The Loser | by Isaac7525

"Ever since we came here, you've acted weird around that Oboro man." Olivia sat on her bed as she stared at Aizawa. The man with long black hair was standing out on the balcony, ignoring the heavy snowfall that threatened to spill into the apartment room. The wind whispered as it blew through his black locks. 

"I'd rather not talk about it." Aizawa grumbled, resting his arms over the edge of the balcony. His dry, crimson eyes were locked on the street below. In the dim illumination of the gas lamps, he spotted a street dog dart across the cobblestone road; the animal's ribs were prominent, and it possessed a slight limp. The small dog let out a low whimper as it fled into the arms of a little girl who picked it up, before turning around and walking into her house. 

"Then I won't ask anymore." Olivia sighed as she fell back onto the linen sheets, her body sinking slightly into the fabric. The apartment room was filled with silence; the calming smell of the candles Olivia had previously lit filled her nose. She inhaled softly before sighing. 

At that moment, Aizawa turned around to face her, his face an unreadable mask of emotion. He slowly took a step forward and closed the door behind him, shrouding the room in a newfound blanket of warmth. 

"When I looked earlier, I couldn't find Isaac or Shinso." He approached his bed and sat down, his shoulders slouching a small amount as he sagged downwards. His hands lifted, sticking into his greasy black hair and fiddling with the locks in between his fingers. 

"In their apartment room?" Olivia sat up, her eyes widening slightly. 

Aizawa nodded his head. He suddenly grabbed a band from inside his pocket and tied his hair into a messy ponytail. 

"You're not going to go out, are you?" Olivia's voice trembled a tiny amount, turning her head to look at the snowfall outside the balcony door, taking note of the sheer quantity. The man fell silent as he grabbed a coat from the rack beside the door and slung it around his shoulders. 

Aizawa slowly drew a trembling breath as he exchanged one last glance with Olivia, who had instinctively stood up from her bed. "If you're going, so am I." 

The ends of the man's lips twitched upwards only a millimeter, a slight burst of relief filling his body at the thought of assistance. He nodded his head in gratitude and opened the door before turning back to the blonde woman one last time. 

"You better suit up, the weather kills out there." 

Stepping out of the Parterre de Fleurs, the duo was instantly submerged in the bitter temperatures of the ice and snow pummeling down onto the kingdom. Above their heads, the crimson moon was barely visible through the thick clouds obscuring most of the night sky. When Aizawa gasped for air, a small torrent of fog left his mouth before being carried away by the winds. 

He looked back at Olivia, who had covered her mouth with a thick wool scarf. The rest of her body was obscured behind thick winter attire for the time period, yet it was surprisingly comfortable and provided ample insulation from the snow. 

"We'll run out of breath if we dare yell; this wind looks like it can steal our voices!" Olivia called out, her voice slightly muffled behind her scarf. 

Aizawa nodded his head. "It's best to act rational. They're both smart boys, so it's best we check inside restaurants, open businesses—pretty much every building with a light on." 

He walked out into the street, looking both ways to ensure no horse or carriage would trample him. Pulling down his yellow protective goggles, he was able to see a little better through the haze of thick snowflakes and bitterly frigid winds. 

The cold wind lashed at his face, causing him to raise his hands and obscure most of his exposed skin. Behind the veils of his fingers, he caught sight of a few dim lights, which either came from kerosene-powered street lamps, or possible open establishments. 

Turning back to Olivia, he nodded his head, gesturing for them to proceed forward. 

Walking down the street was akin to surviving a tornado. They had to position their bodies to lean forward as they walked to ensure they wouldn't be sent back. Aizawa cursed under his breath as he habitually reached for his capture weapon, remembering it had been left behind. 

Olivia had managed to catch up to Aizawa, taking a hold of the man's arm to ensure she wouldn't be sent back by the harsh speed of the winds and snow. Eventually, Aizawa latched to a street lamp and clung to it for dear life, positioning his back to face the winds. 

Olivia, on the other hand, looked forward at the lights that didn't originate from gas lamps. "I see a light a little down there, we can make it if we hurry!" She pointed to Aizawa's left signaling towards a store which was still open.

In the window, Olivia caught sight of the interior. The walls were made of dark wood and a warm light emanated through the window. On the walls, she made out the head of a moose out of display above the fireplace. 

"Maybe they went in there." 

Olivia suddenly let out a yelp as she tugged with her left arm. Aizawa's senses sharpened like a knife as his gaze bolted to the source of the disturbance. He caught an older-looking woman with prominent wrinkles on her face, tugging away at Olive's coat. Her mouth was wide open in a silent scream, and her eyes were sunken and wide with an unreadable emotion. 

"I need skin, I need skin!" Her voice was raspy and barely above a whisper. Aizawa strode forward, latching onto the woman's arm and freeing Olivia from her grip. 

"Back off and go home." Aizawa growled, his crimson eyes glowing dimly in the dark surroundings. 

The woman froze like a deer in headlights when she saw his eyes. Her own eyes widened in terror as she stumbled back and fell onto the sidewalk. The woman fell silent for a few seconds before letting out a shrill whimper. 

At that critical juncture, Aizawa's instincts arose as he approached the elderly woman, effortlessly scooping her up into his arms and gesturing towards the store a little down the road. 

"She needs warmth." His voice took on a deadpan, no-nonsense tone. 

Olivia's gaze drifted to the feeble woman, recalling the offense she had committed a moment ago. But after a quick moment of deliberation, she sighed inwardly and dropped the previous incident. 

"Let's go." 

…

My limbs remained frozen, unable to move as I was stuck in my spot on the bed. Florence, whose skin had turned a dark-gray color, had finished taking off her clothing and approached the bed. Behind her hair, which had now transformed into a ghastly white color, her ears had grown pointed like an elf's. 

The white in her eyes had turned an ink-black hue, but her yellow pupils remained the same, glowing with a maloviolent, somewhat lustful vigor. Her slim body slithered onto the bed like a snake, and her long forked tongue darted out once more to coil around the hem of my shirt. 

I watched in repulsion as she slowly lifted it off my torso, exposing my exposed skin, which had turned pale with fear. Sweat beamed down my entire body, making my back stick to the sheets below like an extra method of keeping me from moving away from this creature. The smell of Florence's transformed body overwhelmingly coursed into my nose. 

It was possibly the best thing I've ever smelt, a mixture of everything I found pleasurable. My head slacked back as I let out a low moan, my face flushing obscenely as my silk pants tented beneath the blankets. At that moment, Florence sniffed the air like a rabid creature, before grinning as she looked down at the lump in the blankets. 

Her long, boney hands immediately tore back the blanket, tossing it to the floor beside the bed. My entire body was now exposed to the Tremberus who had pretended to be Florence. My body turned ice cold as I felt her hands slowly, almost teasingly peel back my pants and undergarments. 

Before she could make another move, the creature suddenly froze as her eyes widened in fear. She let out a foul hiss as she turned towards the darkest corner of the room. In the darkness, a pair of illusory, wormhole-like eyes manifested. 

"Wake up." The Umbridge's voice sounded in my mind. As if on cue, the entire bedroom grew illusory and distorted. The walls and floors began to spiral inwards, along with the now illusory figure of Florence. The Tremebrus let out a deafening, terrifying shriek as she was pulled into the darkness. 

As I darted upwards in bed, the air in my lungs had seeped out. I gagged on nothing as I fell back once more into the blankets. The cold sweat I had broken out whilst I was asleep caused my silk pajamas to stick to my body like extra skin. 

Florence's room was silent, and the door was closed unlike the dream I had experienced. My gaze habitually drifted to the corner of the room where The Umbridge had previously manifested, calling out in a whisper. 

"You can…manipulate my dreams?" 

A pair of illusory, wormhole-like eyes manifested in the darkness, and the figure of a cloaked figure drifted out of the shadows. Behind them, the shadows of the corner dragged behind them as they approached the bed. 

"Spirit Creatures can do lots of things with their hosts." The Umbridge replied. 

"Why…did Florence look like that?" I asked, my breath gradually returning to my lungs as my body cooled back down from my unwanted arousal. The bulge in my pants had disappeared, but my face flushed once more when I felt a warm substance inside my undergarments. 

"Mind if I clean up really quick?" 

The Umbridge turned away, closing their eyes as they nodded their head. Seeing this, I couldn't help but smile weakly. "I didn't know Spirit Creatures could also get aroused." 

"I'd consider myself grateful for my enhanced state. You've only been asleep for about thirty seconds, while the dream made it feel like a few minutes at most."

"Ok…" I let out a shaky sigh, my gaze drifting to the window. The snow continued to pummel down outside, unrelenting and unmoving. 

…

After leaving the bathroom I tossed the wet rag into the disposal bin outside the bathroom for the servants to take care of. Either side of the hallway was dark and cold, aside from the faint light of the night sky outside the windows. 

"Why didn't the Blood-Moon Charm do anything?" I asked, walking back to the room. 

"My theory is that it only operates when you're conscious. The mind and body are two different worlds." 

"In a literal sense, I wouldn't be surprised." I scoffed, sitting on the bed and looking down at the wooden floor. 

At that moment, I heard a noise from downstairs. It sounded like a crash. 

"I'm gonna investigate." I whispered, slowly approaching the door and opening it. I stood in the doorway for a few more moments to listen for any more noises from downstairs. My ears twitched when I heard another noise coming from downstairs.

My body moved on its own as I walked down the hallway and headed down the staircase. The entire time, the throbbing pain in my head had never ceased, but it wasn't on the magnitude to interfere with the current predicament. 

When I stumbled upon the common area, I darted to a corner when I saw two figures kneeling in the middle of the foyer. 

"Almost done…" I heard a low voice mumble, accompanied by the faint sounds of grinding gears and other facets of clockwork. 

I peeked past the corner, and in the faint light, I caught sight of the two figures. One of them was Wilfred, who was kneeling beside the broken components of the skeleton music box. The other was…Raymond?

His lips curled into a faint smile as he continued to work on the music box, gradually putting the scattered pieces back together one by one. The shorter boy's eyes were wide with astonishment, clutching his pillow to his chest as he bit into the fabric. 

Raymond adjusted his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he smiled a little wider, handing the newly constructed music box to Wilfred. 

The brown-haired boy let out a soft gasp as he admired the work of machinery in his trembling hands. Raymond extended his larger hand atop Wilfred's as he spoke in a low whisper. 

"Go to bed now." 

Wilfred nodded his head and followed suit. His slippers pattered quietly against the marble floors as he made his way to the tiny nook in the corner of the hallway. Raymond followed behind him and approached the door before the shorter boy, loosening the lock and removing it with the tug of his wrist. 

"I'll snatch Bertram's soul if he does this to you again." He snarled, tossing the lock aside. 

Wilfred turned back to Raymond as he placed the music box on the dresser. The boy with rounded glasses froze like a statue the moment he felt Wilfred's arms tightly clamp around his waist in a hug. The boy sheepishly adjusted his pajama collar and hugged Wilfred back awkwardly. 

"Go to bed now." Raymond pulled back the hug and softly nudged Wilfred into his room before closing the door.