( it feels wrong to even think of him. does he dare even speak the name? as if he could summon him by uttering it. hey, sometimes he could. or even by thinking it too loudly. in those days when he'd still had any fight left in him, it felt like sometimes it was less alerting him to his presence by thinking too hard and more just... being eternally shadowed. just because things look normal now, though, doesn't mean they are. what if he causes something—

ah, what's the use. fear is as useless as fighting anymore. his shoulders slump with utter resignation. his whole body, his countenance, everything droops like it's being pulled toward the earth. the weight of a thousand burdens. )

Why, from the Devil, of course. Who I'm sure is laying in wait even now, waiting to strike... any minute...

( any second. but nothing happens. not even a breeze rustling the leaves on the trees. even malak seems to sit totally still and quiet, for once. just for a second. )

So long as I gave myself up, he couldn't hurt anyone. That was our arrangement. But now I'm... here.