My Roommate is a Non-Human | Chapter 55 | A Moment of Moe | Novela.app

Chapter 56 - A Moment of Moe Lao Liu produced a cigar for himself, seemingly out of thin air. Clutching a Zippo lighter, he cut the figure of a simple migrant worker, using the heavy metal casing like a blunt instrument to knock the cap off the cigar as if he were cracking a nut with a brick. A small, ethereal flame danced at the tip of his finger, igniting the tobacco with a soft hiss. Then, with an expression of profound, soul-deep melancholy, he began to chew the cigar, savoring the bitter leaves section by section. It was a bizarre sight, one that defied the logic of both the mundane world and the divine. Between his peculiar eating habits and his general lack of common sense, it was clear that Old Man Liu and his three sons—those strange, numerical manifestations of his power—were already beyond redemption in their eccentricity. He cast a furtive, uncertain glance in my direction, his dark eyes searching mine for judgment. "Is... is this not how one consumes it?" he asked, his voice low and hesitant. I shook my head gently, offering a small, reassuring smile that I hoped reached my eyes. "As long as you enjoy it, that's all that matters. There are no rules for you, Lao Liu." He looked a little bashful, yet a shadow of gloom crossed his handsome features as he held the smoldering, half-chewed cigar between his fingers. He squatted down on the curb, his massive, powerful frame suddenly seeming small and out of place against the backdrop of the city street. "You know... I don't understand these things," he murmured, staring at the pavement. "Please, don't look down on me. Don't be repulsed by what I am." My heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. I lowered myself to sit beside him, the cold concrete of the sidewalk pressing against my jeans. I reached out, my fingers drifting through his thick, lustrous black hair, smoothing the strands with rhythmic, grounding care. "I know," I whispered. This man—this ancient "seafood" from the crushing depths of the ocean—had awakened from a slumber that had lasted seven millennia. He had abandoned the familiar darkness of the Abyss and the sulfur vents he so loved to feast upon, venturing onto the dry, alien land just to find me. He was a primordial entity, a force of nature that had existed before the first cities were built, yet here he was, trying to navigate the complexities of a Zippo lighter and a tobacco shop. On this planet, he was a god in all but name, a being of such terrifying power that he feared nothing and no one. He could compress matter into oil with a thought and command the very shadows. Yet here, in my presence, he was awkward, hesitant, and utterly vulnerable. He had confessed to me that he was a stranger to this world, a novice in the art of being human, all because he wanted to be near me. For that confession alone, I felt a fierce, irrational protectiveness surge within me. If anyone dared to mock my Lao Liu for the way he chewed his cigars or for his lack of social graces, I wouldn't hesitate to smash a beer bottle over their head. "I could never look down on you," I said, my voice softening as I leaned into him. "In fact, you’re actually... quite moe." Lao Liu let out a shy, breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating in his chest. "Moe? What does that mean? Is it another of those human words for 'strange'?" "Moe is... well, it's you," I replied, unable to suppress a grin. I leaned closer until our foreheads touched, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cool autumn air. "It means you're endearing. It means I like you. A lot." Lao Liu pulled me into a close embrace, his arm heavy and warm across my shoulders, shielding me from the world. His eyes crinkled into narrow, happy slits as he beamed at me, his melancholy vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Then you are moe, too. The most moe of all. And I like you the most." Suddenly, my eyes grew hot and blurred with tears. The weight of the supernatural chaos surrounding us—the missing students, the flayed bodies, the impending sense of doom—felt momentarily distant. I desperately wanted every word he spoke to be the absolute truth. I prayed that, no matter what the future held or what secrets the Abyss still kept, we would never find ourselves in a position where we had to hurt one another. We remained there for a long moment, two anomalies huddled together on the sidewalk in a pocket of quiet, fragile happiness. Passersby, perhaps mistaking our unconventional appearance and my tear-streaked face for vagrancy or a lovers' spat, had tossed a handful of coins onto the pavement before us. We gathered them up—a meager but strangely precious treasure of copper and nickel—and began the long walk back to the university, leaving the shadows of the street behind.