As they walked back toward Samael's house, the sky was already beginning to darken.
The city remained alive.
Noisy.
Indifferent.
Elizabeth carried Lord Fool in her arms with far more ease now. The kitten stretched lazily, tiny paws opening and closing in the air before settling comfortably against her chest.
She stroked him absentmindedly.
As if she were already used to it.
"What do you think about the other government members?" she suddenly asked.
Samael blinked.
"I don't know… I guess it depends."
"Depends?" She tilted her head slightly.
"Each of them gave off a different impression."
He looked thoughtful.
"That Master Yuji seems responsible. And strong."
Elizabeth stayed silent.
"But that Kafka guy…" Samael made a faint grimace. "He doesn't seem trustworthy. He was distracted during the meeting."
"I think the same," Elizabeth said. "The only difference is that I don't think Master Yuji is trustworthy at all."
Samael looked at her, surprised.
"Why?"
"He passed the Second Nightmare."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"And no one knows what he did there."
Silence.
The wind slipped between the buildings.
"And the other two?" Elizabeth asked.
Samael took longer to answer this time.
The lightness from earlier faded from his face.
It became… uneasy.
"I didn't like them."
Simple.
Direct.
"Why?"
He hesitated.
"I can't explain it…"
From the moment he stepped into that room, he had felt something strange.
It wasn't hostility.
It wasn't fear.
It was… familiarity.
And that unsettled him more than any direct threat.
"There was something about them," he murmured. "Something that reminded me… of myself."
Elizabeth watched him carefully.
Samael hated judging people without knowing them.
But for some reason, he couldn't help it.
The image resurfaced in his mind.
The black-haired boy.
Empty eyes.
Expressionless.
And the girl.
White hair.
A blindfold covering her eyes.
Straight posture.
Too silent.
Samael's pace slowed without him noticing.
I wonder what their First Nightmare was like…
The wind turned colder.
And for a moment, the world felt distant.
As if that question had pierced through the present.
…
Years ago
A small house.
Simple.
But tidy.
The faint smell of old cooking clung to the walls.
And something else.
Warmth.
A little girl with long, straight brown hair reaching the middle of her back walked down the hallway, clutching a slightly worn white teddy bear.
She was six years old.
Maybe almost seven.
Her appearance was ordinary.
Perhaps slightly above average.
But nothing extraordinary.
She wore a simple white dress.
She was alone at home.
Her parents worked all day.
The family didn't have much.
She was used to silence.
Used to absence.
Until—
Her stomach growled.
She placed a small hand over it.
I'm hungry… has Mom come back yet?
The question existed only in her thoughts.
She walked into the kitchen.
It was small.
The cabinets were organized.
But nearly empty.
Today was supposed to be special.
It was her seventh birthday.
That morning, her parents had woken her up with simple balloons and a small cake.
They remembered.
Even though they were tired.
Even though they were late for work.
She had smiled then.
But afterward, she was alone again.
She could have gone out to play with friends.
But it was late.
And she didn't like when people asked:
"Your parents aren't home yet?"
She opened the cabinets.
Packages.
Ingredients.
Things that needed to be cooked.
She wasn't old enough to use the stove.
She searched.
And searched more.
Until she found a pack of cookies.
A quiet smile touched her lips.
She sat at the table and began eating slowly.
As if trying to make them last.
Then—
BOOM!
A loud crash echoed from outside.
She flinched.
Her heart raced.
But she quickly realized.
Rain.
It had started pouring.
Hard.
Very hard.
She went upstairs to her room.
Sat beside the window.
The lights were off.
But lightning illuminated the room from time to time.
Some children were afraid of storms.
She wasn't.
She liked them.
The rain made enough noise to fill the house.
It made it feel like she wasn't alone.
It was company.
Constant.
Present.
She pressed her forehead against the glass.
Watching water slide down.
Washing the world.
Silent.
She stayed there for a long time.
Until, without realizing…
She fell asleep.
The rain eventually stopped.
But she remained asleep, sitting by the window.
…
The bedroom door opened.
Slowly.
Without a sound.
Her mother stepped inside.
She also had brown hair.
A tired face.
But gentle.
She walked to her daughter.
Carefully lifted her into her arms.
Laid her on the bed.
Covered her with a blanket.
Brushed a strand of hair behind the girl's ear.
And smiled.
"Happy birthday, my baby…" she whispered.
The girl didn't answer.
She was still asleep.
But for a brief second—
Her eyes moved beneath her closed lids.
As if she were dreaming.