A darkness spreads across the entire world.
No matter whether Wunder or human, the moon shines for all of them, and the stars still glitter.
And the silence endures.
Even as I toss and turn.
Even as I dream.
Even as I hear it again.
"What would you do..."
That voice.
"...if the world finally became a peaceful place?"
That nostalgic tone, that missing memory. That feeling that someone has taken something precious from me—something I should never have lost.
"I would explore the world. I'd travel to every corner of it—maybe even search for its end."
Once more, she appears beside me. Once more, she seems to drift away in her thoughts—filled with feelings, memories, with things that should feel foreign and yet sound so familiar.
"That would be my dream."
Again, I'm surrounded by cold flames, shattered furniture, crackling boards, and a closed door.
"And maybe, one day, we could together—"
The voice falls silent. The figure vanishes. The fire freezes in place—as though time itself has stopped.
Then come the footsteps beyond the closed door.
Unclear voices push through.
The click of weapons being readied echoes through the walls.
Brakes screech somewhere along an unseen horizon.
A knocking shakes the burning wood—
And I jolt awake.
Drenched in sweat, gasping for air, terrified.
A fear without a source.
A fear I cannot explain.
A fear that makes my hands tremble, my eyes well up, my insides twist in on themselves—until nausea rises within me.
I could vomit, just to purge it all at once—but I hold back and swallow it down, pressing a trembling hand to my lips.
At first it burns—I can almost feel the acid eating through my throat.
Then I breathe. I steady myself.
The shaking fades, the sweat dries, my vision clears—
And I realize.
I'm lying in the middle of my room, in my bed.
But my day didn't end here.
Slowly, the memories return.
Memories of my task.
The pain, the abyss, and what came after.
How I kept my inner flow steady, how I reached dinner with glowing violet eyes.
How Shato praised me.
How Daclan smirked.
How Zane served the food.
And how suddenly, my heart stopped and in the very next instant...
Nothing.
I can't remember anything beyond that—only that I woke up here, now.
As if everything before had simply vanished.
Or had never even happened.
But since I don't remember, it hardly matters.
Something must have happened, I'll just ask Shato later, I think, letting my gaze wander along the dim outlines of my furniture.
It's dark. The window's open, and the moonlight spills across my door, lighting my way.
I push the thin sheet aside.
Get up.
And start moving.
My mouth is dry, the sound of my own smacking unbearable, as I push the door open and step out into the still darker hallway.
The kitchen is below me—one floor down. That's where the drinks are, stored in little plastic bottles we practically hoard.
But all that knowledge is useless if I just keep standing here in the upstairs hallway, so I follow the creaking floorboards toward the stairs.
Here and there, I pass an open door; now and then, a snore echoes through the corridors.
Sometimes I glance into the rooms—maybe because, somewhere deep down, I'm worried, and seeing them there gives me a sense of safety.
They're all still here, lying in their beds, so many of them crammed into a single room.
We live close together; it's not uncommon for the Wunder we take in to share a room, even if they're strangers. Up to eight rusty beds stand in one space, and sometimes there are layers of sheets on the floor where some adult is trying to get a bit of sleep, without breaking his back in the process.
Still, it's better than spending the night outside, where APH soldiers patrol and your survival is anything but certain. You learn to endure a bit of pain in exchange.
A lesser evil, I think.
I think it, because I can't truly understand it.
I live in comfort.
I have my own room, and unlike most Wunder, I don't plan on leaving.
I'm not trying to flee the city, nor do I want to run to the safety of the Wunder Coalitions—like so many who are tired of hiding and fighting.
On the contrary, I stay.
I help those who want to escape but can't do it alone.
I keep them safe, together with the Five Aces, and try to bring some justice into this lawless world.
That's what I've assigned myself to do.
And it's also why I turned down Shato's offer back then.
Why I'm still here now, walking across the groaning planks—until I reach one last door, right before the stairs.
Nothing special, really.
Something completely ordinary.
Something I shouldn't even have noticed.
But it's open—just a crack.
Maybe that's exactly what makes me suspicious.
As I step closer, press my ear toward the gap and hear whispers.
Something I was never meant to hear.
A stupid, random accident—and yet here I am, standing right in front of this door.
"You're making yourself way too dependent on the kid. Every decision, every move, every emotion—you let all of it be influenced by a child you then drag along on a deadly mission, putting not just your own life and his on the line, but ours too."
That voice—I know it. Even among a hundred people, I'd recognize Daclan's calm but deep, warm tone.
"You all... feel the same way?"
Sad and shaken. Deep, but kind. Definitely Shato.
But why does he sound so... defeated?
Listening isn't enough, so I risk a glance, careful not to touch the door.
I make sure, and I see him: Shato, in that same black coat he wore yesterday.
And the day before.
And the day before that.
Actually, Shato never wears anything else.
"To put it simply, Shato, I think you've lost the qualities of a good leader."
Serious, confident, yet uncertain—Rin, the one who would once have followed Shato blindly, speaks words of doubt.
I rub my eyes. It feels surreal, so I look again—and again I see it. Nothing has changed. I rub them once more, try again, even a fourth time. But they won't disappear. I'm not imagining this.
Which only makes it worse.
"But the boy has to gain experience somehow. Otherwise, he'll never learn to survive in this world."
Shato defends himself—defends me—and suddenly I understand. I exhale in relief.
This isn't really about him. Not primarily.
It's about me. Again.
"And there it is—the boy. Don't you see how much he's changed you? How he clouds your judgment? I can't shake the feeling that you'd risk everything for him now. Your own people. Innocent Wunder who have nothing to do with any of this. Maybe even the planet itself."
Daclan's deep, steady voice states his facts as if in some casual debate. Facts that stir up questions and emotions in my mind, leaving chaos behind.
But Shato had said it.
He said it just yesterday.
Yesterday, on the rooftop.
"Are you not even going to deny it? Shato, please. You can't be serious."
Disappointment thickens the air—a disappointment born from Rin, after Shato falls silent. No sound escapes him.
But he said it yesterday. He meant it.
I was so sure.
I had hoped so much.
I thought it was the truth.
Maybe I was just being naïve—
Naïve to think they could forgive me, that anyone could still show me mercy.
"If you really think that way, and you won't change your mind, then Shato... I think, I won't be able to follow you anymore. I assume the others feel the same?"
Yes. I was naïve.
Of course they wouldn't understand.
Of course they wouldn't see things the way Shato does.
That's what makes Shato Shato.
That's why Rin isn't Shato.
That's why Rin can say things like that.
"If that's really what you want, I won't stop you," Shato says quietly. "It's always been your choice. But Vio... I just want him to have a happy future. That's all I ever wanted. I thought maybe... maybe you could understand that."
And now he gives in?
Shato yields—
as if his words from yesterday meant nothing,
as if he had only lied to me...
so I'd feel safe.
How naïve I am.
"The old Shato wouldn't have said that," Daclan mutters. "He wouldn't have given in so easily. He would've put us in our place, shown us how foolish we are, and then fed us his idealistic worldview. But instead... that kid really has changed you."
A tremor runs through my body, uncertainty spreading inside me. I hadn't expected Talan to be here—the one who can sense even the faintest electrical impulses. Mine included. That's why the unease crawls up into my head. Has he noticed me already? Do they know I'm listening? Should I run? But they haven't done anything yet. Maybe he's not focusing? Maybe they really don't know.
"The old Shato…"
With a sigh, heavy and full of regret, Shato repeats his teammate's words. Trembling and strangely nervous, I decide to stay—after all, he would've already found me if he wanted to. And curiosity outweighs my fear.
"The old Shato was the worst. The old Shato had a narrow view of the world, was selfish, couldn't tell good people from bad. The old Shato caused more suffering than you could ever imagine. You would never want that Shato back. Vio may have changed the way I see many things, but precisely because of the old Shato, I owe him something. Even if it means my end. Even if it means the end of us Wunder. That's something I… owe this world."
Finally, he's defending himself. Now they'll understand. It's fine—they're the Five Aces, they argue all the time. In the end, they'll come back together. In the end, they'll understand one another and solve the problem side by side. That's how it always is. That's how it's always been. I know that. It'll be the same this time. It has to be.
"But the old Shato was my hero. The idol I looked up to. The reason I even became one of the Five Aces. If that Shato doesn't exist anymore, then… there's no reason for me to stay."
What? But Shato told you, didn't he? He explained it, you talked it through. You're literally talking right now, so why are you saying something so stupid, Talan? That makes no sense at all.
"Shato… that boy will be your downfall. Why won't that just get through your head? I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose the Five Aces either—damn it, you're my life, the reason I exist! But the way you're acting, you're leaving us no choice! Please, think it over again. I'm not saying he shouldn't live. But there's simply no place for a little kid among the Five Aces."
No… place? Have I really brought that much chaos into your lives? But you all looked so happy. When we dressed up together, when we exchanged gifts, when we ate cake like it was a competition, when we couldn't even get out of bed the next day. Did you do all that just because you pitied me? Because I have no one left in my life? Because I'm… a child?
"Sigh… I think it'd be best if we kept some distance for now. We all need a break, and when you're finally able to think clearly again, Shato, we can talk. But no matter how much he means to you—none of us are willing to die for him. Not one of us."
Everything collapses. Here and now.
Even though they're still talking.
Even though this problem should never have existed.
Even though Shato said—
Even though I trusted him.
I believed him. I really thought, just for a moment, that it was okay for me to be a burden.
But that was naïve.
They never had room for someone like me.
They never understood a child.
They never had patience for a hindrance.
And now?
Now I've done it, Shato.
I've finally destroyed it.
Everything you built.
Everything you fought so hard for.
I ruined it—so easily. Effortlessly.
With my mere presence alone.
I hope you're proud of me.
I hope… I was a good obstacle.
"We'll be going then, Shato. Once you've pulled yourself together, you know where to find us," Rin says — sad, but somehow relieved to finally have lifted that weight off her shoulders.
"For once, I actually agree with Rin," Talan adds — without remorse, without hesitation. That's just how he is.
"Huh? 'For once'—oh, whatever," Rin mutters, stopping herself. Now's not the time for that.
"Please, just think it over again," Daclan chimes in — he always has to get the last word.
And so, they leave. Rin is the first to reach the door. She places her hand gently on the wood, pushes it open just a little, and pauses for a moment when she notices the small wet spots on the floor — evaporated droplets, inside a covered space, with no sign of anyone or anything that could have caused them.
Because there's no one left standing in the hallway.
Maybe there never was. None of the three can say for sure — nor can the ones left behind. Neither the silent Zane nor the defeated Shato.
"Won't you go after them?"
Shato's voice is hollow, drained, exhausted. He's beyond caring — even his tone clings to a flat monotony.
"No interest," Zane replies instantly.
"Do you think I'm risking too much for him?"
Shato is searching — for understanding, for even a flicker of hope — as he stares at the last remaining soul in the room.
Without really looking at him.
"I have someone I need to protect, too. Even if it meant sacrificing the world. So no… I think the exact opposite," Zane answers softly.
"The opposite? You mean… I haven't sacrificed enough?"
Shato's confusion lingers in his eyes as he studies Zane's sharp features and high collar.
"You can never sacrifice enough for the ones you love. But you've known me long enough to understand why," Zane says, his expression unchanging.
"Heh… you're probably right. We've known each other far too long."
Shato tries to laugh — to hide the sadness behind a facade.
But it comes out more painful than real.
"Shato, in the end, you're the one who'll have to live with your choice. No matter what anyone tells you — only you will face the consequences. And only you will ask yourself, Did I spend enough time with her? Did I love her honestly? Did she have a good life? Could I have done something differently? Could I have saved her? You'll ask yourself what ifs and buts — and still, you'll have to live with it. Because no matter how many questions you ask, she won't come back. No matter how deeply you regret it. In the end, the only thing that matters is what you did. That's why the only thing that counts is making sure you have no regrets in the end."
"Pah," Shato scoffs at the long speech. "Who would've thought that someone my age would get lectured again?"
"Well, you never stop learning," Zane replies with a shrug.
"How right you are."
Shato smiles — partly because it all seems so absurd. A bit surreal, maybe, but perhaps this kind of nonsense was exactly what he needed right now. He exhales, blinks, turns slightly away.
"Shato," Zane interrupts, prompting him to glance back over his shoulder.
"Since you'll probably have a lot more on your plate in the near future, I thought I might borrow the boy from time to time. You know, to take a bit of the load off you," Zane suggests.
Shato pauses, eyes drifting back, thinking — reluctant at first, then letting out a quiet sigh. He doesn't want to impose. But Zane is right. Right about everything, even this. So Shato nods, finally turning back with a faint, genuine smile.
"Thank you, old friend."
"Drop the old," Zane replies as he walks past him.
"Words like that don't suit you," he adds before leaving the room — leaving behind a faint smile on Shato's lips.
And then he, too, leaves everything behind.
Everything he built.
Everything I shattered to pieces.
But why?
Why is he willing to accept all this?
A question I have no answer for.
A question not even time itself could explain — if even he knows the answer. Maybe there isn't one.
Maybe I just overthink things — I do that a lot, and gladly. Even tonight, until my tired eyes finally drag me into sleep.
So I can process.
Process what happened.
A solution — that's something I'm always chasing.
Like a personal motto.
Even if it's not the right answer.
A solution is still a solution — temporary, fleeting, just as solutions tend to be.
But that's enough for me.
Enough to carry me into the next day.
Because it's something I can live with, for now.
Something naive that keeps me moving — forward, through that door in our basement.
Forward, into the wide, dimly lit hall with its dull, cold floor.