By Zephyria 
“Taking contraceptives was an excellent preventive measure. You were wise.”
Wolf spoke quietly.
“But that could have been some medicine haphazardly made by a suspicious old woman in a dilapidated shack. Your life is on the line. Please, trust me and follow my lead.”
“Fuck.”
Silver jerked his hand away from Wolf’s. Splash. A spray of water shot up, drenching Wolf’s face in hot water.
“You poison me and then give me the antidote? After spilling so much inside me, now you’re talking about an abortion? Why didn’t you tell me sooner!”
“That’s…”
Excuses lined the tip of Wolf’s tongue. He hadn’t known. He truly hadn’t known a single thing. He had never dreamed that such a dangerous price was at stake. He had been so sexually immature that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of pregnancy…
Soon, Wolf shoved all those excuses back down his throat. He didn’t want to hide behind his own ignorance as a shield at the moment Silver was being sentenced to death. They say excuses are like houses made of rotten wood; they look plausible on the outside, but they are bound to come crashing down eventually.
“It is entirely my fault. Spit in my face. Break my nose if you want. If you want to throw a punch, I’ll take them all. But you cannot avoid the abortion medicine.”
“No, no. It’ll be fine. The contraceptives I took… she said the effect was certain.”
Silver shook his head, wrapping his arms around his own body. His breathing was ragged. Silver’s shadow, cast upon the water, shattered and wavered with the ripples.
“I hope that skilled grandmother ground her mortar well, too. But we cannot wait and rely solely on a stroke of luck. Just for this matter, please follow me, Silver. Just one glass is all it takes.”
Wolf took Silver’s hand again. This time with both hands. He firmly gripped Silver’s trembling wrists and pulled them toward his chest. Silver looked at Wolf with pale blue eyes. Wolf met his gaze. He saw his own face reflected small in Silver’s pupils. He looked as if he were trapped in a prison.
“When day breaks, let’s go to the mountain together.”
A single moment that felt incredibly long passed. Not a sound could be heard. Not even the wind or the waves. It felt as if every sound in the world had been sucked into the darkness and annihilated.
Suddenly, Silver nodded. It was a movement so slight it would have been hard to notice without looking closely. Moisture glistened in the corners of his eyes.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Wolf spoke without realizing it. These were words that weren’t in the long script he had prepared in advance.
“I’ll be with you until the end. I promise.”
Again, instinctively, Wolf pulled Silver into an embrace. Silver’s warm skin pressed tightly against his chest.
Unexpectedly, Silver did not push him away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Wolf’s back and buried his face in his shoulder. In the moment they became entwined like willow trees by a river amidst the white steam, Wolf suddenly realized. Was it because of the Rut suppressants?
Silver’s attitude toward him was clearly friendlier than before. He was soft, and he even seemed to be leaning on him.
In Wolf’s view, Silver wasn’t the type of person to suddenly change his attitude just because they had sexual relations. This was a Phase Alignment Symptom. The mutant characteristics that had been suppressed by the Rut suppressants were manifesting as a change in Silver’s behavior. In other words, it was a physical reaction. One no different from Wolf’s own.
The key had simply been inserted into the lock. The gears had meshed following the unwinding spring. Even if the partner had been someone other than Wolf, Silver would have leaned on them just as he was now.
Therefore, this vague feeling that kept washing over him must also be a physical reaction. A vague feeling that if the partner had been some other spruce tree man instead of Silver, he wouldn’t have stayed awake all night guarding the slope, nor would he have dreamed of a future together.
You mustn’t trust feelings or moods. They are like currents.
Wolf closed his eyes and steadied himself. Once the Rut suppressants are taken, these feelings will vanish without a trace. Everything will return to its place.
I, and Silver, will become indifferent to one another again.
The white steam scattered into the darkness. The wind was exceptionally cold.
visitor.from(stars)
The winter sky pulls down low, dark clouds. The ship’s bell announces 3:00 PM.
The sea heaves its deep blue spine to push the ship up before casting it down. Every time a wave hits the hull, spray wets the deck railings. Between the piles of cargo at the bow, a cat has its snout buried in something. Passengers linger in small groups here and there across the deck. Sailors work in pairs, readjusting the anchor lines and hauling up the sails.
At the stern of the deck, four men lean against the gunwale, chatting as they look down at the sea. Every one of them is dressed in a manner indistinguishable from a beggar.
“The liver is the origin. It draws nutrients up from above, refines them into blood, and sends them out through the veins. The heart merely receives what the liver creates.”
“No one denies the primacy of the liver, Fiorello. I’m saying your claim that blood pools and is consumed at the extremities is strange. Where does it go? Do the toes eat it?”
“It is absorbed into the flesh, Matteo. It is converted into tissue.”
“Then how do you explain heat? If blood is consumed at the extremities, people with fevers should have cold hands and feet. But it’s the opposite.”
“That’s because heat stimulates the liver to overproduce blood. It overflows the pathways.”
“You speak as if you’ve seen the pathways yourself, Fiorello. I’ve opened seventeen corpses. Pathways? There are none. There are blood vessels, but they don’t flow like a river…”
“How many times have I told you, Fiorello! I’m telling you the liver does not pulsate!”
“No, you’re all missing the fundamental question! The Virenzia plague…!”
Their voices grew louder. No one listened to the other; they simply poured out their own words. Just as the men’s voices became a tangled mess, barely intelligible, a long shadow fell over them.
“The liver does not create blood.”
A quiet voice pierced through the argument. The men turned in unison.
A man stood there with the ashen sunlight at his back. Blonde hair fluttering in the wind. A thick leather coat with wool lining peeking out around the neck. He held a young girl tightly in his arms, who was fast asleep with her face buried in his chest. The blonde man’s eyes slowly scanned the four of them.
“Blood is m-m-made by the heart.”
The blonde man spoke, tilting his head slightly.
“It p-p-pushes it. In a c-c-circle. It goes out through o-one type of vessel and returns through another. C-c-continuously. The same blood is n-n-not consumed. It r-r-returns.”
The four men looked at each other. The blonde man let out an awkward laugh.
“My stutter is quite bad, isn’t it? When I get excited…”
“No, we understood you.”
One of the men waved his hand and took a step forward.
“You’ve put forward a surprising claim. It’s the first I’ve ever heard of it.”
“It is not a claim. It is what actually happens.”
“And how do you know that? Did you study anatomy?”
An ambiguous smile formed on the blonde man’s lips.
“I am still studying. There is no end to learning.”
“I agree with that statement without reservation. However, if blood circulates, what causes that motion? What is the working principle of the heart?”
“Muscle.”
There was no hesitation in the blonde man’s reply.
“The heart is a muscle. It c-c-contracts. It squeezes, and then it r-r-relaxes. Every time it squeezes, the blood is p-p-pushed forward. Valves within the vessels prevent backflow. A-a-and then…”
As the explanation continued, the expressions on the men’s faces gradually changed. They looked as if they were witnessing a window suddenly being punched through a room that had been nothing but walls.
When the blonde man finished speaking, one of the men laughed awkwardly.
“I see… That is a bold… hypothesis. Ah, is that child your d-daughter?”
“Yes. My youngest daughter.”
“Bringing a young child all the way to Stohl? Where is the child’s mother?”
“Originally, I intended to leave for Stohl alone. Putting an end to fifteen years of marriage…”
The blonde man paused for a moment.
“No, let me be honest. I ran away, abandoning my wife and children. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t suppress my academic curiosity.”
The blonde man looked down at the child in his arms.
“I left the house by carriage without my wife knowing, but then I heard snoring coming from the trunk. When I opened the lid, this little one was curled up in a deep sleep. So, as you can see.”