What’s going on? A new kind of trap?
Xiu’s first thought was that something suspicious had been discovered at the base for the espers — maybe someone was trying to set him up.

Alert, he quietly withdrew his hand from the other’s waist and asked coldly, “Who are you?”

Wen Chu hadn’t yet reacted, rubbed his eyes groggily, and mumbled, “I’m Wen Chu.”
Why was Xiu pretending not to know him after just one nap?

Xiu was taken aback.
Then realization struck — the boy’s voice was strikingly similar to that of the little tentacled creature he’d been raising.

Could the tentacled blob turn into a human? Had mutated organisms evolved that far already?

A thousand tangled thoughts flashed through his mind before he seized on the most urgent one. He frowned and asked, “Who taught you to become like this?”

Wen Chu blinked, baffled. “Like what?”

Xiu pressed his lips together, saying nothing.
What could he even say — that Wen Chu had turned into a life‑sized version of the child he’d once raised, soft cheeks and all?

Still confused, Wen Chu followed Xiu’s gaze downward — and froze.

“Ah?!”
He stared in disbelief at his own hands. “How did I become human???”

Looking from his hands to his arms, then down to his bare body, he gasped.
“Where are my tentacles?!” he whimpered miserably. “I worked so hard to grow them back!”

Xiu: “…”
That’s your biggest concern right now?

Rubbing his temple, Xiu realized how troublesome this was.
Judging by Wen Chu’s reaction, this “transformation” was clearly unexpected — not something he’d done on purpose or through some memory trick.

“Has this ever happened before?” Xiu asked carefully.

Still searching his hair for any sign of lost tentacles, Wen Chu shook his head. “No, I was saving up energy like always — I just over‑exerted myself last night.”

“Last night?” Xiu echoed.

Wen Chu perked up suddenly, remembering something. “Right! I brought you a gift!” He tugged Xiu toward the forest excitedly.

Xiu looked away uncomfortably. “…Put some clothes on first.”

“Oh.” Wen Chu glanced around — no clothes in sight. Eventually, Xiu pulled out a knife and thread from his gear, and Wen Chu summoned some mutated plants, cutting their huge leaves into shape. Together, they managed to craft a makeshift robe.

Wen Chu tugged at his leaf‑robe, beaming. He skipped ahead, pulling Xiu by the hand. “Come on! Gift!”

Helpless, Xiu followed — until the coppery tang of blood hit his nose. He stopped.

The metallic scent was stronger now.

Only then did he remember what he’d nearly ignored earlier, too stunned by Wen Chu’s transformation to notice — the blood in the air.

Peering past the white‑haired youth, Xiu saw a patch of leaves stained dark brown. Wen Chu kicked them aside, and three severed heads rolled out.

Xiu’s eyes widened. “Where did you get those?”

“I killed them.” Wen Chu’s tone was bright and proud. He babbled animatedly about his “epic battle” the night before, before finally looking at Xiu with expectant eyes.

“Impressive, right? I killed all your enemies. If any survived, I’ll finish the job later. So…” Wen Chu’s cheeks flushed, his tentacles shyly twisting. “So you can stay here with me and give birth to new tentacles, right?”

For a moment, Xiu thought he was dreaming.
But the severed heads and stench of blood proved painfully real.

Eight years of vengeance — wiped away by someone else’s hand as easily as a soap bubble.

“Why?” he asked after a long pause.

Wen Chu tilted his head. “Why what?”

“Why help me?”

“Because they were bad guys, and they hurt you,” Wen Chu said simply. “If I didn’t kill them, you couldn’t live peacefully with me and grow new tentacles.”

Then his face lit up again. “Oh—tentacles!”

Glancing back, he saw two faint, transparent tentacles weakly coiled together at the base of his spine. Still recuperating, but there.

Relieved, Wen Chu happily lifted his robe to inspect them.

“Put your clothes down,” Xiu said sharply, turning away.

“Oh,” Wen Chu pouted, obeying. Then he smiled again. “So you can stay now and make baby tentacles with me?”

Xiu looked into those clear blue eyes.
An absurd thought surfaced — could this be his brother? The little boy who’d died eight years ago?

Was he… now pregnant with that same child’s tentacles?

His mind spun. At last, he muttered, “Let’s… eat first.”

Wen Chu grinned. A gift and a meal — success!

…

Because Wen Chu couldn’t hunt well in his new human form and Xiu was pregnant, their meal came courtesy of a mutated bamboo’s hunt. Mutant chili and lemon plants supplied seasoning. Watching Wen Chu command walking pepper bushes was a shock to Xiu, but he said nothing.

He roasted a rabbit skillfully, the smell making Wen Chu lean closer, eyes wide.

“Less chili,” Wen Chu warned. “Spicy.”

He’d never actually eaten chili before — the smell alone had once made him cry — yet he somehow knew exactly what Xiu was about to say next.

“Too little will make it taste gamy,” Xiu murmured automatically, then stopped — realizing with cold shock that he’d said those same words to the boy eight years ago.
He passed Wen Chu the cooked meat. “Try it.”

Wen Chu bit in, burned his tongue, and still said muffled through his mouthful, “Tasty…”

Xiu smiled faintly, turning back to his own food.

But as he watched Wen Chu savor each bite, he felt a creeping dread. The boy’s expressions, his habits, his way of looking up with shining eyes — identical. Too identical.

Memories surged. The child he’d once rescued. The love, the loss, the despair.

Eight years ago, he found the boy’s corpse, then wandered into the northern forest, killing creatures for three days straight just to feel something.

And now… this?

His voice trembled. “Wen Chu.”

“Mm?” the boy looked up with a chicken drumstick in his hand.

Firelight flickered between them as Xiu said haltingly, “Jag ee din storbror.”
“I am your brother.”

Wen Chu froze. The words hit like thunder.

Memories crashed down on him—his illness, Xiu’s desperation, the doctors’ betrayal, his death, and then… awakening as a tiny glowing blob of spiritual energy that followed Xiu’s aura all the way to this forest.

He saw everything again, slowly this time.
And realized: the boy who’d died, the blob that revived, the creature who grew tentacles—was all him.

When he awoke, he was in a hospital room. Xiu sat by his bed. Two days had passed.

Seeing the familiar man in the oversized black robe, Wen Chu stammered, “Xiu?”

“You fainted. I brought you here,” Xiu explained. “They said you’ll be fine.”

After a long pause, Wen Chu whispered, “I remember. Brother.”

Xiu’s eyes reddened immediately. He pulled Wen Chu into his arms. “You’re back. That’s all that matters.”

…

Later, Wen Chu admitted one more thing: “My healing creates mental threads. If I heal someone thousands of times, I can eventually control their mind… but you can cut it off anytime!”

Xiu asked quietly, “How many times does it take for full control?”

“Thousands,” Wen Chu said quickly.

“Then don’t bother cutting it,” Xiu replied, placing Wen Chu’s hand on his pregnant belly. “It’ll just reconnect anyway, won’t it?”

Wen Chu blushed furiously. “B‑but I didn’t know you were my brother!”

“You wouldn’t have done it if you had?”

“I’d have done it… gentler,” he muttered.

Xiu chuckled. “Then it’s fine.” He leaned close. “Do you like your brother?”

Wen Chu’s ears burned crimson. Unable to lie, he nodded.

“Then he’s yours,” Xiu whispered, pressing a brief kiss to his forehead. “Now pack up. We’re moving to a new place.”

“Okay!” Wen Chu chirped, wrapping his tentacles around him happily.

As long as they were together, they were home.

Later, after the storybook world expelled them back into reality, Xiu sighed as Wen Chu called him “brother” again, embarrassed yet unable to scold.

“Why did you even play ‘Enemies Bound Together’?” he asked.

Wen Chu blinked. “Isn’t ‘enemies bound together’ just enemies who live together?”

Xiu fell silent, then muttered, “I’m enrolling you in remedial night classes.”

Wen Chu shouted, horrified, “What?! Nooo, I’ll study!”

Xiu sighed. Education was urgent; he couldn’t let this misunderstanding lead to stranger outcomes.

And then he noticed the magical book Wen Chu held was now completely blank.

Wen Chu gasped. “Wow, it’s all empty now! Does that mean we can use it again?”

Xiu stared grimly. “Who gave you that book? I’m going to have a word with them.”

Elsewhere, two deities sharing dinner sneezed simultaneously.

---

Author’s note:
The story is completely finished now. This project took a long time—its premise was abstract and hard to ground, with a somber undercurrent unlike typical romance plots. But I wanted to write a fairy‑tale kind of love, set amid desolation, where even monsters could grow hearts capable of feeling. Every book is a stage in my understanding of love, and I treasure each one. Thank you for reading.