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After the last pot was empty and the simple bowls were cleaned, the atmosphere in the room slowly subsided. The people who had been smiling contentedly now began to return to their routines, some chatting softly, while others rested with their eyes closed. Shirou and Filvis stood side by side, both bowing slightly as a farewell.
"Thank you, young man, Miss... please come again sometime," the hoarse voice of an old man was heard. Shirou responded with a warm smile, while Filvis only nodded slowly, hiding the glint in her eyes beneath her hood.
They stepped outside. Tap, tap, tap... the sound of their shoes echoed in the narrow corridor of Daedalus Street. Their long shadows followed each other on the uneven stone walls.
Filvis glanced back, her brow slightly furrowed. "Why... are you following me?" Her voice was flat, but there was a faint note of annoyance in it.
Shirou, who was walking one step behind her, scratched his head, his face slightly awkward. "Ah... sorry. I... actually forgot the way out of here." His tone was honest, but it sounded really clumsy, like a schoolboy who had forgotten his way home.
Filvis stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Haaah..." Her sigh came out heavy, as if weighing whether to send him away or not. She then turned with sharp, cold eyes. "In that case, don't walk behind me. Walk beside me. I don't like people following me from behind."
Shirou was silent for a fraction of a second, then he stiffly nodded. "Alright." He quickened his pace, now walking alongside Filvis.
The dark corridor felt slightly different—lighter, even though there was no additional light. As if just by walking side by side, the complicated path no longer felt suffocating. Shirou glanced at Filvis out of the corner of his eye, noticing her calm silhouette. Meanwhile, Filvis, though trying to keep her expression flat, secretly felt something unfamiliar in her chest: an irritation that was also strange.
Their footsteps continued to echo in the narrow alleys of Daedalus Street. The damp air mixed with the smell of old wood and mossy stone. Filvis's soft voice finally broke the somewhat awkward silence.
"Since when did you start... visiting that orphanage?" she asked, her tone flat but with a hint of curiosity that was hard to hide.
Shirou turned briefly, then looked back at the road ahead. "Just today," he answered shortly, yet his voice was honest.
Filvis faintly frowned. "Just... passing by?"
Shirou shook his head. "Not really. Actually... It's a bit embarrassing." He scratched the back of his neck. "My coworker skipped work. Instead, she spent her time playing with the orphans there. My annoyed boss told me to go find her."
Filvis paused for a moment, then looked at him from under the shadow of her hood. "That coworker of yours... is she a girl?" There was a slight coldness, though faint, in her question.
"Yes," Shirou nodded. "Her name is Syr. She was supposed to be working at the restaurant where I help out, but she ran off to the orphanage. In the end, I got caught up in the atmosphere... and ended up staying."
Filvis lowered her head slightly, letting her loose black hair from the hood cover part of her face. Her lips moved slowly, almost inaudibly. "...So initially it wasn't your own intention."
Shirou turned slightly upon hearing that faint murmur, but he chose not to respond directly. He only added in a low voice, "But I'm grateful I went there. I... felt it was the right thing to do."
Those words made Filvis's chest tremble strangely. She gripped the edge of her hood tighter, trying to calm herself. "Someone like you... It's too dangerous," she thought, though what came out of her lips was only a light murmur, "Hmph, sounds naive."
As they exited the labyrinth of Daedalus Street, the air felt more open. The main road came into view, illuminated by the magical lamps beginning to light up as the night grew darker. Shirou walked on the left side, while Filvis remained on the right, the distance between them not too close but not too far—just enough to walk side by side without touching.
Coincidentally, they were heading in the same direction, towards the district where their respective Familia headquarters stood. Shirou glanced sideways, wondering why Filvis hadn't turned off yet. But Filvis was the one who started the conversation.
"...So," her voice sounded soft yet sharp, "This is what you meant back then. About... fulfilling your father's dream. Becoming a 'defender of justice' as you once said."
Shirou was silent for a moment. His steps slowed, then he nodded slowly. "Yes... one part of it. I should have been doing this a long time ago." His eyes looked into the distance, the reflection of the magical lamps bouncing in his brown irises. "I used to think a hero only meant someone who defeated monsters. But... now I realize a hero isn't just someone who wields a weapon."
Filvis turned slightly, her expression hard to read. "A hero?" she repeated, her tone sounding almost cynical, though faintly tinged with genuine curiosity. "What kind of hero do you want to be?"
Shirou took a deep breath. His steps became firm again, his voice more resolute. "I want to save everyone."
Those words echoed in Filvis's ears, as if stabbing her heart. "Saving everyone... huh," she thought. A bitter smile appeared at the corner of her lips, hidden by the hood. That's impossible... this world isn't that beautiful, Shirou. Even the me you see now is just a tainted shadow.
But she didn't utter those words. What came out was only a faint murmur, almost like the wind. "You're crazy..."
Shirou turned slightly, catching that faint tone, but he only gave a slight nod. "Maybe I am," he said lightly, but the look in his eyes remained steadfast. "But if I give up on the world, who will realize Kiritsugu's dream?"
Filvis held her breath, her heart beating faster. Something in her chest felt painful—a feeling somewhere between envy, admiration, or... fear. "This person..." she thought, "will become a light that is too dazzling... and I, who am already entangled in darkness, might be burned to ashes if I get too close."
But her steps didn't stop. Unconsciously, she kept walking closer beside Shirou, as if afraid that distance would truly disappear.
Somehow, in Filvis's heart, something frightening to herself arose—like a moth unconsciously yearning for the light, even though it knows its wings will burn if it gets too close. A fragile, unworthy, but real hope... a selfish whisper that maybe, just maybe, Shirou's light could reach her, entangled in darkness.
With a slightly trembling voice, she tested the young man's conviction. "You said... You will save everyone. Does that... include criminals?" Her eyes turned, her red gaze challenging yet full of fear, as if wanting to hear an answer she herself didn't believe.
Shirou didn't take long to answer. He stared straight ahead, his steps firm. "As long as they are willing to change, as long as they are willing to atone for what they've done... why not? Isn't that also a chance to be truly saved?"
Filvis fell silent, her chest feeling tight. Those words were like a whip, lashing at the part of herself she had hidden. Then... does that mean I also...?
But she didn't let her thoughts wander further. In a cold voice, she retorted, "Then why did you kill members of Evilus?"
That question struck Shirou. He paused for a moment, his shoulders slumped, and his face looked down. He knew that was a major flaw in his ideal. The silence for a few seconds felt pressing; only the sound of their footsteps on the stone road could be heard.
Finally, Shirou spoke, his tone heavy, as if swallowing something bitter. "At that time... it was a battle. I couldn't let them keep living... if I did, they would hurt my friends. I had to choose... and I know that choice tarnishes my own dream."
His last words were like a rock rolling in his throat—hard, bitter, but unavoidable. Filvis stared at him for a long time, in silence, her heart trembling between pity, admiration, and... an unutterable pain.
"Then..." Filvis's voice almost broke, as if every word that came out was a thorn stabbing her, "If right now there was a member of Evilus who admitted their sins... would you still want to save them?" That desperate tone trembled, resembling a long-buried prayer.
Shirou looked at her, not with hatred, nor with suspicion. The young man's eyes were clear, calm, and firm. "I would listen," he said without hesitation, "and I would help... as much as I can."
Thump.
Filvis felt her heart beat loudly, suffocating her chest. She knew—she truly knew—it wasn't a lie. There was no fear, no doubt, only pure sincerity that made her want to collapse on the spot. Why... why can he say that without the slightest hesitation?
She wanted to scream, to confess everything that she was dirty, despicable, not a pure elf but a half-monster creature. That her hands were stained with blood, that she was part of the darkness that loomed over Orario. She wanted to surrender herself completely to this young man, even if he rejected her; at least the burden would be lifted.
Her steps slowed, then she walked a little ahead. The night wind blew her hood, revealing part of her pale face. Filvis stopped, then slowly turned around. The dim streetlight fell on her trembling eyes, her face tense, holding back something that wanted to burst out.
In a faint voice, almost a whisper, she called. "Shirou..."
That name came out trembling, yet laden with weight, as if it were the key that could unlock all the secrets she had buried deep within. Shirou looked back, waiting—and in that second, the world seemed silent, leaving only the two of them at the crossroads of fate.
Shirou straightened his posture, his eyes looking attentively. He didn't say anything, only giving space and calming silence, as if saying with his silence: I am ready to listen.
"Ac... actually... I..." Filvis's voice trembled, her lips stiff as if forced to open a rusty lock. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear and hope mixed into one.
But before that word could be born, something covered it.
An arm—warm, sturdy, yet also feeling like cold shackles—wrapped around from behind and embraced her shoulder. Filvis's body tensed, her breath caught. She immediately recognized the owner of that arm, even without turning around.
The only one who had ever been willing to accept her, the only place she returned to every time she collapsed.
The god Dionysus.
His blonde hair reflected the dim light like a golden gleam, his handsome face smiled softly, like a fairy tale prince full of compassion. But Filvis knew, behind that lay a deep abyss—an abyss that had bound her since that tragedy.
To Shirou, that smile seemed friendly, full of a calming serenity.
But to Filvis, that smile was a mask that was both frightening and... intoxicating.
"Thank you," Dionysus said in a calm tone, soft like a melody, "for kindly escorting Filvis home."
Shirou nodded awkwardly, confused by the suddenly changed atmosphere. "A-ah... no problem. We just happened to be going the same way..."
Dionysus's embrace tightened. Filvis could feel it—those subtle shackles that she hated, yet also longed for. She knew this wasn't affection. This was merely possession. But... still, her cracked heart was so thirsty for this touch.
Her lips quivered, and her eyes wouldn't dare look at Shirou. "Forget it," she said softly, her voice hoarse like dry leaves blown by the wind. She bowed her head, then let herself be led by the god.
"Filvis..." Shirou murmured, but it only reached his throat.
Filvis's steps followed Dionysus away, each step sounding like chains scraping the floor. In her heart, Filvis screamed—if only I could... if only I dared break free from these chains...—but her voice was choked by the shadow of the god.
And Shirou just stood there, confused, his chest feeling heavy. He knew something was wrong, but didn't know what. All that remained was a question hanging in the night air, unanswered.
***
Filvis stepped slowly into the Dionysus Familia headquarters, the heavy wooden door creaking as if announcing her arrival. Inside, oil lamps hung, casting a dim light that made the room look like a drama stage.
Dionysus was already waiting for her on a plush chair, sitting in a relaxed position, one leg crossed over the other. A half-full bottle of wine was in his hand, his slender fingers elegantly twirling a crystal glass.
"Ah, Filvis..." he said in a dramatic tone, his lips forming an ambiguous smile. "You know, my heart almost broke seeing you walking with another man on such a romantic night." He placed the back of his hand on his forehead, pretending to be stressed, like an actor on stage.
Filvis immediately knelt, her shoulders low, her head bowed deeply. "Forgive me, Lord Dionysus. I... I am ready to accept any punishment."
Dionysus's smile widened, but it wasn't a sweet smile—there was cunning, like a fox seeing its prey come willingly. He stood up, walked towards Filvis with light steps, then crouched down until their faces were level.
"Oh, Filvis..." he whispered, almost like a caress. "Why are you always so hard on yourself?"
Filvis could only bite her lip, unable to answer.
"It's not me who will punish you tonight," Dionysus continued as he stood up again and sipped his wine. "You will be punished by 'yourself.'"
Thump!
Filvis's blood seemed to stop flowing.
"Meet her in the wine storage room," Dionysus ordered lightly, almost as if it were just a casual invitation. "I'm not in the mood to be angry... too busy enjoying my night with alcohol."
He turned around, strolling to his private room, his robe swaying gracefully with his movement.
Filvis gripped her skirt tightly, her nails almost piercing the fabric. She knew who was waiting for her in the wine storage room.
Ein.
The faint shadow of herself that she hated, who reminded her of every stain on her hands.
Her steps were heavy as she stood up. Her chest felt tight, feelings of fear and hatred mixed into one.
But she still walked.
Because this was the deserved punishment for someone like her.
The wine storage room was dark, the smell of alcohol filled the air, and it was only illuminated by one small lantern hanging on the wall. Filvis's shadow lengthened on the floor as she stepped in, and from the corner came the sound of another footstep—a sound she knew all too well.
From the darkness, a figure identical to her stepped out. Long black hair, cold red eyes, and a face not different in the slightest. Only her expression... was different.
Ein stood with her arms folded across her chest, her lips curved in a mocking smile. "Finally came. Had enough, hm? Playing the tragic heroine in front of the homeless, making them believe you're a caring angel?"
Filvis bit her lip, her body trembling slightly. "I... I just wanted—"
"—To atone for your sins?" Ein cut in quickly, her voice like a whip cutting the air. "You think by feeding that widow, by giving fake smiles to children, you can wash the blood from your hands? Have you forgotten how many have died by our hands?"
Filvis took a step back, her heart feeling squeezed. "I... I haven't forgotten them..."
"Hmph!" Ein snorted sharply, stepping forward, closing in until their faces were only inches apart. "You even dare to socialize with them, that stupid elf Lefiya who believes you're her friend... and that wannabe hero with red hair."
The name Shirou made Filvis flinch. She wanted to protest, but Ein beat her to it again.
"You've deceived them all," Ein continued coldly. "You stand beside them pretending to be one of them, while your blood still reeks of the innocent blood. You... disgusting creature."
Filvis gripped her skirt, trying to suppress her anger. "Lefiya... she's not stupid. And Shirou... he's not just a sanctimonious hero. He truly tries to save everyone—even people like us."
"And that makes him more foolish than us," Ein retorted with a short, cynical laugh. "You want to defend them? For what? They are still the enemy. Our enemy. Lord Dionysus's enemy. Or have you forgotten who gave you a place when everyone else drove you away?"
Filvis fell silent. Those words were like a dagger stabbing her chest.
She couldn't refute it.
Because it was true.
And that made her guilt even deeper.
Filvis staggered back, her back hitting a rack full of wine jugs, a clink clink sound heard as several jugs shook. Her voice was almost inaudible as she said, "But... Lord Dionysus... he doesn't even fully trust us. We are just... tools in his hands."
Suddenly, a shout echoed through the room.
"BE GRATEFUL YOU ARE HIS TOOL!" Ein roared, her eyes glowing blood red, her steps heavy as she approached. "Without Lord Dionysus, you wouldn't even be standing here, Filvis! You would be a corpse discarded in the Dungeon, forgotten by everyone!"
Filvis shook her head slowly, tears dripping. "But... if Lefiya knew... if everyone knew..."
"YOU THINK LEFIYA WOULD WANT TO LOOK AT YOU?" Ein screamed, her voice piercing her ears.
Without warning, her body changed—shlrrkkk!—her skin split open, revealing the part she hated. Glossy mucus wet the floor, red tendrils emerged from around her body, small eyes not her own opened on her arms and neck, and a monster face appeared on the side of her cheek, staring at Filvis with a terrifying smile.
"LOOK!" Ein shouted, pointing at her horrifying body. "THIS IS YOU! This is us! Do you think that little elf would still call you 'friend' after seeing this?!"
Filvis stood silent, her body rigid. Her heart beat fast, her breath short.
"She... she would definitely stay away from me..." she whispered.
Ein approached, her smile full of hatred. "Not just stay away, she would be disgusted. Her tears would turn to hatred. She would regret ever calling you her friend."
Filvis bit her lip hard until she tasted blood. "But Shirou..."
That name made Ein pause for a moment, then she laughed coldly. "Shirou? Hah! You even have hopes for him?"
Filvis stared at the floor, her voice trembling. "He... he's different. He said he would save everyone, even—"
"YOU FOOL!" Ein cut in, her voice rising. "Do you know what he would do if he knew? He wouldn't hesitate to draw his sword, just like when he beheaded Valetta! Just like he killed every Evilus he encountered. Do you think he would make an exception for us?"
Filvis held her breath. The image of Shirou with a sword in his hand, his piercing determined gaze, blood dripping from the blade's edge—all flooded her mind. The small hope she had held was instantly extinguished, like a fire doused with water.
Her legs wobbled, and she knelt on the floor, covering her face with both hands. "Why... why did I even hope..." she whispered faintly, her voice broken.
Ein stood over her, her shadow covering Filvis's trembling body. "Because you forgot who you are. I will remind you again and again if necessary. You are not a heroine. You... are a monster. And monsters only have one place."
Filvis bit her lip harder, trying to hold back her scream. In the corner of her heart, her dark love for Dionysus felt like chains tightening around her, binding her to the role she hated but couldn't escape.
Filvis could no longer hold back her scream.
"AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"
The sound bounced off the walls of the wine storage room, echoing wildly, like the lament of a creature half-alive, half-dead. Her body trembled, her shoulders rising and falling, while her hands lifted to her own face.
Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!
Her nails clawed at her pale skin, fresh blood flowed, staining her beautiful face. But the wounds didn't last long—her split skin slowly closed on its own, healing quickly thanks to the monstrous nature she hated. That healing process, which should have been a blessing, instead became torture. The wounds she hoped would punish her just disappeared as if laughing at her despair.
"Why... why can't I even hurt myself... I... I don't even deserve to suffer like others..." Filvis's voice was hoarse, broken between sobs.
Her tears mixed with the remaining blood on her cheeks, falling onto the cold floor. The small tendrils that had emerged from her body writhed restlessly before finally receding, leaving a piercing disgust deep in her soul.
Outside the door, just a few steps from her suffering, a god sat relaxed.
Dionysus, with his neatly groomed blonde hair, leaned against the corridor wall as if listening to beautiful music. His hand held a crystal glass filled with deep red wine, the liquid shimmering under the swaying lantern light.
Sip... he drank slowly, his lips curving into a deceptive thin smile. But behind that smile, there was a flash of madness.
"Ah... such a beautiful crying sound... so bitter, so deep." He whispered to himself, his eyes half-closed, enjoying every scream that escaped Filvis's lips like a musician listening to a perfect note.
His hand rotated slowly, making the wine in the glass swirl, forming a red vortex. He chuckled softly.
"Indeed... alcohol is best enjoyed... with orgia," he said, as if Filvis's suffering was merely a spice that made his wine more enjoyable.
Filvis's struggling screams inside the room became a symphony of despair, while Dionysus sipped his wine calmly, his mad smile widening. For the god, those cries were not a disgrace, but entertainment. A game.
And behind the door, the two sides of Filvis's soul were torn deeper—the woman who wanted redemption, and the monster forced to submit.
"Good, Filvis... keep breaking like that. You're becoming more beautiful."