The Second Day, the First Day of New Year’s—

The first thing Yumo saw upon waking was Yusuozaai in new clothes.

She’d swapped her ill-fitting old outfit for a black tank top layered under a white open-front cardigan, paired with homey athletic shorts. Cozy fingerless thigh-high socks hugged her legs, and her messy white hair was now braided into twin pigtails, the long bangs sweeping over her empty left eye socket.

She looked neater.

But why did those clothes and hair ties look so familiar…

“…Hey. Why are you wearing my sister’s clothes?”

“Her wardrobe overflows. Sharing is virtue.”

“Twisted logic…”

“Ephesians 4:32 says, ‘Be kind and compassionate to one another.’”

“Don’t quote scripture, you demon—wait. If demons exist, does that mean God—”

“Gods are human fantasies. Only demons are real. Temples or churches won’t work on me.”

“Ugh…”

Yumo showered, then slipped alone to the community clinic to tend his wounds. No stitches needed, no broken bones—just pain that’d linger without hindering movement.

His parents, likely shaken by yesterday’s outburst, said nothing over breakfast. Not wanting tension, he called them first: “I lost my temper yesterday. I’ve handled my part. I’m heading to see Yuxin now.”

By the time he reached Third Municipal Hospital, Yuxin was awake. His parents, arrived earlier, were helping her wash up—unnecessary, as Yuxin seemed perfectly healthy, moving freely. Yesterday’s sudden heart failure felt like a lie.

*(…Is Yuxin truly out of danger, damn demon?)* Yumo whispered.

*(The contract holds. She’s fine.)* Yusuozaai replied carelessly. She’d followed him again, invisible to all but Yumo. For some reason, she seemed disdainful of Yuxin.

The three-day New Year’s holiday blurred into a rush of hospital visits. With his parents, Yumo dragged Yuxin across every renowned city hospital. Every test declared her “perfectly healthy.” No organ damage, no disease, all lab results normal. Even specialists were baffled—how could she suffer heart failure with no internal cause, no external trigger, no emotional stress, no toxins?

Only Yumo knew the truth. He couldn’t speak it.

*“Hey, Mom and Dad. Sorry your lives got targeted by a demon ’cause your son slipped up after drinking. My bad.”*

…Yeah, they’d probably commit him.

*(Threatened family. I thought you’d drown in guilt.)* Yusuozaai murmured.

*(Why should I? You made the contract. You endangered them. Trying to guilt-trip me?)*

*(…You keep your head clear. Hard to fool. Disappointing.)*

*(You little monster!)*

The holiday passed uneventfully. Yumo shuttled between hospitals and homework. His distance with Yuxin remained—cold, detached. He didn’t care. His conscience was clear.

No call from school came… until the night before classes resumed.

*[Hello, is this Yutianqiao, Yumo’s father?]*

His homeroom teacher called Yutianqiao directly. Yumo, grabbing water, didn’t hide. He stood beside his father, sipping.

“Oh… oh… this… really? He… ah… understood. Yes…”

Yutianqiao hung up, his gaze heavy on Yumo.

“Yumo, you…”

“Yeah.”

“Your teacher said… tch… that on the 31st, you… had a fight with a classmate?”

“Yeah.”

Prepared as he was, Yumo still flushed under his father’s stare.

“He said that Zhang boy… you hurt him badly? His parents are furious, but thankfully no serious injuries…”

“…I aimed for spots that wouldn’t break easily.”

“So it’s true!?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“You… this child… sigh. Sit.”

Father and son faced each other on the living room sofa. They hadn’t talked alone like this in years.

“Explain what happened.”

“That guy’s Zhangyuanzhou. My classmate.”

“Hmm… then?”

“He’s always hated me, picking fights. I held back—until he humiliated me publicly. I snapped.”

“So that’s why you… left suddenly… the day Yuxin was admitted?”

“I was a mess. Sorry. That’s why I spent the holiday running around with her to doctors.”

“I see…”

Yutianqiao’s expression twisted. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it—then cursed as the lighter died. He set it down, defeated.

Guilt gnawed at Yumo.

Yutianqiao was a classic old programmer: 45, balding, puffy-eyed, ten years into a mortgage. Daughter hospitalized, son brawling… this middle-aged man must be exhausted.

“Well… people should endure. But a man can’t run from trouble. Hot-headed fights happen at your age, especially when provoked… Still…”

Yutianqiao hesitated. “Your teacher mentioned Zhang claims burns, nausea… his parents say he reeks of something foul. What… what was that about?”

“Huh? Since when?”

Yumo tilted his head, feigning surprise.

“I find it odd too. But… you only hit him?”

“Yes. What else? Set him on fire? Douse him in filth?”

“That’s… Anyway, the teacher and dean want us at school tomorrow. I’ll go. No need to trouble Xiaoxiang.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Sorry won’t—”

“It’ll be fine. At worst, I’ll get suspended. I’ll self-study to keep up. Don’t worry. Trust me?”

“You’ll handle it?”

“Yes.”

“…Let’s be blunt. They think you used… something unnatural during the fight. You understand?”

“That’s absurd. Zhang’s parents suspect a normal high schooler—me, the chemistry rep—used burning chemicals or nausea-inducing drugs in a fistfight? With zero proof?”

“That’s their angle. It’s ridiculous. Illogical.”

“Right? Pure nonsense. And if I *had* done that, suspension would be the least of my worries.”

“True…”

“…”

“…”

“Sorry for the trouble, Dad.”

“…Leave it. I don’t know what to say. Meeting’s at ten tomorrow. I’ll drop them off and head to your school.”

“You’ve worked hard…”

“…Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

His father hadn’t mentioned the incident from two years ago. A small relief.

————————————

“…Sigh.”

Lying to family tasted bitter. Yumo finally understood.

“Lying defies human nature. It takes practice. For your first big lie? Not bad. Besides, your so-called parents… what does it matter if you deceive them?”

Yusuozaai sat cross-legged on Yumo’s bed, eating canned luncheon meat as a midnight snack. Despite the cheap brand, she ate with aristocratic grace—a stark contrast to her gaunt, threadbare appearance.

“…Where’d that luncheon meat come from?”

“Your fridge.”

“You’re shameless.”

“Exodus says—”

“Enough. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’ll be busy soon enough.”

“…Huh?”

Yumo caught the implication.

“Wait—you mean my other wishes—”

“Later. Sleep well first.”

“…Fine. Damn you.”

“Don’t forget to prep for tomorrow’s interrogation.”

“I’ll figure it out… Hey!”

An idea sparked.

“Lin Qinglan’s the key.”

“Cooked up something nasty already?”

“Not really… Forget it. Sleep.”

“Mm. Goodnight.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“What? Still awake?”

“Get off my bed first.”

“We shared it yesterday.”

“Sleep on the floor, stinking demon!”