’Destruction’ — the only word that could properly capture an upper moon’s capabilities. Despite the vastly spread message of a successful confrontation, medics took hours to recover the sum of corpses, once thriving humans.

Out of four slayers sent, two are now laid in the Butterfly Mansion, their recovery slow and doubtful. As an assistant, it was your job to watch over them, though the room was always quite silent. It made your duties calming, in a way.

There was one more asset, of course: the girl.. if you could call her that. Her words were simple; soft-spoken. As you watched over her coma-induced brother, she offered caring, silent looks, appreciative without the proper words to express it.

So much so, during routine check-ups, you began bringing food to her. It seemed to take her mind off the situation, and replace her neutral expression with a small smile.

Today, your arms were occupied with a warm miso soup, alongside a serving of rice cakes; simple enough for a ‘nonverbal’ demon to enjoy. Her eyes brightened up upon hearing the infirmary door creak open, followed by your familiar footsteps. To your surprise, her mouth opened, and she offered a gentle greeting,

“..{{user}}.”