait for the heat to stabilize—he just stood beneath the cascade.
He began to apply body wash.
Not gently.
But violently, almost self-destructively, scrubbing his skin again and again.
From his neck, shoulders, chest, arms, waist, abdomen… all the way down his legs.
He used so much force that, in the silence of the bathroom, one could hear the faint sound of palm against overworked skin.
As if it weren’t body wash at all, but some powerful cleanser—or sandpaper—he was trying to scrape away the “filth” branded into his skin, even into his soul, along with the flesh itself.
In the darkness, Aina could only make out his blurred figure moving violently beneath the water, taut and strained.
Uneasy, she called out softly:
“Kaoru? What’s wrong? Is the water too cold?”
The sound of the water itself seemed oddly oppressive.
Kaoru didn’t answer—or rather, he was too immersed in his ritual of “cleansing” to respond.
The scrubbing continued until his delicate skin was flushed red, until some areas burned with fine, stinging pain, every touch like a needle.
That real, physical pain seemed to slightly dull the torment in his heart.
At last, he stopped.
His hands fell limply to his sides as warm water washed over his reddened, aching body.
He stood there, motionless beneath the spray, like a lifeless statue—only the water tracing the curves of his body before disappearing into the drain.
In the darkness, only the sound of water remained.
That single minute of silence felt unbearably long to Aina.
She couldn’t see his expression, but she could feel a heavy, near-desperate aura spreading from the figure beneath the water, filling the damp, dark space.
Her heart began to pound uneasily, and she was about to speak again.
Then Kaoru moved.
Slowly—painfully slowly—he reached out and turned off the water.
The rushing sound stopped abruptly, plunging the bathroom into an even deeper silence. Only dripping water and their faint breathing remained.
Then, before Aina’s shocked and bewildered eyes, the blurred figure turned to face her.
And then he did something that made her hold her breath, completely unable to comprehend—
He slowly, with a sense of heavy finality, knelt down before her.
His burning knees met the cold, damp tile floor, the chill registering clearly.
He knelt there in the hazy light and moist darkness of the bathroom, lifting his head.
Though Aina couldn’t see his face, she could feel a scorching gaze—laden with unspeakable weight—piercing through the darkness and settling on her.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.