Yuri wakes up in the comfort of his bedroom. The light filters in through the burgundy velvet curtain, softly glowing like a gentle caress of the mother whose face he never knew. A sluggish feeling overwhelms his senses. His throat is burning with a scorching thirst. His fingers are boneless and feverish at the tips. He wants to call for someone – anyone – but no name comes to mind.
Zephariel? He wonders if the man is safe. Yoru? That person only cares about the existence within him.
Yuri stares at the cobalt silk drapery on the bed frame. There's no one else. What can he do now to reach the ending he desires? Are their death meaningless after all? Nacht, Lola, the twins, Frau Henrietta – they perished without a whisper. His cheeks grow wet. The tears keep falling without restraint. So much for believing that humans are good at heart.
"Nacht..." Yuri calls the familiar name in the dark, making the soft footfalls on the carpet halt in their track.
"You still remember that boy?"
