After several minutes of walking in silence, it beca clear that they didn't share enough intimacy to sustain a healthy conversation.
And yet, the silence wasn't uncomfortable.
On the contrary.
There was sothing… pleasant about that quiet.
Samael had always liked silent people. Layla was like that. Elizabeth too.
Their presence didn't pressure him, didn't demand answers, didn't invade his space.
Unlike people like Leon. Or Mason.
Forced intimacy was suffocating. Intrusive.
He hated it.
Their shadows stretched and danced across the sand as they walked, distorted by the dim sunlight. Their footsteps unconsciously synchronized, forming a soft rhythm—like a muted symphony in a silent world.
And then…
Sothing changed.
As they moved farther from the camp, Samael felt the influence disappear.
Not gradually.
Not gently.
It simply… ended.
Like a cloth being ripped away from his eyes.
Cold sweat slid down the back of his neck.
His hands began to tremble violently.
A deep chill ran down his spine as the mory of what had happened finally struck him in full.
The comfort.
The openness.
The words he would never say to anyone.
The fear that seized him was visceral.
Raw.
Second only to that creature that had cleaved an entire forest in half.
But this was different.
Worse.
This terror didn't co from claws, fangs, or overwhelming strength—but from sothing that could approach without being noticed.
Sothing that nullified danger itself.
Sothing that made the mind relax.
Sothing that made people far too comfortable.
Comfortable enough for him to reveal his deepest insecurities to soone he barely knew.
Samael clenched his fists.
He had felt more comfortable with Elizabeth than with the rest of the group.
And that was exactly the problem.
He didn't trust her.
Not truly.
He never would.
He would never repeat what he had said that night.
And he was certain she wouldn't repeat anything she had said to him either.
Not because there was trust—
But because they had known each other for only one day.
And yet…
That had been enough.
That was the true horror.
Not what the thing had done.
But how easily it had made them act as if it were normal.
The psychological influence of the creature had affected Elizabeth as well.
It was obvious.
She pressed her fingers hard against her temples, her expression twisted into an irritated scowl that, under any other circumstances, Samael might have even found amusing. Normally, Elizabeth was far too serious for that.
Except in two situations.
When she was under that thing's influence.
And now.
Outside of that, she almost never showed what she felt—or whether she truly felt anything at all. It was impossible to tell whether her coldness was absence… or absolute control.
Seeing her like this stirred sothing in Samael.
Curiosity.
"How does your condition work?" he asked hesitantly. "Are there emotions you simply don't feel? How does that work? How do you know which ones you have… and which ones you don't?"
He genuinely wanted to understand.
It intrigued him.
He had never heard of anything like it.
Could she feel happiness? Anticipation? Relief?
Elizabeth let out a deep sigh and stopped walking.
She turned to face him, her gaze sharp.
"Would you like it if I started asking why you're insecure… and socially dysfunctional?" she shot back, clearly displeased.
Samael froze.
"N-no…" he replied. "It's just that… it intrigued . Sorry if I offended you. I was just curious about how it works… and how it affects your social relationships."
He looked away, regretful.
"Forget it," he added quickly. "Pretend I didn't ask."
Silence settled between them again.
But this ti, it wasn't comfortable.
It was tense.
Heavy.
"I'm not offended," Elizabeth said a few minutes later.
He looked up, surprised.
"And to be clear, this condition doesn't affect the way you imagine," she continued. "Or rather… it doesn't affect at all. To , it's natural. As if it doesn't even exist."
Her tone was cold, devoid of emotional weight—as if it weren't a secret, nor a weakness.
"I just find other people's reactions strange," she added. "Nothing more."
Samael hesitated, then asked:
"And how does that affect the way you see people?"
His eyes shone with curiosity. He surprised even himself.
Elizabeth thought for a mont.
"Objectification," she replied. "That's more or less how I see people. I don't feel bad for soone, and I don't think about them unless I need them… or they're right in front of ."
She spoke with absolute frankness.
It was strange to talk about herself like that.
Samael was wrong if he thought she hid it out of insecurity. She hid it because she had learned early on that "strange" people tended to be excluded—and that was simply annoying.
Still, Elizabeth liked so people.
Even if the way she liked them was different.
She didn't feel empathy, but when she thought about losing soone she appreciated, an unpleasant sensation would arise. Still, there was no fear. No despair. No dependence.
She would suffer for a while.
And then move on.
Even if she spoke of that person again in the future, she wouldn't feel nostalgia or longing the way others did.
It was strange.
But to her, it had always been normal.
And until that mont, she had never stopped to reflect on it.
Samael remained silent.
He didn't know what to say.
He couldn't try to "help" her—Elizabeth didn't see it as a burden.
He couldn't joke about it either—it wasn't in his nature, and this clearly wasn't trivial.
So he simply walked beside her in silence, unable to find an appropriate response.
"Why did you suddenly go quiet?" Elizabeth asked, glancing at him sideways.
"I just… don't know what to say," Samael admitted.
She studied him for a mont.
"You're the one who asked," she said. "Now bear the burden of sticking your nose where it didn't belong."
The words were dry. Direct.
"Sorry," Samael murmured, feeling strangely guilty about sothing he didn't fully understand himself.
Elizabeth stared at him for a few more seconds.
Then, unexpectedly, the corners of her lips curved ever so slightly.
"It's kind of fun to tease you," she said. "I think I understand Mason's fixation now."
Samael blinked, surprised.
"That's… the first ti you've shown any hint of humor," he said, genuinely impressed. "I didn't know you had a sense of humor."
Elizabeth turned her gaze forward.
"Of course I have a sense of humor," she replied. "It's just… selective."
"Selective?" Samael tilted his head slightly. "What do you find funny, then?"
She gave him a brief look.
"You're far too curious for my taste."
"Sorry…" he murmured, then frowned. "But do you know exactly what you find funny?"
Elizabeth fell silent for a few seconds.
"No," she finally replied. "I can tell when sothing is funny… but I can't explain why."
She looked at him.
"And you? Can you?"
Samael opened his mouth to answer—and stopped.
He thought.
Actually thought.
"Now that you ntion it…" he admitted, surprised at himself. "I really don't know."
He let out a short, nervous laugh.
"Humans are pretty complex… more than I thought."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
"You're impressed by human complexity… while we're trapped on a nightmare island?"
"What makes you think I have answers to everything you ask?" she shot back.
"And what makes you think I don't have curiosity?" she added imdiately. "I do. I just don't interrogate you all the ti."
Samael blinked.
"You feel curiosity?"
Elizabeth sighed.
"Don't talk like I'm not human," she said flatly. "Of course I feel curiosity."
"About what?" Samael asked.
She took a few more steps before answering.
"Are you sure? My curiosities tend to be… uncomfortable."
Samael hesitated.
Then nodded.
"I'm sure."
He realized it in that mont.
He was genuinely enjoying the conversation.
Elizabeth stopped.
Turned to face him.
"Alright. Then here it is."
She raised two fingers.
"First: could you abandon other humans to die… if it were necessary?"
A weight ford in Samael's chest.
He thought.
"I think… yes," he answered with difficulty.
Elizabeth nodded slightly.
"Second: in your female form… do you nstruate?"
"What?!" Samael's eyes went wide. "What kind of question is that?!"
"They're my questions," she replied impassively. "You're the one who wanted to know."
Samael's face turned red instantly.
"I-I… don't know," he replied, looking away.
Elizabeth observed him for a few seconds longer than necessary.
"Hm."
She seed… more interested in that answer than in the first.
Samael was still trying to recover when, in the distance, sothing finally entered his field of vision.
A small silhouette.
Familiar.
Standing at the edge of the beach.
His stomach twisted.
"…Terror-chan," he murmured.
And in that instant, the strange, almost light atmosphere was crushed by sothing far heavier.
The reunion was about to happen.
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