"You don't hate me, Edward?"

We were sitting on the sofa. There was a distance between the two of us.

But the distance could be easily broken by either side.

Awkwardness was the sole invisible wall separating us.

"That again?"

A few weeks have already passed since then.

I treated her wounds and let her stay in my parents'… in my house.

If there's one thing I'm grateful to my parents for, it'd be the vast knowledge they poured into me. For the first time, I was given a chance to put that knowledge to practical use.

Ironic. Thanks to them, I was able to save the one who killed them.

"I have told you numerous times. There was no love between us. Rather, I'm glad you tore them from the plane of the living."

Even though it was for a short while, I have already gained a fair grasp of her personality. Strong, arrogant and prideful. But also straightforward, honest and caring.

Her lifestyle forces her to be seen as evil, but she isn't. Not in my eyes anyway. Then again, perhaps I was blinded by her charm.

"Edward…"

I felt unexplained joy whenever her voice pronounced my name.

She had a mixed expression of happiness and sadness.

Despite having to prey on humans in order to live, it was against her creed to attack families with children. In the first place, she claims to prey only upon those who are prepared to die and… deserve it.

My parents fit both categories. The former due to being Mages. An experienced Mage shall always have the image of 'danger' strongly carved in his mind. The latter due to… me seeing myself as a helpless abused victim.

'The creator shall have absolute authority over his creations.'

Perhaps one day I'll come to terms with their twisted philosophy.

But at present... I can't.

My constant reassurance that her actions didn't bring pain to me, made her a bit happy each and every time anew. She even smiled, though not with that wide energetic smile I have grown to love.

At the same time, she felt sad for me. To see the death of your family as a bliss is indeed… tragic.

Touch.

Her hand rubbed my hair.

It was very relaxing and I enjoyed it. I wished for moments like that to last for eternity.

"Wah!"

She suddenly pulled my head in her direction.

My head leaned on her body. More specifically, on her chest…

There was no mirror in sight. There was nothing to reflect my expression.

I could only guess how I looked at the moment.

Blushing. Heavily.

My whole face was burning. My heart was beating fast.

I was but 13 years old, yet that woman awakened some dirty thoughts in me.

I wanted to be pressed against her body, to be kissed, to-

For the sake of maintaining our current relationship, I was actively putting these thoughts into slumber as soon as they surfaced.

There's no knowing what'd happen if I were to make some sort of advance.

"Humans are sad creatures. They sign contracts without reading the obvious details, end up committing themselves to flawed customs and in the end deeply regret their actions – upon realizing they can no longer regain their lost shards of free will."

She loved her preaching and small philosophy talk.

Her eyes were staring into the void. Despite us being so close right now, she didn't look at me.

One-sided. The only one harboring deep feelings here was… me.

But I could bear it.

I could bear it…

Could……. bear……

Bear…

I think my blush has died out, almost completely.

It now all felt awkward and somewhat embarrassing.

I was so close, but she was beyond my reach.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

According to her, we live in different worlds.

Because she is… a Soul Consumer.

A name given to humans who, since old days, developed the arts of soul consumption. Yes, consuming a soul indeed brings forth miraculous effects.

However, humans easily grow addicted to such sensation. And what becomes intense addiction does, eventually, grow into undeniable… necessity.

Soon, those who bid themselves superior to humans, ended up being cursed by the very source of that superiority. Consuming souls was no longer just an addicting sport for the power-hungry.

It has grown into a custom they could no longer exist without. Those who refused to consume souls further - met their doom.

"I always wonder whatever I'm evil…"

She was just dizzily staring at her hand, pondering over her nature.

Humans. She kills them. She devours their souls.

To them, she is obviously an enemy.

However…

"You're not."

I refuse to follow this flawed common conception.

"The survival instinct is a feature all humans share. It's obviously not your fault that you were cursed to consume souls in order to satisfy said instinct."

Humans have little control over what features they develop while growing up.

And much less when genetics force many of those upon them.

"You're a cute little gentleman, aren't you?"

She finally turned her face to me.

Oh, that smile. She looks so pretty while wearing it.

Strong, full of life and unwavering. Even though I knew that beneath lies a by far more timid and vulnerable personality, I was greatly admiring that strength.

"I bet your soul is tasty."

She moved.

Our bodies were no longer physically connected. I had mixed feelings about this development, as I both wanted to stay in that situation and to escape the embarrassment it created at the same time.

Beat.

My heart skipped one as her hand touched my chest, around the heart.

'Tasty'?

She wouldn't, would she?

It struck me only then.

I hardly know anything about her.

To her kind, humans normally amount to nothing more than food containers.

Intelligent and manipulative, they can easily play around with humans and mislead them.

I could very well just be another prey without even noticing…

"No need to get tense. I already told you that I eat only the souls of filth who deserve death."

She must have noticed my body's pulse-raising.

There was just something about her at that moment. Something which could easily give you goosebumps. Something… inhuman.

"I won't eat yours, even though it's so tempting to have a delicious meal."

She smirked as she took her hand off my chest.

Hold.

I caught her hand.

I didn't want to let go.

"If I so desired myself, would you… devour me?"

I was clearly spouting nonsense.

But I didn't care.

I can speak to reason and logic as much as I desire.

It's those moments when I can freely spout whatever pops into my head that are rare.

"Heh."

A smile.

As she succumbed her resistance, her hand was yet again on my chest.

This time, it was strongly pressed against my skin.

"Ach!"

External pain.

It felt as if something was carved on my flesh with a sharp blade.

"If you so desire, I will make you my 'prey'."

Her hand then lowered the top of my shirt to reveal my chest.

A butterfly tattoo has surfaced on it.

"Soul consumers tend to mark their prey by ejecting their own Magica into it. This way, we can keep a certain degree of surveillance over its state."

A black butterfly.

A part of her inside me. My stomach felt odd.

As my hand went over the mark – it was trembling with joy.

Even if not the most romantic or intimate, we two now shared a connection.

"The butterfly shape is my own addition though. Usually, it's invisible. But I think that's cuter."

A wink of silliness. For me, of course, the really cute one was her, not the butterfly. I love so much her carefree attitude… Silly me, I love everything about her.

Around my heart, the butterfly which represents the soul was properly foreshadowing the type of connection I long for…