He reached out and gathered a lock of red hair in his hand, his fingers slowly and deliberately passing through the strands as though stroking some precious silk.
He brought that lock of hair to his nose and took a deep breath, his eyes closing slightly as an intoxicated expression appeared on his face.
If this had been a pair of lovers whose hearts understood each other, it would have been a scene worthy of poetry—but unfortunately for Flay, all she felt was disgust. Acid churned in her stomach, and a powerful urge to vomit rose from deep in her throat.
The warmth of that hand traveled through her hair to her scalp, warm and clammy, like the touch of some mollusk. Even so, so Djibril would not notice, she suppressed her trembling and stood rigidly in place. That at least deserved some praise, didn't it? Her nails had already dug deeply into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks in her skin.
"That's right. You are not allowed to lose. Even if your opponent is the Unicorn."
"-----"
Flay had originally listened to Djibril's words listlessly, as though they were merely background noise. The words entered one ear and left the other without leaving a trace in her mind.
But the instant he spoke the word "Unicorn," light suddenly flared in her eyes. Like lightning, it briefly tore through the mask on her face.
"Yes. I will definitely win."
Her voice was louder than before, carrying a resolve even she had not realized she possessed. It was not a promise to Djibril, but a response to that voice.
"Ahh-----that's how it should be."
Perhaps lost in his own intoxication, Djibril wore a smile that did not suit him, while an unhealthy light flickered in his pale eyes.
—Flay.
That voice came