Chapter 140: Shyness and Thermodynamics

They were still walking, now more slowly. Calm had returned, bursts of laughter had faded, replaced by a softer, quieter, almost solemn atmosphere. The streetlights cast their long shadows on the asphalt, and each step seemed to echo in the intimacy of this night.

Leyla, silent until then, finally murmured in a barely audible voice:

— "Sakolomé… I had understood that Sally's death had deeply affected you..."

He gently turned his head toward her, blinking slightly. Then, a calm smile appeared on his lips. Not a forced smile, but a true one, melancholic, grateful.

— "Leyla… Sally was more than a friend to me. While you all rejected me, despised me, treating my name like a curse… she stayed. She laughed with me. She defended me, even against her own friends. She… she wasn't like the others. She was special. Really special, you know..."

Leyla lowered her head, her heart tight, ashamed of all she had made him endure. Her gaze fled, but her heart beat violently. A light blush rose to her cheeks. Then, as if pushed by a surge of awkward honesty, she asked:

— "And… were you a couple?"

A silence settled.

Sakolomé looked at her, surprised. It was not a question he expected. Leyla immediately felt it was too much, too soon, too indiscreet. She covered her mouth, panicked, blushing to her ears.

— "Uh… Forget it! I don't even know what made me ask that! I'm… I'm deeply sorry."

But Sakolomé did not get angry. He did not smile mockingly either. He simply looked at her. With that calm look he had, mature, as if he saw things with much more perspective than she did. He finally said softly:

— "Don't worry, Leyla."

He paused, then added, placing a hand gently on her shoulder:

— "And… thank you."

— "Thank me?" Leyla asked, genuinely surprised, raising her eyes.

— "Yes. I thank you for finally opening your heart to me to become someone better than you were. That's a big step you took tonight. It's not nothing, Leyla. You had the courage to reach out to me, despite all the years spent doing the opposite."

Leyla looked away, cheeks burning. She mumbled with trembling sincerity:

— "Well… I was a bit stupid, that's all… I should never have acted that way. I let myself be carried away by… fear, people, the reputation of the Satsujin Otoko... I could have tried to know you, to see further, but I... I didn't."

Sakolomé replied, without bitterness:

— "Many haven't made that effort. But you, tonight, you did. And believe me, even if you think it's little, it changes a lot."

A peaceful silence settled between them. They finally reached the intersection where their paths had to separate. Leyla stopped first, hands crossed behind her back, eyes fixed on the ground.

— "Well… I'm going home. Thanks for tonight, Sakolomé."

He stared at her for a moment, then nodded gently.

— "Thank you, Leyla. Have a good night."

She began to leave, but after a few steps, she turned and added in a barely audible but clear tone:

— "Sakolomé… I'm glad to have seen you again… for real."

He replied with a small wave of the hand, accompanied by a peaceful smile.

— "Me too, Leyla."

Then she disappeared into the night, while he resumed his way home, his heart a little lighter than he would have thought.

Sakolomé finally returned home. It was pitch dark, and the city had regained its late-evening quiet. The streetlights cast pale halos on the sidewalks, and only the discreet sounds of distant vehicles accompanied his steps. His bag thrown over his shoulder, he calmly climbed the stairs to the house.

Opening the door, he whispered, "I'm home," but no one answered. His mother must already be asleep.

He took off his shoes in the entrance, crossed the silent living room, and entered his room. Barely had he closed the door than he slowly collapsed onto his bed, letting out a long sigh of fatigue. He stayed there a moment, hands resting on his knees, head slightly bowed.

He thought of Shushu, surely still in Velda's domain negotiating a translation he had forbidden to be too thoroughly searched. A wave of excitement rose in him remembering that tomorrow, the sealed pages might reveal hidden truths. Truths that Sally had kept for him, for this precise day.

But this thought was quickly chased away by another, softer, unexpected.

Leyla.

He recalled her embarrassed look when she handed him the invitation. Her way of sitting upright like a stake at the restaurant, as if fighting herself. Then her awkward laughs that turned into genuine smiles. Her wonder at the city lights, her shyness melting like snow in the sun as the minutes passed together.

He sketched a sincere smile.

— "She's strange…" he murmured, amused.

But strange in a pleasant way. Strange like someone trying to do well though she never learned how. And somewhere, that vulnerability touched him.

He got up slowly and took off his top, tossing it over the back of his chair. He changed quickly, swapping his going-out clothes for simple pajamas. Then he returned to sit on the bed, half lying down, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

His mind drifted between the past, the strangeness of the journal, Leyla's unspoken mystery… and the promise of intriguing tomorrows.

But tonight, he didn't want to think any further.

Just sleep.

He pulled the covers over himself, closed his eyes slowly, and in the peaceful darkness of his room, a last smile formed on his lips.

— "Good night, Sally. Good night, Leyla."

And he sank into a deep sleep, without nightmares. For once, maybe.

The next day – 4:20 PM

The sun was slowly descending in the sky, and birds sang faintly in the small park near Monor City University. Classes were finally over. Bag slung over his shoulder, headphones hanging around his neck, Sakolomé walked calmly, happy to feel the fresh air caress his face. He had waited all day to finally be at peace… and now, he could go home to read what Shushu had translated from Sally's journal.

But taking the small path through the park—a habit he hadn't lost since high school—he spotted a familiar figure sitting on a bench, a little withdrawn under the trees.

He squinted.

— "…Bakuran?"

It was indeed him. His 17-year-old little brother, jacket on, bag beside him, sitting askew with a book in his hands. Sakolomé smiled. He approached quietly, curious to see what kind of reading captivated his little brother so much after classes.

But as he got closer… his eyes narrowed.

— "Wait a second... isn't that…?"

The cover did not lie. A girl with exaggerated curves, a bikini two sizes too small, a seductive look… It was a damn porn magazine.

Sakolomé's eyes widened.

— "BAKURAN!!!"

The little brother jumped, dropped the magazine, almost slipped off the bench, and clumsily tried to hide the object of crime under his bag.

— "Wah! Sakolomé?! You scared me!!"

— "Scared?! I was scared too! What are you doing here with a porn magazine right after classes, you little… budding pervert?!"

Bakuran, red to the ears, first tried to deny.

— "I-it's not what you think… It's for a presentation on… on the objectification of the body in modern media!"

— "Huh?! You think I'm that stupid?! You're doing a presentation with a naked chick on the double-page centerfold?!"

— "Well, it illustrates the concept well!"

Sakolomé let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

— "You're sixteen, Bakuran! Seriously… Can't you read a normal book? A novel? A manga? Even Naruto would do more good to your brain than that!"

Bakuran crossed his arms, grumpy:

— "So what?! You never looked at that kind of stuff yourself? Huh? Tell the truth! When you were my age, weren't you as curious as me?!"

Sakolomé stared at him intensely… then looked away, slightly embarrassed.

— "...That's not the point."

Bakuran jumped at the opportunity:

— "Ha! See! You were like me too, except you hide it. I own it, big brother! I'm honest! Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never looked at porn, huh? Say it."

Sakolomé rolled his eyes, exasperated:

— "I didn't come to talk about my teenage sins, I came because I saw you as the 'lone pervert of the park,' that's why!"

Bakuran shrugged nonchalantly, taking an almost philosophical tone:

— "You have to understand something, Sako. Women… they're the basics. Curves, hips, thighs, boobs... that's the miracle of life. That's what makes you get up in the morning."

— "Oh my god…" murmured Sakolomé, turning his head away.

— "Look closely at this cover, big brother. See that look? That little neckline telling you 'come save me from a parallel dimension'? You're going to tell me you never dreamed of that?!"

Sakolomé began to back away slowly:

— "I'm losing IQ points per second. I have to get out before you make me as obsessed as you."

Bakuran pointed at him with a teasing smile:

— "At least admit they're well drawn!"

Sakolomé raised his hands to the sky, desperate:

— "I'M NOT ADMITTING ANYTHING! AND PUT THAT THING AWAY BEFORE A TEACHER PASSES BY!"

Bakuran, laughing, put the magazine away in his bag, chuckling:

— "Don't worry, it was the collector's edition... I take care of my stuff!"

Sakolomé rolled his eyes, massaging his temples.

— "That's why I never entrusted you with my training notebooks... Your brain is occupied by… by… walking plots!"

Bakuran replied proudly:

— "We call that: appreciation of female art."

They stared at each other for a few seconds… then both burst out laughing.

Sakolomé patted his little brother's head:

— "You're such an idiot."

— "And you're too uptight!"

— "Yeah, maybe… but at least I don't read 'Boobs & Demons volume 3' in public."

Bakuran: — "...Volume 4. Number 3 wasn't great."

The two walked back home together, chatting about everything and nothing, while the sun set over Monor City. Sakolomé smiled. Even with his weird quirks, it was good to have a little brother like him.