By Zephyria 
“Prosecutor.”
A dreadfully low voice flowed from lips that parted slowly. Above Nathaniel Miller’s head, a pale moon hung unusually large, casting a hazy white light. For a moment, I was dazed, feeling as if a scene from a Gothic novel had been brought to life in reality. This was despite the fact that the man wore no cloak, revealed no sharp fangs, and spread no black wings.
Perhaps it was because of his red lips, which contrasted so sharply with his exceptionally pale, white skin. Even while thinking it was impossible, I found myself staring intently, wondering if exceptionally prominent fangs might appear when he opened his mouth.
Feeling disgusted with myself for such foolish thoughts, I muttered helplessly.
“……Mr. Miller.”
As I barely managed to utter his name, he gave a polite, beaming smile. Seeing his lips curl at such a precise angle—as if he had practiced it countless times—gave me a sudden chill.
Suddenly, the sweet scent seemed to grow stronger. It might have been an illusion. Regardless, that wasn’t important. I was in a situation where I had to acknowledge that I was standing face-to-face with the person I most wanted to avoid. All the effort I had put into escaping this situation had ended in futility.
“I didn’t expect to run into you in a place like this.”
I spoke lightly, pretending to be unfazed, but Nathaniel Miller didn’t react immediately. He simply looked down at me with an unchangingly indifferent face and slowly inhaled cigarette smoke. I could only watch as he exhaled a long plume.
“I saw a familiar face, so……”
After a few anxious seconds of silence, Nathaniel Miller slowly spoke. His lips curved loosely. Just as I almost let my guard down, he continued in a slow drawl.
“I thought it would be polite to say hello.”
Nathaniel Miller finished his sentence slowly, almost deliberately dragging out the end of the words. From that, I could tell he had spotted me from inside the bar.
Unlike me, who was inwardly tense, he seemed relaxed. As if he were merely a spectator. Realizing this made me feel disgusted with myself. Both of us had gone to that kind of bar, so why did I feel like I was the one being scrutinized, as if he held some leverage over me?
Ha. Letting out a short breath, I responded with deliberate sarcasm.
“A person so polite was just standing there watching a fight.”
I wanted to smile as if it were nothing, but my beaten face hurt, making it difficult to pull up the corners of my mouth. Despite likely knowing exactly how I felt, Nathaniel Miller responded with an unchanging expression.
“I was waiting for it to end.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not. Isn’t the normal reaction to either stop people from fighting or leave the area? Yet he just stood there and watched. And then he claims he wasn’t just spectating?
“If you weren’t going to help, wouldn’t it be more polite to pretend you didn’t see me?”
You should have just fucked off, you crazy bastard. As I sent out my inner thoughts dressed up in a soft tone, Nathaniel Miller tilted his head to one side. Just as I wondered at the gesture that seemed almost troubled, he spoke.
“How would I know if they were rolling around because they liked it, or if they truly hated it?”
His tone was still shockingly calm. To spout such nonsense. For the first time in my life, I experienced being completely speechless. After a few seconds passed while I struggled to find words in my bewilderment, I finally spoke.
“You can’t tell the difference? Between hating it and liking it?”
This time I was overtly angry, but there was no change in Nathaniel Miller’s expression.
“It’s not easy.”
Again, he responded nonchalantly. I began to suspect if this man was in the same mindset as rapists who claim someone is ‘pretending to hate it while actually liking it.’
“Then why don’t you guess. Am I liking this right now, or am I angry?”
When I asked with maximum sarcasm, he paused before answering.
“Since your voice is trembling, it seems you’re angry.”
No way, my voice wasn’t trembling at all. Is this man testing me? Moreover, I didn’t like that brief silence. It felt as if he had actually spent a moment seriously considering the answer. As I glared at him with a furrowed brow, Nathaniel Miller added, as if advising me.
“If you had asked for help, I would have helped.”
Just how many perverts has he dealt with to think like that?
I almost let out a string of curses, but I paused as a scene suddenly flashed through my mind. As the memory of what I saw at the pheromone party resurfaced, I suddenly lost my strength and just accepted everything. Right, the world that man lives in is that kind of world.
Sigh. Lowering my head, I brushed back my hair and frowned briefly. Realizing late that the wound on my face was throbbing, I checked the watch on my wrist and saw it was already past 2 AM.
I was exhausted.
I no longer had the will for sex or anything else. All I wanted was to collapse onto a bed and sleep. I started walking and tossed out a goodbye.
“Then, I’ll be going.”
Without making eye contact, I turned and began to walk. In my haste to leave the spot, I picked up my pace, but it was a mistake. Perhaps the shock of being beaten by the man earlier finally surged through my entire body, as my vision suddenly went black.
……Uh.
I had only blinked, but in the next moment, I was looking up at the sky. While I was bewildered, unable to understand what had happened, a polite voice drifted down from above.
“Are you alright?”
Startled, I snapped back to my senses. Only then did I realize I had fainted for a brief moment. However, I couldn’t feel relieved. Upon seeing the tall man standing over me, I jumped up in surprise. Immediately, a dull ache throbbed in my head, and I leaned forward with an involuntary groan. I rubbed the back of my head with a distorted face.
Checking my palm, nothing was on it. Phew. After a short sigh, I realized how embarrassing this situation was. Fortunately, I seemed to have avoided the terrible accident of slamming my head into the ground, but my luck ended there. Nathaniel Miller, standing with his cane and looking down at me, spoke.
“It seems there is no bleeding.”
Offering a kindness that didn’t suit him at all, Nathaniel Miller reached out his hand. I ignored it and pushed myself up on my own. As I pointedly brushed the dust off my clothes, Nathaniel Miller said:
“Let me walk you home.”
That was absurd. I looked at him, not hiding my disgust.
“I’m fine. I can go alone.”
“Oh dear.”
Though I had refused while standing straight, he remained unbothered by my stiff tone; instead, he let out a short exclamation with a loose smile.
“And here I thought this was the perfect timing to help.”