There was a tired look in Kien's eyes, and he looked away.

"I'll be gone for the whole day. I'm going to hunt for a bit." He said.

"Okay. Stay safe."

The incubus did not explicitly say exactly what he was hunting for, but Xuelan knew the implicit meaning behind his words. Hell was a place where it was necessary to kill to survive, and Kien had done none of that over the past week. He had dedicated most of his attention towards feeble attempts to care for an emotionally fraught Xuelan. They had a fair amount of sex, but it was hardly enthusiastic, and he did not gain much EXP from their half-hearted interactions. 

Kien was still underleveled, and fighting other demons was extremely risky. It was impossible to predict whether he would return alive, and there was some sort of mutual understanding that Kien was going on a dangerous killing expedition in the Wasteland. Due to Hell's Walpurgisnacht system, higher level demons tended to be concentrated in upper worlds, and lower level demons were concentrated in lower worlds. Currently, they were in 【 World 5 】, which was an intermediate world, but most inhabitants were still significantly stronger than Kien.

"It's fairly quiet in this remote area, so it probably won't be a good idea to wander too far away, Xue."

"I won't."

There was a hesitant look on the demon's eyes, as if he was unsure about leaving.

"Xue," he repeated.

"Yes?"

"Take care of yourself. Please. Actually try. I know you haven't been trying. Eat. Drink. Groom yourself."

"I will."

"Even if we're not in a relationship, you're important. You are my most important person, and you're invaluable to me even if you think you're worthless. It hurts me to see you still self-harming. I'm happy that you have feelings for me, even if they're artificial, but try to give some of that love to yourself."

Xuelan stiffened and withdrew her arms behind her back.

They were covered with faint gray scars from many years of cutting. A few of the red gashes were fresh, which Xuelan had inflicted on herself using seashells earlier this week. Ordinarily, the girl always wore long sleeves to conceal those numerous faded marks, but they were now in plain view, especially since there were brand new cuts to highlight her damaged skin.

She didn't like to talk about them.

In truth, she used to cut anywhere that she could reach with a razor blade — her thighs and hips were most convenient because they wouldn't show underneath most clothes — but her skin was riddled with old marks. When she was active on the Internet, she used to photoshop the nudes that she took of herself to erase the evidence, but they were impossible to hide in reality.

It was easier to pretend that she didn't have those scars.

If she didn't look at herself in the mirror, and instead drowned herself in the computer monitor, or buried herself underneath a mountain of textbooks, she wouldn't have to look at her own body. When she was online, Xuelan could hide herself behind a fictional persona. Maybe she could be outgoing, innocent, interesting, bubbly, and cute? Xuelan was very good at flirting with digital men. Over the Internet, Xuelan was a different person, and it felt nice when all these different guys fell for all her sweet and deceptive lies.

Meanwhile, she spent most of her college years in sweatpants and oversized hoodies, neglecting herself and her own physical body. She hated makeup and shopping for clothes. Her roommates liked to go clubbing and partying, and Xuelan had nothing but silent brooding jealousy for her female classmates that always seemed like peacocks the way they could transform into sexy divas after a few hours in the bathroom.

She did not have many friends.

His words reminded her of the fact that her body was disfigured and ugly, and her mood soured again.

Kien didn't want to have sex with her anymore because she was too disgusting.

"Xue, if you don't want to do it for yourself, can you do it for me?" Kien repeated quietly. "I removed all the 【 Soul Order 】 commands that restrict your behavior. But please don't cut. If you need someone to think of, tell yourself you're holding back for me. I'm not your Master, but I feel so much stronger when I think of you being happy. I want you to love yourself. Your happiness is my strength."

Xuelan eyes took a darker shade and she averted her gaze.

"...You're so unfair," she muttered almost inaudibly.

Kien furrowed his eyebrows with concern.

"Did you say something?"

"No."

The incubus sighed. He changed the topic.

"I've set you as the 【 Owner 】 of the piece of 【 Shadow Cloth 】 that you're wearing. From now on, you should be able to use it like the way I crafted bondage gear, so I hope you can make use of it. At the very least, you should be able to fashion some better clothes with it."

"Thank you, Kien."

"I'll be leaving now. Take care..."

The black-haired girl nodded. The incubus was extremely awkward in his farewell, and Xuelan looked away. She didn't have anything meaningful to say to him, especially since he had broached a sensitive subject that she hated to talk about. Fate was strange, and their dysfunctional dynamic was clunky and difficult.

+ + +

A short while later.

Kien was far away and nowhere in sight.

Xuelan was sitting on the empty beach.

The long sheet of black shadowy fabric was in her left hand. It flapped in the seaside wind and occasionally lifted up from the ground, but the black-haired girl was pinning it down with her knees. Over the past fifteen minutes, she had quickly learned that it was possible for her to magically manipulate its dimensions and various other physical properties of the fabric just by willing it with her mind. She could make it shrink or grow, stiffen or loosen, strengthen and weaken, and numerous other transformations. 

There was a sharp seashell in right hand.

With a clean motion, she cut off a small square from main fabric.

The resultant piece still retained all the properties of the original, and in fact the cloth could expand to the same size as its parent. It was a blatant violation of conservation of mass, and the ability to endlessly make duplicates was a clearly broken design feature. Xuelan still hadn't quite figured out all of its rules, but there were various quirks, like the fact it wouldn't quite harden to rigid structure, and the shadowy substance seemed adamant about remaining as some form of textile.

She cut off a few more pieces and formed them into rope.

The seashell was like a razor, and she sliced off thin strings of shadowy fabric that she intended to braid into strong cord. With cordage, she could make any more things, like a gill net that she could cast into the sea, to see if she could catch anything from the reddish foul-smelling water. Ordinarily, it was very time-consuming and laborious to make rope, but the shadowy magic cloth made everything easier, and Xuelan was almost like a spider the way she quickly produced silky fibers.

Her hands moved quickly, and Xuelan accidentally cut her finger.

"Ow," she said.

A trickle of blood emerged from her index finger.

The seashell was close to her wrist, and Xuelan stared at it for a long time.

It would only take a slight movement of her hand to bring the edge to her scarred forearm. She only needed to make a slice, and Xuelan could already imagine the sting on her skin. It would feel so numbingly good, like being comforted by a good old friend who had been her lonely companion for so many years. She really wanted it. She wanted to feel the blade on her arms.

She paused.

Xuelan took a deep breath and stood up, leaving the seashell lying on the ground.

She thought of Kien's face.

The girl turned towards the wind. It blew in her face, causing her hair to whip in the salty spray of the ocean air. She spread her arms for a moment, and mentally controlled the coils of black rope to crawl up her legs like snakes. The black tendrils slithered up her torso and hugged her skin. She had it tighten around her limbs, and the feeling of constriction was extremely familiar and even reassuring.

It would definitely be possible to do self-bondage with these shadowy ropes, although it wouldn't be quite the same, since she could easily untie herself at any time.

Xuelan glanced at the bloody seashell on the ground.

She looked out the vast expanse of the sea.

...Maybe she ought to do something else, rather than lingering around her old impulses.

∎

minacia

I always feel like apologizing in my author's notes somehow. Every time I write something, I feel like I'm doing something wrong. For the most part, I just start typing and something comes out — it's probably inconsistent and edgy and moody (I mean, I am a moody person) — yet at the same time I wish I could write something better that everyone can enjoy. I wish my writing tone wasn't always so temperamental.