"Who are you?"
The question lingered in the air.
Simple.
Direct.
Dangerous.
Haruto looked at Abel.
The boy waited patiently.
Not because he was polite.
Because he genuinely wanted an answer.
The difference was important.
Most people asked questions because they wanted conversation.
Abel asked questions because he wanted information.
Haruto wasn't sure which was more frightening.
"...Haruto."
Abel blinked.
"That's your name."
"Yes."
"I asked who you are."
Haruto immediately understood why Elias looked tired all the time.
The bookseller groaned.
Belial laughed.
"NOW YOU UNDERSTAND."
Abel looked confused.
"I don't believe I said anything unreasonable."
"You rarely do," Elias replied.
"Then why does everyone react this way?"
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
The boy simply possessed a natural talent for creating headaches.
Haruto sighed.
Then looked out the nearby window.
The city stretched beneath them.
Countless lives.
Countless stories.
People who knew exactly who they were.
At least they thought they did.
The answer came slowly.
Carefully.
"I'm someone looking for somebody."
The room fell quiet.
Abel adjusted his glasses.
Then nodded.
"Acceptable."
"Acceptable?"
"It answers the question."
Haruto decided not to investigate further.
For the sake of his own sanity.
Abel returned his attention to the sketch.
His fingers traced the edge carefully.
Almost respectfully.
"You remind me of him."
Haruto froze.
Elias froze.
Belial froze.
Abel looked up.
"...what?"
The reaction had apparently surprised him.
The boy frowned.
Thinking.
Analyzing.
Then his eyes widened slightly.
"Oh."
The realization finally reached him.
"You know who this is."
Elias immediately intervened.
"Abel."
The warning came quickly.
Too quickly.
The boy stopped.
Then slowly looked between Haruto and the sketch.
A connection formed.
One nobody had explained.
One he had discovered himself.
And that made it infinitely more dangerous.
"...interesting."
Haruto did not like the sound of that.
At all.
---
The rest of the afternoon disappeared into chaos.
Specifically:
Abel.
The boy asked questions at a terrifying rate.
Questions about the desert.
Questions about the Sea of Glass.
Questions about traveling.
Questions about Belial.
Mostly questions about Belial.
"How long do goats live?"
Belial frowned.
"RUDE."
"How old are you?"
"RUDE."
"Where were you born?"
"EXTREMELY RUDE."
Abel scribbled notes anyway.
The goat eventually climbed onto a bookshelf.
Mostly to escape.
Partly because he enjoyed being dramatic.
Haruto watched the scene unfold.
And found himself smiling.
A strange feeling settled in his chest.
Warm.
Familiar.
For a moment—
it reminded him of something.
A memory.
A distant one.
Sakura sitting beside a window.
Reading.
While he sketched nearby.
Neither speaking.
Neither needing to.
Just existing together.
The memory lasted only a second.
Then faded.
Leaving behind a quiet ache.
Haruto looked away.
Before anyone noticed.
---
That evening—
he found himself alone.
Mostly.
Belial had wandered off somewhere.
Probably causing problems.
Abel was buried beneath a mountain of books.
Elias had disappeared into another room.
For the first time all day—
the building was peaceful.
Haruto sat near a window.
Arthur's sketchbook resting on his lap.
The city glowed beneath the evening sky.
Orange sunlight painted the rooftops.
Long shadows stretched across the streets.
Beautiful.
Without really thinking—
Haruto picked up a pencil.
One of many scattered across the room.
And began drawing.
The motion felt natural.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
Line after line appeared.
Simple at first.
The window.
The skyline.
The rooftops.
Nothing special.
Then gradually—
something changed.
His hand moved differently.
Instinctively.
Without conscious thought.
Minutes passed.
Perhaps longer.
When he finally stopped—
Haruto looked down.
And froze.
A girl stared back at him from the page.
Long hair.
Gentle eyes.
A faint smile.
The drawing wasn't perfect.
Yet there was no mistaking her.
Sakura.
Silence filled the room.
Haruto stared.
His chest tightened.
Because he hadn't intended to draw her.
Not consciously.
His hand had simply moved.
As though some part of him remembered even when his mind struggled.
The page trembled slightly.
Not from fear.
From emotion.
The door creaked open.
Haruto immediately closed the sketchbook.
Too late.
Abel had seen.
The boy blinked.
Then adjusted his glasses.
Then blinked again.
"...who was that?"
Haruto hesitated.
For a moment—
he considered lying.
Then shook his head.
"Someone important."
Abel studied him carefully.
Then nodded.
No teasing.
No further questions.
Just understanding.
A rare thing.
The boy walked over.
Taking a seat beside him.
The two watched the sunset in silence.
Eventually—
Abel spoke.
Quietly.
Much quieter than usual.
"My mother used to draw."
Haruto looked at him.
The boy's gaze remained fixed on the horizon.
"She wasn't very good."
A pause.
"She knew that."
Another pause.
"But she always said drawing wasn't about perfection."
The sunset painted the room gold.
Abel smiled faintly.
A small smile.
A genuine one.
"She said it was about keeping something."
Haruto froze.
Keeping something.
The words echoed in his mind.
Arthur's sketches.
His own sketchbook.
Sakura's memory.
Everything suddenly felt connected.
As though invisible threads stretched between people.
Across time.
Across worlds.
Across loss.
The sun slowly disappeared beneath the horizon.
And for the first time since arriving in Ardent—
Haruto felt like he wasn't traveling alone.