Mushiki Kuga's first love was a corpse.
"…"
He stood there, his heart throbbing, a deep sigh escaping his lips, unable to comprehend the maelstrom of emotions swirling within his chest.
Mushiki was neither a grotesque murderer nor a necromaniac.
At the very least, he had never killed anyone before, nor had he ever collected pictures of dead bodies. If anything, he was just as averse to such sights as anyone else.
But now he found himself unable to look away from the scene in front of him.
The girl was lying on her back, covered in blood.
She must have been around sixteen or seventeen years old.
Her face still showed traces of a lingering innocence and gave a glimpse of a certain allure on the verge of coming into flower.
In the glow of the streetlights, her long hair shimmered in a hue that wasn't gold or silver.
Her eyes were tightly closed, so Mushiki couldn't discern the color of her irises, but her expression only served to reinforce her well-defined nose and lips, emphasizing her somewhat inhuman beauty—almost as though he was staring at a porcelain doll.
Finally, as if to apply color to that beguiling figure, blood was smeared on her chest like a bright-red rose, even now still slowly expanding across the fabric of her dress.
It was horrible. Cruel. Brutal.
But most of all, it was dizzyingly beautiful.
Ah yes. There could be no doubt about it.
For the first time in his life, Mushiki felt something he had never experienced before.
He had fallen in love with this girl.
"…Y-you…"
"…!"
After a long, drawn-out pause, a weak and ephemeral voice, almost extinguished, brought him back to his senses.
It was the girl, lying fallen on the ground, who had called out to him with labored breath.
She was still alive.
Mushiki suddenly felt ashamed at having jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Though, more importantly, he was relieved to see she was still conscious.
"Are you okay?! What happened to you?!" he cried out in a tremulous voice as he knelt by her side.
He still didn't know what was going on, and his thoughts were an absolute mess.
All the same, due to his sense of duty to save her, he managed to maintain his composure, albeit just barely.
The girl's eyes fluttered open.
A pair of fantastical eyes, alight in every color imaginable, slowly studied his face.
"…H-hah… I—I see… So this…this is… Ah… I'm glad…it was you…here at the end…"
"What…?"
Mushiki failed to understand the meaning behind the girl's words, and confusion was plain on his face.
Maybe the loss of blood was making her delirious. That wouldn't be at all unsurprising. She needed medical attention as soon as possible.
However, there was no such equipment nearby, and even if there had been, he wouldn't have known how to treat her. He tried calling an ambulance, but his phone seemed to be out of range.
As such, his only option was to carry her to a hospital himself.
But where on earth was he to go, what with the world having changed so profoundly?
"—!"
At that moment, Mushiki looked up at the sound of footsteps echoing behind him.
There was no telling the identity of the approaching figure, but regardless, this was a godsend. Mushiki wasn't skilled enough to save the girl by himself. He stood and began to turn around to ask for help, when—
"…D-don't. Run—"
"…Ugh…"
The girl didn't even have time to finish her sentence.
Mushiki let out a stunned gasp as a fiery pain tore through his chest.
He looked down, only to see a red blossom of blood almost identical to the girl's own wound unfurling its petals across his torso.
Only then did he comprehend.
Whoever had appeared behind him had just impaled him through the chest.
"Ugh… Ah…"
By the time he had fully processed what had happened, his body was no longer responding to his thoughts.
His vision was going dark, and the strength left his limbs.
The pain was so intense that he could hardly breathe.
Unable to remain standing, he collapsed to the ground by the girl's side.
"…"
The footsteps fading into the distance told him that their attacker was slowly departing.
Mushiki was in no state to pursue—or even to confirm the identity of their assailant.
As he heaved a cough, blood spewed from his throat, trickling down his cheek to the ground.
His awareness, overcome by agonizing pain, was gradually fading.
His sense of touch weakening, that of taste disappearing, of smell dulling, while his vision slowly blurred.
In the midst of those vague sensations, there was something that broke through, faint though it was.
The girl by his side crawled over to him with her last ounces of strength and fell sprawled over his limp body.
"…I'm sorry. I didn't mean…to drag you into this… But it can't be helped now. I'm going to have to stick with you…until the end…"
The girl placed her hand on Mushiki's cheek—and pressed her lips against his.
"…"
Their blood mixed together.
A first kiss that left a horrid aftertaste—the metallic tang of blood.
Nonetheless, Mushiki, his senses leaving him, was unable to respond.
He was already on the verge of blacking out.
With his last remaining strength, he heard the girl whisper something close to his ear.
"…I'm entrusting you with my world…"