The collars were gone.
Kids were freed.
Scars were even erased.
Fifty-three kids now ran wild through the mansion like it was the first day of summer vacation that would never end.
Ray watched from the doorway, helmet on, arms folded.
He looked like he regretted everything and was secretly proud at the same time.
Then training began in earnest.
For Eve, it was hell wrapped in good intentions.
Every morning:
"Drink."
A cup of black, syrupy potion that tasted like battery acid and regret.
Every afternoon:
"Empty your mana. Again."
Until she collapsed, vision swimming.
Every evening:
"Run the garden loop. Ten more laps."
Until her legs turned to jelly.
Ray never raised his voice.
He just stood there, stopwatch in hand, looking bored.
But he never left her side.
When she fell, he caught her before she hit the ground.
When she cried from exhaustion, he pretended not to notice and handed her water.
And every night he forced another cup of that horrible potion down her throat.
Eve hated the potions.
But Eve loved spending time with Ray.
Because every time she wanted to quit, he was there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Daring her to keep going.
One morning he gathered everyone in the garden.
"Today we practise healing on live targets.
Volunteers get extra dessert."
Excited cheers.
Eve's stomach dropped.
She knew what came next.
The kids formed a loose circle around her.
Some still looked scared.
Some looked jealous.
All of them remembered the stories:
She was a Demon girl.
Touch her and you'll die.
Ray stepped into the circle.
"Watch closely."
He walked straight up to Eve.
Placed both gauntleted hands on her cheeks.
And kneaded them like dough.
Pulled left.
Pulled right.
Squished.
Pinched.
Eve's face shaped into many forms.
The kids' jaws dropped.
Ray kept going, completely deadpan.
"See? I'm atill alive.
No curse.
No instant death.
Just a normal kid with bed hair."
A nervous giggle escaped someone.
Then another.
Then the whole garden was laughing.
Eve's cheeks burned under the cold metal.
But the fear in their eyes was gone.
After that, practice went smoothly.
Kids lined up with scraped knees, papercuts, headaches.
Eve healed them one by one.
Shy thank-yous turned into real smiles.
By the end of the session, three little ones were following her around like ducklings.
Ray watched from the sidelines, arms folded.
When the last kid ran off, he spoke without looking at her.
"You're getting good."
Eve touched her still-warm cheeks.
The cheeks Ray had kneaded earlier.
They were hot.
Her heart was hammering so hard she could hear it.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
"…I think I caught a cold."
Ray finally turned.
Helmet tilted.
"You were fine an hour ago."
"It started after… after you touched my face."
A long pause.
Then the helmet made a sound suspiciously like a stifled laugh.
"Yeah.
Definitely a cold." He said.
He walked away.
But Eve caught the way his shoulders shook.
That night she lay in bed, face burning, heart racing.
Every time she remembered metal fingers on her cheeks, it got worse.
She pulled the blanket over her head.
"…Stupid cold."
Down the hall, inside the helmet, Ray was grinning like an idiot.
He then flopped face-first into his pillow, muffling a very undignified victory laugh.
Outside Eve's door, three little ducklings left a Get Well drawing of a gray-haired girl with a tiny crown and the words:
To Big Sis Eve
Feel better soon ♡
Eve stared at it until the candle burned low.
Then fell asleep smiling for the first time in years.
The strange cold lasted exactly as long as it took for her to realise what it really was.
But that's a story for another day.