Soren’s fingertips dug into the edge of the mattress, wrinkling the fabric beneath his grip.
Cold sweat slid down the back of his neck, soaking into his collar.
He looked at Barbara’s profile as she lowered her head to write.
The tips of her sky-blue hair hung over the notebook.
She looked so soft and harmless, yet all he felt was cold.
Like prey wrapped tightly in vines; the harder it struggled, the more painfully it was constricted.
“No… I didn’t think about you.”
His voice trembled.
He did not dare meet Barbara’s eyes and could only stare at the cup of warm milk on the table.
Droplets of water slid down the side of the cup, spreading into a damp stain across the tabletop, just like the helplessness of having nowhere left to run.
Barbara’s pen paused.
When she raised her head again, her smile was still gentle, though the gloom in her eyes had deepened.
She reached out and lightly pinched Soren’s chin, forcing him to look up.
Her fingertips carried the sweet scent of flowers, but her grip allowed no resistance.
“Really?
But I’ve been thinking about you since this morning.”
She held the notebook before Soren’s eyes.
On the page was a tiny drawing of him, beside the words:
[9:00 a.m.: Soren will probably escape from Sister Jean’s room.
Prepare Sweet Madame and warm milk.]
“I waited for you while counting the time.
I even skipped choir practice.
How could you not think about me?”
Barbara’s thumb rubbed softly across his jaw.
Her voice sounded as soft as a spoiled complaint, yet her gaze was like a sugar-coated needle gently piercing into his heart.
A weight settled in on Soren’s chest.
The tip of his tail curled involuntarily, trembling faintly against the mattress.
He wanted to deny it, but his throat felt blocked.
He could not force out a single word.
He knew that if he said the wrong thing, Barbara would write down his “disobedience” in the notebook.
She might even truly tell Jean.
“I… I’ll think about you next time.”
He hurriedly gave in, his voice full of pleading and fear.
Even his breathing had become uneven.
Barbara smiled in satisfaction.
Releasing his chin, she picked up a piece of Sweet Madame from the table and held it to his lips.
“Good boy, take a bite.
I made it according to the sweetness you like, without adding too much sugar.”
Her eyes were filled with anticipation, like a master waiting for a pet to respond.
“Last time, you ate two pieces.
If you can eat three this time, I’ll tell you a little secret about behind the cathedral, okay?”
Soren was forced to open his mouth.
The sweet, greasy flavor spread across his tongue, yet all he tasted was bitterness.
As he chewed the chicken, he watched Barbara lower her head and write in the notebook:
[Soren ate one piece of Sweet Madame.
His expression looked a little bitter.
Use half a spoon less sugar next time.]
The scratching sound of her pen against the paper felt like mark after mark being carved into his heart.
“Oh, right.”
Barbara suddenly seemed to remember something and pulled a small doll from her pocket.
The doll looked almost exactly like Soren.
Tiny horns.
A pale pink tail tip.
Even the clothes were the same style as the ones he wore.
“I made this last night.
Doesn’t it look just like you?”
She stuffed the doll into Soren’s hands, her fingertips lightly stroking the doll’s tail.
“If I can’t keep watching you all the time, I’ll carry it with me instead.
That way, no matter where you are, it’ll feel like I’m still ‘seeing’ you.”
Barbara’s eyes were filled with obsession as her fingers slid down the doll’s little horns.
“Once you become a little more obedient, I’ll make even more dolls of you and fill the entire room with them.
Then we’ll never be separated again.”
Soren held the doll in his hands.
The fabric was soft, yet it felt like burning iron, scorching his palms.
Looking at the doll’s tail, identical to his own, he suddenly remembered Jean’s words about “cutting off your tail.”
A wave of coldness surged up from the soles of his feet, making his entire body tremble.
“I… I want some water.”
He tried to change the subject, though panic still leaked into his voice.
Barbara did not move.
Instead, she reached out and caught the tip of his tail, gently squeezing it.
That was the place where he was most ticklish, yet now all he felt was pain.
“Answer one question first.”
Her voice lowered, the obsession in her eyes almost overflowing.
“Are you staying by my side because you’re afraid I’ll tell Sister… or because you like me, even just a little bit?”
Soren’s body stiffened.
The numbness spreading from the pinched tail tip made him forget even how to breathe.
Looking at the expectation and threat hidden in Barbara’s eyes, he suddenly understood.
There was no correct answer to this question.
If he said he was afraid, she would be unhappy.
If he said he liked her, it would be a lie against his own heart.
“I…”
He opened his mouth barely, his fingers tightening around the doll until its tail became misshapen.
“I… I don’t know.”
Barbara’s smile faded slightly.
Her grip on his tail tightened, sending another sharp stab of pain through him.
“You don’t know?
That’s okay.”
Lowering her head, she wrote in the notebook:
[Soren said he doesn’t know whether he likes me.
Needs more ‘time together’ so he can understand.]
The scratching of her pen across the page sounded especially harsh.
“We have plenty of time.
I can teach you slowly… teach you how to like me, how to look only at me, how to become unable to leave me.”
She released his tail and picked up the cup of warm milk, holding it to his lips.
“Drink the milk first.
It won’t taste good once it gets cold.
If you finish it obediently, I won’t tell Sister that you removed the splint, okay?”
Soren was forced to lean forward.
The warm milk slid down his throat, but it could not warm the coldness inside his heart.
Watching Barbara lower her head to continue recording things, listening to the wind chimes outside and the rustling scratch of her pen, Soren suddenly felt like a marionette.
Every movement watched.
Every word recorded.
Even “liking” someone was something he would have to be taught.
After he finished the milk, Barbara took the cup and set it aside.
Then she wrapped herself around his arm, resting her head against his shoulder.
Her voice was soft like a kitten.
“Can we stay like this?
I’ll teach you the choir songs, and you can tell me stories about your past.
Remember.
You can only tell me.
Not Sister, and not anyone else.”
Her hair brushed against his neck, bringing a faint ticklish sensation that only made his whole body stiffen.
He could feel Barbara’s breathing against his shoulder.
He could smell the sweet fragrance clinging to her body.
He could hear the sound of her writing in the notebook.
On the page, she was currently writing:
[2:00 p.m.: Leaned together with Soren.
He didn’t push me away.
Progress.]
Leaning against the cold wall, Soren stared at the cracks in the ceiling.
…If I ever get the chance to escape, I’ll never come back.
I’ll run as far away as possible.
Barbara suddenly reached out and squeezed his calf gently, speaking in a soft voice.
“Soren’s body heals so fast.
The injured place is already almost better.”
Soren’s body went rigid at once.
The muscles in the calf she touched tensed reflexively, and even his breathing faltered for a moment.
Soren could feel the warmth of Barbara’s fingertips seeping through the fabric.
The pressure was feather-light, yet it felt like hooks were hidden inside it, tugging at his nerves until panic crept through him.
He did not want his injuries to heal fast at all.
As long as the wounds remained, he could at least use his “injured leg” as an excuse to avoid being watched so closely by her.
But now, even that tiny excuse was about to disappear.
“N-no, it’s not healing that fast.”
He hurriedly tried to explain, unease leaking into his trembling voice.
“It still hurts a little.
I can’t walk very far.”
Instinctively, he tried to pull his leg back, only for Barbara to gently press down on his knee, leaving him unable to move.
Barbara raised her head.
Tiny fragments of light shimmered in her sky-blue eyes.
Her smile looked soft and harmless, but understanding already lingered beneath it.
“Really?
But when I touched it just now, you barely trembled at all.”
She flipped open her notebook again.
Beside the earlier line that read “His left leg hurts,” she added another sentence:
[2:15 p.m.: Soren’s calf muscles tensed.
Pain level reduced.
Recovery speed exceeds expectations.
The scratching sound of the pen across the page was like a thin needle stabbing into Soren’s heart again and again.
Watching Barbara carefully record everything, Soren suddenly felt utterly powerless.
Even the speed of his recovery was being documented in such detail.
He did not even have room left to pretend.
“Even if you recover quickly, that’s fine too.”
Barbara closed the notebook and leaned back against his shoulder again, her arms winding around him even tighter.
“Once your leg heals, I’ll take you to the little garden behind the cathedral.
There are lots of flowers you’ve never seen before, and some I secretly planted myself.
Then we can pick flowers together and make candied Sweet Flower fruit, okay?”
Her voice carried excitement, as though she were painting a warm and peaceful scene.
Even so, all Soren felt was suffocation.
He could already imagine it.
Being led around by Barbara.
Never leaving her sight for even a second.
Even choosing which flower to pick would be watched.
And afterward, perhaps written into the notebook as:
[Soren likes Sweet Flowers.
Pick more next time.]
“I… I might not want to go.”
He resisted weakly, his voice quiet as a mosquito’s buzz.
He was afraid that speaking too directly would upset Barbara.
The head resting against his shoulder paused.
Several seconds later, Barbara slowly spoke again.
Her tone remained gentle, but now carried an unmistakable edge that allowed no refusal.
“Why don’t you want to go?
Are you afraid of getting tired… or do you simply not want to go with me?”
Her fingertips lightly traced over the red marks still lingering around Soren’s wrist.
“If you’re worried about being tired, I can carry you.
And if you don’t want to go with me…”
She did not finish the sentence.
Instead, she picked up the doll from the table and gently pinched the doll’s tail tip between her fingers.
“Then I’ll just let this little doll accompany me instead.”
“But afterward, I’ll carefully write down all the flowers we saw and all the Sweet Madame we made together in my notebook.
Whenever you want to know about it, I’ll read it to you.
Though… whether Sister will correct you or not, I can’t say.”
Looking at the doll’s tail being squeezed out of shape, Soren suddenly remembered Barbara saying that carrying the doll was like “seeing” him.
A chill slowly crawled up his spine.
He understood.
What sounded like negotiation was actually a threat.
“I… I’ll go.”
Forced into compromise once more, despair thickened his voice.
The tip of his tail lay limply against the mattress, too exhausted even to twitch.
“When my leg heals, I’ll go to the little garden with you.”
Barbara brightened.
The gloom in her eyes vanished completely.
Hugging his arm, she rubbed her cheek softly against his sleeve.
“I knew you were the most obedient!”
She grabbed her notebook and quickly wrote:
[Soren agreed to go to the little garden with me after his leg heals.
Positive response.
Deserves a reward.]
After writing it down, she deliberately held the notebook up before Soren’s eyes and gave it a little shake, as though proudly showing off her accomplishment.
“And your reward is…”
Barbara pulled a candy wrapped in paper from her pocket.
Unwrapping it, she revealed a pink strawberry-flavored sweet and held it to Soren’s lips.
“I saved this especially for you.
It’s strawberry flavored, not very sour.
I think you’ll like it.”
Soren was forced to open his mouth.
The cloying strawberry sweetness spread across his tongue, yet all he felt was bitterness.
As he chewed the candy, he watched Barbara lower her head and write:
[Soren ate the strawberry candy without frowning.
Acceptance level: good.]
Suddenly, the candy in his mouth felt like medicine wrapped in sweetness.
He swallowed it, yet all it left behind in his heart was bitterness.
Outside the window, the wind chimes rang again.
Leaning against his shoulder, Barbara softly hummed a choir song.
Her voice was gentle and beautiful.
Nonetheless, Soren could not take in a single word.
He stared at the cracks in the ceiling, only one thought filling his mind… He had to find a chance to escape as quickly as possible.
Even if his injuries had not healed.
Even if Jean discovered him.
He could not stay inside this gentle cage any longer.
He could not continue being “taught” by Barbara little by little until he became a “pet” that belonged only to her.
Abruptly, the moment that thought surfaced, Barbara lifted her head.
Her fingertips lightly brushed his cheek, and a trace of scrutiny appeared in her gaze.
“Soren, what are you thinking about?
You weren’t listening properly when I was singing just now.”
Soren’s heart sank.
Hurriedly pulling his thoughts back, he forced a stiff smile onto his face.
“N-no, I wasn’t thinking about anything.
I just thought your singing sounded beautiful.”
Barbara stared into his eyes for several seconds before lowering her head again.
A gentle yet obsessive smile curved at her lips as she wrote in the notebook:
[Soren became distracted and avoided eye contact.
Requires increased observation to prevent thoughts of escape.]
…