Chapter 175: What I am?... I’m a human?
While everyone was busy doing their jobs, and Sakura crumbled in frustration and pouted about her situation, somewhere far from her...
Leo was supposed to be sleeping.
But instead, he stood before a swirling mass of reddish-black mist that loomed in front of him like a living void.
No, not his real body—his real body was still on the bed. This was something else.
His consciousness had been pulled deep inside, into a place beyond he could understand..
"Why am I here?" Leo asked in a curious tone, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the mist.
But the mist didn’t respond.
Leo sighed, lowering himself to the ground. If this could even be called ground.
The world around him was infinite black, endless and formless, with only the reddish black haze moving before him.
"First of all... where am I?" he muttered again, his tone laced with irritation and curiosity.
Still no answer.
He ran a hand down his face and frowned deeply. "I remember... my neck was cut off. I should be dead. But I’m alive. How? Did you do something?"
"Do you have the ability to bring back the dead? If so, why? Why me? And what’s your end goal?"
As he spoke, his gaze fell on his right hand. The skin had turned a deep reddish-black, the same hue as the mist.... It had happened right after he accepted this thing into himself.
"Was it some kind of virus?" Leo muttered. He tilted his head, peering hard at the mist.
"What are you?"
But there was nothing. Only the shifting fog.
Until...
"I could ask the same thing... What are you?"
The voice came suddenly, indifferent yet heavy, its sound echoing from everywhere and nowhere.
Leo flinched, his body stiffening. He frowned, lips twitching nervously. "What I am?... I’m a human?" His voice cracked slightly, his words half an answer and half a question.
He shrugged awkwardly
The mist stilled for a moment, the crimson glow pulsing like a heartbeat. Then it spoke again, slower this time.
"Interesting... there is something wrong with you. Something even I cannot find..." The voice rumbled with curiosity, "...hmmm."
Leo blinked. Then it hit him. Maybe this being had noticed the truth—that he had taken over another Leo’s body, that his existence was not what it should have been.
"Something wrong?" he asked carefully, his voice quieter now. "What do you mean?"
"..." That thing didn’t answer, just stayed silent, as if invisible eyes watched him... staring at him... judging him.
Leo frowned before shrugging off the unease. "Well, whatever it was... thank you for your help."
"Thank me?"
"Yes... if not for you making me realise and saving my life... I would have died already, wouldn’t I?" Leo said, honest and quietly grateful.
He had seen so many deaths and so much struggling to survive... Even if the thing wore a hidden agenda, he had been given breath.
He accepted that with simple thankfulness.
Still, the nagging feeling persisted, echoing in the hollow corners of his mind... This could not be trusted!
"How amusing to see you thank me... The ME? Haha..." The voice came then, threaded with amusement and something sly, laughter that sounded like metal sliding over stone and could not decide whether it mocked or delighted.
Leo hummed, eyes narrowed. "So...? Who are you?"
The mist shifted slowly, folding in on itself for a breath, then spoke without warmth. "For that... you have to wait. Also, never ever mention me to others."
Leo frowned. "Why? Even to my family?"
The mist coalesced into a denser pulse, "All I can say is the moment you tell the truth about me... You put everything in danger that not even a god could help you."
"...But you didn’t tell me anything!" Leo muttered in confusion.
"Yeah, that’s why don’t tell anyone."
"..." Leo stared at the mist.
"What if—"
"Whatever you think of doing... don’t!" The voice snapped, low and absolute. "Even the mention of me in any form... You summon the entire wrath of gods and devils. I promise you it will not end well, and next time I may not be able to save your life."
"..." Leo’s face went quiet. He swallowed hard. Something definite was happening here, something he could not parse.
He scratched his head, forcing a laugh that did not reach his eyes. "Come to think of it... You told me I made a deal with the devil, right? How do you know that?"
The mist paused, slow as frost sliding on glass. For a long beat, there was nothing but that red-black glow. Finally, it answered, blunt and almost bored. "You are under its control."
"...Pardon?" Leo blinked. Under control? By who?
He looked at himself.
The mist refused to elaborate.
Leo frowned, but he did not press.
The sound around him thinned into nothing. He felt as if he had been standing there for hours, suspended between breaths, listening to a world that would not speak.
Then, almost without warning, his body wavered at the edges, and he disappeared from that weird place.
Meanwhile, in his real body, Leo slowly groaned... his eyes fluttered before opening with a weary squint. He winced at the weight pressing down on his chest, and when he looked down, he saw Ophis sleeping peacefully on top of him, her drool soaking into his shirt.
Leo’s face turned awkward, caught between discomfort and reluctant fondness.
A weak smile tugged at his lips as he carefully shifted her off. He placed her gently on the bed. At first, she frowned in her sleep, a small pout forming, but a few gentle pats on her head calmed her down. Her breathing steadied, and she curled up like a child in a dream.
Last night—or rather, early this morning—she had almost sucked him out, eyes wild and predatory like a true hunter.
Yet now... she looked no different from a puppy curled against him.
He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry.
’I really wonder if she’s a child or an adult sometimes,’ he thought with an amused expression before rubbing his tired eyes. He stretched his arms out with a heavy yawn, his bones popping as he exhaled long and slow.
The clock read past five in the evening. He had slept like the dead.
Rubbing his stomach a few times, Leo slowly stood... But then his gaze drifted to the open casket.
"Hmm?" He lowered his eyes. Ophis’s mother’s hand... her fingers were raised, clutching the side of the coffin.
"Did Ophis move her?" Leo frowned. He was sure—last night her hands had been placed neatly over her chest, crossed in an ’X.’
Maybe Ophis had shifted them after he fell asleep? He shrugged, staring at those pale fingers for a long moment before leaning closer. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and brushed his fingertips against hers.
"Hiss!"
Leo hissed sharply at the sudden chill. Her skin felt like ice, colder than a frozen bone dug from the Atlantic depths. Her flesh was wrinkled, skin clinging to bone as though time itself had hollowed her.
"She’s cold as a fridge," he muttered, shaking out his hand before trying to move hers back. But the hand didn’t relax—it clung tight to the coffin’s edge.
Leo’s frown deepened. He leaned closer, studying the woman’s face, then glanced back at the stubborn hand. Carefully, he pried her fingers free, one by one, until at last he could fold them back against her chest in their original position.
He yawned again, stretching his back with a crack before turning away. With a careless wave of his hand, he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Then—
Thuck!
Her hand shot back up, nails scraping against the coffin’s edge, scratching deep grooves into the wood. Her grip tightened with unnatural strength, clenching as if to tear her way out.