From the day Ren began working at Denial's antique shop, a quiet rhythm developed between them. Day by day, surrounded by old clocks, dusty typewriters, and forgotten music boxes, an unexpected bond slowly bloomed.
To Denial, Ren became like a younger brother. He would often leave Ren's tuition fees in a plain envelope, brushing off any thanks with a quiet nod or a change of subject.
For the first time in his cursed existence, Denial felt like he had a family again.
One winter evening, as snow whispered against the antique shop windows and the smell of aged wood filled the warm-lit air, Denial casually asked,
"Ren… what about your family?"
Ren paused. His smile faded.
Trying to dodge the question, he replied, "It's nothing really…"
But Denial looked at him, voice softer. "You always listen to me, Ren. Let me return the favor."
Ren looked away, lips trembling for a moment before saying quietly,
"I grew up in an orphanage. I don't remember ever seeing my parents. I don't even know if they're alive."
Silence wrapped around them like a blanket.
After a few seconds, Denial turned to him and said gently, "Then… come live with me."
Ren's eyes widened. "What?"
"I mean it," Denial said with a small smile. "You're already like my little brother. I live alone. There's an extra room. Stay, Ren."
Ren hesitated, unsure if he deserved something so… kind. But the warmth in Denial's voice melted every doubt. A few days later, he moved in.
Life became a quiet melody — lazy weekends in the antique shop, quiet reading by the fire, occasional jokes, and gentle evenings with warm tea. It was peaceful. Comforting. Almost normal.
Except once a month—during the 15 cursed nights of the new moon—Denial would vanish.
He claimed he had to visit his late parents' old estate in another state. Ren never questioned it.
And Denial… would spend those nights in a locked cottage deep in the forest, wrestling the curse that devoured him from within.
Ren never knew.
But something else had begun to grow inside Ren.
A feeling he couldn't name.
A longing.
He admired Denial — his calm voice, his elegant hands, the way his eyes softened when no one else was looking. That admiration quietly transformed into affection. Then… into love.
One evening, while organizing old maps at the shop, Ren leaned on the counter and asked curiously,
"Hey Denial… you're really good at cooking, right?"
Denial looked up from an old ledger. "Hmm? I guess so. Why?"
Ren smiled. "Then why do I never see you eat? I mean—I've been living with you for months, and not once have I seen you sit down for a proper meal."
Denial blinked, then let out a small laugh — smooth, almost too perfect.
"I eat," he said. "Just... not much. I like to keep my figure lean."
Ren tilted his head. "That's a lame excuse. You're not a model."
Denial smirked. "Let's just say I have... dietary preferences."
Something about his tone made Ren pause. But he let it go.
Later that night, Denial was lying on the couch, resting with his eyes closed. Ren sat beside him, heart tangled with thoughts.
He whispered, "Thank you… for giving me a home."
And then, with a breath caught in his throat, he leaned down and gently kissed Denial's lips.
But as soon as their lips touched… Ren froze.
Denial's eyes opened.
He had been awake all along.
Ren pulled back in a panic. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to— I thought you were asleep…"
Denial stared at him, silent. His eyes unreadable.
The air turned still. Like time had paused, waiting for a decision neither of them knew how to make.
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