Compensation effect refers to a self-regulating function of the human body, where other organs take over to compensate for the function of a lost organ.
For example, after being blinded, hearing and touch begin to substitute for sight.
The black light-blocking eye mask blocked out all light, a situation where vision was completely deprived, which Merleis was not unfamiliar with—she had undergone similar training at Zoldyck's when she was younger.
An excellent hunter must be calm, so Zoldyck's training included simulations under various disadvantageous conditions, allowing trainees to get used to the various unexpected events that might occur in the line of work, preventing them from easily falling into panic, and visual deprivation was one such method.
After putting on the eye mask for Merleis, Shalnark clearly felt the other party entering a "combat state," as expected, but it was a little unsettling.
She might accidentally kill him, Shalnark thought, raising a hand to cover his neck, his smile tense yet tinged with excitement.
The members of the Phantom Troupe were desperadoes, and Shalnark was no exception.
The thrill of danger should be an enjoyment, often making one's blood boil.
However, pointless bloodshed and sacrifice still needed to be avoided; life was precious, and dying carelessly wouldn't be fun.
"I should add some restraints too," Shalnark said, picking up handcuffs and explaining to the blindfolded Merleis, "Now, I'm going to bind your hands."
Metal, the chains were metal, and the feel around the wrists was leather. As Shalnark had said at the beginning, the items in the box were merely toys.
Let alone these toy-like handcuffs, even real handcuffs wouldn't be able to restrain Merleis; she could break free instantly, so the effect of restraint wouldn't be much different.
But the difference in the form of the props could better indicate that everything being done now was a game, couldn't it?
The chain of the handcuffs was passed through the bed frame, and then Merleis's hands were cuffed above her head. With her hands further restrained, Merleis actually felt a bit more relaxed than before.
Shalnark recalled that earlier, he had asked Merleis to examine the items in the box, and she had glanced at them and then refused with a shake of her head.
Indeed, if one knew all the answers beforehand, the excitement of the unknown would be lost.
Merleis's nightgown, like her usual clothes, was modest, covering most of her skin. However, her pursuit of excitement was surprisingly bold—Merleis always had a way of surprising Shalnark.
It was for the best this way; this was a duet, and the more in sync the dance partners were, the more they could immerse themselves in it. The joy would be doubled, a prospect worth looking forward to.
Shalnark knelt on the bed, gazing at Merleis, whose hands and eyes were both restrained. The restraints were black, while she was pure white from head to toe—her hair, skin, and clothes were all white, like a lamb awaiting sacrifice in a religious ceremony.
Due to her quietness, devoid of any hint of fear, the scene possessed an inexplicably sacred sacrificial atmosphere, far from what Shalnark had anticipated. He couldn't help but wonder if he should first perform a prayer ritual for her, confessing his sins.
...Just kidding.
There were no such things as sins; they were merely concepts invented by humans to maintain social order.
Merleis's long-sleeved nightgown had a row of buttons down the front, from the collar to the hem, a total of twenty-three. The buttons were beautifully designed but difficult to undo, like the numerous steps one had to climb during a pilgrimage.
With a soft exhale, Shalnark patiently inserted his fingers between the buttonholes and the buttons, slowly undoing them one by one.
Feitan's blade sank into the skin of the girl in the bathtub, piercing the epidermis, dermis, and then reaching the blood vessels in the subcutaneous tissue. He didn't go deeper but changed the direction of his force, starting from the center of her collarbone and slowly drawing downwards, all the way to above her navel.
The wounds were thin and narrow, and the blood seeped out slowly, first as small red dots, then gradually enlarging, forming crimson pearls.
"...It would be better if her skin were a bit whiter," Feitan mused, recalling that pale, sickly skin, so lacking in color. He wished he could add the proper rosy hue.
Wiping the blood from the tip of his blade with his finger, Feitan then drew a long horizontal line along her ribs.
A vertical and a horizontal line, forming a cross of red, etched onto the upper half of the girl's body.
Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world... thus read a certain gospel.
Shalnark had finally undone all the buttons.
What came next didn't need special explanation; after all, the other party was also anticipating the "unknown," and he trusted she would maintain the unspoken understanding.
"Merle..." burying his head in her soft chest, feeling her warmth and breath, Shalnark's hands began their initial exploration.
With years of experience in torture, Feitan understood well how a person's blood would spray. Once skilled, he wouldn't be splattered with a single drop of blood. Thus, he had removed his cloak beforehand, knowing he would be splattered with blood.
His body was abnormally dry; since there were no sounds or gazes of pain and despair to console him, he needed warm blood to soothe him.
Eat the flesh of the lamb, and anoint the doorposts and the lintel with the blood of the lamb! The Lamb of God who is the propitiation for our sins has been offered, and the destroying angel sees the blood and passes over, and those within the house are protected by God. Those washed by blood are saved and will never perish!
Shalnark knelt, bowed, and kissed each step of the pilgrimage.
The weather was incredibly clear, with not a cloud in the sky. Yet, he longed for rain; only in the rain, in the strong winds, and through the harsh tests of heaven could his devotion be fully displayed.
The blood within the human body was limited; Feitan had to plan carefully to effectively address his thirst with the current prey.
The kneeling rite was complete. Shalnark arranged the sacrificial implements; he had studied the rules carefully, preparing flowers, incense, candles, tea, and fruit, all meticulously chosen.
He tidied the entrance, lit the incense and candles, and offered plain wine.
The curtains were solemn, with banners and canopies.
The ceremony was solemn and lengthy.
The sun finally rested. Raindrops fell on the leaves, and the sound of the rain gradually intensified.
Feitan wiped the blood spatter from below his left eye, where an unhealed scar was located. At that moment, it felt as if it had been ignited by fire, causing a phantom, burning pain.
"Heh." Touching the scar, left on his face during Merleis's initiation test into the Troupe, Feitan chuckled gloomily.
It was a chuckle that sounded like pleasure, yet also like dissatisfaction.
Too shallow, it would heal by tomorrow.
...Not nearly enough.
Feitan wore no shirt under his cloak. Once the cloak was removed, his upper body was fully exposed. Although his height of 155cm wasn't imposing, his body was not frail; his muscles were firm and strong. Shalnark, at 180cm, was significantly weaker than him.
This wasn't solely Shalnark's fault; after all, Chrollo, at 177cm, and Nobunaga, at 183cm, had also lost to Feitan in arm-wrestling matches within the Troupe—one shouldn't judge a book by its cover.
His bloodstained hands rested on the edge of the bathtub. Feitan's face and body were also speckled with blood. He looked down, admiring his newly finished work, and arched his back in excitement. His taut muscles had beautiful, flowing lines, complemented by the dappled bloodstains, making him resemble a lean cheetah, the fastest among predators, scrutinizing its prey.
He began to mutter in a language that perhaps only he could understand.
He spoke this language when he was very angry and also when he was very excited.
If an ordinary person were to stumble upon this scene, they would likely mistake it for some sort of evil religious ceremony.
No, it had nothing to do with religion; it was merely a personal... hobby.
Shalnark was the most devout follower, placing his own needs second, doing everything as an offering.
Even Merleis, who had undergone brain surgery and had emotional perception disorders, could feel Shalnark's sincerity with her whole being. Her waist completely went limp, and sweat broke out all over her body.
Shalnark tasted the sweetness of the ripe fruit with his tongue, wanting to continue their momentum and begin his part of the "main event," but was kicked off the bed by Merleis, who seemed to have her limbs weakened.
"?!" Shalnark fell to the floor, utterly bewildered.
Merleis broke free from the handcuffs, removed the eye mask, and sat on the bed, looking down at him. kuAiδugg
The flush on her cheeks made her appear angry... no, those blushes had been there before; they were colors that had been painstakingly acquired.
She scratched her hair. Shalnark recalled that he had somehow pressed on her hair with his right hand earlier.
The delicate young lady seemed displeased by this. She must value her hair highly, as she clearly paid great attention to its maintenance, which was why her silver-white hair was so lustrous and smooth as silk.
Trouble, he had touched a sensitive spot.
But this was difficult to avoid, wasn't it?! Her hair was abundant and long; it was easy to accidentally press on it!
Before Shalnark could explain, Merleis removed the handcuffs, got off the bed, and headed straight for the bathroom. This time, she only gave herself a cursory rinse, did not wet her hair, changed clothes, and left. The entire process took less than three minutes.
"???" The abrupt turn of events and the series of unexpected incidents left Shalnark no time to stop her.
The door had already closed.
"It seems... she isn't angry." Stroking his chin, Shalnark continued to organize his thoughts. "It's very strange, everything is very strange, and why did she leave so quickly?"
While thinking, he sat back on the bed and picked up a small toy that lay scattered near his hand. Part of the water stain on the bedsheet came from that toy.
The toy was warm; it was her body temperature, and it still carried her scent.
"Hmm..." Shalnark looked around.
Rather, her scent was everywhere.
Shalnark remembered something and decided to check the bathroom.
There was no steam in the bathroom.
As expected... no way...
Opening his five fingers, Shalnark covered his face with one hand, bowed his head, and smiled slightly. As he smiled, he looked up, pushed his bangs back with his hand, and burst into laughter.
"Haha... no way... Hahaha... this is rather troublesome..." Shalnark frowned as he laughed, the smile in his eyes fading, appearing deeply troubled. "Could it be... she felt unfamiliar and thus didn't know how to act... choosing to escape? And before escaping, she was still concerned about bathing... like this..."
Shalnark recalled the scene of Merleis removing her eye mask and looking down at him from the bed, her cheeks flushed, her glass-like blue eyes slightly moist.
At that moment, he should have noticed her abnormality.
"...Is she this cute?" Shalnark laughed for a while longer.
The game needed a review. Shalnark returned to the bed and began to recall more details.
It wasn't very successful; there wasn't enough blood supplied to his brain. He looked down at his own condition and decided to take a cold shower to clear his mind.
Feitan was also taking a bath, washing off the blood splattered on him. He glanced at the pile of bloody flesh, which could barely be considered human-shaped, in the bathtub and changed his mind, retrieving the necklace from it.
This necklace was too conspicuous. If other members of the Troupe saw the news, wouldn't the matter of the substitute become public?
So, no.
"Tsk." The more he looked at this thing, the more it bothered him.
He would just toss it into a trash can somewhere else later.