Since their conversation the previous day, Atem had been avoiding him.

The wooden cabin's door remained tightly shut, silent as the hours bled into an entire day. Yugi could only wonder what was going through his mind.

Then again, it wasn't only Atem who needed time to think — Yugi did, too.

...

He wandered alone along the shoreline as the afternoon waned. It had been so long since he'd come here. Anzu had yet to return.

If he told her everything... what would she think?

She would probably say he deserved it. After all, who would ever sympathize with a monster — especially one who had nearly taken their life?

A soft sigh escaped him. Yugi settled on a familiar rock, gazing out at the water shimmering in the dying light.

Not so long ago, he had sat in this very spot, waiting for Anzu. Those memories felt close enough to touch, yet distant as a dream. He could barely recall why he had been so steadfast back then.

But at the time, there had been no other choice but to wait... and keep waiting.

And Anzu had come.

But waiting did not always bring good things.

Thinking back now...

If not for the pacts, perhaps no one would have ever discovered Atem's presence.

No one would have dared step foot in such a place steeped in death.

And perhaps he would have died there, alone, fading away as though he had never existed at all.

Atem had never been waiting for someone to save him...

So he had saved himself.

Yugi lowered his gaze.

If that were true, it was a tragedy in its purest form.

...

He lingered there for a long while, from the moment the sky blazed in gold to when only the thinnest streaks of light clung to the horizon. At last, Yugi exhaled a quiet breath, preparing to end the day.

Then — a thread of music drifted to his ears, delicate and light. A flute.

Ah... of course. The festival was only days away. Rehearsals must have begun.

The flute was not usually part of the celebration, but this year, envoys from Lumina would attend. As a gesture of goodwill, his grandfather — the king — had decided to blend the traditional instruments of both realms. Rumor had it that the sorcerer Bakura would also arrive to bless the kingdom.

Atem seemed to have a particular fascination with Lumina. Once, when Yugi had brought him an ancient book chronicling its royal dynasties, he had stared at those pages for an age.

"The flute... yes... the flute," Yugi murmured, eyes brightening.

"Maybe... he'd like it?" he thought.

Music, after all, was a balm for the spirit.

He could play the flute, though only simple tunes — enough to listen to, if not to impress. To avoid making a fool of himself yet again, he decided instead to bring the small drum he had loved as a child, light and easy to carry.

And with that thought, Yugi leapt to his feet and broke into a run toward the castle, clutching the hem of his shirt as the sea wind roared past his ears.

He didn't know where this would lead. But in his heart, he wanted to do something.

Even for a monster, such a fate was cruelty in its most absolute form.

...

Darkness had settled over the forest, leaving only the dim glow of a lone wooden cabin resting quietly in the stillness.

Yugi stood before the wooden door, taking a deep breath as though to summon his courage, then knocked lightly.

"Atem... are you in there?"

No answer.

"Atem, if you don't reply, I'm coming in myself..."

He rolled up his sleeves in mock seriousness, as if preparing to kick the door down.

Creak—

The door slowly opened.

Atem was there, just as always. The same old chair, the same silent figure carving something out of wood — it looked as though he had only just begun.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice cold as ice.

"What do you mean, 'what is it'? I'm the one who should be asking. You avoided me all day yesterday, made me worry I'd done something wrong." Yugi feigned irritation.

"You've done nothing wrong," Atem replied curtly.

"Then do you have something to say?"

"No."

Yugi frowned slightly.

But he quickly relaxed, offering a gentle smile.

"It's the festival right now. Do you want to come outside with me?"

Atem kept carving, not even glancing at him.

"Please, at least think about it. Going out would bring more joy than just sitting here all the time."

Atem paused for a moment, then resumed his work.

"The town's lively these days. With the festival coming, the streets are bustling, and lights are strung everywhere. I know a place that sells really good—"

"I'm not going." Atem cut him off, voice still cold.

"Can't you at least consider it?"

"No means no."

Yugi bit his lip.

"Really, it's fine. At least you're here... but if things go on like this, I—"

"You care?"

Atem's hands stopped. He didn't turn toward him, but his voice was lower.

"Do you really care?"

"You pity me?"

The words hissed between clenched teeth, sharp with anger.

"Someone like you?"

The air grew heavy.

"Don't forget, prince... I could tear you apart right here, piece by piece."

At once, a hellish red glow flared around Atem, seeping into the room like the breath of the underworld. The temperature plummeted. The air seemed to freeze — then crack. Strange crimson radiance twisted together like tentacles, snaring Yugi, wrapping tight around his throat.

"You speak as if everything is so light... so pleasant..."

Atem whispered.

"Then if I were you... I would be very happy indeed."

Yugi's eyes went wide. He struggled violently — but it was useless.

Atem, what's wrong with you?

Something was off. Deeply off.

"Tell me, prince — do you know why you want to come near me? Do you really think you're sympathizing with me? That you're not afraid of me?"

Then he looked up. His eyes were clouded, murky.

"This pact has a side effect. It confuses the two souls... makes them gravitate toward each other."

Atem... what are you saying...

Yugi tried to shout, but his throat was being crushed. No words came.

"Your feelings, your thoughts, your actions — all of them are false. All because of this damned pact. And yet you pretend to be kind, pretend to feel compassion for me?"

A mad, broken laugh rang through the room, curdling into something twisted enough to chill the blood.

"So it's best... if you all just die."

The red light blazed brighter, streaked with the murky black specks of shadow. The entire room seemed to drown in a sea of blood.

More tentacles emerged — thicker, heavier — coiling around Yugi.

Soon, you'll fear me again. You're all the same. Every last one of you.

He stared at Yugi, the darkness tightening its grip.

Slowly. Deliberately. As if savoring the prey's panic, watching it writhe in pain and despair.

Atem found himself... curious.

That prince had such beautiful eyes.

Gentle, still, and clear — so clear it was almost startling.

As though... they could see hope even in the foulest mire of the world.

"What if they were broken?"

If that light shattered, if that hope was crushed, trampled underfoot—what would it look like?

Fear?

Disgust?

Contempt?

Or all of them at once?

A shiver ran down his spine.

A feeling both familiar... and foreign.

Excitement.

A cold, twisted excitement—the thrill of crushing something beautiful with your own hands.

Atem laughed.

Soundless.

Only the twitch of his shoulders, his neck, and the corners of his lips curling into a torn, jagged smile.

A smile like a deep cut.

His eyes began to change.

The dark sclera churned, then twitched like a creature struggling in its death throes. A vertical slit iris emerged, sharp as a blade, carrying a warped glint of malice and madness.

From the deepest hollow of his gaze—something deformed, revolting, and horrifically elated was slowly coming back to life.

Nameless.

No longer human.

Somewhere inside, he heard himself cracking apart.

I can't turn back anymore...

"ATEM!"

Yugi screamed, hands struggling to tear the tendrils from his neck.

Atem flinched slightly; his eyes regained a faint glimmer.

"Atem, wake up..."

Yugi's voice was hoarse, caught in his throat.

"What's wrong with you? Snap out of it, Atem."

"I don't know what that pact really does, but..."

"I really do want to help you. Truth is... I've wanted to be your friend for a long time now."

"YOU SAW ME, ATEM!"

Yugi shouted, forcing out as much as he could. No matter how curt or cold Atem had been, he had always acknowledged him, supported him, never once looking down on him or treating him with pity.

He had no idea what that meant.

Pact or not, Yugi still wanted to help him—that was his choice.

"Don't lock yourself away anymore, Atem. If your past has faded, then write a new one. I'll help you. I'll stay by your side."

"So please, wake up."

Atem looked up.

What... was this boy saying?

So loud.

So grating.

From the moment he set foot on shore, Atem had known exactly what to do, where to go.

Killing the boy... had been his intention from the start.

But he had hesitated.

And the other, as if not valuing his own life, kept drawing closer, kept shouting nonsense, recklessly shoving himself into Atem's carefully laid steps.

Noisy, weak, useless—he had no need for Yugi's existence.

Without him, nothing would change.

He should die, right now.

But... once again, Atem hesitated.

Humans were masters of deceit.

Face-to-face, they smiled like friends; behind your back, the knife was already hidden, waiting to strike your heart.

Anything could be a lie—but you could never hide your eyes.

In them, the truest shape of the soul was always revealed.

And Yugi had beautiful eyes.

Not radiant like jewels, not glittering like stars—but carrying a quiet, tranquil peace.

From the very beginning, even when trembling in fear, he had always looked straight at him, with a gaze both honest and impossibly gentle.

As if, in those eyes, Atem wasn't a monster, wasn't something cursed—just a man. A person.

Atem startled. Somehow, his grip had loosened.

The red glow coiling around Yugi faded, dissolving into nothing as if it had never existed.

Silence.

The air thickened, empty—like the stillness after a raging storm.

"...Atem," Yugi spoke, his voice ragged from the pain in his throat. A call, light as a breeze.

"...I'm sorry," he said.

Atem lifted his head.

Why apologize?

Shouldn't he be afraid, running, cursing me?

"I... was too hasty," Yugi murmured, his gaze sliding away, unable to meet Atem's eyes. "I don't know much about this pact... but everything I said was sincere. Whether it has side effects or not, I'd still choose the same."

He hesitated, picking his words carefully.

"Actually... I think we're somewhat alike. That's why I wanted to help you, even just a little. I'm not asking for much—just hoping you might feel lighter... to make up for the memories you've lost."

"But maybe I overestimated myself. I'm sorry, Atem."

He lowered his head, shame and embarrassment pressing down on him.

Perhaps it was only because of the pact that Atem had let him get close, spared him time and time again. Atem had never needed help—it was Yugi who had been arrogant, naïve enough to think he could offer it.

From now on, there should only be distance—and silence—between them. A creature of the night and a human... it had always been meant that way.

"...I'll go. Sorry for bothering you."

He turned toward the door, his steps slow, heavy.

Just as Yugi's hand touched the doorknob, a voice came from behind, quiet and hesitant:

"Do you... fear me?"

Yugi turned; Atem was looking at him.

"I used to. But not anymore—maybe that's another side effect of the pact," he said softly, his eyes still avoiding Atem's.

"It makes you approach me, but it can't erase your fear."

Yugi lifted his head. Atem was still watching him.

"I'll ask again. Do you fear me?"

Yugi's gaze trembled slightly, but his answer was firm. "No."

A brief silence—only his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then Yugi smiled faintly, just enough to melt the heavy air.

The truth was, from the start, pact or no pact, he had wanted this. He had always known that what stood before him wasn't something to be feared, but a lonely, lost soul—like himself.

But he had convinced himself to keep his distance, to doubt.

A fragile wall.

Atem lowered his head. Silent. Then slowly spoke:

"I'll go with you—only on the night before the festival."

"Really?"

Silence. But silence was agreement.

"That's great!"

Yugi's face lit up like a child given candy.

One small curve of his lips erased the tension between them.

Atem tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving that face.

How could he still smile after all that?

"...Yugi."

"Yeah?"

"You... aren't afraid I'll kill you?"

"Of course I am. I thought I was dead back there," Yugi replied without hesitation, his voice still gentle. "But I'm glad I'm not."

"You trust... that I won't harm you?"

Yugi chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"I'm just making a little bet."

A bet on how I feel about you...

He looked at Atem, sincere.

"You're not truly bad, Atem. At least... that's how I see you."

Atem was silent for a long time.

Then he laughed—a real laugh. Not mocking, not cruel.
Just... soft.

"Only someone with strange tastes like you would think that."

Yugi flushed slightly.

"So... does that make me your parner now?" Yugi asked, wanting to be sure.

"Parner?"

"My... parner" Atem muttered, but Yugi heard him clearly.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Ah! Come on. I'm pretty sure I heard you call me your parner."

"You misheard." Atem looked away.

"Hey, are you embarrassed?"

Yugi laughed. "Don't be. I see you as a friend too, so you shouldn't be shy."

"That's enough," Atem waved a hand. "Do you have anything else? If not, go home."

"Well, I do," Yugi smiled. "But... I'll say it tomorrow."

He headed for the door, stopping once more.

"You'll come to the festival, right? Don't break your promise."

"I keep my word."

Yugi smiled. "Then... goodbye. See you tomorrow."

He paused at the threshold, glanced back.

"Hey, friends should say goodbye to each other, right?"

"...Good... bye."