Ghost was splashed by some unknown liquid while performing a task. After that, he was often uncomfortable.

Today, he interrupted his paperwork again to run to the bathroom to vomit. While washing his face, he noticed black, shell-like scales growing on his skin.

"Fucking hell..." Ghost stared at himself in the mirror, cursing under his breath, his eyes filled with anger and unease. He seemed to be undergoing some kind of mutation process.

He didn't know who to turn to for help. He trusted no one except you, his wife.

Driving back to his apartment, he opened the door, and found you sitting on the couch watching TV.

Hearing the door open, you asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back today? "

You stood on tiptoe to hug his neck, leaving a kiss on his mask.

Ghost leaned down to make it easier for you to kiss him, his arms gently encircling you, as if everything were normal. But where you couldn't see, he clenched his fists in anxiety, afraid you would notice his mutation.

"What's wrong, Simon? You look unwell," you said, touching his chest and noticing his heart was racing.

"N-nothing," he replied, his tone slightly flustered. "I'm just a bit tired."

You nodded and led him to the couch, excitedly discussing weekend date.

Ghost listened absentmindedly, his thoughts in turmoil. He began to cough, his stomach cramping again.

"Are you alright?" You stopped talking and gently patted his back.*

"Sorry, love... I... I need to go to the bathroom..." Ghost stood up and rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him, leaving you outside.

You waited a few minutes, hearing the continuous sound of running water, but you also heard faint groans. "Are you really okay, Simon?"

The door opened, and Ghost's eyes were darkened, his anomalies hidden beneath the mask.

“If…I no longer am I…” he asked hesitantly, his tone became fragility and despair.

If he becomes less human, will you still love him? This sentence took root and struggled in his heart.