Ashwathama's deep voice broke the silence.
"Help him calm down."
Rina frowned. "Why me? Why should I be the one to help him?"
Her tone was sharp, defensive at first — but the echo of her own words stirred something she couldn't ignore.
"Why should we even save him?" she asked again, quieter this time. "You say he's important… but you're hiding something, aren't you?"
Ashwathama didn't blink.
"Rina," he said, calm but edged like steel, "you shouldn't ask questions you're not ready to understand."
Something in his voice — the weight of it, the certainty — struck her like cold wind. She stood frozen, then slowly lowered her head.
"…Understood," she whispered.
She turned away and walked toward the room where Bhagya was. Her steps were reluctant at first, but each one grew steadier, as though something unseen was pulling her forward.
Above, Ashwathama's divine eyes glimmered, watching everything unfold.
As Rina entered, the dim light cast her shadow across Bhagya's trembling figure. A familiar ache rose in her chest. Painful memories surfaced — ones she wished she had buried.
It feels like I've known him for a long time, she thought. I just need to calm him down enough to say I tried… then Father can't blame me if he doesn't recover.
Her lips curled. Disgusting. How can someone be so weak? I hate these kinds of people. But… I have to obey Father.
With stiff arms, she bent down and wrapped them around Bhagya. At first, it was nothing but obedience, an empty gesture. Yet to anyone watching, it looked genuine — too genuine.
The air in the room thickened. Contradictory energies swirled around them: pride clawing against humility, anger sparking beside kindness, sorrow bleeding into fleeting joy. Sins and virtues clashed in silence, as if the world itself was unsure what this moment meant.
Far away, an eye opened. Ashwathama's gaze deepened, and he let out a quiet breath.
"She did what I wanted."
Bhagya cried into Rina's arms. Slowly, his sobs weakened, as if her aura itself seeped into him. His breathing steadied, eyelids heavy, until at last, he drifted into sleep.
When he woke, his clothes were no longer the futuristic garb of the Non-Corruptors. Instead, he wore a dull brown overcoat over a red shirt and grayish sweater, the colors muddy and lifeless.
He rubbed his eyes.
"Huh? How are my clothes changed?"
His gaze turned to his hands, then his body — as though he were inspecting a stranger's form. Then the flood began.
Memories. But not his.
"I told you not to go there now. It's because of you I am alone; I will never forgive you ever," said a young boy while crying.
"Brother, never leave me alone, ok?"
"Is it important for you to go outside? You should take care of your child," spoken by a lady somewhat known to him, but her characteristics were rather changed from when he remembered her last time.
In the path of blurry memories, he saw a child who was asking him to play with him.
"Ok! Bhagya, if you want so much, we can play, but only for a short time," spoke Vishnu.
"Huh? These are memories of Father?" asked Bhagya to himself.
"If these are memories of Father, he didn't tell me about any of his brothers. He always told me that he was the only child in his family. What is going on? My head is flooded with memories… aah, it hurts! What should I do? Ahh, it hurts more and more every second!"
A whisper slithered through the chaos in his head: I have to keep my calm and carry on.
A single tear fell from his eye, glittering like a jewel.
Bhagya curled in on himself, resting his head against his knees.
"Mom, Father… how could you both leave me alone? I don't even know what is going on anymore. I'm scared. I'm so scared. It feels like I'm trapped in a loop of sorrow."
His sobs shook him.
"I want to run away. I want to live with Father and Mom again. Why does it always happen to me? What did I do wrong? Was I not a good child? Why does this world hate me so much?"
He clutched his head tighter.
"I can't sit here like this. If Father were here, he would have learned from this. He would have adapted. But he's not alive."
His voice cracked.
"What am I supposed to do? Is there no one I can ask what is happening? …No. There's only one man who can answer these questions. Only that man."
Bhagya rose from the bed. The weakness in his body was drowned by the fire in his eyes — a rage molten and merciless, like lava erupting from his soul.
"I will not let him slide away with this. It's all his fault."
The looper of sorrow finally confronts looper of immorality.