A week had passed since that incident. The people furiously pressured the government, demanding retaliation against the EDI. However, they still praised the new hero. "The Reaper," they called him, or "The Avenger," though the first name carried more weight.

  I took refuge in the café after fulfilling my revenge. Sometimes I trained, but most of the time, I spent it at the hospital, visiting Lyra.

  I don’t know if she’ll ever wake up.

  It’s my fault.

  That thought won’t leave me alone—it digs into my mind like a rusted dagger. This… it almost feels like she’s dead. But I don’t want to think about that. I know there must be a way to see her open her eyes again… but I don’t know if…

  One afternoon, while I was in the café, the TV caught my attention with a news report that froze my blood.

  "The former EDI ambassador has been transferred to his cell today after miraculously surviving the incident that occurred last..."

  The screen suddenly went black.

  I stood still.

  What…?

  Neither Kiomi, nor Naoko, nor Alexander had told me anything. They knew, and they kept it from me. They lied to me.

  The betrayal hit me like a punch to the gut.

  I got up without saying a word. My mind had only one goal. I needed to see him.

  Sora still stayed in the prison, though he was allowed out from time to time. No one would worry if I went alone. But they did worry.

  —Where are you going? —Kiomi asked, grabbing my arm before I could leave the café. Her eyes held a mix of concern and determination.

  —Nowhere.

  —Don’t lie to me.

  Her grip loosened, but instead of letting go, she stepped closer.

  —Don’t go, please —her voice was almost pleading.

  —I'm just going to talk to him.

  —Don’t lie… please.

  Her expression made me hesitate… for a moment. But my decision was already made.

  I ignored her warning and kept walking.

  She followed me. Naoko did too.

  The facility was an hour’s walk from the café, but I didn’t care.

  I hadn’t made any public appearances since the attack, so people stopped to watch as I walked through the streets. Their gazes were filled with surprise, doubt… fear.

  This time, I wasn’t wearing the armor. I was dressed casually, with nothing to hide my face. If I did something, everyone would know who was responsible.

  But I didn’t care.

  When I reached the prison, two guards blocked my path, refusing to let me in.

  —You don’t have clearance.

  —Let me through.

  —Don’t push it.

  I had no intention of turning back. Not now. I was about to fight my way in when a voice cut through the tension.

  —So you’re just here to talk, huh?

  Miguel.

  His smirk made my blood boil. I ignored him.

  I kept walking, pushing forward into the prison, with Kiomi and Naoko close behind. With every step, more voices tried to convince me to turn back.

  I wasn’t going to.

  I knew exactly where I needed to go.

  I reached the area where Sora was being held, but before I could enter, several guards blocked my way.

  And then I saw him.

  Through the glass, he was there. Beaten, battered… but alive.

  Just seeing him breathing made the rage ignite in my chest.

  Without thinking, I shoved the guards aside, forcing my way through. They wouldn’t stop me.

  Naoko, Kiomi, and Miguel stayed behind, apologizing to the guards while I kept moving forward, my steps growing heavier. Faster.

  The ambassador saw me. And the moment he recognized my face, he instinctively backed away until his body was pressed against the farthest wall of his cell.

  Maximum-security cells didn’t have four concrete walls. Only three. The fourth was a special kind of glass—resistant… nearly unbreakable. Or so they said.

  I stepped closer until I was right in front of it.

  —Do you remember me? —my voice was cold, sharp.

  He swallowed hard.

  —W-what… what do you want?

  —Nothing.

  —Y-you already got all the information you wanted! What else do you want from me?

  I stared at him.

  —Revenge.

  —What?

  —You know, during the invasion, some of your soldiers carried rather… peculiar weapons. Handguns with insane firepower, almost like compact shotguns.

  The ambassador stiffened. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

  —And I just so happened to… —I paused, letting the fear settle on his face— take one for myself. Turns out, they can be enhanced with a little mana. Make them deadlier.

  Time distorted.

  Everything happened in an instant. And at the same time, it was unbearably slow.

  I raised my hand. Aimed.

  In the distance, I heard Naoko’s hurried footsteps. He was running toward me. He knew what I was about to do. And yet, I didn’t care.

  The gun materialized in my palm. Not by magic. By pure technique.

  I had learned to use mana more efficiently. To summon any object I had registered, marked with my essence, instantly transporting it to where I needed it. My swords, my armor… anything.

  This time, it was the gun.

  For everyone else, it happened in the blink of an eye. For me, it stretched into eternity.

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  Two nearby guards reacted instantly, sprinting toward me with everything they had. But it was pointless. It didn’t matter who reached me first—Naoko or the guards. What was going to happen… was going to happen.

  The weight of the pistol settled in my hand. I looked at the ambassador. His face was twisted in horror. His eyes wide, unblinking. Every fiber of his being screamed in absolute terror.

  A sensation of pure euphoria coursed through my skin. A small smile slipped from my lips.

  And then…

  I pulled the trigger.

  The gunshot roared through the cell.

  The so-called “indestructible” glass was no match for the weapon’s power. It cracked.

  It shattered.

  And the bullet tore through the entire thickness of that reinforced barrier.

  It struck.

  The ambassador collapsed. The shot obliterated him. His entire torso—gone.

  The bullet disintegrated him in an instant. And not just him. The thick concrete wall behind him was pierced as if it were paper, leaving a massive hole that extended into the next cell.

  On the other side, an inmate screamed in pain. He had been caught in the blast as well.

  Chaos erupted. The moment the echo of the gunshot faded, the guards reached me.

  The first one lunged, but I didn’t even flinch. The second hit me with full force. I hit the ground, and they ripped the gun from my hand. They cuffed me, but it no longer mattered.

  From the floor, I took in the faces around me.

  Naoko stared at me, sorrow and fear in his eyes.

  Miguel… looked regretful.

  Kiomi was pale, frozen in place, as if unable to process what she had just witnessed.

  The inmates roared from their cells.

  —"Now you’re one of us!"—they taunted.

  Others cackled like lunatics.

  Their voices echoed against the walls.

  The guards dragged me away. But I…

  I wasn’t sorry.

  At least, not in that moment.

  …

  Time passed. I stared at the gaping hole in the wall, at the blood splattered everywhere. The room looked like an abstract painting… a grotesque, deformed work of art born from Zein’s fury.

  He didn’t speak after that. They held him for hours, trying to get something out of him, but he didn’t say a single word. Miguel and Naoko stayed by his side. Thanks to Miguel and his connections, they managed to cover it up. The incident would never see the light of day. To the world, it would be reported as the former ambassador’s “suicide.”

  But the truth was undeniable. Zein wasn’t the same.

  From that day on, his gaze changed.

  He looked more worn down, more hollow, as if something inside him had shattered beyond repair.

  In the days that followed, he locked himself in his room—the same one he shared with Lyra.

  He wouldn’t come out.

  He wouldn’t speak.

  It hurt to see him like that, and I could tell the others felt the same. But life at the shop went on, bustling as always. People laughed, talked, lived… but Zein didn’t.

  He just existed.

  And I didn’t like that.

  We wanted to cheer him up. We tried to reach him. But he wouldn’t let anyone see him.

  Every time I looked at him, he felt further away, colder. Like he was fading, little by little. He no longer seemed like himself. He wasn’t that special person anymore…

  I thought of countless ways to help him. But none of them seemed enough.

  Miguel tried first. He wanted to pull Zein out of it, to talk to him, but all he got was rejection.

  And that’s when I knew.

  If Miguel and Zein were breaking, if their bond was crumbling, then ours could too.

  That thought chilled me to the bone.

  I couldn’t let it happen.

  I couldn’t lose him.

  Not him.

  What happened with Lyra was a huge blow. A devastating one for all of us. But him…

  He hadn’t been the same since that day.

  He had told me about his bond with Lyra. Since they were children, he had always protected her. Ever since my mother, Meliora, took them in, they had been inseparable. Zein, the older brother. Lyra, his shadow. Together, they had faced hardships that would have crushed anyone else.

  They lost their home once in that village.

  They lost it again in Ilmenor.

  And yet, they were still here. Together. Smiling.

  Lyra was his pillar. The foundation that kept him standing when everything else collapsed around him.

  But now… now that pillar was falling.

  And with it, so was Zein.

  It was hard to see him like that. He barely ate, hardly slept, and when he did, it seemed like an endless stream of nightmares. He locked himself in his room, drowning in his own silence.

  No one dared to approach him.

  I didn’t know if it was out of fear… or simply because we didn’t know what to do.

  I decided to make him something special to eat. Something to remind him that he was still here. That he wasn’t alone.

  When I picked up the tray and made my way to his room, the atmosphere shifted completely.

  The hallway leading to his room felt longer, colder. The dim light from the lamps cast elongated shadows on the walls. It felt empty.

  The closer I got, the heavier the air became.

  It was like the sorrow seeped out from beneath the door. When I finally stood in front of it, a chill ran down my spine. I took a deep breath and knocked gently against the wood.

  Silence.

  I knocked again, a little harder.

  Nothing.

  —Zein, it’s me. Kiomi.

  I waited. Only the low hum of the television answered.

  I pressed my lips together. Was he ignoring me?

  The sound of the screen droned on, like he was trapped in some kind of trance.

  I hesitated.

  But then, I clenched my fists and, carefully, opened the door.

  The room was swallowed in darkness.

  The stale air hit me immediately. Trash was scattered across the floor, the bed was unmade, and amid all that chaos… Lyra’s things were everywhere.

  Clothes neatly folded on the desk. Her little sketchbook, left open. A lock of her hair, tied with a ribbon.

  It was like he wanted to surround himself with her. Like he couldn’t let go.

  And there he was.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over, his head bowed, hands gripping his hair as if trying to hold himself together.

  He seemed to be murmuring something.

  I couldn’t quite hear. But his leg bounced relentlessly, a nervous tic, trembling, restless.

  My chest tightened.

  The Zein I knew never broke. He always kept going.

  No matter how much pain he carried.

  No matter how many people he had lost.

  He never stopped.

  But now… he looked broken.

  The only light in the room came from the slightly open door and the flickering glow of the television. The bluish hue washed over his pale face, sinking his eyes into deep shadows.

  I couldn’t just stand there, watching him.

  Not this time.

  I took a step forward.

  —Zein…

  I closed the door carefully, letting the room drown in a dense silence, interrupted only by Zein’s uneven breathing. I walked slowly to the television and turned it off. The screen flickered for a few seconds before vanishing into darkness, leaving behind an even greater sense of emptiness.

  Zein’s murmuring continued. Now that the room was completely silent, his words struck me harder.

  "Sorry."

  "I shouldn’t have done it."

  "It’s all my fault."

  "I should just die instead."

  Each word was heavy with desperation, carrying a weight that seemed impossible to bear. My chest tightened at the sound of it. I had never seen him like this… not Zein. Not him.

  I slowly approached the windows and pulled the curtains open. The afternoon light filtered into the room, but instead of brightening it, it only made the mess around him more evident. Scattered books and papers, clothes strewn across the floor, plates with barely touched food… and worst of all: Lyra’s belongings spread everywhere, as if he had tried to hold on to every last memory of her.

  Zein flinched the moment the light touched his skin, turning away as if it burned him. His reaction sent a shiver through me.

  I knelt in front of him carefully and took his hands in mine. They were freezing, trembling… fragile. His skin, usually warm and firm, felt almost lifeless.

  —Zein… —I whispered, hoping for some kind of response.

  He didn’t lift his head. He kept murmuring, lost in his own guilt. His dark circles were deep, his skin pale, his lips dry. His entire body looked on the verge of collapse.

  I wanted to run, to get out of there. The sorrow filling the room was suffocating, as if all the pain in the world had been condensed into this small space. But leaving wouldn’t fix anything.

  Slowly, I lifted his face, forcing him to look at me. His red, glassy eyes reflected a pain that couldn’t be put into words. When our eyes met, his voice broke into a whisper.

  —It was my fault…

  I shook my head immediately, with more conviction than I actually felt.

  —Of course not, it wasn’t your fault.

  But my words didn’t seem to reach him. His gaze drifted again, and his body started leaning forward, as if the weight of his suffering was crushing him.

  I didn’t think.

  I stood up abruptly, still holding his hands, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

  His head fell against my chest, his ragged breathing brushing against my skin. I felt his body trembling against mine, his fingers clutching my clothes with silent desperation.

  I didn’t have the right words. I didn’t know how to ease his pain. But at the very least, I could be here.

  —Kiomi… I… —His voice was barely a broken whisper.

  And then, he shattered.

  The tears he had been holding back burst into a heartbreaking cry. A cry that had been buried for too long, a cry he had suppressed until his body could no longer endure it.

  —Forgive me… forgive me for everything…

  I didn’t respond. There was nothing I could say that would ease his guilt, his pain. All I could do was hold him, let him release everything he had been carrying alone.

  Little by little, his arms wrapped around me. But the embrace he returned wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t the embrace of the strong Zein who protected everyone without hesitation.

  This embrace felt weak.

  So weak, as if he were on the verge of disappearing.

  His arms trembled as he held me, his unsteady breath brushing against my skin. He kept apologizing, over and over, his broken voice fading into muffled sobs.

  I said nothing. I just stayed there, holding him, letting his pain spill over without restraint. My fingers ran gently through his hair in an instinctive gesture of comfort, but in my mind, one persistent doubt tormented me.

  Was this the right thing to do?

  Was I truly helping him, or was I only prolonging his suffering?

  And then, I felt it.

  Something warm.

  A feeling so pure, so intense, that for an instant, I forgot everything else.

  My chest filled with an unexpected warmth, a sensation that wrapped around me completely. I felt… happy.

  But that happiness cut me like a dagger.

  How could I feel this way in this moment? How could I find comfort in his embrace when he was breaking apart in front of me?

  The weight of that contradiction crushed me.

  I wanted to be with him, I wanted to hold him, but at the same time, that happiness made me feel guilty. As if I were betraying his pain, as if my very existence was out of place in the middle of his torment.

  Too many doubts, too many conflicting emotions, were trapped in that room that very afternoon.

  And even though neither of us said another word, we both knew that something had changed between us.

  Forever.