Rain fell softly that evening.
Fenrik stood under the dim streetlight outside his apartment, letting the drops soak into his clothes. He didn't move. Didn't care.
His mind kept replaying the door.
The feeling.
The certainty that something was pulling him forward whether he wanted it or not.
"Why me…" he whispered.
For the first time since everything began, the strength he carried felt heavy instead of empowering.
"Fenrik."
He turned.
Aoi stood a few steps away, holding an umbrella. Koharu was beside him, arms crossed, eyes sharp—but worried.
"You didn't answer your phone," Aoi said quietly.
Fenrik looked away. "Didn't feel like talking."
Koharu walked closer, rain dripping from her hair. "That's a lie. You always talk. Even when you shouldn't."
Fenrik laughed weakly. "Guess I ran out of words."
Silence settled between them, broken only by rain.
They went up to Fenrik's room.
No lights. Just the faint glow from the city outside the window.
Fenrik sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.
"I saw it again," he said finally. "The door."
Aoi's grip tightened on the umbrella handle. "What kind of door?"
"A door that doesn't ask," Fenrik replied. "It decides."
Koharu frowned. "And?"
"And I'm scared."
The word hung in the air.
Fenrik clenched his fists. "I don't know how to fight something I don't understand. I don't even know what I'm becoming."
Aoi spoke softly. "You're still you."
Fenrik shook his head. "Am I?"
Koharu stepped forward suddenly.
"Look at me."
Fenrik hesitated, then raised his eyes.
"You think strength is about weapons and dungeons," she said. "But strength is choosing to stand when you could run."
She pointed at his chest. "That hasn't changed."
Fenrik swallowed hard.
"I don't want to drag you both into this," he said. "This path… it's dark."
Aoi smiled faintly. "Too late."
Koharu smirked. "We stepped onto it the moment we followed you."
Thunder rolled outside.
Fenrik stood up slowly and walked to the window. His reflection stared back—tired, uncertain, but alive.
"I don't know what's waiting for us," he said. "But I know this—if I stop now, everything I've felt so far means nothing."
Aoi nodded. "Then don't stop."
Koharu placed a hand on Fenrik's shoulder. "Just don't carry it alone."
For the first time in days, Fenrik felt his chest loosen.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But resolve.
That night, as Fenrik lay awake, the warmth returned—not threatening, not demanding.
Steady.
As if the world itself acknowledged his choice.
Somewhere beyond sight, the unseen door creaked just a little wider.
Not because Fenrik was strong.
But because he chose to keep going