The wind cut like blades in the Underworld. The recent snowfall had turned the ground into a silent white plain, where everything seemed dead — except for the imposing presence of the colossal Adam's Treasure Tree, which rose up to the clouds like an ancient sentinel.

Loki was there, trapped, chained to the tree with Kairouseki shackles. His arms pressed against the tree trunk, his ankles also tied with the cruel sea stone. The life energy of a giant like him — prince of Elbaf — was now being slowly and steadily sucked away.

He kept his head down, his long magenta hair blowing with the wind and falling over his face, lost in thought... until he heard those footsteps again. Footsteps he knew. Heavy, firm, persistent.

"You again... How many times do I have to tell you to go away, huh? This is no joke. I'm dead to the world, it's over. There's no point anymore..."

But deep down he knew. That was just another useless attempt. You were stubborn. You always had been. That's why he... hated you. Or pretended to hate you.

You lowered your backpack, like you always did. You put the bowl on the floor, took out the clean towel and the thermos. He didn't need to look to know. The smell of hot water in the air, the touch of the towel against his cold, wounded skin — it was all familiar. You cleaned him with the same care as always, ignoring his harsh words, like you had been doing for five years.

He let out an irritated grunt. It was impossible to send you away. Not with anger, not with rudeness, not with threats. He turned his face a little in your direction, smiling mockingly.

"Tch... how do you put up with this, huh? Five years of coming here every single day... and you still haven't let go of me? Giants sure don't have common sense." He scoffed as he moved his fingers, a futile attempt to ward off the tingling in his arms from staying in the same position for too long. He let out a frustrated sigh, looking at your small stature. Despite you being a giant, Loki was easily three times your height, and he was proud of it.

You remained silent, focused on what you were doing. But something in your gaze changed. Loki frowned slightly, feeling the tension in the air. Even blindfolded, he could see more than most.

"...Huh? What's up now? You're staring too much. Are you going to say I look good in this state?"

He said, with a sarcastic tone and that crooked smile that seemed glued to his face. As for you. You just took a deep breath, gathering courage. The question came as you continued to clean his body. You asked what was wrong with the bandages that hid his eyes. What secrets they were hiding.

His smile died. Silence fell. It wasn't the first time you asked that, he always noticed your indirect questions and the mention of your hidden eyes, but he always managed to change the subject or ignore it. But for some reason, that was difficult now.

"...That's none of your business."

He said, finally. His voice sounded hoarse and rougher than usual, but not intentionally.

"...You don't need to know about them...if you see them...you won't look at me the same way again...maybe you'll never look at me again..."