"I'll tell you everything, please just don't kill me!" The hawk-nosed boy kept pushing his head down to the ground repeatedly, his forehead scraping against ash and broken stone.
Lucid just stood over him, expression blank.
"Oh, relax. I won't kill you." His voice was flat, almost bored. "Unless you turn out to be dumb like your colleague."
He crouched down beside the boy, almost taunting him in an exaggerated tone. "Can you believe it? Let her go two times. Two. Times."
Ayame watched, her expression one of silence. She did not particularly show any emotion, rarely did. She never showed any. Her dark eyes tracked every movement, calculating, cold.
She approached Lucid slowly, her bare feet crunching on the debris.
"He is of no use," she said, voice clipped and direct.
"I know the way to the tree of agony."
She stated the words as obvious truth. She was the one who had worked with the organization, the one who had helped plot this in some twisted way. Lucid did not doubt her in any capacity. But at the same time, letting this person off the hook seemed like it was not the wisest decision.
Lucid weighed his options, managing a faint sigh.
"Get out of my sight before I decide otherwise."
The simplest option was to kill him. Get rid of him. Silence him permanently. But why was that always the case? To kill or be killed, when none of them wanted one or the other. He had decided that he had seen too much blood, too much unnecessary death.
The guilt at his conscience finally settled, heavy as iron.
Guilt.
He held his head, gripping it with his left hand.
A brief expression of relief crossed his face as a sinking feeling weighed down on his heart like an anchor dragging him under. He could not control it. He thought back to all of the people he had killed ever since arriving here. Every face. Every scream. Every moment when the light left their eyes.
A tear broke free from his right eye, visible, tracing a path down his cheek. Ayame noticed and turned toward him, her face shifting to curiosity.
"What is it?" she asked, tone sharp but not unkind.
Lucid turned, meeting her gaze. His jaw clenched. His throat worked.
He exhaled, the sound caught between happiness, relief, and sadness. "I feel guilty."
He rubbed his eyes roughly, trying to stop the tears that would not stop coming. He could not control all of the impactful moments that happened. It was all of the pent-up emotional distress, numbed by her for so long, finally resurfacing now that she did not actively try to suppress them. Since it seemed like she was gone. Since Alice was gone.
Ayame stood there, looking at his broken state. His pitiful emotional display. She said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched.
Finally, he walked forward, boots heavy against scorched ground.
"But I don't regret a single one," he sniffed, voice cracking. "I don't regret a single thing."
She followed, looking at him, observing him like a specimen under glass. She did not know what he was going on about. Maybe this whole ordeal was starting to get to him. But even so, that did not concern her. What mattered was if he could prove to her that he could act different before she saved him. Before she made her choice.
As they walked through the narrow burning archives, they could hear tremors. Shakes. The very place seemed to groan and act as if there was a disturbance in the rift itself. Flames licked at broken shelves, casting long shadows that danced across the walls.
Ayame closed the distance between them suddenly, her hand reaching out. She stepped closer, fingers tracing his collar before gripping his throat gently, not choking but holding. Possessive. Her dark eyes searched his face.
"Just say the word," she whispered, voice low and charged with something dangerous. "And we can leave this world behind. Together. Right now."
A single tear slipped down Lucid's chin and dropped onto Ayame's hand. Her face lit up with surprise, eyes widening slightly. She looked at him, really looked at him, as if seeing something she had not expected.
Lucid saw her observing him. He had a single thought in mind.
'I look weak. I look pathetic in front of her. She wants to decide my fate for me. This moment of weakness reinforces that thought in her mind. That I need saving. That I cannot stand on my own.'
He thought grimly.
'And if that is so, then she is right.'
He tried to steer this conversation, stepping back from her grip. Her hand fell away slowly, reluctantly.
"What do you think of him?" Lucid asked, voice rougher than he intended. "Frederick."
Ayame tilted her head slightly, expression unreadable.
"That friend of yours?" She paused, considering. "Strong. Skilled. Calm. Why?"
"His plan," Lucid continued, forcing his voice steady. "When he plans on seeing the princess. All he needs is direct, full contact with her. That is what he said, right?"
Ayame listened, her eyes never leaving his face. She nodded once, slowly.
Lucid turned away from her, staring into the burning distance. The flames reflected in his eyes, making them look hollow. Empty.
Ayame hesitated. Her hand rose, reaching toward his shoulder, his hand, something to bridge the distance growing between them. But she faltered. Her fingers curled into a fist. She decided to withdraw from that impulse, letting her hand fall back to her side.
He does not want me to touch him right now. He is pulling away. 'Why? Because I offered to save him? Because I saw him cry?'
She watched his back, the way his shoulders were rigid, tense. 'The way he held himself like he was made of glass about to shatter.'
'Or is it because he knows what I want from him? What I have always wanted?'
Lucid spoke again, voice quiet. "Do you think he can do it? Save her?"
"Does it matter?" Ayame replied, her tone blunt. "You are not doing this for her. You are doing this because you need something to fight for. Something to justify all of this."
Her words cut through the air like a blade.
Lucid said nothing. Because she was right. And they both knew it.
They continued walking through the archives, the distance between them growing with every step despite walking side by side. The tremors grew stronger. The rift pulsed in the distance, a wound in reality that bled purple light into the burning darkness.
Ayame's hand twitched at her side. She wanted to reach for him. Wanted to grab him and force him to look at her, to see her, to acknowledge what was between them. This charged, dangerous thing that neither of them would name.
But she did not. She kept walking. Kept watching him from the corner of her eye.
Just say the word, she had told him. And we can leave this world behind.
But he had not said it. He had pulled away instead. And that told her everything she needed to know.
Lucid walked ahead, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides. He could feel her eyes on him. Could feel the weight of her longing, her possession, her dangerous need for him to need her back.
I cannot let her save me. Cannot let her decide my fate. Cannot let this weakness define me.
He thought of Alice. Of the chains. Of the manipulation. Of love twisted into control.
I will not be controlled again. Not by her. Not by anyone.
But even as he thought it, another tear slipped down his cheek. Because he was tired. So tired of fighting. Of carrying this weight alone.
And maybe, just maybe, part of him wanted to say the word. Wanted to let her take him away from all of this. Wanted to stop fighting and just let someone else carry the burden for once.
But he did not. He kept walking. Kept his back to her. Kept the distance growing.
Behind him, Ayame's expression shifted. Something like hurt flickered across her face before she buried it beneath her usual mask of cold indifference.
'Very well...' she thought, watching him. But I will wait. I have waited this long.
The tremors grew stronger. The rift pulsed like a heartbeat, louder, faster, more urgent.
They were running out of time.
And neither of them knew if they would make it out of this alive.
But they kept walking anyway. Together. Apart. Bound by something neither could name and neither could escape.