Skin and flesh tore apart, hanging from Fusiming’s right cheek by thin, sinewy strands.

The flap of skin swung with his trembling body, revealing glimpses of clenched, bone-white teeth beneath.

Thick, crimson blood gushed from the horrific wound, dripping down his chin and neck, splattering his collar, shoulders, and the floor below.

Thankfully, his black shirt masked the worst of the stains.

Had it been white, you’d see the fabric soaked through with violent red.

Nainai’s hair, face, and the loose white dress—already filthy from holy water, dust, and grime—were spattered with blood too.

She’d barely shaken off the black cat’s killing intent when Fusiming’s sudden, frenzied punch jolted her. She nearly choked on the water she’d just spat out.

Just *looking* at the gash on his face made her own cheek sting in sympathy.

*Hss—*

Nainai was seething.

How many times had her hunger-driven urges been interrupted now?

Three? Four?

More?

*Sustainable adrenaline rush?*

The human body—truly bizarre.

*Damn it.*

"W-what are you *doing*?"

Nainai stared in horror at Fusiming, frozen and grim-faced, his wound oozing. She swallowed hard, voice shaking.

Silence.

Lost in self-loathing, Fusiming didn’t answer.

Nainai had no clue what had triggered him.

Was he actually depressed? Having an episode?

She’d been too overwhelmed by lust to notice anything—not the black cat’s aura, not their "climactic duel."

One moment he’d scooped her up, groped her chest—

A flush of shame burned her cheeks. She ducked her head, burying her face nearly in her chest.

Her pale, baby-faced cheeks flushed deep pink again; her downcast peach-blossom eyes shimmered with humiliation.

She’d been startled... and then—

*She’d wet herself.*

Nainai realized she was sitting in a puddle, her white dress soaked through. Her last pair of panties was ruined.

She didn’t know *why* she’d been so terrified—but it was definitely Fusiming’s fault.

Probably his hands on her boobs! That’s what made her lose control!

*All your fault—*

Her apple-red face twisted in furious blame. She almost yelled at him—

But one look at his blood-soaked, mangled face made her gulp the words back down.

She was afraid he’d hit *her*.

If he could do *this* to himself... what would he do to her if she yelled?

Her mouth stayed shut.

*It’s fine. It’s okay...*

But *why* had he punched himself?

Nainai was baffled.

Normal logic didn’t apply to crazy people.

*—Did he feel guilty for touching my chest... and making me wet myself? So he punished himself?*

The absurdly self-centered thought popped into her head.

*—Well... I* am *that cute.*

Her tail flicked proudly.

She embraced the narcissistic idea without hesitation.

If Fusiming knew her thoughts now, he’d probably smash his head into a tofu block in despair.

...

Sure, he felt bad about groping her—but did he have to *destroy* his face?

*Wait—so many cats...*

Though the scattered felines were distracting, Nainai focused on his injury.

She’d "figured out" his motive (completely wrong), but his sheer brutality stunned her.

He’d even used that terrifying **Spiral Force**—the same power that tore through barbed wire—to nearly kill himself.

Half his face was peeled back. The blood loss alone was dangerous.

This wasn’t *Baki*! You couldn’t just reattach skin like that.

Did he think he was some manga protagonist?

Ignoring nerve damage or scarring... that much blood loss would knock anyone out.

And his face—he wasn’t *ugly*. Ruining it would be such a waste...

Watching Nainai’s timid, confused face—her expressions shifting yet always adorably innocent—Fusiming’s heart ached worse.

*—She doesn’t even know what happened!*

Yet he’d used an oblivious little girl as a human shield.

Nothing felt more vile.

Bloodshot silver eyes glared from beneath his black bangs. He stared at his dripping fist.

*One punch? Not enough.*

This shallow wound was meaningless. No real punishment. No true repentance.

*You bastard!*

His teeth ground together with a sickening *crunch*.

He raised his fist again—aiming for the *exact same spot* on his cheek.

No Spiral Force this time. Just raw, brutal strength.

***THUD—! CRACK—!***

Blood sprayed. The hanging skin tore further, swaying precariously by a few stubborn threads.

Beneath the impact’s roar came the wet snap of shattering bone—six molars on his right side shattered.

The force rattled his skull. Dizziness hit him like a hammer.

He staggered, barely keeping his feet.

Blood droplets flew into Nainai’s wide-open mouth.

The metallic tang made her shudder violently.

But Fusiming wasn’t done.

He shook his head, regaining balance, and lifted his fist again—

*Keep going—*

This blood-drenched youth looked like a demon risen from hell.

Nainai realized: *He’ll kill himself at this rate.*

She didn’t like him—but she couldn’t watch him die.

"Hey! Stop it! What are you *doing*? Don’t you care about your face anymore?!"

*Literally.* One more punch and that skin flap would rip off completely.

Before his fist fell, the **Little Succubus** lunged forward. She threw her arms around his right arm, clinging with her full weight.

"Talk it out! Self-harm is *stupid*! You’ll *die* like this!"

Up close, she saw the raw, bleeding flesh beneath the torn skin. Through broken teeth, his tongue glistened crimson.

This wasn’t a horror movie—it was real. The stench of blood nearly made her faint.

Her legs trembled. Her wings fluttered weakly as she strained to hold his arm.

*He can’t hit himself now... right?*

She panted softly, heart pounding from fear and effort.

Fusiming’s right arm was pinned.

But—

In Nainai’s horrified gaze, his *left* hand rose.

*Clenched into a fist.*

*Still going?!*

*You irresponsible jerk!*

"Damn you!" she shrieked.

Her small body couldn’t stop both arms.

But she had one weapon left—

Her fluffy pink tail whipped around. With a sharp twist of her hips, she lashed it like a whip.

The motion snapped the last safety pins holding her soaked, yellow-stained skirt together.

*Ping!*

They flew off. The ruined dress fell open.

But Nainai couldn’t care less right now… At least her tail had already coiled tightly round and round Fusiming’s left fist.

Finally, that sensitive, peach-shaped tip of her tail pressed firmly against his knuckles.

If he tried to punch himself with that left fist, he’d hurt the part of Nainai’s tail she cherished most—before he even touched himself.

"I won’t let go! Not ever!"

Nainai glared up at Fusiming like an angry kitten, baring her teeth with a low snarl.

"My tail’s right on your fist! Go on then—punch yourself with that left hand if you dare! I’m not scared!"

"Just spit out whatever’s eating you! Bottling it up and hurting yourself—what kind of man does that?!"

"Coward! Idiot! Pervert! Stalker!..."

The Little Succubus raged louder with every insult, spewing every real or exaggerated grievance she’d piled up since meeting Fusiming.

Truth was, Nainai had been simmering with fury since yesterday too.

She *hated* having her peaceful life disrupted.

This impulsive, internet-style verbal assault actually eased the pressure in her chest.

Her body pinned his right hand; her tail shackled his left.

To avoid hurting the Little Succubus, Fusiming stopped his self-destructive "punishment."

Silently, he absorbed every harsh word Nainai hurled at him.

A veteran of toxic online forums, Nainai unleashed years of pent-up venom—crude, relentless, packed with mother-related insults.

Her curses were layered with obscure references and meme-laden jabs.

Anyone listening would need a decoder just to grasp the sheer creativity of her rage.

You’d need a degree to understand half of it.

Yet Fusiming felt a strange comfort in her fury.

Even the knots in his heart loosened.

For some reason, he craved this pink-haired demon girl’s venom.

Being her punching bag sent a cool mist rising from his feet.

At least his soul found peace here.

Was this… atonement?

***&%$#@!!!***

"Thank you, Nainai."

After silently enduring her fully censored tirade, Fusiming murmured his thanks, voice low and gentle.

Sincere. Deeply grateful.

Six teeth were missing from the right side of his mouth; even his cheek skin had torn away.

His voice stayed softly raspy, whistling comically through the gaps.

It should’ve been funny.

But Nainai—the only listener—couldn’t laugh.

She froze.

*—Is this guy a masochist? I just shredded him, and he’s thanking me?*

Her eye twitched as she screamed internally.

She’d already prepped an epic, dragon-tier insult in her throat…

But his reaction choked the words right back down.

How do you respond when someone genuinely thanks you for eviscerating them?

After stammering for a full minute, Nainai finally mumbled, face flushed and awkward:

"D-don’t mention it."