Days seemed to have returned to how they once were.
Or more precisely, they had returned to a time even lazier and more boundary-less than before.
The second bedroom had fallen completely into disuse.
The kidnapper had spent an entire month carefully preparing that room, yet Rina had slept there for less than ten days.
The clothes that were bought too big or too small still hung neatly in the wardrobe, but the person they were waiting for would never return.
Rina had fully moved into the master bedroom.
Or rather, she had been moved into the master bedroom.
And so Rina settled into the kidnapper’s room.
As for this change, Rina’s heart stirred not a single ripple…
So what if she got kissed.
So what if she got used as a body pillow.
So what if she got rearranged however the other pleased.
She stared with a pair of sky-blue dead fish eyes, listing out in her mind all the things that had been done to her, only to find that she grew too lazy to keep listing halfway through, because there were just too many.
Anyway, they had already spent day and night together for this long, anyway the other had already taken care of even her daily routines, anyway…
The fact was, she had already grown numb to most of the things this woman did to her body.
As long as it didn’t hurt.
As long as she wasn’t being tortured.
As long as nothing extreme that made her uncomfortable was done.
That bottom line had been lowered to an outrageously pathetic position, but Rina didn’t care.
As long as it didn’t hurt, anything was fine.
Dignity?
What was that?
Could you eat it?
Freedom?
Wasn’t the air conditioning nice?
The reward of one hundred million cash and a healthy body?
System, are you done or not?
[Host…]
Scram.
[Your current domestication…]
Scram off.
[Host, your passive resistance will result in punishment]
Go ahead and strike me down with lightning right now if you dare.
If you can’t kill me, then I’ll just keep lying here.
Rina had long honed her skill of letting words go in one ear and out the other. Every word from the System slid across her cerebral cortex, leaving no trace, no emotion, only a thin layer of irritation that she crushed by simply turning over.
Because she was really busy… busy finding the most comfortable position to lie on the couch.
Today’s midday couch was the most comfortable couch Rina had ever lain on in her life.
The floor-to-ceiling window in the living room had half its blackout curtain open, and the afternoon sunlight was filtered into a lazy honeyed hue, spread evenly across the couch.
The air conditioning swept in from the side, not cold, just enough to keep the air moving, making the curtain puff out in gentle bulges.
Rina was wearing a camisole sundress nightgown.
More precisely, it was the extremely light and loose camisole sundress nightgown the kidnapper had bought for her.
Milk-white thin straps, a loosely hanging neckline, and a hem that ran a bit short.
The fabric was quite comfortable though, real silk, sliding cool and smooth against her skin.
To be honest, she had long stopped caring about whether she was dressed properly.
After all this time together, the other had even taken care of her washing and changing. She had no so-called image defense line left on her body.
That bath towel had long been crumpled into a ball and tossed into the deepest corner of the wardrobe, gathering dust along with the modesty she once treated as a defensive line. It was just that Hisaki had put the clothes on her with the excuse of “you’ll catch a cold if you’re naked.”
But who knew.
Who knew if this kidnapper simply liked seeing her all slouched and defenseless, just finding it pleasant to look at.
After all, this kidnapper was absolutely capable of something like that…
Rina didn’t bother pursuing the answer to that question.
Because pursuing it was meaningless, because she had already put the clothes on.
At this moment, she was lying sideways across the couch in an extremely ungraceful pose, her upper body sunk into the cushions, her head resting on the armrest, one leg propped up against the back of the couch, her body twisted into a curve a human spine should never make.
The silk nightgown slid up crookedly along with her pose, most of her calf exposed, the hem bunched loosely at her thigh.
Rina glanced at it and couldn’t be bothered to lift her hand to pull it flat…
Anyway, Hisaki had long grown used to seeing her in complete disarray, and besides, lifting her hand to tug at the hem took effort…
She now considered even moving a single finger a waste of her energy.
Beside her, Hisaki sat quietly at the edge of the couch.
Rina had placed one of her feet on Hisaki’s lap, looking completely entitled.
Her other foot sometimes rested on Hisaki’s arm, sometimes propped up onto her shoulder, her heel rubbing against Hisaki’s collarbone, her toes occasionally wagging lazily.
Compared to when she was first captured, her boldness had grown by more than a little.
As for why she still kept calling her “kidnapper,” Rina herself couldn’t explain it.
Maybe because she had called her that for too long and gotten used to it…
Just like how the name “Shiro” coming out of the kidnapper’s mouth sounded exactly the same as calling her “Rina.”
Hisaki looked down at the little foot resting on her lap.
Shiro’s feet were small, with a slight protrusion at the ankle bone, plump rounded toes, toenails trimmed neatly, catching a faint sheen under the afternoon sun.
She aligned the nail clippers with the edge of Shiro’s big toe nail, gently snipped off a small crescent of white nail, and tucked it into a tissue.
Then she ran the nail file along the edge of the nail, slowly smoothing the sharp corners until they were round and polished.
Shiro didn’t pull her foot away the entire time.
She just lay collapsed on the couch, eyes closed, completely indifferent to the kidnapper holding her foot, occasionally reflexively curling her toes when a ticklish spot was touched, only to be immediately pressed back down by Hisaki’s cool fingers.
Hisaki looked at the small foot in her hands, her fingertips able to feel the thin boniness beneath the skin.
She really wanted to hold it tightly like this, to make it so she could never walk away from her side, to belong completely to her alone.
But Hisaki only silently finished trimming the nails of Shiro’s other foot, then gently set that foot back down on the couch.
Just then, Rina, who had been lying on the couch with her eyes closed the whole time, suddenly spoke.
Her voice was lazy, dragging with the trailing tone of someone not yet fully awake from a nap.
“Kidnapper… I have a question for you.”
Hisaki put the nail file back into the clipper case and wrapped up the scattered nail clippings in a tissue.
“Hm?”
“Do you still remember that question I asked you in the bathtub before?”
Rina lifted her head slightly from the couch armrest, her sky-blue eyes peering at the kidnapper from beneath her messy silver bangs, her gaze lazier than the afternoon sunlight, but beneath it hid a sliver of seriousness so thin that it was invisible unless you looked closely.
Hisaki’s movements paused for a brief moment, then she continued crumpling the tissue into a ball and tossing it into the trash can by the coffee table.
“Which question?”
“The one about… if I became a sickly invalid who could only lie in bed for the rest of my life, would you imprison me and take care of me forever?”