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“I guess you were too busy worrying,” she told her stomach.

Naomi didn’t know how long the demon would take to dry themself, and not wanting to dedicate too much time cooking, she made some quick pasta. Right as she was putting it on the plate, the krampus walked into the kitchen.

“Do you want to eat?” she asked them, but then worried she asked the wrong question. Did krampuses even eat? Did they eat human food?

They simply nodded to her, so she made a plate for them too. The demon waited to eat—watching the way she picked up her fork, then imitating her. They had probably never done this before, and it was a bit funny watching them try. Naomi wasn’t sure how to tell the age of a demon, but for human standards, they probably looked like they were in their late forties—seeming like a weirdly good-looking, middle-aged, monstrous man. Either way, they were definitely older than her.

“Are you… feeling better?” she asked, hesitantly.

“I am.”

Their replies were always curt, but she wasn’t sure whether it was because they didn’t want to talk, because they couldn’t reveal too much, or simply because they weren’t used to small talk or conversations.

As she watched them eat with slow and tentative bites, a new question popped into her head.

“I was wondering, how can I refer to you? When I found you, I thought you were an animal so I thought of you as an it.”

Her cheeks heated up and she hoped they wouldn’t be able to see her embarrassment.

“I’m not human, so I can’t be a man,” he explained. “But I’m the closest thing to it, I guess.”

She sighed in relief, happy to clear part of the confusion in her mind.

“Are you not scared of me anymore?” he asked out of the blue, a deep frown appearing on his face.

His appearance still made him look frightening, but Naomi’s heart had settled a bit—especially after seeing him post-shower, looking comically small despite his huge size. And apart from the first attack, when he had been too confused to understand the situation, he hadn’t made her feel in danger.

“I’m less scared,” she eventually replied.

He nodded, thoughtful.

“You’re not very fond of chatting, are you?” she tried, carefully watching his expression.

He frowned, confused. “We are talking now, are we not?”

“We are, but… I don’t know how to explain it. You don’t sound like you do this a lot.”

“I don’t,” he confirmed. “I’m not good with small talk.”

She couldn’t hold back her bright smile. “This isn’t really small talk. I’m trying to get to know you better.”

“I don’t speak much with people,” he offered.

She watched him carefully, trying to read his expression, but he just looked confused, like a fish out of water.

“Not even in Hell?”

“My kind might be famous among humans, but it’s seen as lesser in Hell,” he explained, eyes focusing on his food. “We only exist to follow orders, not to mingle or talk.”

Her heart ached. That seemed like a miserable existence. Actually, it didn’t feel like an existence at all. It sounded like he was only a marionette, with no life or thoughts of his own. The distant look in his eyes only confirmed her thoughts.

“Is that why you also don’t have a name?”

Again, he nodded quietly.

Seeing such a big creature so sad was destabilizing. It was a completely different sight from the ferocious image of their encounter earlier today, almost like a switch had been flipped and his krampus persona had vanished—leaving an unfinished being in his stead, entirely too confused about what to do with himself.

She felt the need to take that frown off his face.