She wanted more tenderness from Sakura. She wanted to be closer to Sakura.
Just like Sakura and Belfast were.
"Really?"
Sakura cupped Asama Chi's cheeks, a gentle smile blooming on her face.
"Do you like me, Chi?" "Mm!"
The answer came without hesitation. It was the feeling the girl had long since faced head-on.
"Does Sakura like me too?"
Her bashful gaze shone with the courage she had summoned.
"Would Chi rather hear the truth or a lie?"
It was a different answer. At that moment, Sakura's eyes were like a bottomless abyss.
Her restless heart trembled slightly, as though a basin of cold water had been poured over it.
The warmth ebbed away, and her overheated body no longer felt the same.
She bit her lip and let out a silent sigh in her heart.
Does Sakura not like me?
The Definition of Love
Love was a wondrous thing.
It was even difficult to define.
An emotion, an object, a concept—everyone had their own interpretation.
Did she have what could be called love for Asama Chi?
She did: a physical fondness.
What Asama Chi called love was the pursuit of bodily pleasure.
Was it her first death?
Or the first time she had seen through the true nature of things?
It no longer mattered.
Her shoulders were pressed down, and her vulnerable side surfaced.
It was a habit Nyarlathotep had cultivated in her.
Sometimes—no, every time she was with Nyarlathotep, she felt that peculiar sensation.
The feeling that she was merely a toy, free to be played with however she pleased.
And she herself did not mind that, so long as the one playing with her was one of her own.
Then nothing else mattered, just like everything Befa—Belfast—had once done to her.
Befa thought she still did not