Till the End of the Sleepless Nights⚠️ This is an English translation of a Stolitz all-ages novel (眠れぬ夜が終わるまで), created with the assistance of AI. I haven't thoroughly reviewed it, so please consider it as a supplementary resource if you're translating and reading it yourself. Some parts may contain unpleasant expressions; please proceed at your own discretion.​
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Till the End of the Sleepless Nights


At first, I didn’t really think much of it. It wasn’t like this was the first time something like this had happened.

Ever since I started living with Loona, I’ve been vacuuming the apartment almost daily. Naturally, when you share a home with a lady decked out head to toe in real fur, you’re going to find fur all over the floor. Especially during shedding season—it gets so intense I could probably collect the discarded fluff and make a life-sized plushie of her. Even so, I found I didn’t really hate cleaning. Not as much as I used to.

So yeah, maybe that’s why I didn’t pay much attention when feathers from Stolas started showing up here and there. It didn’t bother me. Honestly, I even found it kind of endearing. I’d pick up those bluish-grey feathers, hold them up to the light, and sometimes sneak them into my pocket like a lovesick fool. I was clearly riding the high of living with Stolas.

The first time I felt something was off was one day when I tried to vacuum like usual. The suction was weak. Praying it wasn’t broken, I popped open the cover—only to have a torrent of blue-grey feathers spill out of the filter. Grossed out, I reached in, and sure enough, tiny dusty feathers were packed in there tight, all the way in. This was no longer cute. No way someone should be shedding this much.

And when I found a feather crusted with dark blue blood, my unease solidified into near-certainty. I didn’t know how to bring it up, but that night, I stopped Stolas just as he was about to fall asleep and asked, “Is there anything you want to tell me”

“…Not really.”
Nothing, huh Okay then.

I stared at his back as he slipped easily into sleep. Is this what having a teenage kid feels like There’s no way I could just ask him directly.

So now here I am, still holding onto that bad feeling. Lying on a cushion, unable to sleep.

It was 2 a.m. when I woke up drenched in sweat from a nightmare. My head was spinning, like I couldn’t get enough oxygen, and the ticking of the clock sounded absurdly loud.

In the dream, I was driving our van like always. Stolas was in the passenger seat, his too-long legs folded awkwardly but his face cheerful as he looked out at the city. Just a normal drive. Until I rolled down the window.

The moment I opened it, a sharp gust of wind blew in, scattering Stolas’ feathers. In a blink, his body started wasting away, like the wind was eroding him. Panicking, I scrambled to gather the feathers, shouting “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” over and over.

But it was no use. Stolas disintegrated before my eyes, leaving me alone in the van with nothing but feathers. The car radio had somehow turned on, and a newscaster was droning on.

“A fire broke out at the Imp Circus early this morning. The damage was… in the ring… casualties include—”

Eventually the broadcast dissolved into static. I could still feel the harsh, gritty texture of the feathers I had tried to grab in the dream. I felt so awful I never wanted to sleep again.

—I needed to overwrite that nightmare.

All I wanted was to touch his cheek. Just to confirm he was still here. I pushed myself up from the beanbag and turned around—only for every nerve in my body to bristle in alarm. In the dark, four red eyes glowed dimly.

“…What the hell are you doing, Stolas”

He was hunched over on the sofa, arms wrapped around himself. At his feet, scattered just like in my dream, were blue-grey feathers. Every time he clawed at his arms, another feather would fall, like he was plucking petals in a flower fortune.

“Can’t sleep”

Only when I stood directly in front of him did he finally seem to notice me. His eyes found mine, vacant and faraway.

“I just… can’t sleep tonight.”

—No shit.

Hot milk for sleepless nights. It’s the go-to until you graduate to alcohol and sleeping pills and forget it ever existed. I warmed some milk in the microwave—one mug with a horse design I liked, the other plain and forgettable.

“Moxxie said adding brandy brings out the flavor.” But Stolas is off alcohol right now. I poured in some cake syrup instead, and it ended up smelling more like arcade bubblegum than cake.

When I handed him the mug, he took it absentmindedly and muttered in a whisper of a voice:

“I wonder if she’s sleeping well…”

He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to. His gaze remained fixed on a single point on the wall as tears welled up, then burst and slid down his cheeks. Some of them fell into the milk with soft little splashes. —Goddamn. I’m no good when my lover cries. Especially when it’s Stolas.

I gently placed a hand on his upper arm. His feathers were softer than they had been in the dream, but beneath them I found scabbed-over wounds. I wish I’d noticed sooner.

Maybe sensing my guilt, Stolas looked down at me with a startled expression.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. …You don’t have to be.”

If I could punch everyone who ever made you feel like apologizing, I would. Starting with myself. I took a sip of milk to occupy myself—it was shockingly sweet. I had added way too much syrup.

“If you could go back, where would you want to start over from”
“…If I’d run better, maybe I wouldn’t have had to go through that ridiculous trial.”

Stolas watched the steam swirl from his cup, quietly listening.

“If that trial hadn’t happened… maybe you wouldn’t have had to live apart from her.”

“…Blitzy, that’s not true.”

His hands trembled slightly. The milk rippled silently in the mug.

“I was the one who gave you that book, knowing it was illegal.”

“Only because I stole it first.”

“Doesn’t matter. I let you take it. I was the one who trusted you.”

He said it so plainly, I couldn’t back out of the conversation anymore.

“Then maybe I should never have snuck into your castle in the first place.”

“Did you forget I was the one who invited you there when we were kids.”

“Don’t twist it. That was your dad, not you.”

“You got picked because I laughed at your joke.”

“Then I guess it is my fault. I’m just too damn funny.”

There was a pause. Stolas blinked at me, then his cheeks flushed red.

“…Pff, ahahaha Then it’s your fault, obviously.”

He laughed into his hand. Tears at the corners of his eyes flew off with a flick of his fingers.

“I’m such a sinful man, huh”

“Haha Stop, don’t make me laugh”

Maybe it was the weird energy of the late hour, but Stolas couldn’t stop laughing. After catching his breath, he downed the rest of his milk and wrinkled his brow.

“Do you always drink things this sweet”

I kept a straight face. “Tonight’s special.”

We curled up together on the narrow couch like puzzle pieces. In the quiet, Stolas murmured:

“If I’d never met you, I wonder if I’d still be stuck in that castle.”

His tone wasn’t accusatory—just thoughtful. I figured he was probably right, so I simply asked:

“Do you want to go back”

He stayed silent for a while, then whispered, “Via…” and never said if he wanted to go back or not.

“If I hadn’t met you, I probably would’ve lived my life without ever knowing regret.”

“Must be nice. I regret everything.”

I said it half-jokingly, and Stolas suddenly looked serious.

“That’s because you’ve always chosen your own path.”

“…Yeah, maybe.”

But when I look back, it’s all filled with things I couldn’t do, or things I had no choice but to do. It doesn’t feel like I ever had a real choice.

—Even if I could relive my life.

I probably wouldn’t give the letter to Fizz. I’d let Barb hate me. I’d ignore Verosika’s messages. I’d still adopt Loona. Still team up with Moxxie and Millie. And somewhere down the line, I’d remember Stolas again. I’d make that twisted contract. And before I knew it, I’d fall in love with him.

No matter how I fought it, I’d end up here. That’s probably what it means to choose something.

“If I could go back… I’d still end up here. Every single time.”

He murmured it like a lullaby, rubbing his forehead against my chest. The sting in my nose made me exhale sharply. A tear slipped down, staining the cushion. —I was glad he didn’t notice.

As I pulled him in tighter, Stolas stirred slightly, then slowly wrapped his arms around me too.

“I love when you hold me. It’s warm. It makes me feel safe.”

“I love how soft you are. Too warm, but still soft.”

“…Sounds like we’re only into each other for the bodies.”

We both chuckled at that.

Even when morning comes, Stolas probably won’t be okay. He’ll go to work feeling like crap, and come home to another anxious, sleepless night. But then I’ll make hot milk again. Maybe we’ll watch some dumb late-night show. If he needs it, I’ll even sing him a lullaby.

Until the day those sleepless nights finally come to an end.



〈The End〉