WARNINGS: Gore, psychotic, grotesque, angst, pain

INTRO: Hi guys! It's a translation of my work and the original one is in Chinese. Y'know the translation can't be perfect, but I promise it's better than Google Translation. I hope you don't hate it too much.


Disgusted by B's eyes, L destroyed them. After that, B crawled on the ground, repeatedly bumping his head against the wall, the legs of the ebony table, the bottom of the shelves and his toes. The black hood he wore was sunken below the brow bone, and the eyeballs disappeared out of thin air, turning into two black holes. "L." B lost his eyes, but his mouth never stopped calling, "L, L..." So L grabbed his hair, felt the artificial soft touch and frizzy edges similar to his own, held them tightly, and pulled them in another direction.

"Go in."

A coffin made of cypress wood stood in the corner of the studio.

L felt the heavy, resinous head twirling with his movements, lifting, then dropping helplessly. He drove the doll into the coffin like repelling mosquitoes. The tall and narrow wooden box was modified by him, and after adding common padded foam boards, it perfectly fit B's body and became a plastic mold. B will lie in it for a day, in an infantile curled up position, unable to reach out or move. His ruined eyes couldn't see light at all, let alone the existence of blindfolds. Ten minutes later, his groans and curses gradually subsided, and he fell into a deep sleep amidst the hypnotic fragrance of cypress wood, L's silence and body pain. Finally, L put on the lid of the coffin. With a creak, the little box that held his most failed puppet closed, perhaps forever.

Dead silence.

Breathing, L briefly looked around the studio. This is a room with a quaint atmosphere, always filled with the fragrance of wood and ink of old books, located in the basement. Apart from all kinds of sundries, the most eye-catching thing is the dazzling array of dolls on the large shelves. Some have Barbie-style wavy blonde hair and Lolita skirts, some can be held with one hand like cute little animals, some have realistic eyelashes and skin the size of a real child, some are inhuman, with tentacles protruding from the abdomen and a meter long tentacles; Mechanical devices, just twist the clockwork to walk, and even dolls for writing and painting. Dolls that can do housework and clean the workplace, dolls that can give orders, tell the time according to precise clocks, and dolls that can cook...

At this moment, L glanced at the coffin again from the corner of his eye. In contrast, as his most unexpected and most failed creation B, it is useless:

He can't speak nice words, can't tell the time, can't paint, can't clean, doesn't know anything about cooking, is insensitive to beauty, and doesn't follow the rules. Worst of all was his character, and worse were his eyes, those scarlet, piercing, ugly eyes that contained L in them—

L feels dizzy every time he thinks about it. Only B has mutated, and among all the dolls he made, only B develops a consciousness mind close to that of a human. Those eyes must also be a product of mutation. He was created based on L, only the color here is different from him.

Like a fly.

L could vaguely hear howling. B woke up because the hypnotic gas in the coffin was only enough for him to be quiet for five minutes? No. No, human medicine should have no effect on him. B deliberately makes noise not only to get his attention, but also to get his punishment. B needs constant attention, pain, and constant affirmation of his existence with that pain.

Squeak.

The lid of the coffin was opened again, and B, who was wrapped in a blindfold and writhing profusely in sweat, appeared in his vision.

"Come out."

"You're still so capricious, L." The puppet spat.

"I hate your voice, but even more so that you keep using it to get my attention."

"What?"

"I hate your need for my attention," L said bluntly. "You're too loud."

"You bastard." B's face was blushing, "You know I can't help it...you, I'm lying like a dead man, your broken coffin is smothering me, plus that thing keeps strangling it really hurts—you." When he crawled out of the coffin, his head hit the wooden board again, and he cried out in pain, "Come and help me, I can't see anything.—L!"

"You're not going to die."

L watched him crawl out indifferently, and slowly moved forward in a weird and defensive posture, dragging his two legs that had not been repaired for a long time and became weak, dragging his body like a slime.

"Because you're a puppet," he said. "You are not alive."

B gritted his lips with a humiliated look on his face.

L touched the hollows of his eyes, tugged lightly while caressing his hair, and guided him to kneel beside his legs, with his head lowered to the ground, so that his mouth was about to touch his toes. So B's irritating face disappeared, and L could only feel his trembling and the heat of his cheeks.

L tentatively groped the back of his head and said, "You know what B? I regret not winding you up here."

All mecha figures have clockwork.

"Otherwise I could shut you down anytime. Now I have to suffer," he said, "with your encroachment on my personal space, your loudness and coyness, your constant stench and your entire existence—a reminder of what a failed existence I've created without being able to destroy it."

B's body trembled slightly, restraining himself from falling down at any time because he couldn't support his weight. Humiliated to the extreme, he responded in reverse, rubbing his hair against L's leg, cupping his foot and sucking his toes in his mouth. Saliva slides down the corner of B's mouth to L's instep.

B made L's feet sticky and said while licking them. "Well, so you're not satisfied yet?" A sinister smile. "You've already taken my eyes, are you going to destroy me now? Ummmm, L. Don't tell me, uhmm—you don't enjoy it."

"If you please, I won't untie it for you."

"I know."

Belittling him will only make him more excited, and whipping him will get you a warmer smile for this nasty puppet. Like a dog wagging its tail, B lowered his head and continued to mutter. That mean look made L poke his foot into his mouth, causing retching. But the blush on B's face didn't mean to disappear, instead it became as rich as a ripe fruit. B's warm mouth, moist tongue and deep voice are all so real, L can almost be proud of it.

"Uuum. Hum. Slurrrp. Aaah." The puppet made a series of obscene noises, swayed its waist, wriggled its tongue, and let out a low hum. The tip of the tongue shuttled between the toes, sucking and kissing like licking candy, and pushing back and forth in imitation of sexual intercourse. The subtle contrast between his obedience and this brutal sucking aroused L's deepest unease and deep-seated disgust for such a work of failure.

"Ugh. Ugh!"

L pulled out his foot, pulled B's hair without warning, lifted him up, rode up, and straddled B's back. B let out a broken groan, and knelt down overwhelmed, his body supported only by his weak limbs. His saliva was still dripping, endlessly—a mix of curses and passion, in front of his half-erect genitals, bound balls, and hole with the handle of the round-nose forceps—on the floor.

L was distraught by the smell and the dusty air of the workshop. His tone remained steady, "You remind me of two things."

"What things?"

B's back creaked like it was breaking due to the weight. He endured it, not letting the pain out of his voice.

"Man's pursuit of the Creator, flattery towards that supreme being. Their trust is unfounded, they compete with each other to show their loyalty, and finally lose their reason in the grand illusion. Faith is a fever," L said quietly, "Is it the same for you, B?"

"The Creator?" B grinned, showing a strange smile, "But you're not—"

"Then, I thought of the second thing." L interrupted him coldly. He said, "That's what you were meant to be. I created you and left you what you were meant to be."

B turned his head tremblingly, the eyes in the hollow under the eyepatch seemed to be radiating blankly. L's hand followed his back, groped to the tailbone, and pulled out what was stuffed in his body. His face turned pale.

"Yes, you haven't reminded me for too long, I will forget about it." L said, "It's rare that you're in a pleasing mood today. Do you really want it? Tell me."

B held his breath, his face flushed, but he didn't respond. After a while, he turned his head and said with a distorted face: "You—you fucking L, you obviously want to play with me, right? You never gave me—give me the right to choose—ahh!"

L pulled out the pliers handle inserted into B's back hole, which was randomly taken from the tool box, a tool for mechanical production, but there is no difference between any props blocking the doll's hole. B is a simulated doll used for sexual intercourse. When the handle was pulled out, intestinal fluid gushed out. If there is semen, it is just B's own semen. L has no interest in penetration himself, just thrusting back and forth with the tool.

"Ahhh!" L told B to lie on his side, so that he could clearly see his painful posture, and saw that he couldn't stop twisting, but couldn't ejaculate. Clear body fluid flowed from his avatar, which was tied tightly with sewing thread, and an uncontrollable tremor began from the bottom of the column. B stared at him with empty eyes, and growled, his words were both mocking and pleading: "L, L!" B took a breath, "Are you still this pathetically impotent?"

—Oh, L forgot. He couldn't see things now.

L stroked his hair with the other hand, and said, "If you remember what I mentioned earlier, that Being has no intentions to engage in coitus with humans. Only tests, punishment or rewards."

"You really think of yourself as...?" B shook his head, his expression suddenly stained with despair, "Do you still want to go back to the past? I don't understand, I don't understand... When will you wake up?"

"I am awake."

L stroked the back of his head again, and he felt lost at the thought of what was missing here.

"The clockwork will be installed here," he said, "or where the heart locates. So that when I close you and take the device out, the corresponding place will become a hollow. The size can fit a fist through." Or needle and thread, used to decorate a variety of display cases. "After I shut you down, B, I won't abandon you. I'll hang you in the most prominent position."

"Oh no, L..." B groaned, but his back was arched by the sudden intrusion of the metal handle. His whole body was covered with red tide, but was covered by clothes. L's fucking continued until L lost interest, and B fell weakly on the floor panting, feeling like his cock might be useless after a long bondage, but like L said, his front was useless.

"Only me..." he gasped, "You treat me like a puppet, and I'm the only one left. L, I'm the only one left."

"No, because I created you, I have rights to do anything to you."

B couldn't see that L's head tilted slightly, and the black pupils covered by the messy hair that hadn't been trimmed for a long time revealed a gloomy meaning.

"B. If you continue to talk nonsense, I will consider not only shutting down the eyes, but also stopping the functions of your legs. The size of the storage box will be adjusted accordingly to ensure that you cannot move when lying in it."

"I can barely breathe!"

"I'll consider fixing that too."

B twisted his head in L's direction, and after "staring" at him for a long time and showing a monster-like expression, he gasped and stopped talking.

L also has no intention of cleaning up the bodily fluids and debris on the ground. B lay silently on the ground, with severe pain coming from his whole body, as if he really died.

After a while, L instructed, climb in. So he crawled into the coffin with great reluctance, curled up his hands and legs in that awkward position, and struggled to breathe in the small space. L closes the lid like nothing happened.

The quaint underground, dusty doll shop welcomes customers, and the wind chimes hanging on the door sway and made crisp sounds. L closed the studio door and faced a stiff man.

This customer came to repair his watch, but he kept glancing at the shelf from the corner of the eye. It's no wonder that there are far more dolls here than L's work, such as gorgeously dressed dolls, mechanical time-telling dolls, black cat-headed dolls, and Gothic-style headless dolls. "Did you make all of these?" Before he finished speaking, an old man with gray temples walked towards him. His face is kind, but there is a crack from where the frontal bone connects to the lower jaw, showing signs of stitching. The old man spoke, and said in a realistic voice that showed a hint of electronic noise:

"Welcome. Agent is at your service."

The man opened his mouth in bewilderment, then his expression changed to shock. He observed the puppet's trim suit, the realistic details of its face, and wandered between the display cabinets that did not match the doorplate of "Mechanical Maintenance & Doll Sales" and contrasted with the simple interior decoration. Winged mechanical birds, complicated gear clocks, many of which can be called works of art, but their surface were covered with dust, as if it has never been wiped after creation. He moved forward, and the old man followed him, with a steady, slightly disturbing step. He suddenly felt that the silver reflective metal, the rotating gears, the raised and lowered mini deer, the strange carvings on the beams and columns, and the black curtains on the four walls revealed a quirkiness. A faint pure white light shot down from the ceiling, flowing like a white river, illuminating the quaint but mostly dilapidated cabinets and stacked books. He suddenly realized that there are no electrical appliances here, at least, no computers or TVs, and the store is dead silent except for the humming mechanical sound.

The most weird and gloomy one was the shopkeeper who seemed to be around thirty years old. The customer couldn't confirm his exact age, because his face showed a juvenile innocense, a pair of big black eyes hung on his pale face, lids half-closed, and it was hard to see whether he was languid or tired. Those severe dark circles are almost terrifying.

L neither smiles nor speaks, just silently watches him wandering around, the wonder, curiosity or fear of the guests have nothing to do with him.

"Can I go inside and have a look?"

L put his thumb in his mouth, bit it lightly, and nodded.

Even so, the visitor felt that he did not want to actually enter there. Although there is a clock in the doll shop, each pointer points to a different direction, as if the maker didn't want to know the real time. There are no calendars, no newspapers, no photographs, no radios, or any entertainment. Time either stopped or went back to the distant past. He found a necklace in a debris pile, with a black heart as the center and two pairs of wings growing out. It was once a symbol of the lost Savior legend, which set off huge social waves around ten years ago. He wanted to ask if he was one of His believers, but then realized that it could only be a dead faith, left in the clutter like this. The visitor hesitated for a moment, then walked towards the door half-hidden by the black curtain.

Following his steps, the mechanical old man also stepped into the workshop, then opened the refrigerator as if nothing had happened, and took out a piece of cake. In his shocked gaze, the puppeteer stared at him while forking the cherry on top of it and feeding it into his own mouth.

"..."

"What is this?"

"Exhibition box."

The workshop is more confined than the outside, and there is an indescribable smell in the air. The man was apparently attracted by the coffin that occupied one corner of the room. The corner of L's mouth trembled slightly - because he found that the coffin that he had tightly closed just now had been opened. That bad, disobedient puppet.

"No, no. I mean what's inside. Is this a human being? He...how is he lying in here?"

"A Puppet."

L corrected. Resin is used to make the head, which is moderately hard, and is not easy to break; high-hardness silicone is used for facial features and delicate body details; skin is paint, eyeballs are glass; glue is used to bond various parts, and finally fixed with aluminum wire; L explained unnecessarily, but the man's confusion continued unabated.

"That means you put makeup on it."

The puppet lying sideways in the coffin was too realistic, if it hadn't looked completely still like a corpse, it would be no different from a real human being. The man brushed away its messy hair, touched the surface that was no different from the skin, and repeatedly praised the exquisite craftsmanship.

"It resembles you."

"I made him in my image."

Turning his back on the puppeteer's gaze, the man quietly removed the layer of makeup. The expected metal paint did not appear, but the human's slightly darker skin, and layers of scars that bloomed like vines jumped into seriousness. Deep red, radioactive... burn scars? He withdrew his hand as if he had been scalded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, no, it's okay," he took a step back, seeing the puppet's chest cavity protruding, as if breathing. The lips, covered by thick makeup, were slightly curved, outlining a wry smile. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the man repeated dreamily, "I'm in a hurry."

In the next second, he fled in a panic, the wooden door was slammed shut, and the wind chime sang again.

L paced to the side of the black-haired doll.

"You're really bad," he murmured in a tone he didn't know whether it was reproach or plain, "Should I praise you for at least putting on your clothes?"

"Yeah." B grinned, "not only to praise me, but also to thank me for not letting him see your treasures hidden in my body. After you left," he said in a strange voice, "I start to miss you."

"Missing whom took you apart and disassembled, or me? Do you regard me as L, or your savior?"

"Then I'll ask you too." B's voice turned cold, and the corners of his lips were drawn into a straight line. "Since you like this game very much, L... like this, lose yourself, fall into madness, and lose yourself in delusions. I want to ask you, for a detective, which is more righteous, killing criminals or elope with criminals? Which is more righteous, to indulge in me or indulge in crimes?"

"..."

"How long are you going to live like this?"

L wanted to stop him from speaking, but a runaway puppet that had gained self-awareness cannot be stopped without gagging him or completely remodeling him. B's words poured out like a continuous cannonball, which reminded L of the anxiety when he was stared at by those scarlet eyes, but B didn't intend to stop.

"What's the point of making dolls without souls? They are all from the past. The robot with the same shell as Wammy doesn't love you. They abandoned you and abandoned you forever. Except me, I followyou, stay with you, no matter what happens, I still have hope for you."

"You're not me. No, you're not really a criminal. You used to be that successful, that... brilliant, and intelligent. What about you now? Nothing but a deserter who runs away and a recluse," he closed his eyes, "who does nothing."

"...I could have stayed with you forever. I could have played it forever, but I'm human too, and I'd be disappointed, and I'd be tired...I don't care that you ruined me, really. But I care a lot about how you are now, with nothing in common with the old L, like a decadent piece of shit. Justice, law, achievement, puzzles, all meaningless?"

The puppeteer licked up the remains of the cake. He waved to the smiling old man, but the latter didn't respond. He said, "Leave." The puppet left with steady but stiff steps. He still said: "Welcome. Agent is at your service."

B let out a sigh.

"If this goes on, I will give up on you too."

L's expression didn't change, but his dark pupils swiveled and fixed on B's figure. Unknown feelings are surging like an undercurrent, and like waves. It was a dead sea, and it could not be ignited by fiery things, even a fiery person like B who never left.

Give up...

L thought again and again of the day when B's eyes were peeled off. B was also staring at him so intensely, but spit out malicious words. He said that L can do whatever he wants only when he does not treat the other person as a human being. L is a coward and a selfish monster. L needs to be treated and wake up from the cycle of depravity .

"B." he said, approaching the puppet and cupping his face. Fortunately, B lost his eyes, and L no longer had to bear that fiery and intense gaze. After pondering for a while, he said indifferently: "I changed my mind."

"I'm not only going to gag you, B, I'm going to completely remake you. You shouldn't be fighting me, you don't have that power. I'm going to start with the vocal cords, then the legs, the hands, the torso."

B doesn't look frightened, and even has the time to frame a contemptuous, indulgent smile.

"What are you going to do?"

"Return B back to its original state." L thought for a while, "To be precise, it is the state of being unable to control the body before gaining self-awareness. If the consciousness is too difficult to eliminate, then the only option is to remove the body."

"..." B's smile froze. Only at this time did he show the pain-like helplessness and despair. "You're not serious, L."

"I'm very serious."

B shook his head, and nodded again, and finally the madness invaded him too, making him let out a dry, irregular laugh.

How do you explain the self-awareness of a doll to people? It's as complicated as explaining to people the underlying mechanical code of a computer operating system that they'd spend a lifetime trying to understand. Transforming L's puppet to make B an ideal existence is something that even L has to think hard to come up with the answer. The complexity of B's consciousness and emotion is hundreds of years more advanced than that of artificial intelligence, and in a few more centuries, such a miracle as his birth may not necessarily happen. But L hated his intellect, hated his shadowy presence and irrational obsessions—that must have been an anomaly, a neurological mutation.

"L!" B roared angrily. The puppeteer tied him up, tied him tightly with red silk thread, and hung him in the center of the largest shelf, where he was displayed like a real exhibit. Ribbons bound the whole body of this large gift, starting from the back of B's neck, wrapping around the front of the neck, wrapping around the chest, waist and abdomen, passing through the perineum from both sides of the hip bone, and knotted into a butterfly at the back. B is sitting naked, legs spread.

L took out the knife used to cut the fabric, and cut it from the base of the leg, cutting through the white makeup powder and the vertical and horizontal scars. B's retreat was restrained by the rope, and his flesh was reddened and bloody from being strangled.

"L, take a look of me," he dared not look directly into L's gaze, trembling helplessly, "under my skin is neither metal nor rubber, but real flesh and blood."

"That's not what I see."

"You really," he gasped, "you really are..."

"What I saw was that," the puppeteer pressed the blade down facing the gorgeous tendons and blood vessels under the cut pale white. With brutal calm he said, "A gigantic insect, crawling beside me. It cannot fly, nor can it walk. It is such a vermin." Its pupils are dangerous, its mouthparts should be blocked, its legs are disgusting, its body contains nothing but poison. "Fortunately, after the harmful substances are removed, it will return to cleanliness."

"Heh...hahaha! Hahahahaha!"

B laughed wildly, screamed, and shed tears. Tears welled up from the inner lacrimal glands, filling the empty sockets.

He didn't know whether the anesthetic made him numb to pain, or numb to madness. The sense of reality has long since been lost, leaving only a void.

"Well, I'm a puppet, an insect, and a pest," he gasped and muttered, "Then what is this? What's coming out of me? L...Isn't this my blood?"

"The pus of a vermin, the grease in your body, something that keeps machinery going."

B laughed wildly again, but this time it was a weaker, softer cry. He couldn't breathe, his lungs were leaking like a broken organ. If B could actually see L's face, he could see the face of a surgeon operating a knife, or the face of a mad scientist confronting a dead guinea pig. It is said that people cannot even see the target that genius can hit, so the disease of genius must be a disease that others cannot diagnose and cure. He can't cure L either.

So that day, L secretly took him out of prison, is for today's sake? Is it for him crawling in the smoky basement, for him falling asleep siilently on L's lap? Will the life that is so hard to come by disappear completely without leaving any influence? If the blood of the scapegoat is shed, the sins of the slaughterer will be forgiven? Can his lost and bleak memories be shared by L and remain in the latter's heart for even a second?

During a period of dizziness, B breathed poorly and said intermittently: "Did you know L? Insects are edible. The body that you have turned into waste contains a lot of nutrients, and the bones are rich in protein. It is said that some of them taste like butter. Oh, you can also add a lot of sugar..."

L's movements slowed down a beat, perhaps a sign of his sanity returning.

Enduring the pain, B persuaded and comforted him: "Dolls...dolls may not work, but the materials can be recycled and made into other things. Doesn't that count as giving me a new life?"

"...I am a necessity, you must remember, I am a necessary puppet for you, who will accompany you and comfort you after losing me?"

"Other puppets."

B feels agitated, devastated like a needle piercing his heart.

"I see," he changed to a softer voice, biting his lip and said softly. This method has worked in the past, as long as the puppeteer expresses flattery and obedience, the pain will soon stop. The last time L performed an eye surgery out of control, the pain was relieved and bandaged according to the normal procedure. "I see," he shook his head, seeming to be rubbing L's hand that didn't exist in the air, "it's all my fault, because my words hurt you.. is it right?"

Silence. B sighs hoarsely. That's right, L didn't continue to cut down, although he may faint at any time. L, such an L, is by no means irrescuable, even though he is so stubborn and arrogant, he still has a human heart and still cares about his past with B. "I'll be obedient..." As soon as I speak, the next words will be much smoother. "I will obey all your orders..."

"So forgive me! I didn't mean it, it's just angry words to say give up or something!" He yelled, "I won't leave you! Absolutely not! Never! I promise you, L!"

"..."

The smell of rust diffused in the dark space, and the pungent smell seemed to be released from every pore of him, full of B's unique richness, heat and organic vitality. That viscous, dirty scarlet was his signature color. Following the whitish blade, L's fingers were also stained with this color, so he looked down, and his thinking paused for a while.

When exatly have humace become cruel? History pushes mankind forward. Inquisitions, lynchings, "honor fights" and slavery no longer exist. Is this less violent society a civilization? Despite this, pretentious human beings are still chasing power at the genetic level. They manipulate nature, forcing vegetation to grow into bizarre shapes, forcing water to spurt upwards as a symbol of life, filling oceans, and cleaving rocks. They also manipulate animals, commanding tools, food, and victims. Only the same kind makes human beings so confused and troubled. Everything stems from the inherent human rights endowed by the law, which cannot be deprived, and only make people sacrifice themselves. This game of alienation requires heretics, aliens, lunatics, monsters, pets, only humans are not needed. At this time, humans can get rid of inner moral senses. It is not a sin to punish beings who are not of their own race and have no self-awareness.

Is he alienated for the sake of domination? A crime for power? Emotion softened it, made the domination softer and more receptive, and B, who was forced to become a puppet, had no complaints about it. Human relationships are always tainted by fame, power, money, and condescension, and are not even as pure as puppetters and puppets.

Looking at the bloody section, L's reverie was pulled back by reality. A tiny but real pain spread in his heart - that must have been the monster's last emotion. Feelings towards B who is always accommodating and willingly becomes his puppet. For a moment, this pain turned into a touch of pity and regret, and for a moment it turned into self-loathing, and for a moment it awakened his most cherished quality in the past - awakened his righteous heart.

But it disappeared.

"..." Pulled by the red thread and covered in blood, B lowered his head halfway. He has lost his eyesight and will soon lose his limbs. This state—like a sleeping pet, a lifeless doll or a mechanical toy, like a lifelike figure—has a frozen perfection. Although he is human, he does not remble human; although he has rights, he lacks real power. He is a thing that can be kneaded, transformed and domesticated at will.

This kind of B, breaking away from the appearance, possesses a kind of deep-seated, indescribable and soul-stirring beauty.

Humans need nature, but not something of utter nature; man-made products are necessary, but there should contain too many traces of man-made flaws. Subtle and elegant, with just the right amount of flaws, it's a work of art.

L brought up a gloomy smile. B couldn't see, he had difficulty speaking due to the effect of the drug, and his breathing maintained a slow and peaceful rhythm. B was still muttering something, urging him to stop, begging him to stop, talking about the past, murmuring their pasts, chattering about trifles.

"Hmm." L replied, which barely was a answer.

"L..." His puppet seems to be muttering obsessive words like "here I am" and "right here". L's emotions were lost along with his consciousness, and disappeared in this prison that could be called a paradise.

"I won't leave you either."

L said softly.

B never thought of running away, and the more severe punishments could only be exchanged for his flattery, L sometimes couldn't understand why he could curse and be slaughtered at the same time. Deep in B's heart may be the desire to become a real "doll".

After thinking about it, he looked at the blood-stained knife again. It's too short and too blunt. The obstacles in this environment also need to be cleared in advance. He needed a Liston amputation knife. Long, sharp Liston amputation knife.

The size of the display box also needs to be adjusted accordingly, and it is best to change the container walls to be transparent. In this way, when he is a bit far away, he can still see his doll's sleeping face. The box will be smaller, no plastic board is needed for cushioning or as a mold, anyway, B can no longer move. Yes, he needs a new coffin too.

"Welcome..."

L raised his head, but no one came in, nor did he hear the wind chime. The old man stood behind him, his steps becoming disorganized, his waist twisted to one side. "Agent," he paused in a rare moment, "at your service."

"..."

L's empty eyes lowered, and he didn't care about this little episode. The robot opened the refrigerator as usual and took out a piece of strawberry cake.

"Ryuzaki, it's time to eat."

"I'm busy now."

That name made the thing in his arms squirm. He quickly picked him up, patted his head, and put his fingers into the messy hair to stroke. Freshly washed body still smells like green grass. L was going to remake him.

"Ryuzaki, it's time to eat."

The old man stood motionless, his mechanical mouth opening and closing.

Although such an instruction has been entered, it is abnormal to say that the second time-including the previous password pause. L frowned slightly.

"Didn't I say I'm busy?"

"Ryuzaki..."

The robot's mouth opened and closed almost abnormally, and the joints creaked as the waist twisted back. L sighed. Probably an inner mechanical problem.

"I'll fix you later. I'm busy cleaning him right now. B's not doing well," he said matter-of-factly. "He's just...unwilling to speak since."

At first the puppeteer thought it was psychological trauma. A moment of panic that kept B unable to speak for several days was an expected response. But this situation has lasted for two weeks, until the severed wounds on B's lower arm and calf have healed under proper bandaging.

The robot behind him was still babbling, and L could only press a button first to pause its function. The gray-haired old man collapsed suddenly, and he was unable to hold him as one hand was holding B.

L shook his head, dispelling unnecessary sentimentality. That robot has no soul, but the one in his arms is actually breathing and cannot be replaced. He lost his composure because the agent-like puppet evoked certain memories — memories that L didn't want them touched again. He glanced at the broken glass plates and cakes on the ground, and sighed again. It's not too late for afternoon tea to be postponed for another hour.

"B." He patted the puppet's face. "What's the matter, B." He said in a steady, self-contained voice. "Your mental health hasn't been compromised since your last surgery, and you're more alive when you furiously argue with me."

The puppet said nothing.

"You are not such a fragile person." L said softly. Perhaps it was because he was talking to the air for two weeks, which made him especially talkative. "I don't believe such a transformation can defeat you. Losing your eyesight made you quiet for thirty minutes. At that time, I thought you would run away and report me. Didn't you try your best to tarnish L's name?"

"..."

"You failed because the plan was seen through by someone you despised. B..." L paused. "When I used to say that, you would scoff me."

"..."

"For that unintelligent plan, you chose self-immolation as the last link." The one-man show continued. "You have said more than once that you are not afraid of losing your life. In order to defeat L and surpass L, you will do anything. You are such a person."

"..."

"I don't understand," L said. "If you hate me, why did you follow me? Follow the L who has just become a criminal and has fallen from the pinnacle of power," the final sound of the letter lightly passed from the tip of his tongue. "What good is it for you? Is it to thank me for letting you out? This is inexplicable. In the ten years since then, you have never left."

He waited for an explanation, but not for an answer.

"B." L's voice is raised slightly, making the husky texture clearer. "I don't understand what you take me for."

The puppet just looked at him quietly, silently, through the two black voids.

Since that transformation, he has only lost the lower half of his limbs and can still move slightly, but B seems to have lost the strength to even crawl. If L put him on the bed, he would lie there for a day without moving.

"What do you take me for. You promised me..."

If placed on the ground, B stares blankly at the ceiling. To ensure his nutrition, L fed him three times a day. Every time was especially difficult.

L's voice seemed to be broken, but still sounded composed to himself. He expected there is no response, so there is no need to be uneasy. He stood up and decided to repair Watari first. Otherwise, a puppet that keeps saying "welcome" or "Ryuzaki" will be very weird.

"Promised me 'forever'."

Before L was about to leave the room, he heard a voice suddenly. No, that's not the agent's electronic, synth voice. It was a hoarse, slightly lazy voice that was lowered because he deliberately imitated him.

"Then are you still the L I know?" B said.

L stood still, turned his head suddenly, his expression was almost distorted by shock. He bit his thumb and paced quickly to the half-sitting puppet.

"...I thought you really lost your language skills."

He first spit out a sarcasm, then slowed down his tone, and said softly: "B. I miss your voice very much."

B laughed dryly. It was the laughter L was familiar with — it was like going back in time.

"Answer my question first."

"...Yes, and no." L said thoughtfully. Yes, everything is the same as before. He bit his thumb tighter and tighter, as if he tasted blood.

"Compared to L ten years ago, my body has aged. Even though my intelligence remains the same, my thinking pattern will change with age and experience. But I am still me, and I still have the memory of ten years ago." He answered thoughtfully. "Is it the 'Ship of Theseus' type of answer you want?"

"I'm looking forward to more answers." The corner of B's lips curled into a faint smile.

"Then I'll answer you in a deep sense." L squatted down so that his eyes were level with him. "L hasn't had a case that interests him, since Kira case closed. "

He unconsciously switched to the third person pronoun, as if talking about other people's affairs. "So, it can also be assumed that the detective 'L' has died since then. Now I am a different person from him. Is this an answer?"

"'OK'? Are you asking for my opinion, asking a puppet?"

B lets out that disturbing, hollow laugh again.

"L. Are you willing to tell me this now...to face the past?"

L tilted his head in confusion.

B panted lightly: "Give up playing that boring 'puppeteer', give up making boring puppets, give up playing house games with... that fake old man, are you going to go back and be a detective?"

"..."

"L." For some reason, every time his puppet called that title and laughed, L became more disturbed. The words coming out of this abnormal, disabled body also felt strange to L.

"You know I can't."

"L," B said again, hesitating. "Nothing," L asked him, and he just shook his head. Afraid that he would not speak again, L could only hug him again.

"...you skin is boiling." B complained, but didn''t (and couldn't) push away. "You asked me why I wanted to stay?" he said casually, as if talking about the weather. "It was curiosity at first..."

"Then, I thought, I want you to go back to 'the old L'."

"—The L who is looked up to by everyone, who is the incarnation of justice."

"It really is impossible." He breathed hard in L's embrace, and said, "We are all hopeless."

"..."

"I have one more thing to tell you." The puppeteer's breathing paused slightly. "Indeed, I was prepared to lose my life, L. I left with you and never regretted it. I thought about the ending of being killed by you, the ending of being caught by you and thrown back into prison, the ending of being abused and tortured by you. But I never thought of..."

"You'll do this. Maybe in your imagination, I'm a tough, cockroach-like being, an indestructible thing, but I'm not. No. I thought I could sacrifice everything and endure everything, but now I find that, after becoming like this, I find..."

"...I just want to die now, L."

"..."

"..."

L carried him into a newly custom-made coffin, without a lid, with a transparent fence that was wide, and it could be seen clearly from anywhere in the studio. He felt that B was insane, or the postoperative trauma was too powerful, even B, who had burned more than 70% of his skin in the flames, could not resist.

After rest and recuperation, he will be back to normal. Just like last time. Either kneel at his lap to beg for food, or ask L to read detective or philosophy books to him, or curl up in a deep sleep, or debate with him vigorously. The loss of vision did not affect B in any way. Does the body matter? More important than L?

Since the broken agent machine kept walking in place, it made a series of "Ryuzaki" sounds from its mouth, and the black-haired doll leaning motionless in the corner was as still and silent as a corpse. A burst of anger caused L to bite off half of his nails.

He walked up to the remains of the cake, raised his foot, and stepped on it to make it more crumbled. Twist the soles of his foot until the cream splashes all over the place.

"You do not fear loosing your life at all."

L said, holding B's shoulders. He usually won't touch him, only when B makes trouble or makes a big mistake, he will overwhelm him, tie him and his genitals tightly, and then stuff the tools he took casually into B's body. Now L has no desire to do such a thing. B is so cute and quiet, like a real doll.

"You don't care about your body at all. You—you don't sleep on time, you don't eat on time. Your nutrition is not balanced." L said with a dead voice and dead face, "You only eat strawberry jam."

"..."

Roughly picking up B's clothes, L fiddled with his right nipple, rubbing it between his index fingers and thumbs. B's body trembled, but obviously restrained his voice deliberately. L let go of his hand, pinched his chin, and bit his crimson lips ruthlessly.

"!"

L always showed a lack of interest in the puppet's body. This behavior was so offensive and out-of-character of him, and B gasped, and a whimper escaped from his lips. His facial muscles tensed, revealing a smile that looked like he was going to cry.

While biting, L groped for his torso, and where his upper arm was broken. B's body was heating up, while L's fingers were as cold as ice. Goosebumps arose where it was touched, and tingled with longing.

"Hum," L snorted, his slender fingers picked up the elastic band of B's pants, got in through the gap, and held the slightly erective part. "Why are you still angry with me?"

"...!"

"If you are not gonna speak," the puppeteer teased skillfully with evil innocence, "I'll keep doing it."

"..."

What L said is true, B's hole is ofen equipped with vibrators, and L understand these tolls as if understanding criminal minds, and understand B's erogenous zones. Although L usually can't get excited by it , but now it's not a question of wanting or not wanting, question of winning or losing—it's a challenge, a competition. B will lose if he talks, and L will win if he lets him talk. A challenge that may lasts indefinitely.

He fiddled with the puppet's genitals, reaching down and pressing down on his perineum. B suddenly trembled as if jumping up. He smiled contentedly, because the puppet was a sensitive and nasty little bastard. L simply tore off the baggy trouser legs, exposing B's genitals to the air, and stimulated it with a steady, skillful rhythm.

At the same time, he pulled the collar of B's black shirt to the right, lowered his head and bit his shoulder. "Uh!" There was a row of red teeth marks. The pain adds to the fun, L thought, biting down to the left again.

B's face twisted to the point where he was about to scream.

Yes, fine, that's it. He couldn't help but to praise quickly. "B," the next kiss was on B's lips, without biting. L imagined a half-bitten cherry, sucked it, and licked it. B's lips are softer than expected, but they are definitely not as delicious as cakes. His right hand continued to make the unrestrained little guy stand upright this time, and the tip oozed honey and became shiny.

"Were you this lewd ten years ago?"

B's mouth was open, and stopped in an arc that wanted to curse but didn't speak out, and could be closed tightly at any time to suppress the moan. He must have wanted to refute, and L wanted to hear it too.

So, L started on the side of his neck, imprinting the bite marks. Occasionally, after a few bites, he would drop a kiss without warning, and B would never know if the next time would be pain or pleasure—or both. The line between love and hate is ambiguous to him, as is pain and pleasure. B is more likely to climax when he is tied up. Biting can trigger a more intense response than being licked and kissed. When L came to his senses, the lean torso covered with thin muscles was already covered with bite marks and hickey marks, B's head shook helplessly, and it was impossible to see that he was crying or smiling, because L put B's lips in his own mouth again.

The second bitter kiss in ten years, mixed with a faint smell of blood.

"Do you like it?" L didn't expect him to answer. L didn't care that the clear nectar flowed from the horse's eyes and stained his hands. He speeded up the frequency, and when B was struggling to fall, he pushed him against the wall, and when he was hunched over and about to ejaculate, he held the wet shaft tightly, "I can do it to you, every day, but you have to tell me that you enjoy it."

"..."

"I hate your silence."

B's unable to ejaculate orgasms twice, convulsing silently. He didn't groan or scream, all L could hear was the heavy breathing, which became more intense as his chest rose and fell. Why? L scratched the top of his avatar with his nails, and this time he could hear clearly from the sound of disordered breathing. "... hah !"

"That's not an answer," L said sternly, "nor is it 'I enjoyed it.'"

"...ha..."

"How many more orgasms can B take?" He stared intently at the lewd pose. "You're about to pass out. Then I'll make you pass out again every time you wake up. You know I don't need to sleep. This process can be repeated a thousand times."

For the first time, B couldn't see the desire surging in L's eyes. Maybe he should miss the time when he still had his hands and feet, so if he stretched forward a little, he would be able to know whether this indifferent man had an erection. He was tired and sluggish, and his energy was at the limit. Under the stimulation of the hard object L inserted into his back hole, he finally raised his head and moaned: "Ah...ah...uh...oh!"

"Enough, L," he said, "Enough."

L was pulling out the rubber handle, and stared at his tear-stained face as if he had just woken up from a dizzy dream.

"Don't do this kind of thing again..." B sighed.

"Don't you like it?"

"You... huh. I wanted to say it but didn't say it, L, you're so naive."

"What?" "You're a child."

"B is not qualified to say that." L flicked his cock hard, making it shake. "B was the one who got angry with me first."

B was laughing, changing from a wry smile to a breathless, convulsive laugh.

"You ruined me, and now you want me...to be your...to be your sex toy. To be the container of your desire. Do you still want me to admit to enjoying it?"

"I do not understand."

"L, you are so greedy." B's smile disappeared, his swollen lips were only lifted up habitually, and the blush of the aftertaste of orgasm remained on his face. "You fell, after abusing your power, and when you were abandoned, you turned to your only follower for comfort."

"So you're a kid," he continued, "you act like you ask for candy. I used to give in to you, but, L, now I... don't have the candy you want... not anymore."

"...I do not understand."

"I only have one last request," B said softly, slamming each word. "Do you understand? I am asking for your last mercy."

B's lips start to move, but L doesn't catch it. Maybe he didn't want to hear it, maybe he ignored it on purpose, or he heard it clearly, but twisted it into another meaning.

"I want you to kill me. Inject poison, strangle, hanging, suffocation, you name it. After that, do whatever you want, and dispose the body properly if you don't want to be caught."

No, I don't understand ...L stood up, looking cold. B has created a diaphragm that separates air between them, but this diaphragm has not yet existed. This is abnormal. Anomalies - new mutations.

"...Okay. You don't want to do it," his doll showed a stiff expression like a sticker, "Then I will do it myself. Every second from now, I will find a chance to kill myself."

L's first reaction was to subdue his mouth to prevent biting of tongue - the most common method of suicide. Blood rushed like a rush to the top of his head, dilated blood vessels, dizzy. He didn't even have time to discern whether the emotion was anger or fear. L opened his eyes a little bit, to an unprecedented size, as if showing sobriety and sanity that he hadn't gained in many years. Through that invisible, hard diaphragm, he can clearly see what B is like now.

His limbs are mutilated and distorted in a weird way, his empty eye sockets, the broken limbs wrapped in white gauze but overflowing with blood, the bleeding lips, the hickey marks and bite marks covering each other on the pale torso, the small hole on the shrinking penis, and the bodily fluids that flow all over the floor. He sees B's scarlet eyes - how? It was, had been, undisputedly removed—the teasing color diffused inside, and the self reflected in the red pupils.

Yes, that's why it had to be removed. L sees himself through B's pupils, and then , sees himself, and glimpses his inner being, the non-human, monstrous core—just as a human disguises himself as a puppet, he disguises himself as L.

Why do humans lie?

Why do humans backfire?

Why do human beings betray, abandon, playing with the wind, and ever-changing?

He returned to that brief reverie in an instant. Cruel creatures like humans will despise those who are weaker than themselves, enslave those who are stupider than themselves, and when they see others happy, they will want to hurt them, and when they see others in pain, they can't help but love them. Human beings are so contradictory, so abhorrent. They are not his kind. Nor his companions.

L felt nauseous and wanted to devour a large amount of sugar. He opened the refrigerator, but found nothing edible. It turned out that the last piece of cake was crushed by himself.

The old mechanical sound came from behind again, it seemed to be some kind of curse, it started up without authorization for some reason, and it continued to say: "'Ryuzaki', 'Ryuzaki', 'Ryuza'..."

L walked up to it and said, "It's time to rest, Watari." Then he pulled out the battery.

The quaint doll shop did not welcome visitors, the golden wind chimes outside the door swayed with the wind, and a sign was posted on the dark red wooden door: closed permanently. My apology for any inconvenience.

The store was overcrowded, and the puppeteer cleaned up a lot of debris. For this reason, they had to be carried by hand and discarded in front of the garbage station at the entrance of the street. As soon as eight o'clock passed, all the street lamps in this small European country were lit, and they were spaced at an equal distance like the scales of a clock. On a day when the fluffy snow was falling, they cast a dim yellow nostalgic light.

The debris has been piled up for too long, and they are thrown into the dustbin, and the wooden box tumbles down the entrance. A few pieces of paper flew out, fragments of newspaper clippings, yellowed after a long time.

If piece them together, you can get the titles of news in chronological order:

Breaking news! The well-known big detective L abused lynching?!

Accident or murder? Prisoner on trial for L confirmed dead in electric chair

Justice has fallen! L's interrogation procedure is suspected of breaking the law, and he has "cooperated" with several criminals

Reputation ruined! ICPO has revoked the L position, the detective may faces criminal penalties

Words such as "procedural justice," "political scandal," "dereliction of duty," "abuse of criminals," and "out of control of power" frequently appeared.

Papers flew like snowflakes, disappearing deep into the fetid recycling. After doing all this, L rolled up the scarf tightly, but his body was still shaking. He hugged his arms through the thick padded jacket, and for some reason, the desire to go back as soon as possible was particularly strong. He quickened his pace, hunched over and walked towards the familiar wooden door.

The wind chime swayed, and a warm current rushed in when the door was opened.

"Welcome, Agent is at your service."

The old man stood to one side of the door. His appearance has not changed. After repairs, the visible gaps on his face have disappeared, and he can even make fine movements such as bending over and saluting. There was a warm smile on the corner of his mouth.

L turned a blind eye and strode in. The time-telling bird fluttered, the girl in the skirt blinked her eyes, the gears drove the complicated mechanical products to rotate, and the dolls started to rustle and move.

"Where are you?" There was no answer. L opened the cupboard door and searched for the dark void, but there was nothing there. Likewise, there was no figure under the bed or in the coffin, on the roof or in the basement. Why does he haunt you like a fly or a cowhide poultice, and disappear without a trace as soon as he leaves? L paced the house, shouting louder, "Where are you?"

As he walked forward, a room full of puppets moved, they could sing or dance, shout or praise, rendering the narrow studio into a real world. It was a never-ending drama on the stage, a scene of sweet harmony. If L wants, the agent can cook, and the children of Wammy's house can run here—if L wants, this is his real home.

Reality is always disappointing, and human beings are disgusting. Only puppets will continue to perform according to the given settings and behavior patterns, and perform according to the order over and over again forever.

The world needed me...but from one day, they don't need me anymore.

The world doesn't need me. That day, I knew, that I didn't need them either.

L ran to the studio, where he found what he was looking for. The puppet stood in front of him in the same posture as himself, with its back arched, wearing a black shirt, and its posture was slouching. His complexion was darker against the severe dark circles under his eyes, and his forehead was covered by shaggy black hair. His limbs and eyes are intact, and everything is as it used to be.

His scarlet eyes, which L once couldn't get used to, shone dangerously, sharply, and madly. L couldn't stand the reflection of himself in those real pupils, he would rather they didn't exist.

But the doll's eyes are nonaggressive, always wet like a puppy, a pair of slightly sad eyes that will never betray him. Staring at it, L not only forgets the past, but also forgets the false B.

"I'm looking for you."

"L, I'm here."

"I've been looking for you for a long time."

"L, I'm here."

B's body was disposed of before it rotted, as he wished, in a way that no one would ever find out. This puppet is made of rubber and machinery, has no blood in its body, and will not die if it is injured. There is a slight difference between his voice and B, which is the unique distortion of electronic music, and L can make up for it through hallucinations. His hallucinations have intensified recently, and he can't even distinguish the authenticity of B in the dream. At least, their smiles are the same. After that, L spent a long time in the doll's house. This is where his last seat of power belongs, and these dark, beautiful dolls, are his last followers.

In the celebratory sounds of other puppets, in the sweet air from the desserts made by the agent, in the frantic pace of the machines and the low mechanical background sound, the human drama continued, and the time of the world flowed again.

He hugged B.

The puppet grinned strangely, and spit out broken repeated syllables:

"L, I'm here."

END


1. L is a terrible man who insists that others are lunatics when he is a lunatic, so this story is actually his perversion progression history

2. B died by injection

3. L's mental illness is still not named, so I hope you smart readers can fill in the blank yourself. Anyway it's not L's fault, it's the world's fault, because L is an innocent baby who just needs comfort.

If you like my story, please read Actor. I will translate more and post, if there is people who want to read it... No one reads it on ao3, but I didn't give up on this ship...