He was alone.
Simply — alone.
No "almost," no "temporarily." Complete solitude.
No friends. No companions. No random passersby to mistake for company.
Just silence, undisturbed by anyone.
The pain lodged in his chest wanted to break free — but remained there. Somewhere deep inside. Motionless. Lurking. He didn't release it. And he had no intention to.
He chose silence.
It happens like this — when there's no one around. No loved one, no friend. Just — no one.
This is the usual state for closed-off people. The kind who say, "everything's fine"— while everything crumbles.
They say people are born open.
Perhaps that's what they call freedom.
When you speak about everything. When you don't hide, don't hesitate, don't filter. When you pour it all out — whether it's about today or last year's pain.
Freedom of feelings. Freedom of words. Freedom to be yourself.
But everything changes when you encounter others. Not "bad" ones, not "enemies." Just — people. Harsh ones. Unkind ones. Or indifferent ones.
After all, not all people are perfect.
Or rather — no one is.
But some know how to admit fault, apologize, understand. And some — don't.
That's the only difference.
If you're unlucky — you shut down. Not because you want to. But because it's safer that way.
Some never change. Never listen. Never feel. And unfortunately, there are many like that. You're among them — as if trapped inside a wall.
And then you're alone.
Right now, Enua — was in that state. Utterly alone.
And it doesn't matter who you are — human or something more. Even gods feel loneliness. Especially when there's no one to hear them.
I knew little about his past. Only — that war. The one against Yahweh and the others.
But now, he wasn't a warrior. Not a god. Just someone in pain.
He didn't speak of it. And not because he didn't want to. But because — there was no one to.
He didn't even notice I was in the room.
Had it really gone that far?
One thought was clear: perhaps right now — I was the only one who could help him.
He turned. And I saw emptiness in his eyes. Direct. Unblinking.
— I'm sorry… I've been acting so foolishly all this time, it's my mistake.
— I should've realized how hard it is for you to be alone right now, and I wasn't even here.
— Don't blame yourself, this isn't your problem, only mine.
— I know you tried everything to prove my innocence to the others and kept losing, but you fought till the end.
— I truly appreciate it. Even though we never knew each other in life, you're the only one whose presence ever felt… pleasant.
— That feeling was incomparable. I've never experienced anything like it, and it's all because of you, Aragi… you're an incredible person…
Something tightened inside me.
Why was he speaking as if I'd been there?
I hadn't.
But still — this wasn't my pain.
His pain — was greater. Deeper. Heavier.
He had lived long before anything I could imagine.
— What are you talking about… I was never there when you needed me most. How could I have given you that feeling?
— I only tried to convince the others you were right, but failed every time.
— How could I have ever been any use to you?!
I told him everything I felt.
Admitted it — even to myself.
I — am a failure.
How many lives have I saved?
The question hung in my mind. The answer was silence.
A girl surfaced in my memory.
She always saved me.
Always stood by me. Wherever I was. Always — with an outstretched hand.
I could rely on her.
But could she — rely on me?
We went through so much. But I couldn't protect her.
She died. In my arms.
I remember her gaze. And her last words:
*"I love you."*
A confession. Before death. And even then — I didn't answer.
Does that make me a monster?
I don't know.
I don't know anything anymore.
When I snapped out of those thoughts — he was gone.
And I remembered.
I had wanted to ask…
Was he involved in the library killings?