Chapter 57: 46.2 - Leech
DISCLAIMER: Bonus Chapter. Not so important unless you are into Kairi’s lore.
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It started with a book. As most of my unhinged decisions do.
In my defense—which I realize holds the structural integrity of a soggy biscuit—I was curious. And boredom, combined with grief and a deeply unhealthy obsession with anatomical oddities, makes for... reckless hobbies. Or self-harm, depending on your therapist.
So yes. Leech. Disgusting, slippery, somehow simultaneously gelatinous and crunchy if you cook it wrong—ask me how I know.
Leeches in this world are magical. That was the header of the page I skimmed. Skimmed, not read, because what kind of freak commits to reading about parasitic bloodsuckers with the same reverence as ancient rune theory?
Me.
Apparently.
"Absorbs ambient magic energy, stores trace elements of lifeforce from host. Valuable in alchemy. Dangerous in digestion."
You’d think that last part would’ve stopped me. You really would.
Spoiler: No, it f*cking didn’t.
Because I was curious. Again.
And because grief makes you believe you’re a little invincible. Or at least should be.
So I boiled one. It exploded. The forest smelled like hell’s armpit.
I documented it and said I was done.
Lied.
Then I crushed one raw into a paste. Mixed it into tea. Not smart, not subtle, not sane. But I felt the kick. Like caffeine. Or an internal scream that massaged my spleen.
Don’t ask me how I know it was my spleen.
Then came the worst part: I ate one. Alive. Wriggling. Black. Wet.
Yeah. That one wasn’t scientific. That one was me in a sleepless, sobbing spiral, standing in the apothecary pantry and whispering "I dare you to stop me" to the God
And of course, He never did. And hell yeah, He never existed so why bother?
However, Selene found this out, of course.
She always does.
No matter how many journals I hex-lock or how many mental barriers I erect, she gets in. Like she’s hardcoded into the source code of my life. Which is not romantic. It’s actually harassment.
"You ate a leech.""For research.""You ingested a living parasite.""I was... mentally compromised.""You’re always mentally compromised. Deranged even."
Leeches teach you things. Like how being a parasite sometimes feels a lot like survival. That consuming what others discard can still keep you alive. That even a thing designed to cling, feed, and be hated still holds ancient, biological elegance.
"That’s not profound, but peak sickening." Selene told me, nose wrinkling.
"That’s you justifying your descent into bog creature behavior."
"Excuse you," I told her. "I am the pinnacle of elegance. I just happen to enjoy my elegance covered in viscous slime and regret."
She gagged dramatically. I considered licking her cheek.
(For the record, I did not. But the intrusive thought was persistent.)
Afterwards, I sealed the leech trials. I burned the final specimen. I buried the paste jars behind the shed. I said I’d never do it again.
That was a lie.
I did it again when she left. For research, yes. But mostly because the memory of that raw, skin-crawling jolt was the only thing that made me feel awake after she was gone. Because grief tastes bitter, but leeches taste worse—and that, somehow, made it easier to swallow.
I’m not proud. But I am honest. Painfully so. I’ve been too many things in my life—healer, fraud, witch, martyr—but I’ll never lie about this:
I needed to feel something.Even if it was wrong.Even if it bled.
Selene once asked why I didn’t write this down in the records.
I shrugged. Said it wasn’t relevant.
She didn’t press. But she looked at me like she knew.
And in that look, the same one she gives when she wants to scold me but still thinks I’m salvageable, I found the only redemption I ever really wanted.
Not purity. Not absolution.
Just... to be known. All the rot, all the ruin, all the reckless consumption of things that should never have entered a mouth.
She still calls me "Leech Maniac" sometimes. Usually when I’m trying to be serious.
I pretend to hate it.
But secretly, I don’t mind.
Because if loving her means consuming things that should’ve killed me—
Then maybe I was just a parasite trying to find the right host all along.
* * *
Then, a year later after saving Helena, a de ja vu struck. She leaned over the counter while I was making tea and said in the most casual tone ever:
"So. You boiled it first. And then ate it alive?"
I nearly dropped the cup.
"You didn’t even sanitize it properly. Just straight from the bog to your mouth. Disgusting."
"...I was experimenting."
"With leeches, Kairi. Real leeches. Actual, bloodsucking parasites. For consumption."
"They’re magical here," I said.
"They retain magic energy. They react to bodily systems. That’s useful."
"Useful is one word. Insane is another." She smiled. "Leech Maniac."
I glared at her. "You’re banned from naming things ever again."
But I didn’t deny it.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
I did it out of curiosity, at first. The grimoire said they had high magical properties, especially when still alive. Something about internalized mana threads and external retention. It didn’t mention how to use them exactly. Just that they were rare, dangerous, and—possibly—edible.
So I tested it.
Boiled one. Too much heat—lost the signature. Killed another cleanly, preserved the mana longer, but it degraded within an hour.
The only real hit was the one I swallowed whole.
I shouldn’t have done it. I know that.
I was just... tired. Not sleepy tired. Just done. Numb. Running on routine, chasing knowledge like it could plug the holes that grief left behind.
Selene was gone. I didn’t know if I could get her back. And even though everyone kept telling me to focus, to rest, to not lose myself—I had to lose myself. Just to feel present in my own skin.
So yeah. I ate a leech.
It squirmed, I gagged, I nearly threw it back up. But once it settled, something shifted. My whole body felt tight. Not energized. Just... bracing. Like something was bracing me from the inside.
My veins stung for a bit. My heartbeat slowed, then ramped up. For a moment I thought I was dying. But then everything smoothed out. And I could feel mana again.
Clearly. Sharply.
Like someone had cleaned a foggy window in my chest.
I took notes. Monitored myself for twelve hours. My stomach churned. My temperature fluctuated. My mood was worse than usual. But the magic readings were stronger than they’d been in days.
Selene found the chart. That’s when she really lost it.
"You seriously tracked your own intestinal damage and called it ’worth the risk’?"
"It was an anomaly. I had to know."
"You’re not a lab rat, Kairi. You’re not disposable."
"I didn’t say I was."
"But you’re acting like it."
We didn’t talk for a while after that.
She was right, obviously.
But I’m stubborn. I don’t like being scolded, even when I deserve it.
Weeks later, she brought it up again.
Quietly, when we were alone in the greenhouse, pretending not to be listening to each other.
She said, "You know, you’re not disgusting."
I didn’t respond.
She added, "Just reckless. And sometimes weirdly proud of it."
I rolled my eyes. "Comes with the job."
She reached into her pocket and tossed something at me.
A tiny wooden charm shaped like a leech, burned at the edges.
"Your new familiar. Leech Maniac."
I almost laughed. Almost.
Instead, I pocketed it. Quietly.
I still haven’t eaten another one.
Not because I wouldn’t. But because if I did, she’d know.
And the way she’d look at me then—
I don’t think I could stomach that.
