Chapter 38: Tell Me Who Are You?

“Hey, hey.”

Olivia hung in midair, the roasted rib in her hand still dripping with grease.

“I… I’m not Olivia. I… I…”

Prunier lifted her face from Olivia’s silver hair, blinking her red pupils.

“Oh,” she said.

“I wasn’t asking you, though.”

“…Huh?”

“I never once said the words ‘You are Olivia’ from start to finish.”

Prunier tilted her head, her red twintails swaying with the motion.

“You said it yourself.”

Olivia’s mouth hung open.

Her silver eyes went wide.

The roasted rib nearly slipped from her grasp, and she quickly tightened her grip.

Grease squeezed through her fingers, dripping onto Prunier’s shoulder.

“You couldn’t even pick a better lie.”

Prunier sighed.

“I really am not—”

“Fine, then.”

Prunier set her down.

Her bare feet hit the floor, a chill creeping up from the soles.

Prunier snatched the roasted rib from her hand—then held it above her head.

Olivia reached for it.

Couldn’t reach.

She stood on her tiptoes.

Still couldn’t reach.

Her silver hair swayed behind her back, her fingertips a single knuckle’s length away from the rib.

“Tell me who you are.”

Prunier raised the rib a little higher.

“Otherwise, no eating allowed.”

“Give it back!”

“First, tell me.”

“I won’t—”

“Then I’m throwing it away.”

Prunier turned toward the window at the end of the hallway, pulling her arm back in a throwing motion.

“There are stray cats in the alley downstairs. They’d probably love some roasted rib.”

“Even though the sauce isn’t great for cats, it’s not like I’m the one eating it.”

Her stomach rumbled. Louder than before.

Prunier’s arm froze.

Olivia lowered her head.

Her silver hair hid her face.

The collar of her torn shirt slipped off her shoulder, revealing half of a pale collarbone.

Her bare feet pressed against the floor, toes curling.

Her fingers were covered in sauce and grease, and she wiped them on the hem of her shirt, leaving several dark oily streaks.

“…Olivia.”

Her voice was as small as a mosquito’s buzz.

“I’m Olivia.”

She took a deep breath, a note of reckless finality in her voice.

“Is that enough?”

Prunier turned around.

Her red pupils looked at the top of Olivia’s lowered head.

Silver hair whorls, a few stray strands sticking up, with a small dollop of sauce stuck in them.

She lowered the rib and held it out to Olivia.

“That’s enough.”

Olivia snatched the rib and shoved it into her mouth.

Her teeth tore through the slightly cooled meat fibers;

Juices surged out again, a sweet-savory explosion of honey and spices on her tongue.

She crouched on the ground, holding the rib with both hands, cheeks stuffed full, chewing with no regard for dignity.

Prunier stood beside her, looking down.

Her red pupils didn’t blink.

When Olivia gnawed down to the third bone, she noticed Prunier hadn’t spoken at all.

She looked up, her silver eyes rolling upward to meet Prunier’s gaze.

Two streaks of red hung beneath Prunier’s nose.

Prunier wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

A red mark appeared on her skin.

She glanced at it, then tilted her head back and pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket, tearing off a corner to plug into one nostril.

“It’s fine. The weather’s been dry lately.”

Olivia lowered her head and continued gnawing on the rib.

Prunier crouched beside her, hands cupping her cheeks, her red pupils curving into two crescent moons.

The tissue was soaked through with nosebleed, but she didn’t care at all.

She watched Olivia’s cheeks bulge and deflate, her silver eyelashes lowering to cast a small shadow on her cheekbones.

Sauce and grease smeared the corners of her mouth, and whenever she bit into a particularly good part, a very soft, satisfied hum escaped her throat.

Prunier felt like she might faint from blood loss.

‘How could anyone resist this scene?’

Then she stuffed a second tissue into her other nostril.