Ghoul 17: Survival of the Fittest
What is this "Lars" business anyway? Just because you have the skill of wrath, does that mean your name has to be that too? You're just using a fake name, aren't you? You're not actually a delusional teenager, are you? Oh wait—were you? Then I'm sorry. I'll be kind and call you Kyoya from now on, so you don't have to face your black history.
I say nothing in reply to Sophia, who taunts me with a smirk.
Her expression shows her emotions plainly on her face.
It is clear he intends to mock completely.
An overtly lewd smile is plainly visible on their face, as if determined to launch verbal assaults at this precise moment.
The topic being what it is, my disadvantage is inevitable—perhaps expected.
Overshadowed by self-importance.
Never expected to be spoken to in such a manner.
No—upon冷静ly reflecting, this name truly does resemble something a delusional adolescent would favor.
When I changed my name, I was mentally unstable and chose something simple, nothing more.
It is undeniable that this choice resembled a delusional adolescent's preference.
If I may offer an excuse, I never anticipated that a classmate would be reincarnated into the same world. I assumed no one would understand the meaning behind those words.
Being confronted directly with the term "middle school delusion" instantly triggers shame.
It feels as though I have been abruptly pulled from a dream into reality.
But if I am a middle school delusion, then isn't Shiro just as much?
"Granting that I am a middle school delusion, can the same be said of you, Shiro?"
Sophia cannot oppose Shiro.
The hierarchy between them is evident even in this brief exchange.
Therefore, she seeks a reversal from that position.
Even to myself, this feels like a remarkably low-level argument. Disgust sets in.
Why did it devolve into this nonsense about delusional fantasy?
"Ba!? Are you serious!? My master is that, that, that!"
No suitable rebuttal comes to mind. Speech centers appear impaired.
No—panic is not half-hearted.
Is Shiro that frightening?
"I-I don't think that! It's not like I can help the color of my body, but wearing all white? That's absurd! And pretending to be blind, never opening your eyes—what kind of performance is that? I don't think any of that!"
Am I the only one who hears this as a complete self-destruct?
I've suspected Sophia might be this way all along—but is she actually this foolish?
Ah.
"Called?"
Without notice, there he was—both Sophia and I had failed to register his arrival.
Directly behind Sophia.
"So is that how it is? Thought of me like that? A delusion? Not possible."
?
Something is off.
The tone—different. The usual pale complexion slightly flushed.
Most importantly, Shiro, who has never shown anything but a neutral expression, is grinning.
Sophia freezes, as if a sudden sharp sound—*pikku*—had echoed in her mind.
Shiro leans his head against her shoulder, resting against her.
A soft *puaa* escapes his breath. Sophia grimaces.
"Master? You... drank alcohol?"
"I did! It's amazing!"
He laughs, a high-pitched, unrestrained cackle.
Alcohol is forbidden before age twenty.
Well, yes—understanding that point now is pointless.
But this is Shiro’s state when drunk.
I’d heard it from Sophia, but this is far worse than imagined.
Not a different person at all.
"Because white clothes are easier. I could dye them if I wanted to, but it's troublesome, so I don't. Fashion? What's that? Is it edible?"
This must be what people call drunkenness.
Shiro restrains Sophia, who struggles desperately to free herself from the restraint.
Her ashen expression speaks volumes about her fear.
"Closing my eyes is to hide the cursed eye! Not some delusional obsession—this is a real cursed eye! You might die if you look—want to see?"
"Ah—ah—ah—!? Don't show it! Don't show it, please!?"
She's screaming now.
I can't bear to watch anymore. I should intervene.
"Shiro, stop there—"
"Gab."
At the moment I tried to speak, Shiro bit into Sophia’s ear.
Not a gentle nibble—rather, a tearing bite.
Indeed, where Shiro had pulled away, Sophia’s ear was gone.
Stunned, I stood frozen—Shiro’s mouth began to move.
“Crunch crunch.”
“Nooo! I was eaten! Eaten again after so long!?”
“Guhuhu. Isn’t this splendid?”
“H-hey! Wait! Don’t take off my clothes! Wait! I’m not food! Stop spacing out and help me!”
Huh!?
I’d been so shocked, my thoughts had ceased.
“Shiro—stop! Stop!”
As I reached to pull Shiro from Sophia, Shiro’s eyes opened.
I froze—stunned. There was no choice but to stop.
What stood there was an eye—multiple eyes nested within the pupil, strange and unnatural.
"King Crimson? Close, but not quite."
"Wait—?"
When I realized it, Shiro’s form had vanished.
He had been right before me just moments ago.
Not only Shiro—Sophia’s presence was gone as well.
Then, I saw Sophia lying face-down on the floor, her clothes disheveled.
"Uh...?"
Had I seen a hallucination?
The scene before me did not match the one just moments before.
"Back to normal?"
Sophia’s voice came from the floor, tired and strained.
Her voice carried the weight of someone too exhausted to rise.
"What?"
"Who knows? You just froze. Stopped moving all at once."
Something had happened.
"Survival of the fittest… it’s frightening, isn’t it?"
I temporarily removed my coat and draped it over Sophia, who slumped forward.