In that case, it might actually be a good thing that he took it out of my hands—it is, after all, a limited-edition deluxe unique item. I wonder how much it might sell for in the shop? Not as much as her crown, but, you know… Still!

On the other hand, if Simel would rather have it as a keepsake, then I can hardly refuse him. Though, frankly, I would have liked to at least hear him say a simple thank you. Is that too much to ask for? No idea. His wide-eyed stare is practically begging for an explanation though, so after pulling myself together, I try my best to give it.

I chuckle slightly and point at the skin. “Yeah, that’s a bit of a long story. Now that I think about it, it was really kind of like some fairytale story, what with me coming to rescue the princess from the clutches of an evil witch and all that. Though, um, it didn’t quite go exactly like that, but…” I try to laugh but the look in his eyes chokes it before it’s even left my lips. “—But it doesn’t matter all that much, does it?”

Suddenly, I feel a strange urge to explain why I was using the skin of a princess as a hand towel. But I can’t think of any reason that doesn’t describe his species as lesser, so I keep my mouth shut, elongating the already painful silence a few more additional seconds.

I shake my head. This has gone on for long enough.

This is a weird situation, sure, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make the most of it, right? I mean, yeah, I kind-of maybe-sort-of killed his fellas, but that’s all in the past. Right here, right now, we can’t exactly be pulling up ghosts of the past and presenting them like fresh sheets. That’s not how it works. No, we need to move forward. That’s right. I don’t know where we’ll go from here, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with Simel—if there is anything to do at all—but that will come in time. For now, I might as well get him acquainted with this place.

I clap my hands together. He jumps back like a startled squirrel. Ah. Oops. I clear my throat. “Uh, right, so… Yeah! You might be wondering where this is, and what I’m doing here, and that’s…” I’m right about to launch into some sort of explanation for why I’m currently living inside the body and flesh of a living giant when I realise that, as dumb as it sounds, I actually have no idea. We’re in a sooty desert, yes. But I have no idea where this desert actually, like… exists. Is it in a country or is it independent? No clue!

“Heh, erm…” I wave my hand. Yup, just gonna skip that whole bit. I’m not even going to explain why I’m trying to kill this guy. “Right, so, this is the crib, which is inside a guy.”

Simel’s left eye twitches.

I open my mouth to elaborate on the inside a guy part, but nothing comes out. Wow. I really don’t know anything, do I? Closing my mouth again, I decide to move on. Stick to what I know and all that.

“Right, so, uh, this is my combined living room, retreating room, kitchen, study…” I wave my hand. “You know. All of it. Yeah, it’s a pretty nice place. Really good neighbourhood. And the rent? Dreamy.” I almost take a step towards him but one look at the bundle of nerves that he’s become dissuades me and I just stumble slightly. To make up for it, I simply point over at the carved-out piece of lung that I laid him on last night. “—That’s my bed. But—but, since we’ll be sharing this place for a while, I guess…”

A patch of sweat breaks out across my back. There’s only one bed.

I shake my head vigorously and point at the floor instead. “S—since you’re the guest, you’ll be sleeping on my bed, and I’ll just be here on the floor. Erm, actually, fun fact, I don’t really need to sleep, and I usually don’t, so I don’t even really need a bed, it was just for the sake of it, so it’s no trouble that you have it, none at all, really. Yeah. That’s, uh, alright with you… right?”

He didn’t even follow my finger to look at the floor. He’s just staring at me. For some reason, though, I’m getting the feeling that maybe he isn’t all that excited at the prospect of sleeping on top of a still-breathing lung. Then again, I mean… It’s not like I want to be judgemental or anything, but it’s not like he has much of a choice, right? It’s lung or the soot, and unlike the soot, the lung probably won’t kill him. I think.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

I take a tiny, tiny step towards him. He takes a tiny step back. I shuffle closer. He shuffles away. To prove that I’m not actually trying to attack him, I hold my gaze on the furthermost wall of the crib. Once I’m close enough to actually point it out, I jerk my thumb in the direction of the door. I’m damn lucky I was able to close it properly or we might’ve actually died. Which, as you might expect, would have been bad.

“That,” I say, waggling my thumb, “is the grand entrance and exit. It’s kind of like a cloaca in terms of doors, ‘cause I haven’t got any back door either.

For probably the first time since our reunion, Simel’s gaze leaves me for just a fraction of a second to hop down the lung hallway to the rib door at the end. Then he looks back at me, eyes shining with determination. He holds the princess’ skin—now folded into a prim square—closer to his chest. It almost seems as though he wants something.

…Oh! Maybe my explanation of the entrance was lacklustre?

I step through the lung hallway, putting my hand against the door.

“It’s a very simple thing, really. See, you push here, and with a little effort, it opens as simple as…”

I blink. Turning around,

I have but a moment to watch as Simel darts from his place, teeth clenched, sprinting past me, through the open door, and out into the sunny, sooty world. For a little magical moment, he hangs in the air, like Luffy in the first One Piece intro. And then time starts moving again and he falls down into the soot and every single instinct I’ve ever had flares up on high alert. “S—Simel?!” I say, scrambling to the door, my eyes anxiously searching for Simel, hoping desperately that he didn’t hurt himself.

But he’s okay. He didn’t fall into the soot. He’s on his feet, trudging, half-running away from the crib.

“Simel!” I shout after him. “Simel, where are you going? You can’t be out in the desert—you’ll burn and die or something!”

Jumping out of the door, I move towards him. He takes one wide-eyed peek over his shoulder and then he turns back around, trying to get away even faster, pushing through the ankle-high soot like wading through black snow.

Compared to his short stature, with my longer legs and stronger physiology, I have no trouble keeping pace, even as he starts trying to run, the soot whirling up around us. I don’t even have to go down on all fours or anything. “Come on, Simel, stop that already! Where are you even going? You’ll get yourself hurt if you continue like this,” I call after him, but as usual, he gives no response. “And, just so you know, I absolutely won’t let you get hurt. Never. Not over my dead body!”

He doesn’t even glance back at me. I can feel a bit of insolence bubble up in my stomach. What the heck is he doing? Where is he going? Why won’t he listen to me? Gritting my teeth, I cross the distance between us in three firm strides. Without a thought, I reach out and plant my hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Simel, let’s go back before—”

He slaps my hand off of him. I freeze in place.

Looking over his shoulder, he gives me a dark look, brimming with some unintelligible emotion I feel like I’ve seen before. But that’s not what I get stuck on.

He redoubles his efforts.

Okay, that’s far enough. Ignoring me? Sure. Not even responding? Alright. But putting himself in danger like this, simply because he won’t listen to my sound advice is just something I can’t put up with. “That’s far enough, Simel. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Saying so, I take two large steps and rear up behind him, grabbing a hold of both shoulders. Maybe a little too forcefully, as he soon starts struggling, fiercely, in terror, and I—soft-hearted, weak little I—just can’t bear it. My grip weakens and he slips out, taking one step, and then another, and then no more as I finally pull myself together enough to finally put an end to this stupid game by tackling him.

As we both fly through the air, my brain actually kicks into gear and I remember that, oh, yeah. There’s burning-hot soot beneath us.

I snake both of my arms around his midsection, twisting in midair so that it’s me and my back that hits the soot instead of him. But even when we’re in the soot, he still won’t struggle, jaw clenched and his body wriggling and squirming like a worm. “Damn it, Simel,” I grumble. Soot is already starting to bite into my back, and Simel isn’t wearing any gloves or anything on his head. If he goes into the soot, forget mere injuries—he’ll die.

And still, he’s stupidly struggling. Does he want to get hurt?

“Damn it, Simel, stop struggling!” But, of course, he won’t listen. He just won’t listen, at all.

Really, in this kind of situation, can you fault me for what I did?

I mean, I really didn’t have much of a choice. He was about to get himself burned, quite literally—and maybe even killed! Anyone would have done the same in my situation. It was the most logical option, and when all is said and done, it did work quite well.

I just reached out, and put my hands around his slim little neck, and put him to sleep for a while. That’s all. It took a minute or so to get him out cold properly, but once it was over, he was asleep and fine.

And then I carried him back to the crib. Heck, I even let him keep his princess binky! Isn’t that nice of me? Everything considered, this was just like when your kid falls asleep in the car and you have to carry them inside and back to bed. Not that I’ve experienced that in either form. But now Simel has, so… yeah.

I carry him inside, and I put him back to bed.

There. Now he’s okay.

Was that so bad?