The Regressor of a Saint

Fleeting Freedom

『A day in le life of Allyn『Allyn's POV』.』

Dear stars,

Another day begins in the peculiar life I share with Kallous, my little master. The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting a dim, pre-dawn glow through the thick curtains. I could feel the thrill building within me as I prepared to wake him. The alarm, my beloved instrument of daily torment, began its shrill song, echoing through the quiet room.

Kal, cocooned in his blankets, let out a groan that was both irritated and resigned. His disheveled hair spread across the pillow like a halo of chaos, and his eyes fluttered open, filled with sleepy annoyance. "Good morning, Kal," I chimed, my voice dripping with exaggerated cheerfulness. Despite his muttered curses and half-hearted glares, I knew this routine was necessary. He must grow well and shiny, after all, even if it means enduring my cheerful torment each morning.

Reluctantly, he shuffled out of bed, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. I watched him make his way to the bathroom, a sense of fond amusement bubbling within me. His irritation was like a familiar tune, one that I had come to anticipate and, strangely, adore. It was in these small moments of grumbling compliance that I saw a different side of him—a side that was vulnerable and almost endearing.

The shower turned on, steam soon filling the room and fogging up the mirror. I monitored his progress, ensuring he went through the motions of washing up. The sound of water splashing and the faint scent of soap filled the air. When he emerged, hair damp and sticking to his face, it was time for our next ritual. "Let's tackle that hair of yours," I announced, summoning my round, fingerless hands to the task.

Brushing Kal's long hair was no small feat. Each strand seemed to have a mind of its own, tangling and knotting despite my best efforts. But I took pride in this task, carefully working through the knots with a gentle touch. Kal sat patiently, never complaining. His eyes sometimes closing as I worked, his breathing steadying into a calm rhythm. It was in these quiet moments that I felt closest to him, my little master who trusted me implicitly with this small but significant part of his routine.

Yet, even as I cherished these moments, a shadow loomed over our days. Kallous wasn't fascinated with death; it was simply that people were idiots who annoyed him to no end. Inevitably, their foolishness would lead to their demise, often in the most unfortunate of circumstances. I had seen him encounter these irritants, his patience wearing thin until it snapped, resulting in yet another regrettable incident.

Recently, his actions had grown more disturbing. He had kidnapped Lucy, the woman who we both hated with a passion. For two harrowing weeks, he kept her captive, subjecting her to unimaginable tortures. Her screams echoed through the walls, but they were music to his ears. He made her suffer a hundred times worse than she had ever made him. And while a part of me reveled in the chaos, another part shuddered with concern.

Despite my enjoyment of his dark deeds, I couldn't shake the worry that plagued me. Kal's mental health was delicate, a precarious balance between innocence and madness. While he could still play the part of a child, acting sweet and unassuming, the blood on his hands told a different story. What if one day, in the throes of his dark passions, he injured himself? What if his frustrations turned inward?

In the midst of our dark days, there are still moments of light. Like when Kal offers me a rare, genuine smile after I've perfectly braided his hair, or when he absentmindedly hums a tune while reading a book. These glimpses of his innocence remind me of the child he once was and, perhaps, still is underneath the layers of cynicism and cruelty. It is in these tender moments that my hope rekindles, the belief that somewhere within, little master can find a sliver of peace.