Lynn said nothing.
His gaze remained fixed on where Black String Moon had fallen, on the scarlet blood staining her long silver hair.
Dolls did not bleed, yet at that moment, she was covered in blood.
Just as Madam Doll had once told him, every one of her daughters lived in the shadow of that curse. Once their hearts stopped beating, all they could feel was the meshing of gears inside their chests. She had said they needed someone who could awaken their long-lost human emotions before they could grow, little by little.
Only then would their hearts beat.
Lynn did not cry.
Because he was a scumbag, spreading his affections everywhere with some abnormal compulsion to collect.
At first, it had been pure possessiveness driving him. But gradually, he had realized that perhaps they could be friends, perhaps even close friends who relied on each other. Because he could not let her throw her life away for him on a whim, understanding nothing, all because of a verbal contract.
Because that would mean valuing her far too little.
He stared in that direction, only catching sight of those half-lidded eyes and that blood through gaps in the frantic crowd.
He knew.
It had been far too long since they had last seen each other.
They should have sat down for tea like a pair of old friends, complained to each other about everything they had been through over the past few months, or perhaps he could have slyly teased her again, raising her emotional development just a tiny bit more. Then he would have seen that anger reluctantly surface in her eyes, and it would have made him happy.
Black mist slowly spread through his gaze.
That pitch-black snake biting its own tail seemed to have fallen into the