He noticed the cold, dark, mesmerizing eyes as they stared down upon him. A reflective black, is the only way he could describe it to him. The room was enshrouded in dark, her facial features barely being able to be seen. Neither of them speaking they simply stared deeply into one another's eyes, as if there was a greater meaning in doing so.

'Am I not dead?' Yasou asked himself as he laid on the cold wooden ground, still not fully woken up, and barely comprehending the situation. 'Why am I... being looked at?'

The slaughter he had witnessed before was still vivid in his head, the true power he witnessed at the time shocking him. Compared to that, what had he to offer? He struggled to see why he hasn't been killed at that very same moment. Perhaps pity? Maybe a whim? Whatever the case was he couldn't tell the reason. 

As he laid there a few droplets fell onto him, the smell already very familiar. 'Blood...' his mind quickly picked up on. He wasn't sure who's blood it was though, before quickly recognising the gaze.

"...Have you awoken?" the sinister voice asks of him, calling him out. In his fatigue he blurts out a uestion toward the mysterious girl.

"Why am I not dead yet?"

The girl gives him a patient smile, looking at him with an expression similar to ones of a parent who indulges into a toddlers curious but thoughtless questioning. A wry expression, but one that's filled with a hint of joy as well.

"It would be unwise and disgraceful to do so. You are one that assisted me in dire need, how could I not repay the favor?" She asks rhetorically. "Though having felt the pure emotion from your mind, it seems we share the same goals."

'No we don't' his mind yelled out, though he could not utter the words. He knew that doing so would only paint him a foolish hypocrite. He desired death upon others for many, many years. There isn't any point of distinction between them in that regard, he quickly realised. 

"So I'm alive because I'm useful?"

"If you weren't we both wouldn't have been alive by now, would we?" She chuckled at it, showing no clear disturbance at the thought of it.

He stood up, making the girl lean backward a bit after staring intently at him.

"But I will make sure no harm befalls you." she said. "Just move carefully and give your best efforts to remain unnoticed, the smaller details I can take care of."

When he heard the words 'smaller details' he shuddered, vividly remembering the gruesome scene once again. Even being reassured, he felt he coudn't let his guard down for one second, even if his resitance would still prove futile.

"Be assured, I will not lay a finger on you. All I ask is for you not to make me regret that decision."

'What the hell does that mean? Am I supposed to feel better about that!?' his mind rebuked.

Just as she spoke those words she left, leaving him behind in the darkness. Not feeling her overbearing presense relieved him. He felt she was way too powerful compared to before. He was feeling overwhelmed by his new situation; he felt he was brought into something muh bigger than he had hoped for, his petty final revenge turning into a slaughtering of people that tried to side with justice.

"Maybe I should've just spoken to someone." He lamented. "Those people wouldn't have had to die."

The only comfort he had was that he got to save someone in the end, someone that was being hurt by that same group. The only thing he couldn't convince himself of is that it was unjustified of them to do so.

Exhausted and despirited, he flicked on the lightswitch, being suddenly assaulted by the sight of the bloody mess that used to be the inquisitors once again. He realised just how much damage he dealt to their fragile bodies, and felt sick to his core. Quickly, he hurried into the bathroom and threw up, the vomit burning in his throat as he winced in pain from it. once done, he backed off from the toilet bowl and saw it.

It was almost completely grey, with only small hints of orange and green being able to be seen within it. Remembering his injury, and how he felt nothing of it, he turned to look at his previously cut open arm, seeing no wound on there anymore. However, when he touched it, his skin seemed to push inward a bit, freaking him out even more. Having done so, a rotten stench dissimilar from the one in the living room assaulted him.

He felt like he had truly lost all his humanity, and was afraid for future events to come.