Roger in the sun was so amazing that Imia still couldn't get used to it, even though Imia had been staring at him all afternoon.

His skin, snow-white with a faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, sparkled as if there were thousands of tiny diamonds set in it. He lay quietly on the grass, looking perfect, his shirt open, revealing a glittering chest that seemed to be carved out, and his glittering arms exposed. His slightly glowing, lilac eyelids were tightly closed, but, of course, he couldn't be sleeping. He was like a perfect statue, carved out of some unknown stone, smooth as marble, brilliant as crystal.

From time to time, his lips moved rapidly, as if he were talking to himself. However, when Imia asked, he told him that he was humming a song, and that his voice was too low for Imia to hear.

Imia is also enjoying the sun, although the air here is not dry enough for Imia's taste. Imia could have been lying on her back, like Roger, letting the sun warm her face, but she lay crouched there, her chin pressed against her knees, reluctant to take her eyes off him. The wind was so soft that it ruffled Imya's hair, wrinkled the grass, and swayed the grass around his motionless body.

The meadow was magnificent to Imia at first, but it was far less beautiful than his beauty.

Imia hesitated, even now, Imia was always worried, afraid that he would disappear like a mirage, he was too beautiful to be like reality at all...... Imia hesitantly held out a finger and stroked the shimmering back of his hand that was close at hand. Once again, Imiah was struck by the perfect texture, smooth as silk and cold as stone. When Imia looked up again, his eyes were open and he was looking at him. Today his eyes are the color of oil candy, but after the hunt, they have become brighter and warmer. A lilting smile appeared on the corners of his unblemished lips.

"Didn't I scare you?" Roger asked quips, but Imia could hear the genuine curiosity in his voice.

"Not more than usual."

He smiled even deeper, his teeth glistening in the sun.

Imia slowly moved closer, reaching over with her outstretched hands, tracing the outline of his forearm with her fingertips. Imia saw her fingers moving, and knew it wouldn't escape his attention.

"Do you mind?" Imia asked, as he closed his eyes again.

"Nope." He spoke, not opening his eyes. "You don't imagine what it's like." He sighed.

Imia gently ran her hand over the perfect muscles of his arm, following the lines of the pale blue veins in the crook of his elbow. Imia stretched out her other hand, trying to turn his palm over. He realized what Imia wanted to do, and immediately turned his palm over, and the movement was so fast that it was impossible to see, and it was simply a panic. His movements startled Imia, whose fingers froze on his arm for a moment.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. Imia immediately looked up and saw his golden eyes closed again. "Being with you makes me feel relaxed and easy to be myself."

Imia took Roger's hand and flipped it over to herself so she could see the sunlight glinting in Roger's palm. Imia held his hand closer to his face, trying to see the facets hidden in his skin.

"Tell me what you're thinking." He whispered. Imia looked up and saw Roger looking at her, her eyes suddenly becoming serious. "It's very strange to me, there's no way to know what you're thinking."

"You know, all of us except you have always been like this, and we don't know what other people are thinking."

"It's a hard life." The remorse in his tone - Imia didn't know if it was her own imagination.

"But you won't tell me." Roger grumbled.

"I was just hoping I knew what you were thinking...... Imiah hesitated.

"What else?"

"I'm hoping I can believe that you're real. I also hope I'm not afraid. ”

"I don't want you to be scared." His voice was merely a soft murmur. Imia heard what he couldn't say with deep convinc—Imia didn't feel like she had to be afraid, there was nothing to be afraid of.

"Well, I didn't feel exactly scared, although it was something to think about."

His movements were so fast that Imia didn't see him move at all. He half-sat up, supporting his body with his right arm, his left palm still in Imia's. Roger's angelic face was only ten centimeters away from Imia's face. Imia could have - and should have - flinched because of his unexpected approach, but Imia could not move. His golden eyes hypnotized Imia.

"So, what are you afraid of?" He looked intently at Imia and whispered.

But Imia did not answer. Just as Imiya had tried once before, Imiah smelled his cold breath and exhaled to his face. Sweet and delicious, this fragrance makes Imia mouthful. It's not like anything else. Imia instinctively, without thinking, leaned closer and sniffed.

Then he vanished, his hand breaking free from Imia's grasp. When Imia gazed out, he was already a few meters away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, in the thick shade of a cedar tree. He stared at Imia, his eyes dark in the shadows, his expression indecipherable.

Imia could feel the pain and shock on her face.

"I ...... I'm so sorry...... Roger. Imia whispered, knowing he could hear.

"Give me a moment." Roger shouted, just as Imia's ears could hear. Imia sat motionless.

After ten unbelievably long minutes, he walked at a pace that seemed rather slow to him. He stopped a few meters away, sat gracefully on the ground, and crossed his legs. His gaze never left Imia's eyes. He took two deep breaths. Then smiled apologetically.

"I'm so sorry." He hesitated. "If I say I'm just human, can you see what I mean?"

Imia nodded, unable to smile at his joke. Adrenaline rushes through Imia's veins as a response to danger, but it is slowly subsiding. He could smell it all from where he was sitting. His smile turned mocking.

"I'm the best predator in the world, am I? Everything about me invites you - my voice, my looks, even my smell. It's like I need these! To his surprise, he stood up and jumped away, immediately disappearing in front of Imia's eyes, and then reappeared under the same tree as before. He circled the clearing in half a second.

"It's like you can get away with me." He laughed bitterly.

He stretched out a hand, and then, with a deafening popping sound, he effortlessly tore a branch up to 1 meter in diameter from the trunk of that spruce. He held it up with one hand for a moment, then threw it out so fast that it was invisible. The branch smashed against another giant tree, and the giant tree shook and sent a trembling wind.

Then he appeared in front of Imia again, standing 1 meter away, as quiet as a stone.

"It's like you can knock me back." He said softly.

Imia sat motionless, frightened by him, more frightened than Imia had ever experienced. Never before had Imiah seen him so completely liberated from that careful, cultured mask. He has never been like this, and even less like a human...... Or even more beautiful. Imia's face was gray and her eyes widened, and Imiah sat there like a bird locked in by the gaze of a snake.

His lovely eyes seemed to sparkle with a burst of reckless excitement. Then, as time passed, they dimmed. His expression slowly turned into a mask of ancient sorrow.

"Don't be afraid." He murmured, his velvety voice full of carelessness. "I promise......" he hesitated. I swear I won't hurt you. Roger wasn't just trying to convince Imia, he seemed to want to convince himself of it.

"Don't be afraid." He whispered again and walked closer, his steps exaggeratedly slow. He sat down bent over, deliberately making his movements appear unhurried, until they were only one step away from each other's faces.

"Please forgive me." He said in a formal tone. "I can control myself. You happened to catch me off guard. But now I'm not very conventional. ”

Roger waited, but Imia couldn't speak.

"I'll tell you the truth, I'm not thirsty today." He blinked.

Imia had to laugh at this, but her voice was so weak that she could barely breathe.

"Are you okay?" Roger asked thoughtfully, and slowly reached out, carefully, placing his marble-like hand into Imia's hand.

Imia looked at his smooth, cold hands, then into his eyes. They are so gentle and full of remorse. Imia looked back at his hand, then unhurriedly let her fingertips return to his, tracing the lines of his palm. Imia looked up and smiled sheepishly.

He smiled back, and the smile was so dazzling.