The infirmary lights hummed softly.
"Hmm… vitals are stable, though weak," Mobius muttered, eyes scanning the clipboard in her hand. Her lips curled in a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Still—rather amusing, wouldn't you say? Fufufu…"
"Mobius," Eden said gently, her tone flat—but her gaze never left the man resting on the bed.
Mobius tilted her head, teasing. "What? Don't you think it's at least a little funny? The Gravewalker. The Ashen Prince. The Unremembered… dropped in one strike?"
Eden didn't answer at first. Her hand hovered, then lowered—fingertips brushing the soft fabric over his heart.. She traced a line over his heart, slow, reverent, like trying to memorize the rhythm of someone she once knew by touch alone.
"I'm more worried than anything," she finally said, voice quieter than before. "Is it… the time he spent asleep? Or is it because of—" she stopped herself, lips parting slightly. The hand on his chest stilled.
For a moment, Mobius said nothing.
Then—just for a breath—her expression faltered. Something faint and unspoken flickered in those calculating emerald eyes. Not pity. Not sadness.
Just ache.
Gone the next second.
She waved a hand dismissively. "Please. It's neither of those. If anything, it's the missing fragments. He always had them fused with him before, remember? He's incomplete."
Eden's hand curled slowly into the sheets beside him.
Mobius looked down at Victor again and let out a quiet exhale, this one sharper, more annoyed. "Honestly… you should know better. It's him. He's the last person either of us should be worried about."
Silence stretched between them.
Eden remained still, fingers now resting lightly on Victor's chest again—not caressing, not searching. Just feeling for the proof of life beneath her touch. Her brows were drawn together, lips parted slightly as though caught between prayer and confession.
Mobius stood rooted at his bedside, eyes fixed on the shifting lines of his vitals, as if sheer force of will might decode something the machines couldn't. The clipboard lay forgotten at her side, plastic bent where her grip had warped it.
Neither of them spoke.
One watched him.
The other, the pulse on the screen.
Then—
"Ironic words," came a voice, calm and amused, "from the woman gripping that clipboard like you're about to crush it."
A low chuckle followed, rolling easily into a deep, full laugh that filled the room without force.
The infirmary doors slid open.
Chris stepped in.
Every movement was slow, measured. Not sluggish—deliberate. Like someone who had already decided where every footstep would fall before even entering. The polished black leather of his boots whispered against tile as he crossed the room with the gravity of a sermon.
He came to a stop between them—just close enough to share the silence, just far enough not to disturb it.
His eyes swept down to Victor, lingering only briefly before lifting again. The corners of his lips tugged upward.
"And yet… here you both are," he said softly. "Hovering like shadows over a grave. How dramatic."
Mobius didn't look at him.
Eden did.
Chris tilted his head slightly, one hand rising to rest against his chin in quiet contemplation. The smile on his face didn't widen—but it deepened. Beneath it was something coiled. Sharp. Unspoken.
"But," he continued after a beat, "she's right."
His gaze flicked from Mobius to Eden and back again.
"Visage isn't the one you should be worried about."
The silence that followed was not empty—it pulsed with weight.
Then he chuckled again—quiet, velvet-edged.
"But," he added, turning his attention back to Victor, "if you are worried—truly—"
His voice dipped, just slightly, into something smoother. Richer.
"I do know a way to ease him. Or yourselves, if we're being honest."
His smirk said everything else.
Mobius narrowed her eyes. Not in protest—but in thought. Measuring the angle. Reading the offer behind the words.
Eden's fingers twitched against Victor's chest, breath catching for half a heartbeat. Her lips parted—but no answer came.
His hands slipped behind his back, shoulders relaxed, voice still smooth—too smooth.
"Well," he mused, stepping toward the foot of the bed, eyes flicking once again toward Victor's motionless form. "If we're being practical, there's a solution. Simple and quite frankly overdue."
His fingers curled slightly behind him. The air felt heavier now.
"All we need to do is return the fragments to him."
He didn't even finish the sentence.
"NO!"
The word ripped through the infirmary like a whipcrack.
Eden shot to her feet, the chair scraping back with a screech. Her voice, usually warm and poised, came raw—ragged and trembling as it left her throat.
Mobius flinched.
Actually flinched.
Her head turned sharply toward Eden, eyes blinking wide for a moment too long—expression cracking just slightly before being stitched back together.
Chris blinked once.
His smile didn't vanish—but it stopped growing.
The air shifted again. Quieter. Deeper.
Eden's hand trembled at her side, her breath hitching as she took a step forward—toward Victor, as if shielding him. Her body blocked Chris from view, spine straight, eyes glassy but burning.
Chris didn't move.
Didn't blink. He stood rooted in that quiet, unshakable calm
"Why not?"
His voice wasn't sharp. It was too composed for that. Just a simple question spoken like fact—as though he couldn't comprehend why it had even been raised in the first place.
"Wouldn't that be what he wants too?"
Mobius looked up, head cocking slightly to the side. "He's not wrong," she murmured, her voice flat but thoughtful. "His body's more used to having the fragments inside him. That was his natural state. He's less like himself now."
She turned toward Eden, crossing her arms. "Even you must admit—this incomplete version? He's weaker. Slower. Hollow."
Eden didn't answer.
Not at first.
Then—
"I DON'T WANT HIM TO "
Again.
Louder.
Rougher.
It tore from her throat like glass being pulled from flesh. Her legs gave out and she dropped to her knees at the bedside, hands grabbing Victor's. Clutching. Clinging. As if letting go would cost her something she couldn't name.
Mobius blinked. Her arms lowered slowly—uncrossing without thought. Uncertainty crept behind the glass wall of her eyes.
Eden didn't look at either of them.
Her eyes were only on him.
"I don't want that," she whispered—but there was no softness in her voice now. Just fear. Just ache. "I don't want him going back to that life. Not again."
Her fingers tightened.
"He's fought enough. He's bled enough. He died for everyone—again and again. He doesn't need power. He doesn't need more pain."
She exhaled shakily, lowering her forehead to the back of Victor's hand.
"He deserves rest. He deserves peace. He deserves—" her voice broke, "—happiness."
Chris's gaze lingered a moment longer, his smirk finally fading—not out of pity.
But something closer to… respect. Maybe regret.
He sighed.
Turned.
And walked toward the door.
Just before it opened, he spoke without turning back:
"Even if you wish to protect him… his desire to protect you will always burn hotter."
The doors slid open with a hiss.
And he stopped one final time, just before crossing the threshold.
"The Hollow Sovereign will return, Eden."
He looked over his shoulder.
Eyes sharp. Voice quiet.
"You cannot stop his will."
Then he left.
Silence.
Mobius stood frozen—arms half-raised, unsure whether to cross them or offer comfort. Her mouth opened once… then closed again.
Eden remained on the floor. Kneeling. Trembling. Forehead pressed to Victor's hand, her breath shallow against his skin.
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A/N: Heya everyone! HundredMasks-chan here! Author-sama is quite restless about the lack of comments, so, he's making an event, please leave your comments! Perhaps character ideas, or perhaps your thoughts on the book or specific lines, ANYTHING, and Author-sama will make a character with them, so please do leave your comments beloved readers~