Hyakki chose to stop pondering the issue and instead, intuitively prayed that the other party would understand him.

“Dororo…”

“You are my Dororo.”

“Dororo…”

At first, his pronunciation was somewhat unclear, but it gradually became more accurate.

Dororo’s voice was melodious and powerful, pure and sincere, like a clear spring, devoid of any exaggeration or strange accents. Every word he spoke was heartfelt.

Meanwhile, Dazai sat in a corner, his fingers constantly tapping on his phone as he searched for the meaning of “Dororo.”

He found various interpretations spanning from ancient times to the present. One definition stood out: in ancient times, “Dororo” originated from the “Classic of Mountains and Seas” (Shan Hai Jing), where it referred to monsters or strange beings. Anything unknown, unnameable, or resembling humans but not quite human was collectively called “Dororo.”

Realizing that Dororo wasn’t calling him filthy but rather, viewing him as an enigmatic “Dororo,” Dazai was left speechless. The agitation caused by being called “muddy” vanished, and his fluctuating emotions returned to normal. Perhaps in Dororo’s eyes, he was nothing more than a Dororo who could only perceive life energy.

“Am I just Hyakki to you?”

Dazai’s tone softened, and the other’s call became less grating.

Hyakki stubbornly squatted across from him. If “Hyakki” didn’t want him to touch, then he wouldn’t. But “Hyakki” couldn’t leave the confines of his mind because of this misunderstanding.

“Like… Hyakki…”

Unable to form a coherent sentence, he resorted to using fragmented words to convey his feelings.

This was Japanese.

People who cultivate flowers are reserved and conservative in matters of emotion. They wouldn’t easily express love. But wasn’t the meaning of studying anime back then to express feelings and express liking for fictional characters?

He didn’t have the courage in reality, but was willing to pour it all out in the world of anime.

“I like you.”

“In this lifetime, will you stay with me forever?”

Dazai widened his hazel eyes. The emotion in the hidden right eye couldn’t be seen, but it certainly wouldn’t be cold and indifferent. A wandering youth, hiding his past in a foreign city, and another struggling youth on the brink of life and death, constantly seeking the beauty of humanity, expressed themselves to each other.

It’s unrelated to beauty or gender; this affection has already transcended human inherent concepts. Even a blind person wouldn’t like someone with an unpleasant voice, and even a deaf person wouldn’t like someone who looks ugly. The discernment rooted in the human heart creates distance between individuals.

Therefore, this love is both precious and difficult to articulate.

He didn’t know Dazai’s appearance, didn’t know Dazai’s past, didn’t know if Dazai would scold him for mispronouncing his name. He just kept repeating.

“Like.”

The puppet felt affection for the one holding him.

In the adjacent room, Gaiki heard something and looked towards the room with the unclosed wooden door.

Like?

It’s truly an incredible word.

Shimomoto Chishu asked, “Lord Gaiki, should we investigate their identities?”

Gaiki, sensing the manipulated individuals outside, smiled faintly. “Chishu, there are some people whose identities simply don’t matter, like us, and like them…”

After forming a contract with the trident, a small part of Hyakki’s psyche indirectly opened up to him.

Human willpower surpasses that of illusionists.

Gaiki, due to his own survival instincts, associated himself with a few individuals who shimmered with the light of humanity in this corrupt world. They hadn’t completely fallen, so he would rescue Inu and Chishu, allowing them to follow him. Therefore, it was impossible for him to dislike Hyakki struggling in adversity.

In his mind, he said, “It’s just not easy to control.”

Even Gaiki had to consider if he could fight without his five senses.

Hmm… it might be tough.

Not wanting others to hear such words, Dazai quickly reached out to cover the other’s mouth, but hesitated midway and withdrew his hand. “No Longer Human” was highly likely to dispel the illusions on Hyakki’s body. Hyakki’s face showed a hint of disappointment, his eyebrows furrowed. The liveliness of his expression surpassed the stiffness of his mask.

“Hyakki…”

[Hyakki is ignoring me.]

Only heaven knew how Dazai successfully deciphered Hyakki’s thoughts from a single address.

“Hyakki, are you a parrot?” Dazai felt disappointed with his limited vocabulary. Let Hyakki be Hyakki. He hadn’t taught Hyakki to write his own name, partly holding onto the thought of “not wanting to increase too much attachment, and discard it when necessary.” He wasn’t mentally prepared for long-term companionship with someone.

Companionship? What a terrifying concept.

He was so casual about his own existence, how could he possibly accompany Hyakki, who was blind and deaf, all the time?

Dazai was then struck by Hyakki’s repeated “liking.” He covered his ears, his expression twisted, as if he himself were being bullied, feeling resigned.

“Please stop saying that.”

Such shameful words shouldn’t be said repeatedly.

“You don’t understand me.”

You have no idea what I’m doing. Can you accept that I’m planning to kill someone?

“When your body recovers and you become a normal person, you can say whatever you want, okay?”

Please, don’t like me…

I’m more turbid than anyone else.