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Since the death of his brother, Barok could feel something growing inside him.
Not just grief or anger, though it fed from both, like something alive that shouldn’t be there to begin with. It twisted and spread—slowly, but never stopping, filling his lungs, wrapping around his heart, making a nest inside his stomach. Not strong enough to fight it, Barok let it grow, not caring if that thing consumed him—it wasn’t like he still had anything worth living for.
At least until the day he met Kazuma Asogi.
At first, that man was little more than an empty vessel: no name, no memories, no expression on his face or emotion on his voice. And yet, little by little, his nameless apprentice grew on him, even stronger than whatever it was that Barok carried inside. Hints of gentleness and care sweetened the bitterness in him, and for the short time they spent living together, Barok felt like a different man.
But it was never supposed to last. As soon as he learned Kazuma’s true name, that growing bond between them quickly wilted, giving place to resentment from both parties—and then, guilt. He had unwillingly and unknowingly destroyed his apprentice’s life, to the point he wouldn’t blame Kazuma if he decided to raise his sword against him in vengeance.
Instead, Kazuma gave him another chance, accepting him as his mentor. It wasn’t forgiveness, but there was kindness in the gesture—an attempt to reach Barok, to try and mend that connection they had once built, despite knowing it was an impossible task.
Kazuma couldn’t know, but it only made the thing inside Barok stronger and more vicious than ever before. His presence, his words—sharp or careful—his expression as he looked at Barok, only to soon avert his gaze. All of it fed the thing, which spread its roots and tendrils, larger and larger, until there was no room left to grow.
Barok tried not to look at Kazuma as they worked silently, sharing a room and nothing else. Once, his presence had been a source of comfort, but now being that close was difficult for them both. Barok could only imagine how that man felt, being in the presence of the one who contributed to his father’s demise, pretending he was fine so he wouldn’t hurt his selfish mentor even more.
The thought was so painful he could barely breathe. And yet, what choice did he have but to bury those feelings even deeper and pretend to move on?
Kazuma could feel Barok’s gaze on him. No words, no attempt to break that silent barrier that only grew thicker between them. At first, he couldn’t tell if he was glad or not; however, with each passing day, the silence became heavier and harder to bear.
Not that he could blame Barok for resenting the man who almost condemned him to death. Even thinking about how close he had been to committing the worst mistake of his life was enough to make him sick… In the end, he proved to be more like Seishiro Jigoku than his own father.
He was trying… To not be controlled by his wish for revenge, to not give in to that demon inside him. When he said his parting words to Ryunosuke that day, weeks before, he believed he could do it—that, one day, he would be able to face his friend with a clean soul, worthy of his trust.
Since that day, the hope he felt slowly crumbled. When he looked behind that mask he wore for years, there was nothing left to be found—revenge had become his whole self, and now that it was all over, he no longer knew who Kazuma Asogi was.
Ryunosuke’s friend? He had dragged him into that dangerous plan, and used him for his own gain.
Susato’s brother and Mikotoba’s son? He never had the right to think of himself as either, to begin with.
Genshin’s child? If his parents were alive, they would feel no pride looking at him.
Barok’s apprentice… That was the only thing left, the only fragment of an identity he still clung to, in the hopes it would guide him somewhere—anywhere.
He didn’t hate Barok, but he couldn’t forgive him. And, all those times he pretended not to notice Barok’s gaze upon him, he knew his mentor also carried conflicting feelings in his chest. Kazuma had once been fond of him—maybe part of him still was. But he knew that, whenever Barok looked at him with those sorrowful eyes, the one he saw was Genshin Asogi. Not Kazuma… Not that empty husk who once thought he could become a human. Barok didn’t see him because there was nothing to see there, just a reminder of his past mistakes.
There was nothing… He had nothing. And when he turned his back on that hungry demon, he had lost everything that made him the person he was. The serpent was quiet, defeated… But its absence was almost as painful as its hateful whispers, and often Kazuma caught himself tempted to awaken it once again, surrender to the anger and hatred just so he would feel something.
Barok woke up in the middle of the night to something stuck in his throat. He tried to breathe, but it took so much effort it made him nauseous. He stumbled out of bed, leaning against his desk for support as he tried to reach the bathroom, covering his mouth with a hand as a violent coughing fit overcame him.
Something came out of his mouth, and Barok instinctively looked at his hand, barely able to see in the dark room. He felt it with his fingers—coarse, thin, brittle… He creased his brow as he realized he was holding a dry leaf.
He had no time to question how it had found its way inside him before another, stronger coughing fit. He covered his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to stop more leaves from spilling out. He rushed to the bathroom, pressing a towel against his mouth, keeping the dead plants inside until he was about to suffocate. The towel escaped from his hands, and he clutched his own throat as those horrible things poured out of him.
Dead leaves, petals, and flowers… Dry twigs, branches, and thorns. The smell of rotting plants filled the bathroom; a metallic taste filled Barok’s mouth as he kept coughing up blood-stained plants. He struggled to breathe between every new wave until his body was too weak to sustain his weight, his senses dissolving away.
He thought he would die like that. Yet, he woke up hours later, lying amid the remains of the previous night—bloodied leaves and flowers serving as proof that it hadn’t been just a horrible nightmare.
His first instinct was to get rid of it all, as if disposing of the evidence of that episode would be enough to erase it as well. Yet, inside him, those plants kept spreading, growing at an alarming pace.
He only had himself to blame. He was the one who fed those rotten things until they grew larger than himself—now there was no place for them to go but outside. And, if Barok tried to stop them, they would burst their way out of him.
He sat on the floor, still only half-clean. His breaths grew hastier, and he hugged his knees against his chest like a frightened child would.
It would happen again… And Barok could only hope it wouldn’t kill him next time.
The days he spent with Barok had once been the happiest of his life. Lately, however, being close to that man filled him with restlessness. Every day, he fought the urge to yell sharp words and accusations at his mentor, suppressing all the horrible thoughts that came uninvited to his mind.
Day after day, after day, he fought. Eventually, the fight became easier, just like keeping that pleasant mask and tone of voice as he went about his day. For a brief moment, he dared to believe it was a sign that things were getting better—that, eventually, the ghosts from his past would finally let him go.
It didn’t take long, however, for him to realize something was amiss. It started with a faint ache in his chest, and ended with the unsettling absence of it. In any other situation, Kazuma would have seen the lack of pain as a positive thing. Lately, however, the nothingness was much worse than any pain he could face.
Not for the first time, it crossed Kazuma’s mind that, maybe, he was fading away, alongside his reason for living for that past decade. He brought a hand to his chest, waiting quietly for his heartbeat to erase those ridiculous thoughts from his mind. He waited, and waited… His body went cold as he finally realized it was useless to wait any longer.
There was nothing there. No weight, no pulse…
The realization terrified him. He pressed harder against his chest, holding his breath, trying to feel anything inside—any trace of life at all. But no matter how much he waited, there was nothing but stillness to be felt.
A thousand thoughts filled his mind at once. Kazuma rushed to his drawer, grabbing a pocket knife—a memento from his time as a sailor. With the blade in hand, he moved toward the mirror, stopping before it, staring at his own reflection, short of breath.
What am I doing…?
Seeking proof.
Of what?
That, despite everything, he was still human.
Without thinking, Kazuma opened his shirt and brought the knife to his chest; then, he started to cut. The pain was faint, like no more than a scratch even as he buried the sharp blade deep inside, cutting down toward his stomach.
What would he find there? A normal heart? Something inhuman, instead? By opening himself like that, would he also be opening the cell where his demon lay, allowing it to roam free?
Or… would he just bleed out from that self-inflicted injury? That was the most plausible outcome. Only then did it cross his mind that, if he died from that thoughtless action, Barok would blame himself for it—and Kazuma wouldn’t want to make that man’s burden even heavier. Maybe he should stop while he still could…
But he had to see it for himself.
Those worries didn’t stay for long in his mind. No matter how deeply he cut, nothing came out of that wound: no demon, no blood. There was nothing inside him to spill out, just a gaping hole slowly rotting away, threatening to devour all that was left of him.
The knife escaped from his hands as he stared at the void inside of him. He brought a hand to it, hesitating before touching it: cold, putrid, like a corpse that refused to die.
A nervous laugh escaped his lips, slowly turning into a loud, desperate cackle.
What else had he expected to find there?
For the following days, Barok struggled to act normally. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat—he felt those abominations growing inside him every minute, only managing to hold them back until he reached his home. And then, they would immediately pour out of him, often taking the form of the flowers his sister-in-law loved so much, but devoid of any color or life, as if to mock him and those bittersweet memories.
Your fault, they said. If only he had realized something was wrong with Klint… She wouldn’t have become a widow, only to soon follow her husband to the grave; Genshin wouldn’t have been killed, his family wouldn’t have lost the one they loved. And Kazuma… He wouldn’t carry that hollow expression whenever he looked at Barok.
As the thoughts filled his mind, his chest tightened, pressed from the inside by something that wanted out. No, not now… Not when he was still in the office, with Kazuma just a few steps away. Barok lowered his head into his hand, taking a few deep breaths, trying to stop that thing for at least a while longer—just until he was alone, far from his apprentice’s sight.
“Lord van Zieks?”
That voice made Barok raise his eyes. Kazuma was beside him, and even through his foggy vision, Barok could see the concern on his face. Guilt embittered his mouth as he spoke.
“My apologies, sleep has eluded me these past few days.”
“If you are in no condition to work, I can watch over the office for a day or two.”
Barok didn’t doubt that much: Kazuma was a reliable man and a talented apprentice, more than capable of doing as he said. Yet, the very thought of it made something twist uncomfortably inside him.
He was supposed to be the strong one. Not only as his mentor or the oldest of the two, but also as the one who started that chain of tragedies ten years before, which brought them to that place. He owed it to Kazuma—and to Genshin. It was the least he should be doing for them, and yet… He couldn’t do it. His facade was full of cracks, he knew it… He knew it, but had no idea how to start mending them.
“There is no reason for concern,” said Barok, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I am not unfamiliar with sleepless nights.”
Kazuma lightly creased his brow. “You understand that is precisely the problem, don’t you, my lord?”
The reproach in his tone almost brought a smile to Barok’s lips. In moments like those, he sounded once again like his nameless apprentice, who so often cared for Barok and his health, regardless of his protests. The sweet memory stung his heart like a thorn.
“It seems I am still of the habit of causing you trouble,” he said.
“I would be surprised if it had changed.”
The hint of playfulness in Kazuma’s voice made his chest lighter; for a moment, there was once again warmth between them. However, as soon as their eyes met, neither could sustain the gaze.
“If you’re not feeling well, please let me know,” said Kazuma, stepping away.
Barok nodded. “I will.”
Kazuma offered him a faint smile, carrying the lingering vestiges of something Barok once believed was affection. It lasted but a moment, before his expression changed back into that habitual veil of apathy.
That was what hurt him the most. He had once seen his smile—his real smile. Even after everything that happened, Barok still wished to see it again, a sign that Kazuma’s heart was at peace. He would sacrifice everything for his happiness if given the choice: his name, his status… every single drop of blood in his veins, every trace of humanity left in his body. His life. His soul. Everything for a single, genuine smile.
But, at that point, he would rather see the burning hatred for him back in Kazuma’s eyes than watch him waste away like that.
The thought made Barok’s insides twist more violently than before, and soon he knew what was about to come. He covered his mouth with a hand, jolting up from his chair—he didn’t know where to go… It didn’t matter, as long as Kazuma couldn’t see it.
“Sir…?”
Barok didn’t look at him, rushing toward the door. His eyes stung, his ears rang, his entire body trembled. He needed to leave… He needed to—
It came before he could reach the door, with enough force to send him to the ground on his hands and knees. Leaves, buds, and open flowers alike, lifeless and tainted with his blood and dark mud. He made a last attempt to hold it all inside, but the more he struggled, the more ferociously they fought back.
“Lord... van Zieks...?”
The world seemed to freeze, and the only thing Barok could do was glance toward Kazuma, only to confirm what he already knew: Eyes wide, mouth half-open, an expression of horror. He had seen it… Barok looked away, frightened of what he would find in Kazuma’s face when the initial shock passed. Fear? Disgust? Rejection, regardless of which form it took.
It ached… It ached, and ached, and ached… Enough for him to wish for death.
The rotten forest inside him swelled and expanded. Barok brought a hand to his chest, a suffocated scream escaping from his lips when twigs as sharp as razors punctured it from the inside, then burst out of it at once, branches like limbs desperately reaching out.
It hurt, but worse than the pain was the fear. Kazuma’s eyes on him… His realization that that was what his mentor truly was behind a sober mask—a horrible, twisted thing he could no longer control. Instead of running away from the disturbing sight, however, Kazuma rushed toward him, crouching by his side.
“What’s happening?” he asked, eyes darting from Barok’s face to those dead plants. “You… This is…?”
Barok gritted his teeth. How was he supposed to explain something he couldn’t understand himself?
“This… is who I am,” he said.
Kazuma stared at him, taken aback. “What…?”
“An evil, detestable thing… This is what I—”
His words were cut off by a new wave of flowers and leaves from his mouth, the thorny branches in his chest spreading further, curling and twisting around themselves. The pain sapped his strength, and his body slowly leaned to the side. Kazuma stopped him from falling, placing a hand on his back to keep him steady.
“How did this happen?” Kazuma’s eyes followed those growing branches. “How do we… How can we stop this?”
Barok shook his head—if he knew the answer, he wouldn’t have allowed it to come to that point. Kazuma turned his gaze to his face.
“Does it hurt?”
Barok could only nod in response. Kazuma observed him for a moment, then, gently, lay him on the floor, straddling his body. As he did so, Barok couldn’t tell what was going through his mind; then, Kazuma raised his hand toward those branches. The very thought of him touching those repulsive things was enough for Barok to flinch away from him.
“No…” Barok muttered between shallow breaths. “Stay back…”
But Kazuma didn’t move away. Instead, he brought his hand closer to Barok’s chest, closing his fingers around one of those branches. Barok shivered at the touch.
“I’m sorry…” said Kazuma. “But please, trust me.”
Tightening his grip, he pulled that branch out. Barok clenched his teeth to stop himself from screaming. It kept coming out, and Kazuma continued to pull until the dry roots finally detached from his flesh. Barok barely had the time to draw in a sharp breath before Kazuma grabbed another branch, starting that torturous process once again.
“Don’t worry…” he murmured. “I’ll get them out of you.”
Barok almost responded that he didn’t want that—that he’d rather live with that forest growing in him than go through that excruciating pain. But he bit back his words, part of him daring to hope that, if he listened to Kazuma’s words, that nightmare would finally come to an end.
With his silence, Kazuma continued, grabbing the next branch, and then the next. He pulled those thorny branches and vines with his bare hands—the more he did, the more they grew, in a fight for who gave up first. The blood from the small cuts in his hands and arms mixed with Barok’s, the black mud from the forest spilling on the floor around them.
When those larger branches were gone, for a moment, Barok hoped it had all come to an end—at least until he felt them grow inside once again. Noticing it, Kazuma placed a hand over his open chest, hesitating briefly.
“This might hurt…” he said.
He looked at Barok, who reluctantly nodded in response. With a deep breath, Kazuma sank his hands inside Barok’s chest, taking out the remaining branches and roots, as well as every dry leaf and flower, one by one, before they had the chance to grow once again.
It seemed to take a painful eternity, but with it also came the relief of being able to breathe properly. Barok hadn’t realized he had been suffocating until his chest was no longer a cage for that loathsome forest. Slowly, the branches and vines stopped growing, defeated by Kazuma’s relentless efforts to pull them out. In place of their harsh brittleness and rotten smell, something softer grew. Barok looked down at himself, and the dead forest that spilled out of him was now gone, giving place to colorful flowers inside that open wound. Kazuma threw away what was left of those dead plants, until there was nothing but flowers left. Then, he sighed, exhausted.
“Is it over?” asked Barok in a weak voice.
“I… think so.” He looked at Barok with concern in his eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Yes…”
The response brought a slight smile to Kazuma’s face. “I’ll get the first-aid kit. Try not to—”
Before he could stand, Barok held him by the arm, keeping him in place. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but the thought of being left alone, even for a couple of seconds, was terrifying. Kazuma met his gaze, possibly interpreting the action as something different.
“It’s alright,” he said in a reassuring voice. “Those things are all gone, I made sure of it.”
Barok sat up with Kazuma’s help, then glanced around at those dead plants and all the blood and mud stains that came with them—after feeling them grow for years, it was hard to believe it would end so easily. One single seed left behind would be enough… And then…
“They will grow again,” he said.
Kazuma followed his gaze, thinking for a moment before looking at Barok again. “If they do, just tell me and I’ll pull them out.”
“You can’t do this every time.”
“Who said I can’t?”
Barok didn’t know how to respond. Kazuma reached inside his pocket, taking his handkerchief, gently cleaning the blood from the corners of Barok’s mouth with it, then his own hands. He lowered his eyes to Barok’s chest, examining those flowers with a curious expression. Barok averted his gaze.
“Forgive me for making you go through this,” he said.
Kazuma didn’t seem to hear him, carefully touching the petals of a flower with his fingertips. “They’re beautiful…”
His words caught Barok by surprise. “What… are you saying…?”
Kazuma didn’t respond, staring at those flowers as if hypnotized. A strange possibility crossed Barok’s mind.
“Are you not terrified of me?”
Kazuma looked at him, confused. “Why would I be?”
“This…” Barok indicated his chest, then the dead plants around them. “I don’t know what is happening to me, but even I can tell it is an inhuman thing. Whatever it is that I have become... It is closer to a monster than a man.”
Kazuma lowered his eyes. “If you think you’re a monster, then I…”
He stopped, but the weight in his words grabbed Barok’s attention.
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer immediately. After a moment of hesitation, he unbuttoned his shirt, underneath which was a layer of bandages. Barok was about to question if he had gotten himself injured, when Kazuma unrolled those bandages, revealing his bare torso—and the open wound in it. Without thinking, Barok leaned in Kazuma’s direction, and for a long while could do nothing but stare at the hole in his chest: deep, dark, empty. Barok’s voice trembled as he finally managed to speak.
“What have you done?”
Kazuma looked away, guilt darkening his expression. “I needed to see it with my own eyes.”
“See what?”
Barok could tell Kazuma struggled with the response, and chose not to press him for the moment. Instead, he lightly felt the grayish skin surrounding that wound with his fingertips.
“Is it painful?” he asked.
“No. Not at all…” Kazuma smiled bitterly. “Even when I cut myself open, I felt nothing.”
That disturbing image filled Barok’s mind, and he shut his eyes tightly for a second, in an attempt to make it go away. He looked at Kazuma, unsure of what to do.
“May I…?”
He couldn’t finish the question, but Kazuma still nodded in response. Barok moved closer, carefully parting that wound to take a better look. Inside Kazuma, there was nothing but crumbling walls of dark, decaying flesh.
“This is...”
He stopped himself, only then understanding Kazuma’s reaction from minutes before. He risked a glance at his apprentice, who didn’t meet his gaze.
“There is nothing here,” said Kazuma. “I had a feeling that was the case, but… I had to see it for myself. That’s why I…”
He cut his own words short with a tired sigh.
“You call yourself a monster, but compared to me, you are…” He lowered his voice. “You are lovely, Barok van Zieks. If only my heart were like yours, things wouldn’t have come this far.”
Barok blinked, surprised—what about him was lovely?
“No,” he said, “this is not true.”
It was because he was such a bitter and unforgiving man that whatever existed between them had shattered like that. Still, Kazuma smiled slightly as he placed a hand over Barok’s open chest.
“It’s so beautiful…” he let out a low chuckle. “I wish I could be like this, too.”
“Don’t say this, Asogi,” Barok retorted sharply. “You saw what these things did to me.”
“Yes, but…” Kazuma stopped talking, lowering his eyes. “Sorry, I… I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Barok wasn’t sure he fully understood it, either. However, seeing that open hole in Kazuma’s chest made his own feel heavier: as much as he abhorred that cursed forest, how much worse could it be than the chilling emptiness he was witnessing? He looked at Kazuma: there had been a barely suppressed desperation in his words. Kazuma tried to move his hand away, but Barok held him by the wrist, bringing his palm to his chest.
“You may take them,” he said.
He said those words without thinking, but no regret followed them. Kazuma stared at him, taken aback.
“What are you…?”
Barok pulled him closer, feeling Kazuma’s fingers sink into those petals.
“Take them,” he repeated. “As many as you need.”
Kazuma didn’t move for a long while, hesitant. “Are you… sure about this?”
“Do it.”
Kazuma opened his mouth, but no words came out. Realizing he wouldn’t do it on his own, Barok covered Kazuma’s hand with his, closing his fingers around those flowers, then guiding his hand to his empty chest. Kazuma hesitated, then opened his hand, allowing those petals to fall inside him.
“How is it?” asked Barok.
“I don’t know, I…” Kazuma paused, keeping his hand over his chest for a long while, his expression slowly changing. “It’s… warm.”
His face brightened up, the warmth in his chest taking the form of a wide smile. Barok could only look at him for a long while; he could feel part of him pulsating in Kazuma’s chest, and the feeling was beyond anything he could describe—accompanied by a desperation he couldn’t contain. He raised his hand, lightly caressing Kazuma’s cheek, only then realizing he was smiling as well.
As if sharing those feelings, Kazuma leaned forward, and Barok pulled him close in response, until there was no distance left between them. Their lips met, a feeling Barok had pretended not to long for since before he learned Kazuma’s name. He touched that man’s face, his hair, the side of his neck; Kazuma responded in a similar manner, their caresses spreading to their backs, their stomachs, their chests… The forest inside him begged to be with Kazuma, and Barok didn’t try to hold it back, feeling more of those flowers bloom as soon as he allowed them to leave. The roots spread from one chest to the other, connecting them; flowers blossomed between their chests and joined lips. Barok poured them into Kazuma, who welcomed them as part of himself.
That desire to share his entire being blended with a different one, and neither of them fought it as it took them whole. In a different situation, Barok would have hesitated to go that far, afraid to, once again, ruin something precious to him. But Kazuma had looked at the most gruesome parts of him without ever flinching—finding beauty among the decay. More than anything, Barok wanted to ease his pain as well, in any way he could.
So, he embraced Kazuma—not just how a lover would, but completely offering himself to him. As their bodies became one, so did that forest: his branches, leaves, and blossoms entwining and twisting around Kazuma’s, as if embracing each other as well. For a moment, it was like their bodies were melding together. Barok could feel himself spread inside him, his roots deeply buried in his body, Kazuma’s blossoms filling his chest until there were no longer two of them—one single forest, one single creature, one single heartbeat. Like that forest, Barok also wanted for them to live inside each other, their bodies and souls so deeply connected they would never be able to fully become two separate beings again.
Half of the thing he called his heart was Kazuma’s now, and yet, he felt more alive than ever before.
They stayed on the floor of the office for a long time, embracing each other tightly, unable—and unwilling—to let go. By the time they were two again, their bodies had changed: gaping holes now white scars, hiding that blossoming forest they shared from the view of others.
Kazuma touched his own chest. There it was: something where there had been nothing until moments before. He could feel them growing, replacing those cold, crumbling walls with their colors. Pulsating. Alive.
“Is something the matter?”
He turned his gaze to Barok’s slightly concerned face. Kazuma smiled, then reached for Barok’s hand, bringing it to his chest. Barok didn’t move or speak for a while, a soft smile slowly taking his lips.
“I can feel it,” he said. “You heart.”
Kazuma shook his head. “Not only mine.”
It was strange to think that, whatever it was that pulsated inside their bodies, was now a single thing—they were like a single being, the only ones in that entire world who could fully understand and reach each other’s real selves. Strange, but still comforting.
Barok’s smile widened slightly, and he moved closer to Kazuma, pressing his ear against his chest while Kazuma caressed his hair. Maybe neither of them would ever be human, but the thought was no longer terrifying to him. If he was fated to be a monstrous thing for the rest of his life, then at least he wasn’t alone.
But, despite his previous words, Barok was no monster, and it made Kazuma want to believe the same about himself—that, by having that man by his side, even he could become something worthy of love. It didn’t feel like a distant wish anymore… All thanks to Barok, whose roots gently spread inside him, slowly filling the void with his presence.
Kazuma couldn’t hold back a small, pleased giggle at the feeling. Barok looked at him with a fond expression, then took Kazuma’s hand in his, kissing the thin scars left by those thorns. That gesture brought a pleasant warmth to Kazuma’s chest, and he leaned forward, cupping Barok’s face before kissing his lips.
He knew that, if he looked inside himself, he would find something beautiful growing there.