Several weeks had drifted by since Leon's last visit to the cemetery, a span of time consumed by duty and responsibility. His life as a mercenary, though grueling and demanding, had granted him a sense of accomplishment. The steady influx of earnings had helped him finally clear his debts—a burden that had loomed over him for years. Yet, amidst the satisfaction of his professional success, there was an undeniable void, one that seemed to grow quieter but never truly disappeared.
It was the weekend, and for the first time in days, the rush of work was absent. No one had hired his services recently, a rarity that he couldn't help but feel a sliver of gratitude for. The reprieve offered him the space to breathe and the chance to honor a day that meant more to him than any job or mission.
Standing before his small, fogged mirror, Leon carefully adjusted his collar, the ritualistic motions grounding him. With deliberate precision, he combed back his hair, his reflection staring back at him, tinged with memories. Today was special. It was her birthday—his late girlfriend, the one who had forever shaped his heart and life. Leon wanted to ensure that hers was the first presence to hear him whisper "Happy birthday," even if it was only to the cold stone that bore her name.
After meticulously checking his appearance one last time, Leon allowed a somber smile to ghost across his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He tore his gaze from the mirror, letting it fall instead to the small red velvet box resting atop the nightstand. The soft light of the room caressed the box's surface, making it appear like an unspoken promise waiting to be fulfilled. Carefully, almost reverently, he picked it up, his fingertips brushing the plush exterior as though touching a memory.
Inside lay something priceless—a token of a promise made during their university days, back when the world seemed so much larger and their futures impossibly bright. It was meant to be a gift for her, a symbol of the life they had dreamed of building together. Yet, fate had denied them that future. But today, he was determined to keep his promise. Even if she could no longer wear it, the gesture would find its way to her in spirit.
With a deep, measured breath, Leon slipped the little box into the inner pocket of his coat, patting it lightly to make sure it was secure. Turning on his heel, he left the quiet sanctuary of his apartment, locking the door behind him with a soft click. The world outside felt heavier, as if it shared in the weight of his emotions.
Liebe... The name echoed in his mind, tender and bittersweet. I'm finally going to say the things I never could. His lips curled into a faint, wistful smile as he descended the stairs. His steps held a curious rhythm—a mix of apprehension and quiet excitement, both opposing forces churning within him. For once, the silence of the day felt less like an absence and more like a companion, as though the universe itself was holding its breath, waiting with him.
As Leon wove through the thrumming heart of the city, the cacophony of voices and the vibrant swirl of life surrounded him. The streets were alive with the laughter of children and the chatter of families enjoying their Saturday reprieve, yet he felt an urgency pulling at him. Ahead, the silhouette of the cemetery emerged, its solemn gates beckoning him like a lighthouse in a storm. A flicker of determination ignited in his chest; today was special, a day he had long awaited. He needed to be the first to greet her, to whisper "Happy Birthday" and present the small velvet box that held not just a ring, but a promise.
With each step, he pushed through the throngs of people, narrowly avoiding collisions, his heart racing with anticipation. Finally, he broke free from the crowd, standing before the cemetery gates. A momentary sigh of relief escaped him, and a smile crept onto his lips, brightening his weary face. But the tranquility shattered as a deafening screech pierced the air, yanking his attention to the road.
Turning sharply, he saw a truck careening wildly, tires screeching against the asphalt. The driver's face was a mask of panic, hands gripping the steering wheel as he fought against the vehicle's erratic movements. One tire spun furiously, leaving a trail of rubber and chaos in its wake.
In that instant, Leon's gaze fell upon a young boy, frozen in the middle of the road, eyes wide and unseeing as the truck bore down on him. The frantic cries of bystanders filled the air, voices rising in a crescendo of terror, urging the child to flee. But the boy stood paralyzed, caught in a web of fear.
Panic surged through Leon's veins, drowning out the rational voice in his head. He knew he should stay out of it, yet an overwhelming sense of duty compelled him to act. With a deep breath, he sprinted toward the child, the world around him blurring as adrenaline surged. He reached out, pushing the boy out of harm's way just as the truck closed in.
In that heart-stopping moment, Leon turned to face the oncoming vehicle. The blaring horn filled his ears, a deafening warning that reverberated through his soul. Time slowed as the truck loomed closer, its grill a menacing wall of metal. He braced himself for impact, heart pounding in his chest.
The collision was a nightmarish symphony of crunching metal and shattering glass. Leon's body was thrown with brutal force, his limbs contorting at grotesque angles as he hit the ground. His skin tore like paper, exposing raw, bloody flesh and glistening bone. A sickening crack echoed as his femur shattered, the jagged end piercing through his thigh. Blood sprayed in an arc, painting the asphalt with a gruesome, crimson pattern.
As the truck screeched to a halt, a stunned silence fell over the crowd. Leon lay in a broken, twisted heap, his body a grotesque tableau of mangled flesh and protruding bones. His face was a mask of agony, eyes wide with shock and pain. Blood gushed from a deep gash across his chest, pooling around him like a macabre halo. His fingers twitched spasmodically, reaching for the small red velvet box that had been flung from his pocket, now lying a few feet away.
With a gargled gasp, Leon tried to speak, but only a gurgle of blood escaped his lips. He dragged his shattered body toward the box, the asphalt tearing at his exposed flesh, leaving a trail of blood and gore. His vision swam, the edges blurring into a kaleidoscope of darkness and pain. With trembling, blood-slicked fingers, he finally grasped the box, his knuckles white with effort.
"N-no..." he stammered, his voice a broken, ragged whisper. Inside the box, the ring glinted dully, a symbol of dreams now tainted by the stark reality of his demise. He grasped it with a final, desperate strength, the metal biting into his bloodied fingers.
"I need to see her," he rasped, each word a struggle as life slipped away, leaving him in a pool of his own blood. His lungs filled with fluid, each breath a labored, wet sound. The whispers of onlookers faded into a distant, muffled murmur, their faces blurring into a sea of horror and disgust.
His eyelids fluttered, heavy and unresponsive. The world dimmed, the only thing anchoring him to consciousness the echo of her name in his mind: "Asta..."
And then, with a final, shuddering breath, Leon surrendered to the darkness, his body going limp as the last vestiges of life slipped away. The memory of her smile lingered in the silence.