Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When was the last time he had seen the outside? 

He did not know.

As far as he could remember, it was a dark, frigid world. With a lifeless sky, like the wretched lands he had once called home, threatening the life of the ground with unceasing hail and rain.

When was the last time his lungs were able to take in fresh air from a forest? Again, he couldn't remember. His body, on the other hand, felt it: a want, a longing, a hunger. For more nature, activity, life.

Freedom. 

But he was trapped. Caged. Hidden in this mass of a Tower that he had once—like so many other times before—entered, for her. 

Her. 

Who had betrayed him. Let him fall, after all they had been through. After how many times he had saved her life, over and over again. After they had formed something so rare in this world, something so precious, that it hurt even more after she broke it, threw it away like it had been nothing. 

He had been too naive, or perhaps too stupid, too blind... To see the signs that she was just using him as means of her own survival. 

Partly, he could understand her reasoning. After all, the Pale City, like the rest of this nefarious ill world, was merciless. It knew no pity or plea; it was kill or be killed. He knew this more than others, for from the first memory he had of breathing his first breath after birth, this twisted world had reached out its long, boney, revolting fingers to grab hold of him and drag him away.

Nevertheless. Even though their time together had only lasted for about three days, he'd thought that they could still rely on one another, support one another, and stick together as their friendship deepened. 

Oh, how wrong he'd been. 

He had grown painfully aware now that their so-called friendship had been one-sided. 

He wanted to understand why she did what she did. Wanted to think that she carried a sense of pride in herself, a belief that if someone had saved your life, you could at least attempt to do the same, even if their friendship had been fake. But, oh no. Yet, rather than helping him and saving him the way he had saved her, she had let go. 

Let him fall, as she had so many times before.

With a groan through his clenched teeth, Mono leaned forward in his prison-like enternal chair, lost in the agony and sorrow of his memories. The burning ache under his rips intensified once more. As it always did when he thought about what happened. And each time he thought about it, he was left with one, unanswerable question, that haunted him since the day he had fallen:

Why.

Nevertheless, no matter how hard he'd tried to understand her actions, her reasons, see things her way, he was never able to come up with an answer. Oh, and he tried.

What made her drop him? Was it because he had been too afraid, in pain from the static, to help her when the Thin Man stole her away? Was it because he had destroyed her music box to free her from her monstrous form? She saw his face; was that why? Did she see the same monster that kidnapped her?

Why.

Why.

Why..

Why...

W̡̼̫̘͔̃̐̊hͥ̑҉̼̺̦̼̖̳y̛̬̭̜̅͆ͮ?̭̼̲͙̭͆͡!̰̳ͮ̆͠!̨̩̠͎̣͇̯͙̅

Despite his best efforts to not listen, the sallow voice inside him—that of a little boy, whose soul had been broken—would not stop screaming in pain. Ignore it. Distract yourself. It never worked.

Nevertheless, that didn't stop him from laughing sometimes. Mono. His name. appropriate for someone like him. Taking note that he was truly alone. Alone in this fake room. Alone in this accursed space and reality of an illusory Tower. 

Alone. 

Apart from the flesh that was alive, currently concealed by false walls, which had decided to form eyes with a wet, nasty, pop sound just now, to observe him.  Mono could feel their gazes cutting right through his neck. He remained still. Emotionless. Not giving them the satisfaction to react to them.

At times, they were his only company. But they only came here to watch him suffer. However, it hurt when they sometimes spoke—screaming, many voices, and screeching—like bloodied nails on a blackboard. Mono was desperate at this point for any form of interaction, but he wouldn't give in, even if it was with those who had imprisoned him. 

No, it had been her. 

Had it? Or had it been his own stupidity for trusting her?

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽b͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽; ͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽b͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽d͓̽, ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓̽. ͓̽A͓͓̽̽g͓̽a͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽.” 

Shivers ran down Mono's spine as he cringed at the discomfort  their combined voices caused. He remained silent. 

The walls trembled and produced a noise similar to a grumpy rumble. 

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ a͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽e͓̽; ͓̽I͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽u͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽h͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽p͓̽.”

At that, Mono narrowed his eyes and snarled low; “I'd rather go insane than have to talk to a monster.” 

The walls constant rumbling grew more insistent, as they suddenly started to close in on him, gradually losing the appearance of being concrete walls. Threatening to invade his already smal personal space even more. 

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽n͓̽; ͓̽W͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽h͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽p͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽f͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ a͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽y͓̽ ͓̽b͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽, ͓̽w͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽h͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽e͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽c͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽p͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽.”

Abruptly, the walls gave way, and enormous, meaty, horrifying tendril-like appendages protruded from them. And with a violent yank—grabbed Mono's entire body as he ignored them once more. One of the smaller tendrils wrapped around his neck as he was dragged from his chair and forced to kneel in front of them, which made breathing difficult for him. 

Mono felt disgusted, overwhelmed by their warm, slimy sensation, and the smell of rotten flesh and blood. He became still, and the Eyes watched, curious, as they choked him and forced him into submission. But then, he slowly tensed his muscles and stiffened back his shoulders. 

His entire body trembled as he threw back his head—while letting out a deep laugh so hard that the sound reverberated throughout the former room. 

He probably didn't sound sane at that moment, and he probably wasn't. He. did. not. care. This is what years of isolation and loneliness can do to a person. Mono's shoulders trembled with repressed laughter, but the thick tendrils encircling him delivered a warning squeeze that made him choke instead of laughing.

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽q͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽; ͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽l͓̽a͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽h͓̽ a͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽u͓͓̽̽s͓̽?” The voices of the Eyes questioned warningly.

Mono half chuckled, half choked, and shook his head, trying to stop finding their description of themselves funny. He failed miserably, and before he could gather his head, he adopted a dismissive, stiff tone; 

“Forgive me for daring to laugh at your, oh-so 'almighty being and presa—” 

Too late to realize what he had just done, the tendril around his throat cut him off.

The Eyes had had enough of Mono's even more disrespectful insults, as the tendrils encircling him violently drew him backwards and one of the flesh walls split, dragging him into the darkness of the bizarre space of the Tower. Mono quickly lost all amusement due to he knew where they were going. Knowing that he would now pay a price for that little moment of twisted, sad delight, he wanted to punch himself for loosing his temper.  

“No. No, not again...” He choked faintly, turning his head to the side.

But the Eyes ignored him and tightened the tendril around his neck, nearly bursting his windpipe, to silence him. They proceeded to make their way through the Tower, making their way to the one room.

As Mono remembered what had happened the previous time he was in that room and the wounds he had sustained—which were still healing on his body and mind—he began to struggle and resist. He could not do it again. He simply couldn't. 

He never wanted to beg, he never did. But he also didn't want to experience the pain. But it was too late; they appeared to have arrived, and the tendrils detached themselfs from his body, cruelly letting him to fall a full eight feet to an unforgiving, hard, concrete floor. Upon impact, Mono hardly suppressed a pained groan and closed his eyes tightly due to the crushing pain shooting through his arm.

He rolled onto his back, cradling his wrist, which was now most likely sprained, to his chest. Perhaps begging will change the Eyes mind. He tried to gaze up as he opened his eyes somewhat, but to his horror, saw cables—numerous, fleshy, gory, cables, that slithered over the floor his way. 

Mono's eyes widened, and he immediately attempted to limp away from them as the Eyes spoke again. 

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽c͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽m͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽; ͓̽T͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ͓̽l͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽p͓͓̽̽l͓̽a͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽e͓̽. ͓̽A͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽a͓͓̽̽y͓͓̽̽b͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ͓̽l͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽h͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽f͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽.”

Mono attempted to retreat even further, but the cables were swift, rearing up like snakes as their tips abruptly shifted. Sharp, metallic spikes pierced the air in front of them, shooting forward—and rammed themselfs into his arms, legs, thighs, and sides. They drove themselves deep into Mono's body, all the way down to his bones, causing him to scream.

They clung to him, burying themselves into his flesh more and more, in the same places they had taken before, and warm, fresh blood gushed from the area where the cables were embedded. Mono screamed and thrashed on the ground as a sharp, burning pain gripped his body. But before he could fight, the cables tightened and pulled him over the floor, slowly lifting him up into the air. 

As usual, his deep cries of pain went unheeded as he hung in midair, arms and legs spread wide as if swimming, until more cables protruded from the top and buried themselves in to his neck and back—all the way down to the spinal bones' hidden nerves. 

Mono's screaming abruptly ceased as he felt them, the Eyes, forcing their way into his consciousness through the nerve pathways in his spine that led directly to his brain as something within his skull split apart—

And Mono went limp, his head sagged forward, as the fleshy cords buried in his neck trembled in the air behind him.

Another moment later, the room was slowly subtly tainted with a luminous white-blue glow as several TV screens around him and the wires buried in his flesh began to light up one by one. 

Mono felt electrified and numb as he battled to keep his eyes open. He heard his own blood trickle onto the floor, making a faint, dripping sound in the otherwise silent room. Feeling the growing consciousness of the Eyes progressively penetrating his skull. But they kept him aware so they could use his abilities without restriction, so they did not let him faint. No. No. No...

Still not giving up, Mono made a feeble attempt to push them out and shield his consciousness. But he failed, and all that was heard from the Tower encircling him was a rumble of warning as they used his powers to start a deadly broadcast. 

Mono could feel it. 

And he could do nothing but weakly watch through the corner of his eyes as images appeared on the screens, from streets, homes, and rooms filled with distorted adults and little surviving children who had strangely taken to watching TV since the broadcast started.

They would die.

And it would be his fault, his abilities, when they did. He couldn't let them. Tossing his head to the side and fighting in the air—no matter how much it hurt—tears welled up in his eyes from the horror and misery he was in. 

“No.” He panted under his breath, voice trembling, gritting his teeth. “No...You can't. S-stop...” 

The Eyes disregarded him once more, and his final desperate attempt, to save the innocent lives outside that would be taken, was brutally cut short as the signal began. 

Mono threw back his head—his brows knitted, eyes squeezed shut—and screamed out in pain beyond description.

And he could not stop, despite the fact that his throat was raw and partially crimson from the damaged tissue within, Mono screamed his soul out. His agony and despair. He screamed, till his ears went deaf. Till everything he knew was the torture, his own, and the torture from those innocent lives that were taken from his powers against his will through the signal.

He screamed, till everything he knew was pain.

Pain...

She had started.

════════════════

Mono was taken back into that room every day for three months, or at least he thought it had been that long.

After his fatal mistake of provoking the Eyes, he had been in torment for so many days that he'd lost all sence of time. Hours. Days. Weeks began to blur, so did the distorted rooms and walls he saw. Gradually losing his senses as he changed.

But the only thing that remained unchanged, was the pain.

He was left to suffer and watch again and again as the gory cords buried themselves in his flesh down to his bones. Was made to watch helplessly as the Eyes took use of his powers against his will, slaughtering a great number of lives, everytime the signal began.

He now had the blood of their lives on his hands. Just like he always had.

This wasn't the first time, after all. No—This was nothing new to him; the signal, the using of his powers against his will, had happened a few times since his fall. For years. At least back then, he had a break between a week or two. But the Eyes didn't stop now. Told him he was older now, his abilities stronger. That he could last longer. They didn't give him a break, were unrelenting with him, hardly allowed him to rest. Repeatedly made him see firsthand their savagery and the extent of his powers.

It was starting to break him.

Mono could hear their dying screams each time he entered that room and was connected to the televisions through the cables. The adults, who now looked smaller than him as he had grown over the years, were screaming when their skin and flesh were torn and pulled into the screen. The children were crying, barely managing to survive and hold on to something, as they were stolen away by his abilities and into the Tower, leaving the bloody, shattered remnants of a soul behind. 

Over. 

And over. 

And over again.

It was torture. 

Not just the physical torture, Mono had long since stopped to react to the pain even if it didn't let on, but the mental torture. He was beginning to lose it. Mono could feel himself slipping away more and more each time he was in that room. He'd started to wonder how freeing a sharp splitter of wood—from his enternal chair might feel in his throat as his life flowed out. But he couldn't. He was broken, not weak. 

And the only thing that kept him somewhat sane?

Her.

Whenever he was on the verge of losing it or going unconscious during these sessions, memories of the past with her began appearing in his mind—against his will and better judgment. Memories of them wandering through a forest or hiding in buildings, taking shelter in a room that was protected from the hordes of adults crowding the streets. 

Memories of them walking through a dark place holding hands so they wouldn't get lost. Memories of them sitting down to share a meal together after days of hunger. 

Memories, of her face. 

Oh, he didn't think he could ever forget her face. 

Her crimson eyes, hidden behind long lashes, as they stared in to his with emptiness as he dangled by her hand over the dark abyss. The way her lips had parted in shock and then turned into a emotionless, dull, natural expression as he stared up at her.

How ironic that the memories of her, of them, and of their time together, which caused him so much misery and pain, were also the only thing keeping him from going insane? 

Mono would often find himself laughing grimly at that. She could not leave him, even after they parted ways, could she? Existing in his memory like a phantom, an apparition of the person he had once known her to be. 

He was haunted by her.

And by what she had shown to him throughout their time together. The fake her. The falsified version. The version of herself, that Mono had—desperately wanted to believe to be the real one.

But even now, as Mono found himself held up in the air by the cables once more, his gifts of power and curse being used against his will to feed the signal, he couldn't help but think of her. That flawless picture of her, the one he had become obsessed with. The fake one, which kept him awake and sane when he felt like he was about to faint. 

His body ached, his head blank save for her. His powers, violently being drained from him till point of exhaustion. The agony of overusing them, the echoing screams of the life dying around him—Mono's thoughts abruptly swirled, threatening to burst his skull—StopStopStop.

Having reached his breaking point, he tore open the eyes. 

A few feet away, Mono's unnatural, luminous light-blue irises lay on the ground, gazing at a reflection from a TV screen while his blood slowly trickled down his feet, growing the already too large blood puddle on the ground that had formed over the past hour. 

Slowly, his pulse slowed in his ears, and his vision started to get blurry...

He was tired. So tired. But he knew, he couldn't rest. He couldn't. So, he desperately tried to stay awake, to keep his focus straight, and he began naming the things in the screen reflection that was floating in his blood.

The reflection from the screen showed a white floor. Wheelchairs; strewn bandages; different machines used in this kind of setting; a mannequin.

Mono's eyes widened as he recognized that place. 

The Hospital.

His fingers twitched. Anticipating, wanting to touch. 

The screen.

Something pulsed  then, something he never let surface again, somewhere in the depths of his mind. He had vowed it was pointless and impossible. Hope. Hope of escape. Mono's hand twitched. He raised his head slowly, painfully, and fixed his half-awake gaze on the source of the reflection. The Tv screen. 

It still showed the Hospital. 

Now fighting over consciousness, but feeling more awake and alive then in a long time, Mono furrowed his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. Wearing an expression of determination and despair. If he just could touch the screen...

Before he even realized he had moved, the trembling hand had grabbed and torn one of the many cords burried in his body.

The reaction from the Tower and the Eyes were immediate, and a loud, terrible screech sounded from the walls around him. Mono's eyes were fixed only on the television, blind and deaf to anything else. 

The walls surrounding him shifted and changed, regaining the appearance of living flesh as they attempted to grab hold of him. However, Mono persisted; for the first time in years, he gave in to that little flicker of hope and feverishly tore more and more cords from his body, regardless of the pain the tearing caused, until the few that were left were no longer strong enough to hold him up.

The fall to the ground didn't hurt as much as it probably did. He kept his eyes on the screen. 

He did not hear the deep shrieking and screaming of the Eyes trying to stop him, warning him not to dare. Not able to stand, Mono started to limp across the floor. Gritted teeth, groaning with agony and exhaustion. But determined.

More of the fleshy, huge, tendril-like appendages tore out as the walls entirely ruptured, giving the impression that everything was happening in slow motion—which, for him, was merely a racing beat. In their terror, the Eyes, threw themselves around furiously, attempting to get into the changing room and stop him. 

They attempted to seize him, destroying parts of the room and the TVs on the walls in their way, as they screamed at him, threatened him with things worse then death. But Mono, stubbornly ignoring them and concentrating on his goal, tried to stand—but the wounds all over his body made him too weak to do so and run. So he kept on limping. Kept on going, despite feeling himself close to passing out. He was so close.

Abruptly, a tendril crashed into the TV, accidentally knocking it down with a loud crash that was drowned out by the other loud, disturbing sounds in the room. 

It fell off the wall and onto the rough concrete floor. The screen cracked.

Mono stopped and stared the black screen.

Where Mono thought that would be it, a heartbeat went by. His hopes of escaping his suffering were wrecked. This had been his only way of escape, now ruined, and shattered like his faint flicker of hope. 

But, akin to a ghostly sensation... 

The screen flashed, revealing a little handprint pressed against the screen from the inside. His eyes became wide as he felt his body move on its own and carry on pulling himself across the floor in a matter of seconds, while everything around him crumbled apart.

With barely any life left, Mono lifted his own bloodied palm and pressed it up against the cracked screen. Panting heavily, as he pressed his much larger palm against the little one inside the screen,  feeling its warmth...noticing a yellow cloth...around its wrist—and watched as it pulled away. Leaving behind a flickering screen. A moment passed, feeling like an eternity for Mono as the feeling of being left alone and abandoned overcame him once more. 

The fear spread through him, that this was all just a illusion, that he had gone insane to the point where he was inventing his own world in his thoughts as a perverse means of escape—

But then, the familiar tug of his worn-out powers began to pull him into the screen, and the image around him began to shift. 

The writhing flesh behind him, the Eyes, now only a few heartbeats away from grabbing him, screamed at him, but it was drowned out by static, forgotten and blended out from the moment...as the world around him began to bend and distort—and finally everything came to an end.

And Mono fully got absorbed into the screen.

Chapter Text

The mad rush of static space surrounded Mono, overwhelming his senses as he sped forward, hardly able to keep his eyes open. 

Amidst the static void, a small white square suddenly emerged, rushing towards him with alarming speed, and before he could brace himself—he was hurled through it, and out of a TV. 

Tearing through the air, Mono—slammed onto the Hospital's grimy black and white tile floor with a bone-jarring impact—his body skidding across its hard surface as gravity tugged against his weight.

The TV screen shattered into sharp fragments, each shard slicing through the air like shrapnel. One piece slashing his cheek, drawing a crimson line. Finally, he came to a shuddering halt, sprawled sideways upon the cold ground, overwhelmed and breathless from the violent events over the past few minutes.

In the eerie quiet of the dimly lit room, Mono lay still on the moldy floor of the decaying hospital. Blood seeped slowly from his many wounds, forming small, crimson puddles below him, while his ragged breaths faintly echoed in the stale air. His torn clothes clung to his trembling form, soaked with his own life essence, as if reluctant to release the trauma he had endured.

He was out. He had escaped. 

Mono had achieved the impossible, something he'd believed to be beyond his reach for years. Yet, there was no feeling of triumph in him, no joy in his newfound freedom. 

Then, with each shallow breath, Mono fought dearly to hold onto consciousness, his vision blurred and hazy. Overwhelmed by dizziness, he felt an intense urge to vomit.

Keep yourself together.

Furrowing his eyebrows in pain, Mono drew upon the last reserves of his strength, summoning the courage to hold on just a little longer and pushed himself up on his arms, slowly and painfully. His subconscious survival instincts kicked in, warning him to stop the bleeding quickly, or else his newfound freedom would not last long.

With a groan, Mono stirred, his body resisting every movement as he gradually pushed himself up from the cold floor. His muscles ached, protesting against the effort, but the will to survive drove him on. Slowly, he rose to his feet, groaning and wavering unsteadily as he struggled to find his balance.

Gritting his teeth and with trembling limbs, Mono stood. With one hand clutching his bleeding side, he slowly looked around the dimly lit room, searching desperately for something that could help him. 

He was in a hospital after all.

Mono's still, unnatural, faintly light-blue glowing eyes landed upon a nearby shelf, its contents hidded by shadows. With limping steps, he hobbled towards it, each movement a test to his will. Once there, his hands shifted through the shelf, heart pounding beneath his ribs.

Then, his bloodied fingers brushed against something soft and yielding—a roll of bandages, nestled amongst the debris. 

Relief washed over Mono as he grasped the bandages and slumped against the shelf with a thud. Swiftly and gently, he began to wrap his most bleeding wounds—the ones on his side and arms. It was a makeshift solution for the moment, to stop the bleeding with the pressure of the bandages over his clothes. But he knew he had to rewrap himself. 

However, first, he needed to find a safe place to do so. But for the time being, this had to do for now to at least get him out of life-threatening danger.

After a few minutes, when he had wrapped himself up as best as he could for the moment, a sense of numbness settled over him, replacing the relentless pulse of worry with an unsettling stillness. Gradually regaining his composure and sharpness of his mind, Mono took a closer look at his surroundings, realizing he was in the dimly lit main hub room of the abandoned Hospital.

The same room where she, had to pull him out of the TV once. The air heavy, with the weight of past memories and lingering fear of them.

Slowly, Mono shifted to stand, nearly falling over from dizziness but managing to catch himself against the shelf behind his back, before he slowly, limping, started to move.

With hesitant steps, Mono began to explore his surroundings, familiar yet not. His senses alert to the haunting echoes of the past that lingered in every shadowy corner. The flickering fluorescent lights casted long, twisted shadows across the cracked tile floor, creating an atmosphere of haunted unease. 

Moving deeper into the Hospital, Mono encountered remnants of its former inhabitants—rusted medical equipment, overturned gurneys, and tattered plastic curtains swaying gently in a ghostly breeze. 

It all looked just as he remembered. Nothing had changed. 

The air was heavy with the scent of decay, mixed with the metallic taste of old blood and antiseptic.

It was revolting and haunting.

Rooms Mono had passed through in the past now lay abandoned and forgotten, their doors hanging askew on rusted hinges. Lights flickered eerily, casting ghostly silhouettes against the peeling walls. Everywhere Mono looked, he saw evidence of the suffering that once haunted these walls, a strong reminder of the horrors that had unfolded within. 

Memories of his own time here as a boy, fighting to survive, flooded back to him. He tried to suppress them.

Despite the looming threat that appeared to lurk around every corner, Mono pressed forward, driven by his survival instincts. But, as he ventured deeper into the Hospital's depths, an unsettling feeling of being watched began to gnaw at him after a while—a silent predator stalking him from the darkness.

Mono tried to look around, over his shoulder, but saw nothing but an empty, haunting hallway behind him. 

There was nothing.

He kept on walking.

Yet, in the following minutes, this feeling didn't fade as he moved on, and Mono became highly alert. He pretended to ignore it, attempting to walk more normally, to appear less injured than he really was. However, after a few more moments, Mono heard it.

A faint groan. 

A gurgle that sounded partly like laugh, yet like a cry. 

Mono froze in heartbeat, recognizing the sounds and not believing—not understanding—how this monster was still alive. 

Without hesitation, he dashed forward, the need to flee consuming him as his racing pulse drowed out all other sounds as he ran, knowing that the Doctor was behind him on the ceiling.

As he sprinted, the noises behind him intensified into loud banging, caused by meaty, thick hands fiercely grasping the ceiling, accompanied by deep grunts and gasps as the Doctor started to chase Mono.

With adrenaline coursing through his exhausted body, Mono sprinted with every ounce of strength left in his legs, racing down the labyrinthine hallways in a desperate search for an escape. Amidst the chase, fragments of his memory flickered, guiding his frantic path. He turned a corner—only to face a dead end barricaded by imposing metal bars.

Breathing hard, Mono's eyes darted around frantically, landing on an old staff door. 

A surge of familiarity flooded his senses, memories crashing over him like a rough wave; The mannequins—a chilling reminder of the horrors that lurked behind the last time he'd been here.

With the thunderous grunts and groans of the rapidly approaching Doctor echoing behind him, Mono's only option was the door looming to the side. So, with a swift, desperate move, he threw his weight against it, crashing into it with his shoulder. It made him grind his teeth together from the slight pain, but he ignored it.

The hinges protested—yet giving way with a resounding crash as he bursted into the darkness behind.

Without his trusty flashlight, a crucial tool from his previous journey through this darkness, Mono relied solely on his memory—specifically, muscle memory—hoping it would guide him through the shadows to safety as he raced onward.

The sounds of the Doctor outside in the hallway grew louder.

Mono tried not to listen.

But, as he rushed onward, his momentum abruptly halted—by the harsh impact of his head colliding with a wooden pillar protruding from the ceiling. Irritated for a moment, the realization dawned upon him with a pang of annoyance besides his panic—he had grown taller since his last visit. Much taller. Softly groaning in pain and clutching his throbbing head, Mono pressed on, hunched over to avoid smacking his head again.

Every fiber of his being on edge, expecting at any moment the icy grasp of a mannequin seizing him, or the sounds of the Doctor following him in to the room.

However, to his confusion, there were no sounds, no obstacles in his path as he moved through the room undisturbed, the eerie silence surrounding him as he crossed it unharmed. The sounds of the Doctor faded, growing quieter behind him.

Seems like the monster had lost him for now.

Reaching the far end of the room, with his breath slowly returning to normal, Mono noticed a light streaming through a familiar door's broken window—an sign of escape. Limping over, he gripped the handle and gently pushed the door open.

Yet, once again, as he attempted to walk through the doorway, his height irritated him. He had to bend over considerably to pass through and enter the hallway on the other side.

When had he grown so tall? It was currently, very much, annoying. He missed being smaller, the size that let him easily jump over or through obstacles.

Pausing, Mono suddenly realized he had spent more time in the Tower than he had originally thought. His new height being a reminder, that he had grown over the years... It wasn't exactly comforting, as it dawned on him now that he was unsure of his own age. Time behaved differently in the Tower. 

But, last he remembered when he fell...he was around...ten...? 

It didn't matter now. 

Trying not to be too disturbed and worried about it, Mono set the thought aside momentarily, knowing he had more pressing matters to attend to, and fully stepped into the hallway.

The hallway stirred memories within Mono's mind; he had gone through it as a young boy to retrieve a fuse from one of the nearby rooms. Halting briefly, a sudden idea struck him. If his memory served him right—there was a section of rooms nearby where he could rest and shower. With a shiver, he became acutely aware of the dried blood clinging to his skin and clothes, a reminder of what he had endured. 

He could use a shower if he would find them.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Mono closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath before pressing on, navigating the corridors with the guidance of his memory. 

Hoping he would find his way on his own.

════════════════

The cold water of the shower soothed, yet pained Mono greatly.

After walking around for about thirty minutes, he'd found the showers for the Hospital's patients, and nearby rooms just as he'd remembered. Mono had wasted no time shedding his torn and bloodied clothes. And limped slowly into the showers, he found them still functional, albeit with cold water. Yet, he didn't mind; he couldn't recall the last time he had the luxury of a shower. 

Back in the Tower, stuck in his room, he could never shower. He couldn't exactly explain it, but whenever he had been just feeling slightly dirty, it was just vanished from his body. He suspected that the Tower had some weird kind of power to let things vanish at its will within its domain. 

Mono had never really payed attention. Too much in his thoughts to really care.

With one hand braced against the wall, Mono allowed the stream of water to flow down his spine and over his bruised body. Eyebrows creased and lips tightly sealed to stifle his groans of pain. Despite the slight relief the water provided to his partly open wounds, it stung mercilessly. Yet, Mono persisted, knowing he needed to clean his wounds thoroughly before rebandaging them and searching for fresh clothes. 

As the water flowed over him, washing away the remnants of dried blood, sweat, and grime, Mono used the calm moment to reflect on the tumultuous events of the past hour.

He had escaped the Tower, the Eyes. Made it through a TV to the Hospital. Barely survived. And in search of a safe place, found out that the Doctor was still alive.

Mono's heart stuttered with worry and confusion, his mind swirling with memories. 

He remembered very, vividly, the unintended trap he and Si—her had set for the Doctor, luring him into the furnace where his agonizing cries echoed as he burned. Yet, the worrying reality confronted Mono: just thirty minutes prior, he had been pursued by the very same Doctor, unmistakably alive and unscathed by the flames.

How could that be?

Mono knew a possible answer.

One that was terrifying yet, seemingly the only explanation.

The cycles.

Mono had...known, ever since he'd taken the same seat as the one he had freed from the very same room, that would become his future prison.

Mono's head drooped, his black, damp hair clinging to his face as water streamed over it. His lips pressed tightly together as a memory, one from long ago, a haunting one, began to replay in his mind...

.

.

.

The trembling silhouette of a young boy, quiet and broken on his chair, started to annoy the Eyes. 

Still, a young Mono couldn't cease his silent  tears while seated. It had only been a few hours since she dropped him. Now, Mono was fully experiencing the depth of her betrayal...the pain, the ache in his chest. 

He was aware of the Eyes watching him, aware that he was irritating them. Yet, he didn't care. His sole focus was on a single question, repeating itself under his breath like a chant between his relentless sobs. 

“Why...” Younger Mono asked no one specifically, his voice broken and quiet. “Why did she drop me...?” 

The walls around him rumbled quietly, sounding like a low sigh. 

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽p͓̽a͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽f͓͓̽̽y͓̽; ͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓̽...” Their combined voices rang out. “...͓̽S͓͓̽̽w͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽t͓̽, ͓̽p͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓̽, ͓̽l͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓̽. ͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽k͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽w͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽y͓̽.”

Young Mono slowly lifted his head, now not hidden anymore from the world since he had let go of his paper bag. 

“W-what...?” 

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽l͓̽; ͓̽S͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽p͓͓̽̽p͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽b͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽c͓̽a͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽b͓͓̽̽e͓̽...”

Mono furrowed his eyebrows, displaying a look of confusion and denial. “D-destined...? W-what—” 

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽e͓͓̽̽x͓͓̽̽p͓͓̽̽l͓̽a͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽; ͓̽B͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽c͓̽a͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽m͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽b͓͓̽̽e͓̽. ͓̽J͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽l͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽k͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽s͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽y͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽p͓̽a͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽t͓̽. ͓̽A͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽k͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽w͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽c͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓̽...͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽y͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽w͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽p͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽f͓̽ ͓̽s͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽'͓̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽s͓͓̽̽l͓̽a͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽.”

Mono shook his head, his eyes widening despite their soreness. “N-no. I-I don't understand...” 

In reality he did, he always had. Yet, he denied it. The Eyes knew it too.

The walls rumbeling grew louder. “͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓̽.” 

Young Mono fell silent, his head dropping and his eyes tightly shut as he grasped the meaning of their words. An ugly sob escaped him soon after. 

“...This has all happened before, hasn't it...?” 

.

.

.

Yes, it had. 

Mono knew the answer now. He understood, despite lacking any memory of past cycles... Yet, he found himself here now, where he wasn't meant to be. He had escaped, and in doing so, had he...broken the time loop? 

Mono didn't know. However, if he had indeed broken the loop, why was the Doctor still alive? Could it be that instead of breaking, the cycle had restarted? This might explain why the creature haunting the Hospital was once again alive, even after they had killed it. 

But if it truly had restarted, why was he here? 

Mono lacked the understanding of how time loops worked to provide an real answer. Yet, he couldn't shake the thought off that if the loop had reset, he should have been dead. After all, if it could resurrect the Doctor, it surely had the capability to erase him from existence, to keep the cycle going. Create a new Mono, and start all over again.

So, why was he alive?

This was just one of the many questions in Mono's head right now as he stood under the stream of water. The coolness of it was a momentary relief from the building heat within him. The overwhelming uncertainty, coupled with the inability to fully grasp the situation, fueled a growing sense of anger. 

Yet...

The anger took over, and with an abrupt surge of frustration, Mono fiercely growled low in his throat and unleashed his fury upon the wet wall before him—his knuckles meeting the unforgiving surface—as he punched it. 

Whirling around, Mono stormed away, abandoning the still-running shower behind him.

Drenched and naked, he marched into the nearby room, anger evident as he sat down on a wooden bench and tended to his wounds with forced calmness. With each tight movement of rebandaging himself, Mono focused on planning his next steps, determined to push aside the torrent of his other thoughts.

At the moment, he had to find fresh clothes as his old ones were beyond salvaging—torn, dirty, and stained with blood. After his fresh shower, he didn't want to risk infecting his wounds. Besides, he had no intention of strolling around the hospital nude.

Secondly, he was very tired and understood the necessity of rest. However, finding a safe place was crucial for that, and knowing that the Doctor was still around made the task far from easy.

Following that, he had to leave the Hospital and ready himself for survival outside.

That meant, find stuff like; food reserves, tools, more appropriate clothing among other things.

Mono paused, closing his eyes for a moment. This was the closest thing to a plan he had right now, and he didn't have another choice but to follow it. He could think about what to do next after he had gathered himself outside. Was safe, as he could be in this world, in this city...and could try and survive on his own. 

Just like he always had.

════════════════

In his search for clothing, Mono had been successful—ish. 

He'd managed to find a pair of pants in a nearby room with lockers intended for hospital staff, if there ever were any staff to begin with. Unfortunately, it was only the pants; no shirt or jacket was to be found. Nevertheless, Mono was grateful for at least the pants—better to have them than be completely naked. 

The pants happened to be about his size, lucky, considering he had grown significantly since his boyhood. They bore a resemblance to his old ones, too. Mono found comfort in that, as it felt like he was reclaiming his old self. 

The chilling air of the Hospital posed a challenge though. 

With only his new pants, barefoot, and the meager bandages covering his upper body and arms, Mono faced the biting cold of the Hospital corridors. Nonetheless, he persisted, drawing upon his past resilience. He knew he had endured way worse cold before.

For an intense hour or two, Mono moved cautiously through the Hospital, ensuring his every step was quiet to avoid alerting the Doctor. He explicitly kept his distance from the areas where the monster was likely to lurk, drawing from his past experiences. Mono continued to search for a safe place.

And eventually, he discovered a spot that appeared suitable for a rest.

In an unknown corner, but it offered protection and safety away from the ominous main hallways of the Hospital. A side room, likely once used for storage, now abandoned. Its only entrance was a doorway, slightly fallen in to itself, too narrow for the Doctor to pass through. However, Mono, with some difficulty, barely managed to squeeze himself inside.

He stumbled upon one of the first of many useful items for his future survival, as he had started to look out for useful supplies. A dark mud-brown bag, resembling a training bag but also doubling as a backpack, grabbed his attention. Clearly handy. Grabbing it and slinging it over his shoulder, Mono wasted no time delving into the rest of the room, eager to find more treasures to scavenge.

And sure enough, his search was rewarded with some clean spare bandages, a small glass vial of antibiotics, a dose of painkiller pills, and a small white towel intended for cleaning wounds. He stored all of them away in his new bag.

A very good find that will definitely help him.

Mono was quite surprised that this place hadn't been searched before by others. Typically, places like this, especially if they contained medicine, were the first to be scavenged for survival. Maybe the Doctor had scared them away. Nonetheless, he was glad that he seemed to be the first to find it. 

After finishing his search of the room, Mono retreated to a secluded corner, settling onto the ground. He popped one of the painkiller pills into his mouth, craving relief from the persistent ache in his body. Using the bag as a makeshift pillow against the wall for his neck, Mono folded his knees and rested his hands in his lap. Finally allowing himself to rest.

He kept his eyes open for a while, despite being tired; a part of him afraid that he might not wake up if he fell asleep. Mind swirling with images, and new haunting memories of today. But then, after what felt like another hour...

Mono's eyelids drooped, and he slipped into a deep, much-needed sleep.

════════════════

He was woken up by a loud bang.

In an instant, Mono snapped awake, clutching his bag with a fierce grip. His breath came in shallow gasps as he crouched low, one hand clutched around a nearby the shelf for support, every muscle tense. Ready to leap at any moment if needed. 

The banging echoed from outside the room he was in, joined by low, ominous groans and high-pitched laughs that sounded more like crying. Anger flashed in Mono's eyes, and his brows knitted as he recognized the clear signs of the Doctor's presence. 

He had found Mono, and was currently blocking the only way in, or out of the room.

Mono's assumption about the Doctor being too big to fit through the doorway proved correct. However, he had failed to consider the necessity of having an exit. This mistake became painfully clear to Mono, but it was too late. He was trapped.

The Doctor's thick, wrinkled, meaty hands surged into the room, seizing the side of the doorway with a primal hunger, ready to wrench it open and invade with brute force. Groaning, and half laughing on the other side. 

Mono was running out of time. And fast. It wouldn't be long till the Doctor would break inside. 

Kneeling on the ground, Mono stayed alert and tense, his eyes focused on the doorway as his mind worked quickly to devise an escape plan.

His powers were an option. He could use them to create a static blast that would give him time to distract the Doctor and slip past him. 

However, Mono hesitated, and wasn't sure if that was a good idea, as an inner voice warned him that the Tower, along with the Eyes, could possibly track him down. He wanted to remain hidden from them, considering they were most likely searching for him in the Pale City since his escape. 

And using his abilities, was like a beam of light to them.

But this was an emergency, and Mono would be long gone before the Eyes found the location where he had been.

Seeing no other option in his situation, Mono tensed up and clenched his right hand.

But as he tried to gather static inside of it, Mono paused in shock. 

He couldn't feel them. 

His powers.

Mono's eyes snapped down to his hand, attempting once more to summon static energy in his palm. But nothing materialized; he didn't even feel a spark. Nothing. 

He had lost his powers.

Or he must have used his last resorts to travel through the TV, after having been drained of them for so long by the Tower. 

Whatever the reason, he was without his powers at the moment and needed to find an alternative solution.

Another thunderous bang reverberated from outside the room, intertwined with laughter that seemed to echo like cries of anguish from the Doctor. Mono swiftly snapped his head back towards the source, his eyes widening, as an expression of panic and despair etched itself across his face. 

He needed to do something. Now, or he would—

The Doctor's hand suddenly withdrew, unveiling his haunting, foldy, too fleshy visage. 

Mono's and the Doctor's eyes meet silently. 

A beat passed. 

Before, abruptly, with a screech, the Doctor—rammed his face through the narrow doorway—crumbling the walls around it with violent force. 

And with that had broken in to the room. 

In a frantic rush of movement, the next moments happened so fast it felt like a heartbeat. Driven by instinct, Mono leaped to the other side, just moments before the Doctor crashed down from the ceiling. Chaos erupted in the room as the Doctor's impact shattered everything in its path, the air filled with tension and danger as the monster started to pursue Mono, who tried to dodge. 

The disturbing echoes of the Doctor's unsettling groans and laughs reverberated through the room as he lurched across the floor. With a surge of energy, Mono lunged towards the newly freed doorway, only to feel the icy grip of the Doctor on his ankle—wrenching him back with brutal force. 

In a heart-stopping moment, Mono was violently yanked back, his body slamming onto the unforgiving ground with a resounding thud, the sheer force of the impact sending shockwaves of pain coursing through his body, and swallowed down Mono's shocked shout that had wanted to come out of his throat.

In a panic, Mono flipped onto his back, desperately fighting against the Doctor's unyielding grip. Despite Mono's resistance, kicking, and clawing at the ground, the Doctor's hold remained firm, steadily dragging Mono closer with no sign of stopping.

In a twisted moment, Mono caught sight of the Doctor in full view for the first time since their last encounter. The first thing that struck him was how much smaller the monster seemed compared to his memory. Had he always been this...normal-sized? Or had Mono's child-self perceived the Doctor as much bigger? The revelation left him questioning the accuracy of his memories and the fear they once instilled.

Whatever it was, to Mono's shock, he realized—they were roughly about the same size now—with Mono even being taller.

The idea of overpowering the Doctor with his own physical size and strength seized him.

And before he knew what he was doing—in a moment of fierce determination, and the will to survive—Mono furrowed his eyebrows, teeth bared as he lunged towards the Doctor. And with a deep snarl—wrapped his arms around the Doctor's thick, bulky neck, and hugged it so forcefully and bruisingly that he could hear the bones start to crack.

And as Mono had anticipated, his size proved enough to overpower the once fearsome Doctor, now reduced to gasping and feeble resistance within his firm grasp. 

The revelation of his own physical strength would have shocked Mono, were he not fully absorbed in the intense struggle at hand. With adrenaline coursing through their veins, Mono and the Doctor engaged in a primal battle for survival on the ground. Despite the Doctor's frantic attempts to break free, Mono clung to his back with burning determination, refusing to move an inch.

Summoning every ounce of his strength, Mono tightened his grip, adding the pressure of his legs wrapped around the Doctor's midsection, cutting off the monsters air supply. The Doctor shrieked in fear, writhing, wheezing, and retching, his struggles growing more desperate with each passing moment.

Gritting his teeth painfully, with the sound of his own pulse resonating in his ears, Mono tensed his arms around the Doctors neck once more, applying more pressure—

C R A C K.

The Doctor went limp, both of them crashing to the ground. 

Struggling for breath, Mono slumped away from the lifeless monster's body, and abruptly halted, his eyes locked onto it, losing his breath as his heartbeat faltered beneath his ribs.

A strangled gasp clawed its way out of his throat, the weight of the scene pressing down on him. 

Mono stumbled to his feet, his movements unsteady and rushed. Ignoring the ache in his limbs, he staggered across the floor, his hands trembling as he reached for his bag, and pressed on through the doorway, leaving the haunting scene behind him.

Eyes wide, lips parted in shock, Mono surged forward, a palpable sense of dread weighing on his every step. Despite the turmoil within him, he fought the urge to look back, unwilling to confront the gravity of what he had just done. With every fiber of his being, he practically fled through the Hospital hallways, driven by the urgent wish—need, to escape.

But his run transformed suddenly into a stumble as Mono came to a stuttering halt, bracing himself against a wall with narrowed eyes—and vomited violently.

Not much came out of him, mostly his stomach acid, but the itch to vomit didn't let go of him for an agonizing minute, and Mono continued to retch his insides out. 

Once he was only gagging on nothing but air and this feeling, Mono pressed himself away from the wall and stumbled to the one behind him, leaning against it, breathing hard. Terrified.

He had killed the Doctor.

Mono had killed before, but not like this. Not with his bare hands.

This was different from all the other times he had to kill to defend himself—the sensation of the other's body warmth, their pulse racing in panic; their desperate struggle for survival; their fear so intense you could feel it.

Even though the Doctor may have been a monster, and most likely had deserved to die, it still had been a living being. A life, that had wanted to survive and still dreaded death.

A life, that Mono had taken.

And so effortlessly too, something a young Mono would've never have survived. But now, older, larger, stronger, he could fight more effectively—and actually win.

He knew it had been a matter of survival, a choice between him or the Doctor. Despite being an act of self-defense, the weight of what Mono had done crashed down on him with devastating force. 

And it crushed him.

Having lost control of his breathing, he began to hyperventilate rapitly and clawed at his chest, panicking, as he held onto the wall behind him to steady himself. 

Mono had lost feel over his body and thoughts as they threatened to make him collapse. Feeling even worse than before, Mono whined under his breath, eyes squeezed shut, chest lifting and sinking rapidly, his heart beating so fast that it threatened to burst from his ribs—

“...Mono...” 

He tore open his eyes and snapped his head downward, fixing his gaze on the ground below.

At a little girl in a yellow raincoat.

As the moment of shock passed, Mono squinted his eyes and tilted his head back, leaning it against the wall. 

“...Y-you're not real...” he said with a trembling gasp. “...Go away.” 

After a long moment, the silence around him grew louder, weighing heavily on his senses, till he couldn't bare it anymore. Mono turned his head again and glanced down.

She was gone.

Mono grabbed his hair in a desperate grip, fingers wrenching at the black strands as if trying to anchor himself against his war of emotions. Yanking at it, as he struggled to calm himself. Yet, before he fully could, waves of anger and humiliation crashed over him, blurring his senses like a relentless virus.

The last time he had hallucinated her like this, he had been in the TV room for the first time, back in the Tower. 

Mono loathed his own mind for its cruelty, for daring to show him an image of her; it wasn't even real. But every vulnerable moment Mono experienced—dragged her back into his consciousness, turning his own mind into a haunting stage for the ghost of her memory.

He despised himself for being so weak...for conjuring her image once more. The fact that she still held such an effect over him after years gnawed at his core, a painful reminder of his vulnerability. 

With a final, guttural groan of frustration, Mono released his grip on his hair, his knuckles white from the force of his grasp. Knitting his eyebrows, he pushed himself away from the wall, adjusted his bag over his shoulder, and continued to slowly walk back, back to the room where he had been hurled out of the TV roughly a day ago. 

He needed to leave the Hospital.

And then, Mono knew, he needed to prepare himself to endure the coming weeks on the City's streets, to take the time to heal and regain his strength. To survive on his own, stay hidden from the Tower. And after that, he would work out his next steps, now that he had finally regained his freedom.

And find out how much the world has changed, since he was gone.

Chapter Text

Rain was something she would normally find...pleasant.

But not at the moment.

Each step was a struggle against exhaustion as she dragged her tired feet forward. Hunched over, burdened by numbness and slight pain, she battled the relentless rain. The raindrops hammered onto her yellow raincoat, offering little shelter from the assault of water droplets. The drumming of them upon her head echoed like a constant reminder of her hurry in the stormy afternoon.

Oddly, the persistent sounds served as a source of comfort, making it simpler for her to overlook the inner pain.

She pushed on, every step a battle against the dense undergrowth of the misty, shadowy woods. Her hands clenched the straps of her backpack, the weight digging into her weary shoulders. Each breath was labored, her lips tightly sealed, a trickle of blood finding its way down to her chin.

Swiftly, she wiped it away with the sleeve of her yellow raincoat, the fabric stained with the evidence of her struggles from a few hours ago. She had been so stupid. 

But, here she was, barely having managed to escape. 

With a small annoyed sigh, Six furrowed her eyebrows, pondering what she could have done differently.

Kill them all. 

But she hadn't been able too. 

Just hours ago, Six had stood on the western beach, the vast sea behind her, having crossed its treacherous waters with fellow survivors around her age, even though one looked no older then thirteen. Yearning for a better life on the mainland. She'd stumbled upon the other two by chance, drawn in by their discussions about migrating over the sea. The journey wasn't easy, but they informed her they had found someone who could bring them over. She had promptly invited herself to join their journey.

Yet, by doing so, she had broken one of her own rules: Never travel with others.

She had that rule for a reason. 

And, at the beach, Six had been brutally reminded of that.

Upon joining the other two, Six had met the other three guys who'd owned a small wooden boat essential for crossing the sea. The ones that would apparently help them.

Only to discover that they were bandits. 

That strategically discussed their sea journey along well-traveled paths, enticing unsuspecting souls to join them on a dark and treacherous adventure.

So that they later could kill them and take their stuff.

To Six's dismay, she unfortunately belonged to the other two whom she originally joined, and who became prey to their attackers. All had been eager to sail across the sea and return to the mainland. Yet, after hours of sailing across the sea and upon reaching the mainland's beach, the bandits swiftly launched a brutal assault on them, including Six.

Her instincts had sensed and faintly warned her that something was wrong the moment she stepped foot on the wooden boat. The reason was that the guys who sailed them over didn't charge anything in return; they claimed to be just helping other survivors. 

No one in this world does something for free. Ever.

Therefore, Six had been somewhat prepared for such a situation and successfully defended herself, escaping with some bruises and cuts. 

Unfortunately, the others...were not as lucky.

Six had sprinted for her life to the forest's edge, then looked over her shoulder just in time to witness the bandits killing one passenger and brutalizing the other. Six heard their cries as she fled into the forest, desperate to escape, just as rain started to fall. However, even as she ventured deeper into the woods in the next few minutes, the cries of the others still reached her ears.

The screams had spiraled into a cacophony of desperation and brutality, each passing minute more sinister than the last, until Six had slipped away beyond the reach of their haunting, piercing cries. And was surrounded by the sound of the heavy rainfall.

This had been a few hours ago.

And Six knew that the bandits probably would come after her. 

People like them wouldn't let fresh meat like Six get away.

As she had thought earlier, she had wanted to kill them all. To defend herself, a feat she normally accomplished. However, her powers... seemed to have a will of their own, sometimes refusing to heed her commands. They had failed her at the critical moment on the beach. Thus, Six now found herself staggering through the forest, bruised and bloodied, perhaps even nursing a broken rib or two, a testament to the betrayal of her own abilities.

That's why she was fleeing.

Something that greatly humiliated her.

Six was far from being a coward. She embodied the spirit of a fierce fighter and survivor. Yet, here she was, fleeing. But it was a necessity, not a sign of weakness. Six wasn't naïve. She knew the bandits would show her no mercy on her when they caught up. She was wounded, and without her powers, mysteriously dormant at the moment, she had only her instinct and experience to rely on. 

So, she moved on.

For a brief moment, Six's thoughts drifted towards her abilities. She could still sense their presence within her, yet when she attempted to call upon them, they remained silent. Foggy.

She wondered why.

Merely days ago, when she had still been in a distant land across the sea, she had effortlessly used her powers to get food by hunting a rabbit. They had functioned perfectly then. However, since this morning, they had remained unresponsive, causing her deep concern. Yet, her worries didn't end there; there was also the haunting dream from the day before.

Or should she say nightmare...

Once again, in her nightmare, Six had been thrusted back to the vulnerable age of nine—small, quivering with fear. And in the very last place she wished to find herself, a haunting echo of the past she had fervently tried to erase from her mind.

And the memories that tormented her there from a decade ago.

Six had been so terrified. So, so terrified. 

Gripped by fear even though it was just a dream. The intensity of her fear mirrored the brutal echoes of the past, reminiscent of the time he had taken her. The familiarity of it all had been sickening, sending shivers down her spine. Six had found herself start in a room, that nightmarish room, surrounded by relics from her life.

Except for the one thing that meant so much to her, which had been destroyed.

In her nightmare, Six had wandered through the twisted, purple, foggy hallways, trying to ignore the walls shifting behind her. She followed a tune, a very familiar yet haunting melody that she knew well. But it sounded deeper, more broken and haunting, then she remembered. It led her into a room where a lone TV flickered with light, casting sinister shadows across the darkness. 

First she had wanted to flee, run, fearing that something would come out of the screen like he had before. Yet. Just out of curiosity... 

Six instead had slowly approached, her hand hovering over the illuminated screen. Confusion mingled with the rush of memories flooding back, yet an unseen force seemed to draw her in, guiding her onward.

And, when her palm had touched the screen—a much larger—bloodied hand had abruptly smacked against the other side and pressed up against hers from inside the TV.

Six had desperately wanted to pull away, suppressing a breathless scream as the fear of his return consumed her. Yet, time seemed to stretch into an endless void as she stood frozen, the warmth of the other hand against hers had sent shivers down her spine. It was an eerie familiarity, haunting her with the realization that it wasn't him.

The monster.

Yet, before she could look more closley—an unseen force violently yanked her back, forcefully threw her from the dream. The abrupt awakening left her gasping for breath, with the lingering echoes of the surreal experience haunting her waking moments. Feeling the unwanted dampness on her cheeks.

Six had experienced similar dreams in the past, but none had been as vivid or hauntingly real as this one. Typically, her dreams were mere echoes of memories, her mind's attempt to process and heal. Six had come to understand that this was a natural response of the body, despite her self-reproach for still waking up in tears at times, feeling as vulnerable as a child. Over time, she had learned to push aside these emotions, to ignore them as best she could.

Strangely, the more she thought about it, her powers had remained silent ever since she had that dream.

As this strange realization dawned on Six, her steps gradually slowed until she came to a complete stop.

Was this...dream...this nightmare, the reason why her powers where non-responsive now? 

The timing of everything seemed suspicious to her. She wanted to understand why—

s w i S H H—

Six immediately snapped out of her thoughts and glanced up.

At a spear piercing a tree in front of her.

With adrenaline suddenly coursing through her veins like a raging river, Six snapped her head around towards the source of where the spear had come from. Through the relentless rain, she intensely glanced around, her eyes darting with panic, until she finally spotted something unsettling amidst the dense foliage of the forest.

There, looming between the shadows of trees, stood the three bandits. 

They had found her. 

Six froze immediately, engaged in a silent stare-down with them. 

The only audible sounds were the relentless drumming of raindrops hitting the ground around them. After a long, tense minute, the tallest of the trio took a deliberate stride forward, his smile slicing through the air like a blade.

“Well, well...” He spoke up, tilting his head. “If it isn't our ran away passenger.”

The other two behind him chuckled with amusement, arms crossed over their chests, their clothing still stained with the blood of their recent victims from the beach. 

The tallest one tilted his head. “Thought we wouldn't come after you, did you little coat?” 

Not appreciating the nickname, Six knitted her eyebrows and cast a hostile glare at them. She stepped back slowly, tensing her legs, preparing to bolt. She cursed herself inwardly for her lack of attention, for allowing her mind to wander so far that she hadn't heard their approach.

The tall one tsked at her and narrowed his eyes. “Ah-ah-ah...I wouldn't do that if I were you.” He gave her another grin, this one worse then the one before.

“You won't run for long if you try...”

A beat lingered between them, and Six, not listening, turned and ran.

The moment she did, she could hear their footsteps pounding behind her on the muddy ground, accompanied by raucous laughter and howls, as if they were reveling in a twisted hunt. She fought to suppress the sickening churn in her stomach and pressed on, refusing to succumb to fear. 

Six tore through the rain, each breath labored as she leaped and dodged through the thick forest undergrowth. Behind her, she could hear their relentless pursuit, the whistle of spears slicing through the air, aimed at her legs in a vicious attempt to bring her down. 

Six sprinted, leaping over stones and dodging small holes in the ground, desperate to shake them off her trail. But they were relentless, their shouts echoing behind her, hurling threats of what they would do to her once they caught her—threats so horrifying she would rather face death through an Adult than endure them.

However, suddenly, Six's foot snagged on a root protruding from the ground—causing her to tumble.

And, with a muted cry, Six fell to the hard, wet forest floor, knees and palms scraping against the unforgiving surface in a futile attempt to slow her fall. The skin tore open, blood mingling with the rain-soaked earth. Gritting her teeth, her cheek collided with the muddy ground, smearing dirt across her face.

Six tensed her arms to rise, but before she could, her bag was violently ripped from her back and hurled aside. A foot was placed between her shoulder blades and pressed her back down, making her groan in pain. 

The chuckle of the tallest of the three bandits sounded above her. “Told ya, you wouldn't get far, why did you run?” 

Six gave a low snarl in response, glaring up at him from the corner of her eyes as his foot kept her pinned to the ground. 

He had brown-red curly hair, that was currently wet and clung to his face, gray eyes, and a nasty scar across his face, stretching from his chin to his nose, which somehow made him more intimidating. Though he appeared only slightly older than Six, perhaps three years then her, the unsettling, faint glow in his eyes made him look much older, and showed that he enjoyed this situation immensely, causing her to feel nauseous. 

Six barely registered the presence of the other two bandits encircling her, but she disregarded them, keeping her intense glare fixed on the one pinning her to the ground, his head cocked to the side in curiosity.

“Oh what a death glare...I'm trembling in fear.” He snarked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes while smirking. The other two laughed like mindless idiots.

“You know....” He said softly as he leaned in closer to her, causing the foot pressing down on her back to grind painfully against her bones. 

“I would love to turn that glare into tears...” 

Six intensified her glare and bared her teeth. “Try it maggot.” 

The other two bandits nearby let out low whistles amidst their laughter. Finding her words utterly funny. Meanwhile, Six locked eyes with the tallest one, who remained perfectly still, mirroring her gaze. Something silent passing through between them, as the tension grew.

The other two continued their mindless laughter like a broken record, and it quickly got on to the nerves of the tallest one. Because he abruptly broke eye contact with Six and directed a glare at them instead, yelling at them;

“Would you two shut up?!” 

They fell silent instantly, taking a step back from their presumed leader, who shot them a lingering glare before returning his gaze back to Six. A new glint, resembling interest, now sparkled in his eyes. Six tried not to read too much into that interest.

“You have a fierce aura...” he observed, watching her closely. “And the will to survive against all odds...even now, while being held on the ground, destined to die.” 

Six furrowed her eyebrows in confusion slightly but maintained her glare. He continued.

“We could make good use of someone like you in our camp...It would be a waste to let such a will die.” 

He held her gaze with intensity, causing Six to quickly avert her eyes. She could sense his stare boring into the back of her neck, but the pressure of his foot on her back lessened slightly.

The other two bandits gasped, and one of them spoke up. “Wait, Van, y-you can't be serious?” 

Van, the tall one with the scar, huffed and glanced at them once more. “I am. When was the last time we had such a strong and hard-willed female in our camp? She could handle the boys. And not break, like the last one.” 

Being addressed simply as "female," made Six immediately cringe and close her eyes. Inwardly, she pleaded for her powers to activate, desperate to escape this situation. The prospect of being taken to their camp, especially to "handle the boys," as Van had vaguely mentioned, alarmed her. She had no desire to find out, particularly if the last one, like Van had mentioned, broke. Despite her plea, her powers remained unresponsive.

One of the other two bandits toned in with the conversation. “But Van, if we take her to the camp she will know where it is, and tell others if she manages to escape. How are we supposed to—” 

“She won't escape,” Van growled, casting another glance down at Six, who returned his glare. Their eyes locked once more. “I will make sure of that, as she will be staying with me first.” 

For a brief moment, Six's eyes widened before she emitted a low growl from her throat, akin to that of an animal. She narrowed her eyes once more, fixing him with a glare that could have been deadly if it were possible. Van merely responded with a cruel, sly smile before removing his foot from her back, which was immediately replaced with his knee as he seized her arms and bound them behind her back.

Six fought against him, attempting to roll over, but he merely chuckled at her efforts and simply seemed to enjoy at her struggle.

“Let go of me, or it will be the last thing you do.” Six warned him, trying to kick him.

“Cute. We will see about that.” Van chuckled and yanked Six up to her feet.

One of the remaining bandits hoisted Six's bag onto his shoulder, while the other grasped her other arm, joining Van in the slow dragging through the forest. Reluctantly, Six was dragged toward an unfamiliar destination that filled her with dread, hinting at her potential demise. Despite the fear gripping her, she began plotting her escape, maintaining a facade of calm determination, resolved to break free even without the aid of her powers.

Six wouldn't let herself be held for long.

She never did.

════════════════

Turns out. The world and the Pale City hadn't changed much since he had fallen.

Mono wasn't surprised by that. After all, everything existed in a loop, or had once. And wouldn't change much. However, he couldn't ignore the endless rain. 

He hadn't missed it at all. 

Having escaped the Hospital, Mono had been wandering the dark, gloomy streets of the Pale City for a few hours now, searching for anything that could be usefull to him. He had passed many familiar buildings, buildings he had passed before when he was younger...

With her.

Earlier, he had passed that spot where she had gotten her yellow raincoat.

Mono had halted, fixating on a particular spot on the ground, rain cascading down and drenching him. His hair, once more clinging to his face, couldn't conceal the sadness within his eyes as they remained fixed on the past. Immersed in the rain, he had stood motionless, pondering deeply...

Where was she now?

Was she still among the living after all these years? He couldn't say with certainty, but one thing he knew for sure was her resilience, her unwavering determination to survive. He had witnessed it firsthand. Mono wondered if she had changed as much as he had. If she had grown taller, or was she still the same small girl he had encountered in the Hunter's cabin.

Mono had to shake himself out of his thoughts and press on. He had passed numerous streets and houses, eventually arriving at his present location. And paused once more.

His stomach grumbled.

Mono looked down at his stomach and frowned. 

Yeah, that slipped his mind. It had been a while since he last ate. In the Tower, the Eyes had made sure he had sufficient food, even though it was mainly water and bread, sometimes supplemented with a snack bar or beef jerky for sustenance. But now he was on his own, relying on himself to find for food.

Furrowing his eyebrows and adjusting his bag over his shoudler, Mono redirected his attention and resumed walking, this time on the lookout for a supermarket or any abandoned shop that might contain food. 

An hour later, he finally stumbled upon one that wasn't entirely emptied out. Well, at least it appeared that way. His stomach hadn't stopped grumbling, and hunger gnawed at Mono more fiercely with each passing moment. Determined, he entered the shop, only to encounter seemingly barren shelves. 

Mono was familiar with the layout of stores like this, having moved through them multiple times as a young boy, just as he was doing now, in search of food. And he knew that there was likely a backroom, probably locked, containing some food. As a child, Mono had been unable to open such doors due to his smaller size and lack of physical strength.

Now, Mono didn't have to worry about that; his own physical strength was enough to break the locked door open.

And, after finding a door like that, thats what he did.

With a deafening crash, Mono threw his shoulder against it, the door gave way instantly to his relentless force. Slamming open.

Once again, Mono was both amazed and disturbed by his own strength. He knew he had grown, but he wasn't particularly physically fit or well, given that he had only received the bare minimum for survival in the Tower. Currently, Mono was a bit too lean, and he didn't like that one bit; he resembled more closely the other monster the Tower had attempted to shape him into.

He aimed to change that, to work on himself, to eat more and regain a normal, healthy body. He knew it would come back in due time, alongside his survival.

But for now he was hungry.

Mono crouched and slipped through the doorway, casting a glance around the room.

The shelves were stocked with preserved doses, snack bars, bags—just a lot of food. Too much for him to eat it all. But he wasn't interested in that, he intended to eat, pack what he could in his bag for later, and then leave.

And leave the rest for others.

Mono assumed that other kids where around the City. Surviving the best they could. He would help them with that once they would find this room. They probably couldn't open that room before, but thanks to him it was now open.

Mono got down to business, snatching a snack bar from a shelf. As he munched on it, he continued grabbing items from the shelves and stashing them away in his bag. He roamed around for what seemed like ten minutes, eating while scavenging until his bag was full. Eventually, he stepped out of the room again. Now carrying food that would hold for him about a week.

He gave the bag a gentle shake to feel its weight. Satisfied with it, Mono began walking back towards the entrance, intending to leave the shop and find a place to stay. However, abruptly, something light brown caught his eye, causing Mono to pause. 

He turned and approached it, eager to examine it more closely. Whatever it was behind a checkout counter, tucked underneath and concealed from view. 

Mono knelt down on one leg, gently reaching for the light brown object, pausing once more as his fingers recognized the familiar texture of paper.

He could have cried. 

Mono fully got down on both his knees and pulled the paper bag closer to his face, staring at it.

It wasn't his old bag, of course, the one that had brought him so much comfort. That one had been swept away. But this one... It was a paper bag, one of many hidden underneath the counter, resembling shopping bags for customers. Yet, they were nearly identical to his old one in color and shape, just larger.

The only thing that was missing where two holes for the eyes.

Mono furrowed his eyebrows, gripping the paper bag tighter and crumpling it slightly. His knuckles on his hands turning white from the pressure. However, he paid it no mind as he closed his eyes and pressed it against his forhead, eager to feel the familiar texture against his skin. It was just as he remembered.

Comforting.

Mono sucked in a heavy breath. 

And for the first time since a long time, felt safe.

BANG.

Mono's eyes snapped wide open, and he jumped to his feet at the bone-shattering sound from outside. Adrenaline surged through him, and he tensed his shoulders, readying himself, every nerve on edge—fearing the presence of an Adult, the Eyes, or some other malevolent threat looming outside. The ominous echo of the same bang reverberated through the air once more, intensifying his dread.

Yet, as the moments passed, Mono's head gradually lowered in silent frustration and growing annoyance, his understanding deepening as he realized what that sound was.

Thunder.

Feeling annoyed at his own jumpiness, Mono stashed the paper bag away in his training bag and quickly left the shop, blending into the rainy streets.

He wandered aimlessly for a while, the relentless rain soaking him to the bone. With a raging thunderstorm brewing overhead, he clung to the buildings, seeking shelter from both the downpour and the impending darkness. Despite the biting cold, an unfamiliar numbness crept over him, but he didn't feel it as much as he used to.

Crossing one haunting and dark street after another, Mono eventually decided to try his luck on top of the buildings. Somewhere up there had to be a safe room to stay for a few days. The exhaustion from his fight with the Doctor weighed heavily on his body, his wounds pulsating beneath the strained bandages.

Perhaps it would be wise to replace the bandages soon and, while at it, check the condition of the rest of his body. Mono didn't feel well.

He eventually reached a building that seemed to have been a clothing store, with living quarters above, appearing uninhabited. Mono entered stealthily, his steps careful and deliberate, his heart pounding beneath his ribs. Before anything else, he needed to confirm whether the building was truly uninhabited. If he was to stay here, he didn't want to get surprised by an Adult. 

Quietly, Mono crouched slightly, attempting to make himself smaller—not an easy task, and he stealthily moved around the shop. He first checked the side rooms, scanning for any signs of activity or presence. Finding nothing, he swiftly moved on to inspect the rest of the shop, peering behind the checkout counter, examining shelves, and exploring more rooms and doors. 

However, his search resulted in nothing; the store appeared to be empty.

Mono relaxed somewhat, loosening the tension in his back and shoulders. He turned his head to the side, casting a glance at a set of wooden stairs, partially broken, that ascended to the living quarters above.

Now lets check that.

Mono turned and walked them up slowly, the wooden floor creaking beneath his bare feet with each step. He remained cautious, still trying to be as quiet as possible in case something or someone awaited him upstairs. As he reached the entrance door of the second floor, Mono readied himself once more. With a swift yet silent click, he opened it, allowing the door to creak open slowly. 

The room behind the door could only be described as... sad.

It was empty; no one was in it, yet Mono could still sense that someone had been here some time ago. Years of instinct told him that. 

At the far end, a lone window allowed the moonlight in, casting an silver-blue otherworldly glow across the room. A cracked pane played with light and shadow, casting captivating patterns. Outside, the ceaseless rain pattered against the window, producing subtle, soothing rustles that echoed faintly within the room. To the left, a weathered brown sofa beckoned with tales of countless moments, while across from it, a broken TV perched atop what might have been a once-vibrant green rug, now bearing the marks of time on the weathered wooden floor.

Mono relaxed as soon as he noticed the broken TV. The situation could have taken a dangerous turn if it had been intact. He vividly remembered from his childhood that they somehow sensed his presence, emitting a painful, nail-scratching static sound to lure him closer whenever he was near. 

The Eyes were able to easily find him through that. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Mono swiftly inspected the rest of the room. 

In a dim corner, he suddenly noticed aged blood splatters, now blackened with time—a clear sign that someone had been wounded. A shiver ran down his spine as he grasped the implication: someone had bled significantly in this very spot long ago. 

Clenching his hand tightly, Mono couldn't ignore the unsettling realization that the blood amount was too little for an adult... yet too much for a child...

Whatever or whoever had bled in this area, the ominous, rough blood marks stretched across the floor, leading towards a side door to his left. Mono's head turned slowly, and his eyes narrowed with a sense of foreboding, as he could guess where that blood led to.

Slowly, he turned and walked up to the side door, noticing a small...bloody handprint underneath the doorknob. 

It was too small to reach the knob.

Mono's breath grew heavy, his shoulders tense and his eyebrows furrowed as he prepared himself for what he would likely see behind that door. His dread and unease grew with each passing second. His hand reached for the door, and with a silent creak, opened it.

And the scene inside made him want to vomit. 

It was pure carnage.

A gasp escaped Mono's lips, barely audible, as he staggered forward, his hand instinctively reaching out to grasp the doorframe for support.

The interior had once been a bathroom, but now the once-white walls were a deep, dark red, splattered with blood. The walls, floor, and even the ceiling were stained with the crimson hue. The air itself felt heavy with the weight of unspeakable deeds, and amidst this grisly scene lay the lifeless form of a small body, its presence casting a chilling aura over the room.

And it was mauled to pieces.

It was unmistakably a child, its small form suggesting an age no more than five or six. Their lifeless figure lay sprawled on their back, throat savagely torn to shreds, spine bones jutting out from decaying, molten flesh. The skin, pale and mottled with a sickly dark red. Their chest was a horrific sight, broken open, ribs unnaturally splayed outward like grotesque hands, while the legs were contorted and twisted. The scene emanated a deep sense of dread, each detail a haunting reminder of their unimaginable suffering.

There where no organs.

Mono was frozen in place, too stunned by the gruesome and morbid sight before him. 

He knew the child had endured a painfully agonizing death, the wounds all too familiar from encounters with Adults who hunted down children. They would injure their victims, allowing them to slowly bleed out. Then, when they were half-dead but still conscious, they would ruthlessly tear open their bodies and consume their insides while they were still alive.

Despair and sadness etched across Mono's face, a profound agony that weighed heavily on his shoulders. With slow steps, he approached the small, lifeless form on the ground. The weight of the moment bore down on him, and he dropped to his knees with a heavy, sorrow-laden heart, consumed by the horror before him.  

Mono wished he could have helped, but they had been dead for a while. He knew it was naive to wish he could've done something, but Mono couldn't fight his instinct to help others. Gazing down at the child, he prayed that perhaps their passing had occurred before the situation had become too gruesome for them to endure...

Slowly, Mono raised his hands and reached out, gently grasping the remnants of their body and lifting it into the air. The sensation of their decaying body didn't disgust him; instead, he felt numb and sorrowful. Leaving them behind wasn't an option for him, as he still harbored the desire to help, even beyond death. 

The only thing he could do now was help them to find a peaceful rest.

And not lay here alone, splayed open in this gruesome bathroom, torn to shreds.

Mono straightened his back slowly, kneeling on the ground with one knee, tensing back his shoulders as he cradled the child's body with one hand. With the other hand, he reached into his bag and retrieved the white cloth he had obtained from the Hospital.

With care, he wrapped the remains of the child in the cloth, ensuring not to disturb their body too much until they were fully enveloped in it. 

He rose to his full height and left the room, making his way downstairs. He remembered spotting a small backyard at the end of the shop when he had checked for Adults. 

He could bury them there. 

Mono opened the back door and stepped out into the rain once more, surrounded by darkness and the sounds of the rain. The faint light emanated from the blue moon above, its image blurred by the falling water droplets. Glancing around, he noticed a crafting table to the side, adorned with tools. Making his way over, he found a small one-handed shovel and a crowbar. He picked up the shovel and proceeded to the rear of the backyard, where a small patch of grass awaited.

Mono dropped to one of his knees once again, gently laying down the small body wrapped in the cloth beneath him to shield it from the rain with his looming form. With determination, he then dug a small hole for the child's body, a task that didn't take long since the hole didn't need to be big.

He paused at that. 

What a fucked up thought.

With silent fury consuming him, Mono's growl, through gritted teeth, was drowned by the relentless harsh rain hammering down on the earth around him. With determination, he continued to dig the grave more forcefully than before. Not even a minute later, the hole was complete. Tenderly, he cradled the child's body and placed it into the grave, shielding it once more with his body to prevent the heavy rain from above from filling up the hole with water. 

Mono lingered there, seemingly frozen in time, his gaze fixed upon the small, innocent body of the child he was forced to bury. Each raindrop from the sky seemed to cut through him, soaking him to the bone, his black hair forming a strange wet curtain around his vision. But, despite the biting cold seeping into his very core, he remained unmoving, unable to move, solely focused on the little life lost beneath him. 

Mono fiercely clenched his hands into fists at his sides, a sense of anger coursing through him, his knuckles turning bone-white, as he questioned...

Why did the child have to die.

They were innocent, just a small soul, navigating the harsh world, fighting for survival, only to meet their demise at the hands of a heartless monster craving their flesh. 

Why.

Why was this world like this?

The uncertainty of finding a real answer only fueled Mono's anger further. With one last glance at the small form in the grave, he furrowed his eyebrows and retrieved the shovel. Slowly yet with a sense of urgency, he covered the child with earth once more, wishing and hoping for them to find proper rest. 

The world around him didn't share that wish with him; it only continued to be dark and haunting, merciless, as the relentless rain grew stronger as if to show it didn't care.

Mono ignored it all, knowing that at the very least... 

He cared.

════════════════

They had been walking for quite some time now, and the rain showed no signs of letting up; if anything, it had only grown stronger over the past few hours.

Six was still being dragged painfully and uncomfortably by the bandits who had kidnapped her. Van remained close at her side, pulling her forward, while the other two flanked her, keeping a watchful eye on her as if challenging her to attempt an escape.

They wandered over gloomy hills, crossed a stone plateau, and ventured into an even denser forest than the one they had left behind.

Yet, to Six's horror, the surroundings seemed familiar after a while, and after pondering why that was, she remembered. It was the same dense forest she had dashed through in a desperate attempt to flee the Hunter in the dead of night, only to freeze at the sight of him for the first time. Sitting on a tree branch, gazing up at the moon.

Immediately, she violently shook her head, desperate to banish the haunting image of the past from her mind. She didn't want to think about him, to remember him, or even acknowledge his existence in this world. Her reaction to her own thoughts did not go unnoticed. 

“What are ya shaking your head for, little coat?” Van asked, glancing over his shoulder, having noticed her reaction. 

Six didn't answer him, which made him chuckle. “Not wanting to share your thoughts with us huh? Too scared maybe?” 

His tone was mocking, as if he found it amusing, and the other two bandits joined in with their snickers. Six pressed her lips tightly together and ignored them. Scared...as if. Not of them, but perhaps of the unknown. She didn't know what awaited her in their "camp," but if their behavior was anything to go by, it couldn't be friendly or pleasant. Six grew increasingly worried about what they had meant earlier with "she could handle the boys." 

She had an idea. But... it would only worsen her already dire situation. Yet, she had no other choice but to wait and find out. 

Maybe in that camp, an opportunity would present itself for her to escape.

Van's cough grabbed her attention, and Six lifted her head slightly to look at him. He was still staring at her out of the cornor of his eye, over his shoulder as they walked.

He cleared his throat as he saw he had her attention. “So, does the little girl in the yellow coat have a name?” 

Six shot him a death glare at his words "little girl" and then looked away, growing annoyed of his presence. Van laughed.

“No answer again? I'm sure you have a name.” He stopped walking and with that made the others of them stop as well as he turned around to face her. 

“Tell me.” 

Six remained silent, though internally she longed to scream at him to shove his question up his ass. She hadn't responded to him earlier; what made him think she had changed her mind? Six ignored him.

Van waited a little longer before nodding slightly to himself and clicking his tongue. “Fine, we can do it that way then.” 

Before Six could even react, his hand shot out like a viper and seized her by the throat, yanking her forcefully toward him so that Six stumbled against his chest. Instantly, she gasped for air, choking and coughing as his iron grip constricted her windpipe. Six desperately wanted to struggle against his hold, but the tight ropes binding her rendered her helpless. 

Van slowly lowered his face closing in on hers, while Six choked and struggled against his grip. He forcibly pulled her up to meet him halfway until their noses almost touched, and his intense glare bore into her eyes.

“Listen here,”  he growled low, his nose wrinkling in disdain. “I tried to do this the nice way, but if you want to continue behaving like a little bitch, be assured that you will be treated like one.” 

Six struggled to maintain her facade of fearlessness, refusing to show her dread. However, the grip of his hand around her throat, depriving her of air, made it nearly impossible to do so. Despite her efforts, her eyebrows furrowed, squeezing her eyes shut—cursing her bodily reaction as it revealed to Van just how much terror she truly felt. 

Van noticed and chuckled darkly, giving her throat another tight squeeze that made her feel as though her eyes were about to pop out of her skull from the pressure. 

“So I ask you again, again...” He began, adopting a softer tone that did nothing to conceal the fact that he was enjoying watching her squirm. The rain continued flowing over their faces.

“What's your name little coat?” 

Six opened her mouth to try to respond this time, but only a pitiful, choked whimper emerged, and she loathed herself for it, despising her body for behaving this way. Van's grip around her throat loosened somewhat, allowing her to suck in a heavy breath and speak. 

“...S-si-x...” She managed to choke out, opening her eyes again to resume her glare. 

Van let out a satisfied snort and flashed her a smile. “Six huh? That wasn't so hard now, was it?”  

She growled at him, but it came out more as a gurgle from her throat, which only made him laugh once more before abruptly letting go of her. Six stumbled to the ground, landing in the wet mud, and gasped for breath, already feeling her throat swell and bruise. She noted that Van was strong, and consequently, more dangerous than he might have been before. 

The other two bandits barked out laughes, as Van turned around again and looked forward. 

“Lets move, we are almost there.” 

The other two bandits' heavy footsteps echoed ominously as they closed in on Six again. With a brutal grip, they yanked her up from the muddy ground, forcing her back on her feet. The harsh journey continued as they trailed behind Van, who led the way through the dense undergrowth of the forest.  

Getting closer to their camp.

Chapter Text

With his head bowed and shoulders sagging under the invisible weight of grief, Mono retraced his steps, feeling a mix of weariness and underlying tension weighing him down after he left the grave... and the tiny form, now resting within it...

Trying to process it all, he sank down onto the worn-down brown sofa upstairs, the very 'safe spot' he had chosen to stay for the moment. Yet, now questioning his decision to remain, Mono didn't exactly feel comfortable staying in a place in which such horrors had taken place... His gaze drifted slowly to the bathroom door on the left, each detail of what lay beyond etched painfully clear in his mind. 

Morbid, bloody carnage.

He...he couldn't accept it. 

Mono knew there was nothing else he could have done apart from burying them. As he pondered about the monstrous Adult responsible for the child's death, a creeping unease gripped him—could the perpetrator still be lurking nearby? If so... Mono was determined to confront and kill it, if he could. He knew that much if he ever happened to cross paths with it. 

Mono though, was a bit taken aback by his own train of thought—thoughts of killing.

Looking down at his lap, he stared at his bandaged hand lying within. Flexing his fingers and then forming a fist, he couldn't shake the memory of killing the Doctor with his bare hands—an act that still shocked him. Despite that, he couldn't deny the feeling of power it had given him, making him feel powerful in ways other than using his abilities

And it scared him.

He shouldn't be feeling this way. It was still a horrendous, ugly act—the act of killing. Regardless if the one killed had deserved it. Yet, that feeling, that almost euphoric high, the rush of adrenaline... Something within Mono, something that had intensified since he had killed the Doctor, longed to experience that again. And he was disgusted by it. He couldn't ignore it, no matter how hard he tried.

With a sigh muffled by tightly pressed lips, Mono reached for his bag, fingers deftly rummaging for fresh bandages. The worn-out ones clung to his skin like a second layer, eliciting a shiver of disgust and discomfort. He couldn't bear another moment with them. Snatching a piece of beef jerky to nibble on, Mono delicately began the task of peeling off the old wraps, each movement a careful dance to avoid aggravating his wounds further.

Wincing now and then—especially when they clung to him a bit too stubbornly—Mono slowly freed his upper body from the bandages. As he examined his wounds for the first time since escaping the Tower, he realized they would take a long time to heal...and leave nasty scars. That much was clear.

The fleshy cords, responsible for draining his abilities to feed the Signal, left behind gaping holes so sizable he could slip a finger into them, down to the bone. They had wounded him deeply—Mono abruptly squeezed his eyes shut, groaning inwardly as this gruesome thought nearly made him vomit. 

Perhaps he should avoid such...vivid descriptions.

Nevertheless, he turned, bowing his head so that his black hair fell over his eyes as he inspected the wounds. They sprawled across his sides, arms, spine, and neck, with some extending down to his thighs. A mosaic of colors painted his skin—pale patches hinted at healing, while others glowed a vivid purple, red, and angry. Mono couldn't help but release a heavy sigh...

That was the last thing he needed right now. 

Some had become infected.

With a frustrated growl reverberating in his throat, Mono seized his bag once more, retrieving the precious bottle of antibiotics salvaged from the Hospital. Eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted against the impending pain, he poured the translucent liquid over the infected wounds, each droplet igniting a fiery sting upon contact with his skin. A guttural hiss escaped him, a primal response to the searing agony coursing through his body.

“...Ow, fuck...why.” He muttered darkly under his breath, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

One of the countless curse words he had picked up over the years from the flickering glow of the TV screen. Mono found it fitting for his current agony, even though he didn't fully grasp its meaning. It simply sounded raw, loaded with venomous anger, making it perfect to vent his pent-up frustrations.

Mono mumbled to himself in self-pity as he cleaned the infected wounds with antibiotics, then carefully rebandaged them after soaking the fresh bandages in the antibiotics as well, for good measure. Mono knew that once the infections took full effect, it would be over for him, so he preferred to use too much to quicken the healing process, rather than be sorry later.

He could always try to find more, so he wasn't too worried about it. Sadly, only enough translucent liquid for one more round of cleaning and rewrapping was left for the days to come. The antibiotics burned like hell, prompting Mono to quickly—after fully rebandaging himself—grab some painkiller pills from his bag and pop two of them dry in his mouth.

He briefly paused, feeling them slide slowly and awkwardly down his throat. He made a mental note that drinking water would be a good idea at some point. 

Abruptly—there was a bang and a low groan from downstairs.

In an instant, Mono snapped into high alert, surging to his feet, shoulders tense, eyes fixed on the entrance door of the room.

A beat passed, the groans downstairs continued, now accompanied by heavy footsteps. Comming closer.

Mono's instincts kicked in, identifying the unmistakable signs of an Adult. Swiftly, his eyes scanned the room, seeking anything to barricade the door, because from the sounds of it, the Adult had decided to come and check upstairs.  

Mono's gaze locked onto a nearby wooden chair, and without hesitation, he lunged for it. Ignoring any fleeting doubts about its effectiveness, he swiftly maneuvered it beneath the door handle, jamming it securely in place, rendering it impossible to open the door this way. That would buy him some time. However, if the Adult decided to simply break down the door, the chair wouldn't do much.  

Mono's heart raced as he glanced back at the door, relief flooding him as he saw the chair hold firm against the Adult's attempts to breach it. Yet, his moment of respite was short-lived; the relentless rattling of the door handle signaled that time was rapidly slipping away. With no other option presenting itself, Mono's instincts kicked into overdrive.

Without a moment's hesitation, he lunged backwards, grabbed his bag and bolted towards the grim sanctuary of the bathroom. 

Mono slammed the door shut behind him—no longer attempting to hide, as the Adult outside had given a low shriek upon hearing him bolt—and, gasping for breath, his heart thundering against his ribs, Mono pressed his back against the door, bracing himself for what was to come. 

A short, tense silence followed, anticipation hung thick in the air like a suffocating fog. Then, without warning, the entrance door broke open with a deafening CRASH, sending shockwaves rippling through the upper floor.

Mono prepared himself for the impending assault, muscles tensed just in time. The Adult unleashed a blood-curdling scream, hurling its weight against the door with deafening force. The ear-piercing sound threatened to split Mono's eardrums, but he gritted his teeth and pushed back, desperately holding his ground. Amidst the chaos, he frantically searched for another way out.

There was only one way available to him, and it happens to be the one he dreaded the most—the only window in the bathroom. 

The very idea of hurling himself out of the window sent shivers down Mono's spine. He was acutely aware of the risks involved – broken bones, jagged glass, and the looming specter of death awaiting him on the unforgiving pavement below. Yet, with no other options presenting themselves, he realized he had no choice but to take the leap, consequences be damned. 

Otherwise, he faced certain death at the hands of the Adult, still screaming, and banging at the door on the otherside, who would gut him while he was still alive.

With furrowed eyebrows and quick, steady breaths, Mono leaped for it. 

The moment his weight left the door, the Adult bashed in, still screaming, in search of Mono, who made a quick dash—threw his shoulder against the glass window—shattering it as he began to fall, and tumbled down into the street. 

Mono's scream pierced the night air as he crashed onto his shoulder on the rain-slicked stone street, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through his body, feeling something pop that shouldn't have. He ignored it and forced himself to move; he knew he couldn't afford to stay down, he wasn't out of danger yet. 

The relentless rain of the Pale City pounded down upon him, drowning out all other sounds with its constant drone. Despite this, Mono rolled onto his back holding his bag, the shards of broken glass piercing the flesh of his back, making him bleed as they crunched beneath him. Through narrowed, pain-filled, dizzy eyes, he gazed up at the shattered window, a good 20 feet above him, the same window he had dared to leap through.

At the ugly and twisted face of the Adult staring down at him, its disturbing screams echoing through the rush of the rain. And suddenly, with a shriek—it jumped.

With a surge of adrenaline, Mono's eyes widened in terror as he instinctively rolled several feet away, narrowly escaping the Adult's fall that threatened to crush him beneath its weight. He bit back groans of pain as he landed on his belly, his injured shoulder throbbing dully as it hung limply by his side.

The Adult crashed down onto the street, a colossal force that shook the very ground beneath Mono. Before panic could fully grip him and force him into another desperate attempt to flee, a sudden and eerie silence descended. The Adult's screams abruptly ceased upon impact, replaced by a wet CRUNCH that echoed through the night as it landed face-first on the unforgiving pavement.

A heavy silence enveloped the scene, broken only by the steady drumming of rain cascading through the darkened street, its rhythmic patter echoing off the surrounding buildings.

Breathing heavily, Mono's eyes remained fixed on the motionless form of the Adult sprawled before him. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he counted each passing second, the weight of anticipation pressing down upon him like a suffocating blanket. Yet, despite the tension thickening the air, the Adult remained eerily still.

And slowly, in the watery reflection of the rain and the faint moonlight above the buildings of the Pale City, Mono could see black blood seeping from the Adult's body, mixing with the puddles on the street. 

It was dead. Killed by the impact. It's skull split open.

Mono could only stare at it. He knew the Adults weren't the brightest, having seen many just jump from roofs because of the Signal. But leaping out like that...not under the Signal's influence—well, it really had wanted him dead then.

With a slight sense of relief washing over him, Mono allowed himself to roll onto his back once more, releasing a pained sigh into the rainy night air. Surviving the fall was a miracle in itself, but his shoulder throbbed with intense pain. With a low groan, he painstakingly sat up, relying on his uninjured arm to steady himself on the wet street, the other hanging limp by his side. After a brief but assessing glance, he reached out with his good hand to inspect the damage.

While his arm didn't throb with pain, his shoulder screamed in agony. The intensity was overwhelming, a relentless ache that threatened to consume him. Despite the absence of broken bones, Mono knew all too well the source of his pain—his shoulder was dislocated.

While grateful his arm wasn't shattered, the reality of a dislocated shoulder was far from ideal. With his limb effectively rendered useless until he could relocate it, he felt a sense of helplessness creeping in. Casting one more glance at the motionless Adult lying on the rain-soaked pavement, he released a heavy sigh. 

With that immediate concern addressed, his priority shifted to finding shelter for the night. Recognizing his limited mobility in his current state, he willed himself to returning to the safety of the shop. 

And hope that this fallen Adult was the only one around. Mono couldn't afford to push his luck with a dislocated shoulder.

Mono rose to his feet with careful slowness, every movement a testament to the agony coursing through his body. The relentless rain persisted, drenching him to the bone and serving as an unintentional cleanser for any blood that had seeped from the cuts on his back. His wet hair clung stubbornly to his face, a bothersome curtain that partially obscured his vision, adding to the discomfort.

Persisting through a lingering limp, Mono navigated his way back into the shop. The dull ache from the fall persisted. Ascending the stairs once more, he tossed his bag onto the sofa.

His gaze drifted toward the doorframe, now lacking its door. 

With a determined stride, Mono approached it, resolve etched into every line of his face. He understood the task at hand, pain be damned. 

Gritting his teeth, he summoned every ounce of strength within him. He positioned his shoulder against it—and with a swift and forceful motion—pushed against the frame. A sharp cry escaped his lips, echoing through the quiet shop, as the bone sickeningly snapped back into the socket with a distinctive pop.

Despite the searing pain that brought forth a few tears from his eyes, Mono felt a wave of relief wash over him as he leaned heavily against the doorframe. With his shoulder back in its socket, he trembled with exhaustion, his body racked by harsh breaths as he struggled to regain his composure. Each breath came in jagged gasps, trying to soothe the raw nerves still reeling from the pain.

After a few long minutes, Mono summoned the strength to pull himself upright and cleared his throat.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, tired from the day walking around, the chase, and the pain. His gaze drifted toward the worn-out brown sofa,  now looking very comfortable. He needed rest, but falling asleep now could be dangerous since; where one Adult lurked, others could follow. Mono had no intention of meeting his demise while asleep.

But the sofa looked more and more inviting the longer he stared at it.

With a frustrated growl rumbling in his chest, Mono made a bold decision to take the risk. The lure of rest outweighed the gamble of venturing outside into the unforgiving night. Aware that roaming the darkened streets would only court death, he resolved to trust in the relative safety of the shop, preferring to gamble on the uncertain security it offered rather than face the imminent danger lurking beyond its walls.

Yielding to the demands of his weary body and pleading with his overthinking mind to fall silent, Mono sought comfort on the sofa. He swallowed two painkillers, waiting impatiently for relief. As the medication took hold, Mono drifted swiftly into a deep sleep. 

However, not long after, nightmares came to haunt him, and it was going to be a long night...

════════════════

Six never saw the tsunami of humiliation crashing over her, drowning her in a sea of shame she never thought possible.

Had she not been hardened by even harsher experiences, tears might have welled up, but she refused to give them the satisfaction of witnessing her vulnerability.

After they reached the so-called "camp," that resembled a chaotic blend of huts, houses, and tents, Van and the others had wasted no time dragging her towards one of the ramshackle huts. Behind closed doors, they engaged in silent conversation with another guy, leaving Six under the watchful eye of one of the bandits who had escorted her there, his grip firm on the ropes binding her hands behind her back.

A few minutes later, Van and the others had reappeared from the room, their slight smirks sending an unsettling shiver down Six's spine, intensifying the unease that had already settled within her. Their demeanor hinted that something was about to happen, something she knew she wouldn't appreciate.

And she was right.

Because, shortly thereafter, they forcefully dragged her to a corner, untied her, and stripped her.

Six's yellow raincoat was the first to be taken, followed by the swift removal of her shirt over her head. Then, they proceeded to strip away the rest of her clothing until she stood completely bare.

In the face of the gut-wrenching humiliation she endured during the stripping process, Six clamped down on the urge to unleash a scream or fight back.

Instead, she locked her gaze straight ahead, refusing to meet their eyes. A fierce, almost savage determination surged through her, a silent vow of revenge burning in her soul. Yet, standing still, she remained eerily composed despite feeling the raw shame of her nakedness, her body laid bare and vulnerable to their piercing stares.

And stare, they did. 

Once all her clothes were forcibly stripped away, they all paused, fixating their hungry stares on Six. 

She fought to block out their leering gazes, especially Van's... his eyes lingering on her as if she were the most captivating thing he'd ever seen. It turned her stomach. Despite the humiliation—Six refused to shrink away, knowing that any sign of weakness would only invite further humiliation, or worse. Instead, she returned their gazes with simmering fury.

After apparently having their fill of ogling Six, the guy Van had been speaking to approached her and draped a dirty, muddy brown coat over her. It was oversized and reached down to her feet, providing coverage from her cheeks to her hands. The slight moldy smell suggested she wasn't the first to wear it. There was no offer of anything else to cover herself with underneath. 

Still, she felt a surge of relief flood over her at no longer being completely bare—so she clutched the coat tightly around her. And hid beneath it.

The guys in the room, their gazes ravenous as if they could devour her, clearly didn't take well to her newfound cover. They emitted low, guttural growls of disappointment, akin to hungry beasts denied their prey. Six ignored them, refusing to acknowledge their animalistic reactions. Which where disturbing.

As the guy who had draped her with the coat reached for a knife from his pocket, Six's instincts roared to life, and she instinctively recoiled. Despite her desperate attempt to pull away, the others hands clamped down on her shoulders, forcing her to bow slightly as the knife lowered toward her head—slicing through her black hair.

Trapped in their grip, Six had no choice but to submit, rendered utterly immobile by the firm hold of the others. Helpless, she endured as her hair was cut away, bit by bit, until all that remained was a rough buzz cut. Six clenched her eyes shut, battling to contain the overwhelming humiliation forced upon her since the moment they had brought her here.

Firstly, they dragged her here. Secondly, they stripped her of everything she had: her bag, her yellow raincoat, her clothes. And finally, they even took her hair.

She wished they would all fall over dead.

Once the guy seemed content with her freshly cut hair, he emitted a grunt, signaling to the others to release her. Six jerked back, reflexively shielding her neck with a hand for protection. Gradually, she tentatively reached up to run her fingers over her head, encountering the remnants of her hair akin to a soft fur. They had left just enough so she wasn't bald and wouldn't freeze her ears off.

“There we go, this'll do. Anythin' else ya want to do with her, boss?” The guy who had wielded the knife asked Van, his voice tinged with a mix of eagerness and apprehension.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Van's gaze had remained locked onto Six, a disturbing glint dancing in his eyes, one she fervently wished would vanish. Without breaking eye contact with her, he slowly shook his head.

“No... That'll be all, Rimmly. Thank you,” Van responded, his voice cool and collected. He nodded to the others who had restrained Six, then turned on his heel and strode away without another word, leaving Six with a lingering sense of unease.

Without delay, they sprang into action, seizing Six by the shoulders and urging her forward, forcing her to trail after Van as he exited the hut once more. Leading them outside, he proceeded to navigate through the rest of the camp, Six struggling to keep pace with his determined stride.

Six hugged herself tightly, burying her face in the collar of her oversized coat, desperate to conceal herself as much as possible. Gratefully, the coat enveloped her entire body, shielding her from prying eyes. Only her bare feet, trudging through the muddy ground, and glimpses of her legs when they emerged with each step, where visible.

Eyes from all corners of the camp fixated on her, the newcomer, and to Six's ever-growing unease, the majority belonged to guys.

In the midst of the sea of stares, she discerned a handful of other girls, but they were a rare sight—only about three in total. Much like Six, they had short, buzz-cut hair and were draped in oversized coats for coverage...It became apparent that, just like her, they weren't granted additional clothes. Despite seeming slightly older than Six, they shared a common trait besides their physical resemblance.

Their dead eyes. 

Their eyes, devoid of life, were ringed by dark shadows, each one telling a story of its own. One girl, in particular, caught Six's attention with a purple bruise blooming on her cheek. It was clear that she had been hit. Six took note of that, as it spoke volumes about how girls were treated here...

Trying to fight off shivers, Six cast her gaze downward, avoiding the unsettling eye contact with those around her. She couldn't bring herself to dwell on the horrors these girls had undoubtedly faced, yet horrors she, as of yet, had no experience of. And she hoped it would stay that way, but she doubted it.

She needed to begin crafting an escape plan, so she dared to glance around from the corners of her eyes, searching for anything that could lead to her escape.

The chuckle from Van, still walking ahead of her, snagged Six's attention like a hook.

“I can only guess what you're plotting right now, and let me tell you, it won't work. So, cut it out,” he warned, his voice carrying a dark and warning tone as he shot a glance over his shoulder at her.

Caught red-handed, Six shot a defiant scowl at Van before quickly redirecting her gaze to the ground, unwilling to risk his anger or listen to him. Her throat throbbed with a dull ache, bearing the bruised remnants of his grip from the day before, when he had choked her. It was abundantly clear to her that disobedience would only invite further harm. Given her current situation, even though she despised obeying others, she knew it wouldn't be wise to provoke him.

Van guided them through the camp, crossing a small hill adorned with planted gardens, until they reached a central area featuring a well. To the right, a wooden platform extended over a small lake, surrounded by additional houses. Directly ahead loomed a two-story wooden cottage, its entrance guarded by two men wielding spears. Six didn't have to guess, by the way they bowed slightly to Van, that this was his place.

Halting in front of the door, Van turned to the other guys, a silent command in his gaze, signaling that they could take their leave for the time being, as he would manage things from this point onward. With a tense nod, they complied, melting away into the camp's bustling activity, leaving Van and Six standing alone. With a brief, assessing glance, Van then focused on Six, his movements rough as he swung the door open and ushered her inside without further ado.

Six stumbled into the room, irritated by Van's abrupt hurry that nearly sent her sprawling. Catching herself just in time, she swiftly regained her composure and put some space between herself and Van, fully stepping into the room. Then, she took a look around.

It was... unexpectedly cozy. 

A soft pelt sprawled out before a crackling fireplace, casting a warm glow that painted the room in hues of orange and yellow, its flickering light dancing playfully across the walls. A sturdy wooden table, surrounded by four chairs, dominated the center of the room, while a door on the side hinted at another room behind. To the right, a set of stairs led upwards to the next floor, while beneath them, a small sink with shelves nestled snugly against the wall.

Six had anticipated a space less orderly, perhaps even dirty or messy. Yet, to her surprise, the room gave a sense of tidiness and warmth, a hard contrast to what she would have imagined from its owner...

Speaking of the devil, Six spun around as she heard Van shuffle behind her, instinctively taking a step back as she met his gaze. He had that unsettling glint in his eyes once more. Her lips pressing together in a subconscious defensive gesture as she locked eyes with him, unwilling to back down.

That turned out to be the wrong move, as Van's eyes abruptly dropped to her lips, lingering there for an uncomfortably long moment. Six had enough.

“When you're done ogling and feeling satisfied, maybe you could enlighten me on why I'm here,” she hissed, her words laced with venom.

Van seemed to snap out of his state and blinked at her, but then let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, my apologies. How rude of me. After you asked oh-so-politely... it seems you're already learning your place around here.” 

Six narrowed her eyes. “Mind your tongue. My place is my own, and not dictated by the likes of you, maggot,” She snapped back, relishing the flicker of displeasure that flashed across Van's face.

Good. She would not make it easy for him. 

“Oh, I see, sticking to that nickname, are we? Fine.” he said with a slight tilt of his head, closing the distance between them. “So, little coat, you are here because I saved you and decided you are worthy integrating into my community.”

Six froze, her brows furrowing in a mix of confusion and fury at his audacity to claim of "saving" her, especially after he had hunted her down and forcibly brought her here. A stinging reply hovered on the tip of her tongue, ready to lash out. But before she could speak, Van interrupted her with a chuckle, his eyes alight with amusement.

“Ah, don't waste your breath with your biting words. I can read you like an open book,” he chuckled softly, but then his demeanor shifted...his head bowing slightly. 

“I...I know exactly how you're feeling right now...” he admitted, his voice carrying an unexpected note of sympathy. 

With slow strides, he crossed the room to the fireplace, leaning against it with one arm as he fixated on the flickering flames, seemingly lost in thought.

A tense moment lingered, thick with an unsettling atmosphere that only served to further rattle Six's nerves.

Having enough after a while, a rush of heat surged to Six's face, but it wasn't the comforting warmth from the room's fire. No, it was the fiery anger sparked by Van's uncanny abilitly for pushing her buttons and send her emotions over the edge. Gathering determination, she took a few purposeful steps closer, ready to unleash her frustration on him. Yet, as she drew near, her steps faltered at the sight of his expression... His face, twisted in sorrow, gave her pause.

Another moment passed before Van began to talk.

“I was once like you, brought to this camp against my will. Torn from everything familiar, and held here,” Van whispered, his fingers tightening on the stone of the fireplace he leaned against. 

“You're angry, furious, yet there's a sadness for the loss of your freedom. I felt the same when I first arrived here, but with time, I came to see the good things—the security you don't have outside.”

Six couldn't suppress an eye roll. She had zero interest in a drawn-out sob story that was his life. As she prepared to cut in and halt the conversation, she parted her lips, but Van pressed on before she could get a word in.

“I had a sister once,” Van's voice wavered with sadness as he swallowed hard. 

“She looked similar to you: small stature, black short hair, wearing a coat... fierce will. But when we ran, she got caught first... and held down while I tried to run back and save her. But I was too late.”

Six slowly took a step back, finding herself drawn in by curiosity—Suddenly, Van sucked in a heavy breath and hit the fireplace wall, the resounding thud echoing through the room. The unexpected outburst startled her, causing her to flinch. 

Despite the shock, she remained silent, waiting for Van to continue.

“And they...killed her before she even had the chance to fight, slow and painful...” Van hissed, his voice trembling with raw emotion. 

He ran a shaky hand over his face, the anguish etched into his features, as if he were reliving the painful memory right before his eyes. The intensity of his emotion hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room.

Six lowered her head slightly, feeling a twinge of empathy stir within her despite her confusion about why she needed to hear this. However, Van wasn't finished. Before she could voice her confusion, he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, his eyes piercing through her with an unsettling intensity. They were devoid of emotion as he held her gaze for a moment before returning his attention to the fire.

“And when she was finally dead, they stripped her of everything she had on her until she was naked, and left her like that on the forest floor. They made me watch all of it. She was barely ten.”

Six flinched, her breath catching in her throat and a cold shiver racing down her spine as if touched by an icy breeze. She hugged herself tightly, the weight of sorrow settling on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. It was as though the tragedy belonged to her, too, and she couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that gripped her heart.

“So, Six,” Van began once more after a long minute of silence, his gaze unwavering as he turned to face her. 

The intensity in his eyes bore into hers, capturing her attention completely. “To answer your question about why you are here: I didn't want to see repeat what happened to my sister.”

He began to walk up to her, his gaze holding such intensity that it almost stung, yet Six was transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away. Frozen in place, she watched as he closed the distance between them, towering over her. He stared down, his expression unreadable, as he gently lifted a hand, cupping her chin. 

“And you and her...look so much alike. As if you had been sisters yourself,” Van whispered, his tone tense. “And I couldn't help but feel that urge to protect, to grasp at the chance to reclaim what I lost.” His words hung heavy in the air, laden with longing and regret. 

Six stood there, rendered speechless, caught off guard by this unexpected and vulnerable moment between them—even if she harbored a deep hatred for him. In that instant, she was reminded of the harsh reality beyond their current circumstances, the pain embedded in tales like Van's not being unfamiliar in this world. 

It struck a chord within her; she wasn't an emotionless monster, after all. For she, too, had tasted loss and understood that desperate longing to reclaim what was gone, a feeling all too familiar even though she wished it weren't.

Abruptly startled from her thoughts and memories of a certain boy, she felt a touch on her lips. Her eyes snapped down to Van's hand, which had ventured further up, his thumb delicately brushing over her lower lip. Six let out a growl, the slight pity she had felt for him vanishing in an instant.

“Were you always this intimately touchy with your sister?” Six asked, a disdainful edge in her voice. 

Van huffed and leaned in, bringing them so close that their noses almost brushed against each other. Holding her gaze. “But you are not my sister...are you Six.” 

Six's skin crawled at his sudden husky tone, her instincts urging her to put as much distance between them as possible. Startled, at the abrupt shift of his mood. Going from sad, talking about his sister, to...whatever this was.

She recoiled, a shiver coursing through her as she took a few hurried steps backward. Disgusted by his attempt to get closer, she felt her hatred for him grow. If he believed that sharing his sister's tragic tale, who just happened to look similar to Six, would make her warm up to him, he might as well start preparing to eat his own foot for all she cared. 

Van straightened back to his full height, a wounded look crossing his face. 

How dare he. 

Six grappled to understand him, but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to care. Six bared her teeth. “I am not your sister,” she made clear to him. “I don't need your saving or your protection, so stay away from me.” 

Van's shoulders tensed, the wounded look in his eyes giving way to a faint snarl. Yet, just as quickly as it came, it vanished, replaced by a deep breath and a chuckle. “Your words sting, little coat, but mark my words, you'll soon realize you will need my protection,” he warned, his tone dripping with certainty and a hint of threat. 

Six's eyes bore into his with fiery intensity, refusing to back down. 

The tension in the room crackled like electricity as they locked in a silent battle of wills. Eventually, Van relented, his gaze faltering first, and he gave a sigh. 

“Enough for now.” Van said, his tone tired. “You will eventually grow to appreciate my mercy, but for the time being, I'll let you have your way. Be warned, though, my patience has its limits.” 

With a sudden turn, he strode towards the door on the left, his movements swift yet deliberate. But just as he reached for the handle, he hesitated, glancing back at Six with an unreadable expression. “Let's eat,”  he said abruptly, his tone almost casual despite the weight of their earlier exchange. “I'm sure you're hungry after today's  events.” 

At the mention of food, Six's stomach, betraying her will, gave a resounding growl.

Annoyed, she tightened her grip on herself, attempting to stifle the embarrassing noise. Yes, she was hungry. Very hungry. But she wouldn't accept anything from him. Never. Just as she prepared to reject his offer with a sharp reply, her stomach betrayed her once more with another loud, protesting growl. 

Van's laughter echoed in the room, mingling with Six's frustrated grumble. “Haha, don't even try to deny it, Six, your stomach speaks louder than your pride.” he teased.

“Unfortunately,” Six replied, annoyance in her voice.

Van chuckled. “Well, hungry is hungry, no matter how much you try to deny it. So, come on, stop sulking and let's get some food in you.” His tone was playful, but there was an underlying challenge in his eyes, daring her to refuse.

Six shot him a glare, but deep down, she knew he was right. Reluctantly, she approached him, her stomach still protesting loudly again. “Fine,” she muttered, “but I'm only doing this because I have to.” 

Van's amused grin widened as he swung the door open, revealing the room behind—a pantry. Six rolled her eyes, but reluctantly followed him inside, her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. As they stepped into the dimly lit space, Six couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped. But, she refused to accept her fate, and stop fighting, silently vowing to find a way out of this situation sooner rather than later.

For now she was hungry. 

Chapter Text

Raindrops fell from the dark sky, painting the Pale City in the shroud of the night.

Inside the abandoned shop, shifting shadows hinted at nightmares lurking upstairs. Outside, the relentless rain pounded onto the dark cobblestone streets and buildings, its rhythm intertwining with the faint howls of the wind to create a haunting symphony that echoed through the night. A storm was taking its hold.

But amidst that all, Mono lay asleep on the sofa upstairs, oblivious to the world outside. Instead, he was plagued by something far more sinister—the echoes of his own memories, the things he had tried to suppress and forget.

His body contorted in agony, ensnared in the unseen chains of his torment. Raw anguish and despair twisted his features, every emotion etched deeply into his face. His eyelids twitched, brows furrowing subconsciously as he clutched the worn-out sofa, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

A broken whisper escaped his lips, “...S-six...n-no...,” cutting through the darkness as the storm outside intensified. “Please don't,” he begged, his voice trembling under the weight of his nightmares.

But his pleas fell on deaf ears, lost in the night's turmoil. The air itself thickened with dread as Mono was dragged back into that haunting moment, just before she let go... The memory relentlessly clawed at him, pulling him deeper into the abyss of his subconscious, where reality and nightmare blurred into one.

His eyes widened as he gazed up into hers, once captivated by their captivating crimson hue. Yet, in an instant, they morphed into something haunting. The enchanting red turned piercing and hostile, leaving Mono bewildered. Why had they changed like that?

“S-six? What's wrong...?” Mono stammered, his voice laced with unease and nervousness. “W-why aren't you p-pulling me up?”

She remained silent, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she spoke. But Mono didn't hear her words; instead, he watched her lips move, catching two words that he lip-read. Those words cut deeper than any pain he would endure in the inevitable fall that followed.

ʎon ɯousʇǝɹ.

Then, she let go.

Mono plummeted into the abyss, his descent swift and unyielding. He seemed almost indifferent to the impending threat of death, consumed instead by the shock of her betrayal. His silver eyes glowed with intensity as he watched her silhouette vanish through the static portal in the wall. With his hand still outstretched upward, he felt a wave of helplessness wash over him as she left him behind.

In that moment, Mono realized the bitter truth... She had abandoned him.

“No!” Mono's scream shattered the silence as he bolted upright, his heart thundering in his chest.

Confusion swirled around him as he blinked, trying to orient himself in the darkness. Quick, shallow gasps escaped his lips, his hand clutching at his chest to calm the rising panic. It was just a nightmare, he reminded himself. A ghost from the past haunting his sleep. With a sharp inhale, he willed his racing heart to slow, gradually regaining control over his breath.

Mono groaned, rubbing his temples as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the remnants of the dream that still clung to his senses.

Outside the lone window, a sharp flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a deep rumble of thunder, signaling the impending storm. Taking slow, measured breaths, Mono glanced at the window, realizing he was still in the same room where he had chosen to spend the night. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his eyelids, and frustration gnawed at his nerves as he realized he had barely slept, thanks to the haunting nightmare.

Thoughts of moving on flickered through Mono's mind as he wrestled with the aftermath of his nightmare. However, another bolt of lightning, accompanied by a menacing growl of thunder, quickly extinguished that thought of leaving.

“Why not make it worse?” he muttered bitterly to himself. Not only was he plagued by a nightmare that had nearly reduced him to tears, but now he was also trapped indoors by a storm so fierce it barred him from venturing outside until morning. Mono pressed his lips together, suppressing an annoyed growl.

It seemed he couldn't catch a break since escaping the Tower, could he?

That night, the nightmares returned, tormenting Mono as they had done since his fall. These weren't mere fleeting hallucinations but deep-rooted terrors that gripped his mind, refusing to release him from their clutches. He had hoped that by escaping the Tower and the Eyes, he could leave these nightmares behind. But they persisted, casting dark shadows across his thoughts, a constant reminder of his past and the small figure at its center.

As dawn struggled to break through the thick, rain-laden clouds that blanketed the Pale City, Mono ventured back out into the streets, still haunted by the echoes of his night. Determined to push through the lingering fear, he set out on a mission, seeking shelter in the familiar walls of the city's labyrinthine alleys.

His goal was simple: to find a new clothing, a mundane task that served as a welcome distraction from the turmoil within his mind. Anything to shake off the lingering grip of the night's horrors. 

Mono only had his pants from the Hospital and bandages wrapped around his upper body and arms for cover. And the relentless rain and biting cold threatened to drag him into sickness, his body already feeling the signs of a looming cold. Finding shelter from the harsh weather became his top priority. So, it made sense to find proper clothing.

Navigating the darkened streets of the Pale City, Mono found safety in the comforting embrace of the shadows. He hugged their edges closely, mindful of any lurking threats concealed within the darkness. Avoiding the main streets, he moved with caution, keenly aware of the ever-watchful gaze of the Eyes. The towering presence of the Tower loomed overhead, a constant reminder of the present authority that loomed over the City.

After what felt like an eternity of trudging through the rain-soaked streets, Mono's luck finally took a turn for the better. A promising-looking store emerged on the western fringes of the City, a welcomed discovery after countless disappointments. The Tower, now a distant silhouette, looked like nothing more than a tiny stick against the vast sky, continuously unleashing its relentless rain. 

Approaching the shop, Mono sought cover beneath the overhang of nearby buildings, the remnants of last night's storm still lingering in the air. The shop stood at the V-shaped intersection of two streets, its large showcase windows offering a little glimpse of what lay within. With a surge of anticipation, Mono realized it was a men's clothing store, raising his hopes of finding clothes for himself.

Before venturing inside, however, Mono trusted his instincts and first scanned the surroundings for any lurking Adults. After a tense ten minutes of looking, and finding no signs of their presence, Mono allowed himself a momentary sigh of relief. He then dashed across the rain-soaked street, the downpour continuing to drench him mercilessly.

As Mono pushed open the door of the shop, it emitted a low, groaning creak, shattering the heavy silence that enveloped the abandoned shop. A small, weathered bell hanging above the entrance jingled softly, signaling his arrival.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of musty fabric and aged wood, a testament to years of neglect. Dust particles danced lazily in the dim light that filtered through the grimy windows, casting eerie shadows across the worn wooden floor.

Rows upon rows of suits adorned the walls, each meticulously hung to display a range of styles and colors. Shelves adorned with ties added a touch of class to the space, though now they seemed more like relics of a bygone era. Mirrors strategically placed throughout the store suggested a time when customers would come to view themselves in the carefully selected outfits.

Well-dressed mannequins stood proudly, their poses frozen, serving as silent reminders of the store's former glory. But now, everything appeared abandoned and old, neglected. Left behind as if time had suddenly stopped. Mono could only wonder why.

After pausing to stare suspiciously at the mannequins for a moment, Mono entered the once probably very popular shop. With a resolute thud, he placed his bag on a nearby leather armchair and began his search.

He sifted through the racks and shelves, searching for clothes that would offer warmth and protection from the relentless rain outside, its incessant tapping on the shop's windows serving as a constant reminder. Eventually, his gaze landed on a shelf adorned with shirts in an array of colors, from earthy greens to serene blues—a captivating spectrum that drew Mono in. He ambled over, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor, as he was in no rush, and stopped before the display.

However, he faced a minor obstacle... With a resigned sigh, he crouched down—once again lamenting his height—and began to sort through the shirts.

Frustratingly, most shirts proved too small for his frame. Just as he was about to abandon his search and explore other options, his fingers stumbled upon an earthy-brown shirt tucked away at the end of the row. He hesitated for a moment, then seized it. As he examined it, a rush of memories flooded his mind—the familiarity of his old clothes, the comforting textures, the subdued hues. This shirt bore a striking resemblance to one he had once cherished...evoking emotions long buried within him.

Setting aside those feelings for now, Mono held the shirt against his torso, testing its fit. Uncertain if it would accommodate him.

With a mix of apprehension and hope, Mono decided to just try it on, pulling the shirt over his head. He held his breath, fearing it might be too tight. To his relief, it hugged his frame snugly but not uncomfortably so. Taking a moment, he smoothed out any wrinkles, feeling the fabric against his skin and bandages. A sense of contentment washed over him as he finalized his choice.

This would do.

Having secured one desired things and feeling notably more at ease, Mono ventured deeper into the shop, drawn to the section housing cloaks in search of something to shield him from the relentless rain. As he sifted through the various options, a sense of calm washed over him—a welcome relief from the earlier unease that had gripped him. The shirt he had chosen already helped him think more clearly and feel less exposed and vulnerable.

With anticipation, Mono perused the cloaks, admiring some in natural hues while shying away from others with their eye-piercing colors. Despite his thorough search, a pang of disappointment washed over him as he failed to find a suitable cloak. Frustrated, he let out a sigh and decided it was time to retrieve his bag and leave. Night was already beginning to fall outside.

Turning to head back to where he had left his bag, Mono's gaze wandered around the room one last time. However, just as he was about to move on, a familiar color caught his eye—a rich, earthy green-brown draped over a nearby chair. Pausing in his tracks, Mono's curiosity was instantly ignited by the sight, prompting him to cast a lingering gaze in its direction.

After a minute of staring, he walked over and picked it up, only to discover with surprise that it was a cloak—one that had somehow escaped his earlier notice. Holding it up, Mono examined every inch of the garment. It was large, with a collar that promised to cover his cheeks, and its length cascaded down to brush against the knuckles of his bare feet. As he inspected it further, he noticed practical additions: inside and outside pockets that would undoubtedly prove useful, and a row of five buttons adorning the front for closure.

All in all, it was exactly what he had been looking for.

With eagerness, Mono draped the cloak over his shoulders and slipped his arms into the sleeves. It fit seamlessly, as though it had been made for him alone. The weight of it settled comfortably around him, the sturdy fabric offering assurance against the elements. As he adjusted the collar and fastened the buttons, a surge of satisfaction washed over him, affirming that he had indeed stumbled upon something of remarkable quality—a very lucky find.

Mono stretched his body, testing the flexibility of the cloak with a series of movements. He flexed his shoulders and back, raising his arms and gripping his elbows to assess the fabric's durability and adaptability. With each motion, the cloak responded smoothly, bending when needed yet retaining its strength. It struck a perfect balance between flexibility and resilience, leaving Mono entirely satisfied. This cloak was just perfect.

Pausing to savor the feeling, Mono let the sense of accomplishment wash over him. He had secured what he needed: a shirt and sturdy cloak. They would serve him well, offering protection and warmth in the harsh elements. Mono turned to retrieve his bag, eager to depart now that his mission was complete and find shelter for the night. However, as he bent down to retrieve his belongings, his reflection in the shop window caught his eye.

A faint gasp passed his lips, and his eyes widened.

It was as if a reflection from the past had materialized, a younger version of himself standing there, though much taller and with a more mature face. Yet, the clothes he wore were almost, identical.

As the rain outside persisted in its steady patter, providing a familiar background noise, Mono found himself rooted in place, unable to move.

Caught in a trance, Mono's mind raced, trying to make sense of the inexplicable sight. He reached out tentatively, his hand trembling as it hovered near the glass, almost expecting the reflection to reach back. But of course, it didn't.

Realization struck him, rendering him momentarily speechless, as he pulled his hand back. He stared, mesmerized, at the uncanny resemblance between his old self and the reflection before him. It was a surreal moment, a mix of the past and present encapsulated in his own reflection. 

Standing tall, Mono took in the sight before him. It had been many years since he last saw his own face reflected back at him. Yet here it was, staring back, altered by time yet strangely familiar. His once-short black hair now reached down to his eyebrows and the nape of his neck. His eyes, still bearing the same blueish-gray hue, held a hint of silver, a subtle reminder of his youth.

Yet, it was the changes in the rest of his face that struck him the most. 

The angularity of his jawline, the prominence of his high cheekbones, the straightness of his nose—each aspect sculpted his appearance into one of rugged yet refined masculinity. His lips, thin yet expressive, lent a touch of youthful charm to the ensemble. It was a face that felt simultaneously new and strangely familiar, leaving him with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty. It felt almost alien.

As he took a step back, Mono couldn't help but feel genuinely taken aback by the reflection before him. This... wasn't him. The face staring back exuded an air of adulthood, of maturity far beyond his years.  It unsettled him, and though it might seem childish, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. It was as if he had stumbled upon a stranger wearing his own skin.

As Mono stood there, grappling with the unsettling sight of his reflection, an idea sparked in his mind like a sudden burst of light. 

Slowly, his eyes darted towards his bag, knowing that nestled inside was a paper bag he had scavenged just the day before from an abandoned supermarket. 

And just then, Mono knew exactly what he needed to do. 

With a newfound sense of hope, he swiftly retrieved the paper bag from his backpack, and rushed over to the nearby checkout counter, his heart pounding with anticipation. Mono briefly scanned the shelves below, his fingers trailing over various objects until they landed on a pair of scissors—cold and metallic, yet promising in their sharpness. 

Without hesitation, he snatched them up, and placed the paper bag on the counter, and wasted no more time. With deft and deliberate movements, he began to cut, the scissors gliding effortlessly through the paper, each snip bringing him closer to his goal. It was a simple yet significant act—a gesture of reclaiming a piece of himself in this strange and unforgiving world. One that he had once lost.

As he finished, Mono carefully pocketed the scissors, holding up the paper bag with a quiet sense of resolve. A whirlwind of emotions churned within him—a mix of uncertainty and longing, battling for dominance within his heart. With hands slightly trembling, he slowly pulled the paper bag over his face, the rustling of the material echoing in the stillness of the shop. 

Moments passed...followed by moment of hesitation that lingered in the air before Mono retraced his steps back to the glass window, his eyes downcast and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

A deep breath escaped him beneath the paper bag, and he closed his eyes briefly, seeking shelter in the darkness behind his lids. Gathering courage, he slowly lifted his head, and cautiously opened his eyes once more...

His gaze met his reflection, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. 

In that suspended moment, Mono found himself staring back, meeting his own eyes in the glass. And then, something remarkable happened.

In that moment, Mono did something he hadn't dared to do in a very long time—he smiled.

It was a small, tentative smile, born from a place of newfound strength and comfort. 

Now, as he gazed into the reflection before him, Mono saw the true essence of himself. It was the same Mono he had been all those years ago as a child. In a moment of fortunate coincidence, he realized that by unknowingly collecting these items—the pants, the shirt, the cloak, and now his paper bag—he had restored pieces of his identity, a fragment of his past.

As he continued to stare, something deep inside him, something long shattered and forgotten, slowly began to rebuild itself. To heal itself. With each passing moment, the image reflected back at him resembled more and more the young boy he once was—the same fit, the same paper bag, just now taller and broader. It was a healing sight, a reminder of who he truly was, not the distorted image the Tower and the Eyes had attempted to shape him into. 

Filled with a profound sense of restoration and newfound strength, Mono knew that he had reclaimed his true self. He was back—stronger, more resilient, and more determined than ever before, despite his wounds, physically or mentally... And as he stood there, bathed in the faint light filtering through the dusty windows, Mono felt a sense of peace wash over him. 

For he now knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would face them as his full self, unyielding in the face of this world. 

With a calm smile lingering on his lips for a few fleeting moments, Mono turned on his heels and swiftly grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder with a renewed sense of purpose. He exited the shop, reentering the dark, cold, and rainy streets of the Pale City.

The raindrops fell relentlessly, casting a soothing rhythm as they danced on his paper bag and rolled down its sides. Mono has missed it's comfort. Despite the dreary weather—a newfound sense of confidence and calm enveloped him like a comforting embrace, and he pressed on.

The once-hurt boy, still deep down within him, felt more at ease, more comforted. For once, he wasn't screaming in inner pain but instead felt content and silent. It was nice after his years of torment and crying out in agony of what happend. 

After hours of aimless wandering through the rain-soaked streets, Mono finally found shelter in a five-story building. However, his relief was short-lived as he encountered a daunting obstacle: the staircase was broken in the middle, forcing him to navigate the treacherous gaps with calculated jumps and precarious climbs. Strangely, this hindrance turned out to be a stroke of luck, creating a barrier that Adults would struggle to breach. It offered Mono the prospect of a peaceful night's rest, a rare break from his constant alertness against the lurking dangers of the Pale City.

With a grunt muffled by his paper bag, Mono propelled himself upwards, executing the final leap onto a decrepit wooden floor. As he crouched down and took in his surroundings, he realized he was in what had once been a living room. Yet, his attention was immediately drawn to the television tucked away in the corner, its screen intact.

An immediate sense of danger washed over Mono as he realized the perilous allure of the functioning television. Its screen, if activated, would emit static, a siren call that could lure him and inflict unbearable pain. Knowing he had to neutralize the threat, Mono swiftly located a half-broken plank nearby. With a decisive snap, he fashioned a makeshift spear from the wooden pole, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. And with a determined swing, he hurled the weapon at the television.

The screen was pierced by the makeshift spear and splintered. 

With the threat neutralized, Mono visibly relaxed, a wave of relief cascading over him. Standing tall once more, he confidently strode into the living room. A large, muddy-red sofa dominated the space, positioned beneath a window offering a glimpse of the outside world. A worn carpet cushioned his footsteps as he moved further into the room. Empty shelves lined the walls, a silent testament to its abandoned state. The path leading to the broken staircase and the hole in the wall that had granted him entry lay exposed.

Mono wasted no time and carefully checked the room for any potential dangers, finding none. Satisfied, he settled onto the sofa, his bag in hand. Retrieving a conserve dose filled with preserved beans and bacon for dinner, but he sighed. Without the ability to make a fire, cold food would have to do. With a quick motion, he retrieved the scissors from his coat pocket and punctured the can's top, peeling off the lid.

However, Mono paused for a moment, realizing he didn't have anything to eat with besides his fingers, which grossed him out a bit. 

Glancing around the room, his eyes landed on a drawer to the right. Living rooms like this often held drawers filled with various items and tools, didn't they? Temporarily putting his dinner aside, he made his way to the drawer and rummaged through it. As expected, he discovered a section with dishes.

Grabbing a spoon, he returned to the sofa and contentedly began to eat, lifting his paper bag up to his nose but not fully taking it off as he ate.

It was a simple meal of beans and bacon soup—finally, some sustenance for his body, considering he hadn't yet found any drinking water. With the empty canister set aside, Mono tightly closed up his bag and placed it at his side. Pulling down his paper bag once more for comfort, he slumped back against the sofa, curling up at its corner and pulling up the collar of his coat to his hidden cheeks beneath the paper bag.

Rest was in order, though he was slightly afraid to fall back asleep, fearing the return of nightmares. Yet, as he reflected on the events of the day, he gradually calmed down enough to feel the weight of exhaustion. 

Mono had regained his old fit, found a safe place for the moment, and enjoyed a fulfilling meal. 

Today had been a surprisingly good day in this unforgiving world, instilling in Mono a newfound determination—to grow stronger, survive, and reclaim more of his old self. Yet, one question lingered within him; what next? The uncertainty hung in the air, and Mono was clueless about his ultimate goal. Was it simply wandering and surviving, embarking on a journey, or escaping as far away from the Pale City as possible? He didn't have the answers yet... but he was determined to find out.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, his eyelids grew heavy. A sense of calm and comfort enveloped him as he drifted off into a deep, much-needed sleep.

════════════════

The first night in the camp was tough for Six, and she couldn't sleep. Unsurprisingly.

After eating, and spending the whole day trapped in Van's house, he had wasted no time in setting the rules. Six didn't like them one bit. Firstly, she had to obey without question or face punishment. Second, escape attempts were strictly forbidden, punishable by who knows what. And thirdly, she had to accept whatever she was given without complaint, or, guess what, face punishment. 

In simple terms, it was do as told or face trouble.

Another bruise on Six's forearm, along with her bruised throat, was a stark reminder of this. She had protested against the rules of course, but Van's patience wore thin, resulting in another bruise when he grabbed her too hard. Seated on Van's bed upstairs, obediently following his instructions after dinner, Six grimaced as she rolled up her muddy brown coat sleeve, exposing her bruised forearm.

The purple mark, imprinted with a handprint that stretched from her wrist to almost her elbow, was evidence of Van's powerful grip—his hands were large. A surge of anger coursed through her veins as she stared at the mark. His hands were too big, she thought bitterly. She wanted to break them.

The throbbing ache of the big bruise on her arm matched the pain on her throat, a stark reminder of Van's brutal grip. His temper was a wild card, swinging from calm to furious in matter of seconds. This unpredictability unsettled Six; she knew that people like that often turned very violent. Though she only had two bruises for now, she feared things could worsen. And with Van, they probably would.

Her gaze shifted from her arm, which she gently cradled in her lap, to the room around her—Van's bedroom. A place she didn't want to be at all. Determined to confront him upon his return, she knew he was currently outside, attending to some issue raised by another bandit in the camp. His bedroom was the simplest room in the house, with only a king-sized bed and a drawer, likely for clothes, against the left wall.

The room felt strangely claustrophobic, with no windows or doors except for the entrance. The dim light cast eerie shadows, emanating solely from a flickering fireplace tucked away in the right corner. Under different circumstances, Six might have found the setup cozy, but instead, the atmosphere was heavy with unease, making her skin crawl.

Shuffling across the bed with a slight limp, Six yanked back the covers, revealing a bedspread made of fur and stitched with rough brown cloth. With determined hands, she delved underneath the pillows and mattress, scouring for anything that might prove useful. She couldn't shake the suspicion that a bandit like Van would keep a weapon close at hand for unwelcome visitors. Given his probable status as the self-proclaimed leader of the camp, he undoubtedly had rivals to contend with. Well, she reasoned, she could certainly use a knife or some other tool to defend herself if the need arose.

That would certainly ease her mind, especially considering she had nothing else with her at the moment except for the oversized, muddy brown coat that had been given to her for cover.

But, oh, it was still incredibly uncomfortable.

Six pressed her lips together, feeling a slight breeze brush against her bare thighs beneath the coat as she continued her search. She squeezed her legs together, trying to push aside the uneasy sensation—a skill she had mastered: Ignoring. It was always better to ignore than to overthink. Just like the rest of her current situation—

Six abruptly paused, her worried thoughts momentarily forgotten as a metallic sensation brushed against her finger under the left side of the mattress.

She blinked a few times, unmoving. Was Van just careless or stupid?

Six lowered herself onto her ankles and carefully retrieved the knife from underneath the mattress. It was sharp and well maintained, its blade dark and shiny with faded hints of deep red spots—clear signs of prior use. But why would Van leave it lying around like this? This knife was undoubtedly his, and with a furrowed brow, Six realized she couldn't take it. If he was careless enough to leave it out, he would surely notice its absence.

Though she longed to pocket the knife for her own safety, Six reluctantly decided that she couldn't risk it. Yet, now she knew where it was, and for the time being, she would leave it be to avoid raising Van's suspicions.

With a reluctant sigh, Six gingerly returned the knife to its hiding place, making sure to erase any trace of her disturbance. Suddenly, the entrance door downstairs slammed open, signaling Van's return. Panic surged through Six as she hurriedly restored everything to its original position, her movements frantic. Once everything was in place, she hastily returned to her seat, arms crossed.

As Van's heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs, Six braced herself for the confrontation. The urgency in his stride suggested he was seething with anger about something. Moments later, the bedroom door swung open, revealing a breathless Van, standing tall in the doorway, gripping it tightly with one hand. 

Oh-oh, who spat in his soup, Six thought to herself, ignoring the way her bruises began to pulse slightly with anticipated fear. 

Van stood in the doorway, his gaze piercing as his chest rose and fell with each angry breath. Despite his imposing presence, Six met his stare with unwavering composure, silently challenging him. After a moment, she arched an eyebrow, silently questioning, 'What's got you so worked up?'

With a frustrated groan, Van entered the bedroom, dragging a hand over his face. He plopped down beside Six, who instinctively shifted away, creating space between them.

“Dont,” he muttered, his tone commanding, causing Six to reluctantly comply, resisting the urge to move further away.

The silence stretched between them, growing increasingly uncomfortable as minutes passed. Unable to bear it any longer, Six finally glanced over at Van. He remained motionless, his hand still covering his face, his shoulders rigid. However, a subtle tremble in his left shoulder caught her eye, and she noticed a dark, slightly red stain on his coat.

Realization dawned on Six; Van was injured. Whatever had transpired outside must have been violent, resulting in a wound. No wonder he was in such a foul mood.

But Six's focus wasn't on his injury; it was on the opportunity that had presented itself. 

While Van brooded, Six discreetly eyed the left side of the mattress, where she knew the knife she had found earlier lay hidden. Her eyes narrowed as she returned her gaze to Van, considering if her plan was possible... It seemed like the perfect opportunity; Van was injured, his left arm likely unusable. If she acted swiftly, she could overpower him and strike.

Six slowly tensed her muscles, preparing herself for action—

“Did you find it yet?” Van's voice cut through the silence, catching her off guard.

Six froze, cursing herself for betraying her intentions with a flinch. Van chuckled darkly, parting his fingers to reveal his gaze fixed on her, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you found it, didn't you?” he narrowed his gaze. “Did you honestly think I wouldn't see through you? You must have wondered why I'd leave it lying there when I have someone in my house who wants to tear me apart for kidnapping her.”

Six bit down on her lip, her eyes widening in a sudden realization as she instinctively edged further away from him, her senses on high alert.  Once again, she found herself caught, as if he could predict her every move before she even made it. It all clicked into place now. She had questioned his intelligence for leaving a knife so carelessly within reach (and in such an obvious spot), but now she understood—it was all a test, a trap. And she had fallen right into it.

That she even tried, seemed to anger Van immensely.

Van lowered his hand, twisting his body to face her, using his injured shoulder and arm to steady himself on the bed in a menacing display of strength. It was a clear message that his supposed wound dosn't hinder him in the slightest.  With a slight baring of his teeth, he loomed over her, his presence overwhelming as he cornered her at the end of the bed.

“Did you really think, I would be that stupid little coat?”  Van hissed, calm yet seething with rage, his gaze piercing into hers like daggers.

Six felt frozen, her mind scrambling for an excuse, but it was too late. She attempted to retreat, only to find herself trapped against the bed frame, her heart racing with the sudden realization of her vulnerability. Panic surged through her veins as she searched frantically for an escape, but Van's relentless form caged her in, leaving her with no way out. Her bruised throat and arm pulsed once again painfully, forewarning what would come next. 

“Do I seem that ignorant?!” Van's voice thundered, his sudden lunge catching Six off guard. He grabbed both her arms with one hand and clutched her throat with the other, forcefully pinning her down onto the pillows. “Tell me, Six! TELL ME!” 

Gasping for air, Six struggled to respond, her senses overwhelmed by the pressure on her throat and the rushing of blood in her ears. Despite the blur of fear and pain, she refused to be a passive victim. With clenched teeth, she unleashed a few blind kicks, each fueled by her own fury. One landed squarely in his stomach, eliciting a pained groan from him.

Using the opportunity created by her kick, Six acted swiftly. With a surge of adrenaline, she angled her head and sank her teeth into Van's arm, drawing blood and forcing him to release his grip. It was a fleeting moment, but Six wasted no time. Rolling onto her belly, she scrambled to the other side of the bed, her hand darting under the mattress to retrieve the knife.

But before she could grasp it, Van's entire weight crashed down on her from behind, “Oh no, you dont,” pinning her to the mattress and squeezing the air from her lungs. Panic surged as Six gasped for breath, her voice reduced to a mere squeak.

Refusing to succumb to fear, Six strained against his hold, her fingers closing around the hilt of the knife. With a fierce determination, she raised it, aiming to strike at any part of him she could reach from her vulnerable position. But his free hand shot out, seizing her wrist in a vice-like grip, attempting to wrest the weapon from her grasp by crushing her fingers around the handle.

With each passing moment, Six's panic intensified, her breaths coming in rapid bursts as they struggled for control.

Every instinct in Six's body screamed that this situation was all kinds of wrong. Van shouldn't have her pinned beneath him like this, her smaller frame trapped beneath his larger one. As she squirmed, trying to break free, he emitted low growls that had nothing to do with their struggle. To make matters worse, her coat—the only thing providing her some semblance of cover—slowly inched up her legs, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

A shiver ran down Six's spine as she realized she needed to escape, and fucking fast.

“Get—the FUCK OFF ME!!” Six screamed, desperation fueling her attempts to elbow and push him away. But instead of relenting, Van responded with a mocking groan that morphed into a stifled chuckle.

“I would if you weren't squirming so damm much—and making it so fucking difficult. Let go of the knife,” Van growled, his voice dripping with frustration as he increased the weight pressing down on her back. Leaning closer, his face loomed over her, his grip tightening around her free arm to keep it in place, while his other hand continued to painfully crush hers around the knife handle.

Six cried out in agony as the pressure intensified, feeling her knuckles start to give way. Despite the pain and the fading strength, she refused to surrender. This was her chance to kill him. Van loomed closer, his breath against her ear, his own breaths ragged from the struggle.

“Let go,” Van's voice snarled in her ear, sending shivers down Six's spine. But she remained stubborn, shaking her head violently, her grip on the knife tightening despite the excruciating pain shooting through her hand.

“Six, let go,” he demanded, his tone growing more menacing with each word. His grip on her hand tightened, threatening to crush her bones.

"No! I won't let yo—" her protest was abruptly cut short by a sharp snap of pain as something in her hand gave way, causing her to cry out in agony.

Six instantly released the handle and pulled her hand close to her throat, tears now welling in her eyes. In that moment, she didn't care about Van's weight pressing her into the mattress; all she could feel was the excruciating pain. With dread, she realized that two of her fingers were broken.

In a swift motion, Van seized the knife as Six's cry of pain echoed in the room, her teeth gritted against the agony. Despite her struggles, she was overwhelmed by the throbbing pain in her hand. Ignoring her suffering, Van forcefully gripped her shoulder and flipped her onto her back, paying no mind to her broken fingers caught beneath them. Their eyes briefly met in a tense exchange before he grabbed her ankles, and spread her legs apart, pressing down between them, while holding the knife to her throat.

A whine escaped Six as she stopped all movement, feeling the cold metal of the blade against her skin, hovering over her pulse. Clutching her injured hand to her chest, she resembled a wounded animal, stripped of power and left vulnerable under his dominance. But her eyes burned with fury and pain, refusing to acknowledge that he had won the fight.

Both of them panted heavily, their gazes locked in a tense standoff. In that charged moment, Six wished for nothing more than to see him suffer, to witness his skin tear from his body.

Then, a small, wicked smile, spread across Van's face as he pressed the knife against Six's throat, the blade threatening to draw blood.

“Not so fierce now, are we?” he taunted, leaning closer, steadying himself with one hand above her head, while the other inched the knife closer, forcing Six to tilt her head up towards him.

She struggled to control her breathing as she silently endured the pain radiating from her hand and the overwhelming discomfort of their position. Her coat had ridden up completely, leaving her lower body exposed. The only thing shielding her now was Van. As his muscles suddenly slowly tensed, Six's body grew rigid, a silent tension settling over them both.

And Six, grew very still.

“What's wrong, Six...?” Van's voice dripped with mockery as he spoke up, his grin twisting into a sinister expression that made Six's blood run cold.

“Can't move, can you?” His words lingered ominously in the air as he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her skin. “Unable to fight back, helpless...” he whispered, their faces mere inches apart, his eyes gleaming with a silent threat.

A tense silence enveloped them, broken only by the muffled sounds of their strained breathing.

“Get off me,” Six said calmly, her voice barely above a whisper. Though she remained outwardly composed, every fiber of her being screamed in discomfort under his suffocating weight.

Van lowered himself even further, the blade of the knife pressing against her throat as his nose brushed against her cheek, trailing down towards her neck. “Nah, I don't think I will...” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down Six's spine.

A sickening sensation churned within her, a mixture of revulsion and a disturbing warmth.

With the knife still dangerously close, Van's free hand began to wander. His gaze dropped, tracing a path from her throat to her collarbone, lingering at the buttons of her coat. Meanwhile, his other hand found her exposed knee, grazing over it tenderly a few times before venturing further downward, exploring the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Six's expression twisted with despair and anger. “...Get off me...” she repeated, her voice steady yet trembling with discomfort as her body screamed warnings at her. She couldn't comprehend what he was doing, only that it made her incredibly uncomftable.

Van's gaze snapped back to hers, his other hand still inching lower. “Hmmm, and why should I, Six? Does this... make you uncomfortable...?” His tone dripped with indifference, showing he didn't care about her discomfort in the slightest. Lowering his gaze once more, he continued, his voice low. “You acted like such a bitch earlier, even trying to stab me, which wasn't very nice...” He trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hand on her thigh. “...So, be grateful that I'm only doing this as a response to your behavior when I could do something much worse—”

“I said, get off me.” 

The room erupted in a violent burst of shadowy energy, and Van was forcefully thrown off Six, crashing against the wall with a resounding thud.

A sharp gasp escaped his lips, quickly morphing into a pained cry as something audibly snapped upon impact. He collapsed to the wooden floor, clutching his side and groaning in agony. His growls of pain echoed through the room, but they abruptly stopped as he lifted his head, his teeth bared in ready to attack Six—until he caught sight of the room.

Shadows danced across the walls, pulsing with raw energy that seemed to engulf the space. Six, now free, slowly sat up on the bed, her coat draped over her legs as she steadied herself with her hands behind her. Her knees pressed together as she fixed her gaze upon Van with hollow eyes. 

Struggling to his knees, Van's face twisted in a mixture of horror, confusion, and rage as he clutched his injured side. The room fell into silence as the shadows faded away and the pulsing ceased, leaving behind an eerie emptiness.

After a tense moment of silence, Van's narrowed eyes locked onto Six, his voice tense with disbelief. “What. The. Fuck. Was that?” 

Six offered no response, her unnaturally calm eyes devoid of any emotion or reflection as they bore into him. But Van refused to accept her silence.

“Answer me! What the fuck was that?! Was that you?!” he practically shouted, his confusion and faint traces of fear evident as he struggled to comprehend the inexplicable force that had flung him from Six.

Once again, Six remained silent as she observed Van's attempts to rise, only for a sharp groan of pain to halt his movements. He glanced down at his side, confusion clouding his features as he noticed blood seeping through his shirt and the area unnaturally bent inward.

“...Y-you... you broke my ribs...” Van muttered in shock, his voice sounding faint. “You broke my fucking ribs without even touching them... how—”

“Broken bones, for broken bones,” Six uttered softly, her voice firm and calm, yet sounding weary. 

Van's gaze snapped back to Six, his expression a blend of shock and realization as he absorbed the weight of her words. Despite her current state—propped up on the bed, appearing innocent and small, weak—there was something unsettling about her eyes. They held a terrifying intensity that made Van instinctively flinch, a shiver creeping down his spine against his will.

Then, like a curious puppy, Six gently tilted her head, her gaze piercing yet drowsy as she reminded him, “You broke mine first...” 

Chapter Text

The room was shrouded in a suffocating silence, thick enough to touch, weighing down on the air. 

In the midst of this oppressive stillness, two figures faced each other in a tense standoff, their eyes locked in an unspoken battle of wills, each daring the other to make a move.

Van and Six remained motionless, their eyes refusing to break the intense connection. Yet, as moments stretched on, Six's focus began to crumble. Her gaze faltered, drifting downward until her chin delicately grazed her collarbone, a whirlwind of thoughts consuming her mind...

Her abilities... Why...

Why now? After endless tries to tap into her powers, why did they decide to stir at this exact moment? She could have used them earlier to dodge capture entirely. The frustration of wrestling with her abilities since arriving at the camp only had grown as they stubbornly stayed dormant until now. The sudden surge left her questioning everything—timing, purpose, and her very essence—as if a floodgate of uncertainties had been unleashed within her.

Meanwhile, Van stayed kneeling on the ground, wincing with every breath as his ribs throbbed with pain. The thick silence pressed down on him like a suffocating weight, compelling him to shatter it.

With a flicker of anger, Van tightened his jaw, and ground his teeth together before speaking. “You haven't answered my question,” he rasped, his voice laced with urgency. “Was that you?”

Across from him, Six was lost in her own mind. She had heard him, sure, but decided to ignore him, and instead, focused inward, grappling once more with her dormant powers. With a subtle curl of her fingers behind her on the blanket, she made another attempt to summon them, only to find them teasingly out of reach, frustratingly close yet distant. They responded, but didn't allow her to use them. Why? Why now? Why this uncertainty? They had worked just fine a moment ago—

“...fucking—ANSWER ME!!” Van's voice exploded, shattering the silence like thunder. The force of his words jolted Six from her thoughts, sending a shockwave through her senses akin to a sudden slap across the face. Leaving her breathless and disoriented. As he rose to his feet, Van leaned heavily against the wall with his shoulder, his frustration palpable, casting a dense, suffocating atmosphere in the room.

“Stop ignoring me, Six... It was you... wasn't it? I've known about kids with powers... but never thou—”

Six's focus snapped back to Van in an instant, her heart racing.

“...You—you've known about other kids with powers...?” she gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief, locking onto his, craving answers after this revelation.

There were others besides me and him?

Van's eyes narrowed, his shoulders tense with palpable tension, the discomfort evident as he grimaced while still clutching his side. “Now hold on, Six...” he began, his voice firm yet strained. “You answer me first. It's only fair, an answer for an answer.”

Six clenched her jaw, fury bubbling just beneath the surface. Seriously? After she almost snapped his neck instead of his ribs, he wanted to play that card? Not. A. Chance. 

With a determined glare, Six squared her shoulders, ready to set the record straight. It was time to make some things crystal clear. Letting her fury simmer beneath her skin, memories of his recent actions surged through her... igniting a blazing feeling similar to fire. Six gripped the blanket behind her tightly...

“No... you listen up, maggot,” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “I'M the one calling the shots here... if you really think you can just boss me around like that... after what you've done, be ready for your neck to snap instead of your ribs.”

Van visibly flinched, a hint of fear slipping through his facade despite his best efforts to mask it. But Six caught it, a surge of satisfaction pulsing through her veins. With this, she held the reins; now he would have to listen to her, not the other way around. Still, he remained silent, stubbornly refusing to answer her earlier question. 

Fine. If he needed a reminder of her abilities, she would gladly provide one.

Slowly creeping to the side of the bed, Six's bare feet met the cool wooden floor with a purposeful calm. Her steps, though quiet, carried an implicit threat. Once again summoning her powers, she felt their eager response this time, fueled by the anger pulsing through her veins. Despite the unsettling growl in her stomach, she pushed it aside, thankful that her powers were finally responding to her call.

As she rose, her hands clenched momentarily at her sides before opening again. Black particles swirled faintly within them as she advanced toward Van, who remained leaning against the wall with bowed head and tense shoulders. Her strides were deliberate, each step carrying an air of menace that seemed to thicken the shadows around them, engulfing the room once more in faint darkness.

Van's eyes flickered down to her hands, widening in alarm as Six unleashed only a slight display of her powers. He swallowed hard, gaze darting back up to meet hers as he instinctively pressed himself tighter against the wall. The once-commanding glare in his eyes vanished, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. 

“...Do I... need to break more bones in your body, before you respond to my earlier question...?” Six's asked slowly, voice calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it as she continued to close in on him.

Van's hand tightened around his side, the pain from his broken ribs causing him to grimace. “...Don't get so damn cocky just because you've got powers. Believe me, you wouldn't be the first one with powers that I've taken down...”

“So, you've encountered others with powers,” Six noted, standing squarely in front of Van now. Though she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes, her gaze remained unwavering. Her fingers twitched as she furrowed her eyebrows, disregarding Van's threat about facing others with powers. “...Tell me about them.”

Van kept his eyes locked with Six's, his head tilting slightly downward to meet her gaze, emphasizing their significant height difference as Six barely reached his shoulders. Then, with a heavy breath, he closed his eyes, surrendering.

“...About a year ago, someone with powers arrived at our camp... they—they could... twist things... in unnatural ways. It caused chaos,” Van began, his voice heavy. 

“They were cunning, making friends with many, including myself, with the intention of gradually taking over the camp. But then they started using their powers to distort people... their bodies." He winced, as if recalling a haunting memory. “It was a nightmare... And I knew I had to stop them. So I did.”

“How,” Six simply asked, leaning in, her voice a mere whisper yet carrying a weighty undertone. She applied subtle pressure, her gaze fixed on Van, demanding answers. He returned her stare, eyes narrowing with a defiant glint, a silent challenge in his demeanor.

“You people with abilities are not as invincible as you believe. Yes, you have powers, but each of you has some kind of weakness…” Van's voice rumbled, dripping with authority, as he edged closer to Six, his presence looming like a dark cloud over her. But Six remained unimpressed and clenched her fingers. Listening closely.

“Find that weakness, and exploit it. They crumble under pressure, revealing their true fragility, and that they are, in reality, weaker than the rest of us...” Van declared, a sly grin creeping across his face as tension thickened between them. “And even you, Six, possess such weakness...” 

Edging closer, making Six flinch back slightly out of natural reaction, Van's eyes narrowed to slits, brimming with something dangerous.

“...And I promise you... I will find yours, and I'll break you, until you beg me... to relieve you of it.”

Oh? Would you?

Six's lips curled upward, revealing her teeth as she held Van's gaze unwaveringly. “Break me...? Make me beg...?” she uttered innocently, her tone almost seductive, yet tinged with sarcasm. She couldn't help but notice how Van's eyes almost gleamed with anticipation at the thought of her begging him, which only fueled her anger even more.

Six's fury flared, igniting a fierce determination that seemed to pulsate around her, impossible to ignore. “...Sure, go ahead and try. But don't forget one crucial thing...” her voice trailed off, but the charged silence that followed spoke volumes, as if the very atmosphere held its breath, bracing for the clash that was about to unfold.

Van leaned in closer, mirroring her malicious smile, and brushed his nose against hers, a daring challenge in his gesture. How dare he. His heavy-lidded eyes betrayed his confidence, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had just dug his own grave.

“...Forgetting what, Six...” he breathed, his voice husky, eyes dropping down to her lips.

“...you can't if you're dead,” Six breathed back, her words laced with a chilling finality.

In the blink of an eye, Van's eyes bulged wide with pure dread as an unseen power surged from Six's palm, wrenching him violently aside.

A piercing, deep cry tore from Van's throat—primal and raw—as his frame collided mercilessly with the unyielding ground. His cheek split open upon impact, leaving a haunting streak of blood in his wake. The metallic scent filled the air, heightening his panic with each breath.

Before he could even grasp the chaos unfolding around him, Van found himself yanked violently upward by invisible chains, his body contorted in a merciless grip. Darkness swirled, thick and suffocating, pressing down upon him with a weight that seemed to crush his very spirit. Then, with a dread that chilled him to the core, the sickening sound of snapping bones shattered the air.

Each break tore through him like a blade through flesh, flooding his being with waves of unbearable agony. Van's screams tore through the silence, deep and unbridled, yet muffled by the shadows around them as he battled fruitlessly against the invisible bonds constricting him.

Meanwhile, Six stood nearby, her eyes, glowing crimson, alight with a sinister thrill as she watched the havoc she had started. What had begun as discomfort from Van's actions had transformed into a perverse delight, coursing through her like a forbidden elixir as she witnessed his torment. With a subtle gesture, Six's shadows twisted and shattered Van's bones—his arms, knees, and thighs giving way with sickening cracks that echoed through the room, each one punctuating his anguished cries.

Yet, even amidst the torment she unleashed, Six held back the fatal strike, relishing the agony she'd inflicted upon him. She stopped, savoring the moment. The air had thickened with the scent of blood, intensifying the atmosphere of terror and despair that surrounded them both.

As her powers surged within her, urging her to unleash further devastation upon him, Six felt her anger intensify, fueled by the desire to make him pay for what he had done to her. Yet, even as she hovered on the brink of succumbing to her rage, threatening to lose herself to the darkness within, to turn him into delicious, gory mush—Six restrained herself. And chose to spare the remainder of his body for the time being.

“...Funny…” Six's voice sliced through the thick silence after a minute, her stare unwavering as she met Van's tortured gaze. “...You promised to break me, yet look at you now—broken and under my mercy instead...”

Van's face twisted into a snarl of agony, his defiance burning bright despite his torment, as he fixed a glare on Six. “...I-I will... keep... my promise...” he wheezed out, each word a struggle for breath. “...even if... I have to... hunt you down... to the end... of the world...”

Six narrowed her eyes, fed up with his voice. “...I'm counting on you then.” 

Despite her desire to kill him right then and there, Six decided against it. Death would be too merciful for him; she wanted him to suffer. And die slowly...

Choke on his own blood, that flowed now free, as his broken bones had torn his inner flesh...

With cruel eyes, holding his challenging gaze, Six released her hold on him. Van crumpled to the floor with a wet, morbid thud, now nothing more than a pitiful heap of flesh in his own blood, yet still alive and breathing. Good. Six wouldn't grant him the sweet relief of death.

Pausing briefly, Six looked at Van form before quickly glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes locked onto the knife lying on the floor, a flicker of unease crossing her face before she turned, and swiftly grabbed it. Despite the discomfort it brought, she clenched it tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white with tension. At least she had a weapon now, to defend herself, even if it was Van's... Six shook her head to get rid of that thought.  It was hers now, and that's all that mattered.

Urgency suddenly surged through her veins like a relentless drumbeat—she had to move, now. She was not free yet, still in the camp. She needed to go. Six turned on her heel and strode purposefully towards the bedroom's exit, her heart pounding in her chest. Time was slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. She needed to vanish before anyone noticed Van, or worse, realized his absence. He was probably on the brink of death, or even already gone, he had lost so much blood. 

Good, she thought grimly.

As her hand hovered over the door handle, ready to push it open and make her getaway, a low groan shattered the silence from behind. Six froze, every muscle tensed.

Still alive then.

“S-six...w-wait,” Van's voice, filled with pain and strain, pierced the air like a desperate plea, its raw intensity grabbing hold of Six's conscience, demanding her attention.

A blend of annoyance and curiosity stirred within Six until it became unbearable. With a swift motion, she turned partially, fixing him with a piercing glare over her shoulder. Van was on his back, his eyes narrowed, lips bloody and parted, a trickle of crimson trickling down to his chin. His breaths were wheezes, ragged and shallow, his head tilted as he struggled to articulate his words.

“...a-avoid west...p-part... f-forest wh... you leave...” he rasped, eyes squeezing shut, breaths growing more shallow and gasping, on the brink of losing consciousness... Until he did. 

...

Six was baffled by his words. 

Was he giving her advice? Warning her? But from what? She shook her head, her lips curling into a silent snarl, once again taken aback by Van's defiance. Even now, completely immobilized by Six, on his way to death, he dared to command her? The audacity! The urge to turn around and end his suffering right then and there surged within her, threatening to overwhelm her restraint.

Furious, Six instead, stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her with a resounding thud. Moving swiftly down the stairs, she plotted her escape from the camp under the cloak of night. Screw Van and his warnings. 

He was dead soon anyway.

Six's next target was a window hidden at the rear of the building, away from prying eyes. Taking a moment to gather herself, Six felt her heart quicken with anticipation for the daring escape ahead. This was her moment. She was finally breaking free.

With a determined breath, she flung the window open and leaped out, landing softly on the muddy ground below. The wind howled around her, a fitting background noise to her escape. Time was running short, and a storm loomed on the horizon, adding urgency to her mission. She had no time to waste. So Six darted through the shadows of the camp, following the path she had learned just two days earlier.

There was one last thing she needed to retrieve before disappearing for good.

Quietly moving like a shadow, Six made her way through the maze of cabins in the camp. Each step was smooth and careful, allowing her to blend seamlessly into the darkness. Like a dancer, she shifted from one shadow to another, staying alert to avoid detection by the guards patrolling nearby on the paths of the camp. Despite the tension in the air, her determination only intensified with every stride, her goal clear in her thoughts.

Finally, Six arrived at the cabin where, on her first day, her belongings had been stripped away from her, bit by bit. The memory of that humiliating moment flooded back, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable. Six still remembered the glares... their leering grins...

Shaking her head to dispel the haunting memories, Six's fists tightened at her sides, her jaw locked in steely determination as she closed in on the cabin door. With each step, she straightened her posture, her shoulders squared with tension, a silent declaration of her resolve to reclaim what was rightfully hers.

Six flung the door open, her heart pounding in anticipation as she entered the cabin. Like a hawk on the hunt, her eyes scanned the room, darting from corner to corner in a frantic search for her belongings. With bated breath, she hoped, prayed, to find her possessions undisturbed, patiently awaiting her return. Yet, above all else, she yearned for her yellow raincoat, even if it wasn't the original. To her, it held a significance far beyond its material value—it was a symbol of her identity and safety. 

Stealthily slipping into the cabin, Six found herself on high alert, her senses tingling with tension. Memories of the one who had dared to cut her hair flooded her mind like a raging river. Rimmy was it...? That bastard. Just the thought of him ignited a blazing fury within her, fueled by the memory of his smug grin and the lecherous stares of his companions. And Van.

Thoughts of revenge danced in her mind like a tempest, swirling with a fierce determination. If fate were to ever bring Rimmy before her again, she vowed to make him pay dearly for his insolence. Oh, how sweet the taste of revange would be.

Perhaps, she would return the favor by tearing off his scalp.

Yes, that would be fitting.

Without a moment's pause, Six moved swiftly through the room, her keen eyes sweeping every corner in search of her precious belongings. A glimmer of hope flickered as she noticed the back door, overlooked during her initial visit, standing invitingly ajar. With a faint creak, she pushed it open, revealing a room that doubled as both a storeroom and a bedroom.

Yet, her heart plummeted as she took in the scene before her. A sinking feeling washed over her as she noticed something—the bed on the right. Empty. Alarm bells clamored in her mind, signaling trouble ahead. This was definitely not a good sign... 

Slowly, Six walked over to it and brushed against the covers with her hand—they were warm. Someone had lain here not too long ago.

Six immediately pressed on, scouring every corner of the room for her belongings. It was a storeroom, after all; they had to be here somewhere. And she didn't want to waste any more time, especially when someone seemed to be lurking nearby. 

Minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity as Six tore through the room, frustration bubbling up with each passing second. Inside her, conflicting thoughts waged war, adding to the mounting pressure. One voice urged her to vanish before it was too late, while another demanded she find her belongings first, no matter the cost. She wished they would just shut up so she could concentrate.

Engrossed in her furious thoughts, Six remained oblivious to the door opening until a slight cough jolted her senses. Swiftly, she spun around, poised to strike at the intruder. Her knife gleamed menacingly, her powers coiled like a spring, ready to unleash if needed. But as her gaze met the unexpected figure standing in the doorway, her aggression wavered—it wasn't Rimmy or a guard, but a girl.

Holding her stuff. 

Six's yellow raincoat and bag neatly nested in the girls hands.

Six's piercing stare drilled into the other girl, who visibly recoiled and retreated a step under the weight of Six's gaze. A surge of curiosity flooded her mind—why was this girl here, especially with her belongings?

As if sensing Six's thoughts, the girl spoke up, her voice quivering with fear. “Y-you're the new girl, aren't you?” she whispered nervously, her words barely audible in the tense atmosphere.

Six remained silent but closed the distance, suspicion etched across her features like a warning sign. Every nerve in her body was primed for action, ready to react if the girl so much as made a move to alert the guards. Yet, in the charged silence that hung between them, the girl remained eerily quiet.

To Six's astonishment, rather than raising the alarm, the girl extended Six's belongings to her, cradling them delicately in her hands, wrapped protectively in Six's signature yellow raincoat. Despite the lingering wariness gnawing at her, Six's instincts urged her to seize the opportunity and reclaim what was rightfully hers. With measured steps, she closed the gap between them, her hand reaching out to retrieve her belongings.

And as her fingers closed around the familiar fabric of her raincoat, a wave of relief washed over her, mingled with a lingering sense of wariness. But for now, her focus was on one thing: escape—

“P-please... take me with you...!”

Six's eyes widened in surprise as she absorbed the girl's heartfelt plea. Tears welled up in the other girl's eyes as they locked gazes, her desperation palpable. “P-please take me with you! I know you're escaping, and I want too... I want to leave this horrible place... please!” she implored, her voice trembling with emotion.

With a momentary pause, Six instead, snatched her belongings rather roughly from the girl's hands, eliciting a gasp of surprise. Without uttering a word, she swiftly slung her bag over her shoulder, tucking her yellow raincoat between the top and her back. 

Then, with an unreadable expression, she simply pushed past the girl.

But, as Six attempted to leave, the girl's hand shot out, clutching Six's arm tightly and halting her in her tracks. “Please, just take me with you! I-I promise I'll be useful... I can prove it... please, just take me...!” Six felt a surge of anger at the unexpected grip, her instincts screaming at her to break free and forge ahead. Yet, there was a raw urgency in the girl's desperate plea that gave Six pause...

Six slowly turned her head, her gaze fell upon the girl who stood behind her, tears streaming down her face in silent desperation. The girl's eyes, brimming with a plea for help, locked onto Six's own. And, with a deep breath, Six spoke, her voice barely audible, a mere whisper to avoid attracting the attention of the guards patrolling outside.

“...You can prove it?”

In that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, anticipation palpable.

Then the girl sniffed and nodded vigorously. “...Yes! I know a way out of the camp that the guards don't know about!”

Then why didn't you already escape through that yourself? A suspicious voice in Six's mind asked.

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into her every thought like tendrils of smoke. Yes...why didn't you leave already...? Six wondered in her thoughts. This could very well be a trap. The girl's plea seemed genuine, but Six couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. Was she afraid to leave by herself? Couldn't she survive outside? If she followed the girl's lead, it could lead straight into the waiting arms of the guards. Or worse.

Yet, as Six weighed her options, dread settled in her gut like a heavy stone. The only escape route she knew was through the heavily guarded front gates, a path that would undoubtedly alert the entire camp to her presence. If this girl truly knew another way out, Six had to seize the opportunity, despite the risks.

“Show me,” Six commanded, her voice carrying a firmness tinged with doubt as she studied the girl before her, teetering on the edge of tears. With a visible exhale of relief, the girl let go of Six's arm and motioned towards the cabin's exit, silently urging her to follow. Gripping her knife tightly, Six trailed behind, her senses heightened and muscles tense with anticipation.

The path the girl led Six on felt eerily familiar, tracing back the same route Six had taken to reach the cabin. A flicker of confusion danced through Six's mind, but she pushed it aside, keeping her focus razor-sharp as she trailed behind the girl. Every silent step across the camp seemed like a risky wager, with Six ready to strike at the slightest hint of betrayal.

As they neared a section of the wooden wall encircling the camp, the girl halted, her eyes flitting nervously between Six and the barrier looming before them.

Pausing to ensure Six followed suit, the girl pressed her shoulder against the rough wooden wall. Then, she turned to Six once more, checking. Six nodded in confirmation, her anticipation palpable. With a resolute push, the girl shifted one of the planks aside, revealing a clandestine passage hidden within the wall. Without hesitation, Six trailed closely behind, her heart racing with a blend of apprehension and exhilaration.

In a heartbeat, they emerged on the other side, the towering walls of the camp fading into the background behind them. The cool breeze of freedom kissed their faces as they stood outside, their escape now a tangible reality. They had made it.

But for Six, disbelief lingered like a stubborn shadow. Escaping had felt too effortless, almost surreal. Yet, as she glanced back at the wooden walls of the camp, a wave of relief washed over her. They were out; that was all that mattered now.

Her attention shifted to the girl beside her, whose tear-streaked face was illuminated by a radiant smile as she looked back at the camp they had left behind. Six's distrust lingered, a shadow in her mind, but she couldn't deny the debt owed to the girl for aiding her escape. Gratitude, however, was not something Six showed often.

Without uttering a single word of thanks, Six turned her gaze towards the edge of the forest, a mere stone's throw away. There, beyond the trees, lay the promise of a new beginning, and Six was more than ready to seize it. To finally be free once more.

But suddenly, the moment of their escape shattered into a cacophony of chaos as the piercing sound of shouting erupted from within the camp. Both Six and the girl froze in shock, their hearts pounding in unison as the distant echoes of orders being barked filled the air, sending shivers down their spines.

Their absence has been noticed. Of course it wouldn't be this easy.

Torch flames danced menacingly along the top of the camp's walls, casting flickering shadows that seemed to reach out for them in the night. Guards sprinted atop the ramparts, their eyes scanning the perimeter with a predatory intensity until they locked onto Six and the girl below.

“THEY ARE HERE! OVER HERE!!” Their shouts reverberated through the night, each syllable dripping with fury as the guards spotted them.

As tension coiled in Six's muscles, her instincts screamed for action. She prepared to bolt, her mind already mapping out the fastest route to safety. But amidst the chaos, a voice rose above all—a voice she despised, a voice that sent chills down her spine, a voice that shouldn't be able to talk right now, rooting her to the spot in a paralyzing grip of fear.

“Get her. Kill the other.” 

Six's eyes widened.

How... 

How was he even able to talk... How was he even able to apparently move right now?!

As Six stood frozen, wide-eyed and unable to move, paralyzed, it was the girl at her side who seized the initiative. With a decisive tug, she grabbed Six's hand and pulled her into motion.

Adrenaline surged through their veins as they sprinted towards the edge of the forest, their feet pounding the ground in a frantic rhythm, almost stumbeling over them. Behind them, the clamor of guards breaching the walls was heard, their shouts echoing through the night like a harbinger of danger. Thunder rumbeld in the distance.

Their escape was fueled by an urgent adrenaline rush, each stride propelling them closer to the safety of the forest's embrace. Yet, with every passing moment, the pursuit intensified, driving them to push harder. For Six and the girl, it was more than a mere race against time—it was a primal battle for survival. And they would die, if they didn't run. 

Despite the first raindrops kissing their cheeks, neither paid it any heed. Rain was the least of their problems right now. With every pounding step, the guards closed in, their shouts piercing the night air like daggers behind them. Undeterred, Six and the girl weaved through the labyrinth of roots and branches, their breaths ragged, their hearts beating in perfect sync with the pulse of their escape.

But, as they sprinted onward, the landscape suddenly dropped away, revealing the yawning expanse of a cliff edge. More adrenaline surged through Six's veins, urging her onward despite the protest of her muscles.

There was no time for hesitation, Six knew they had to jump. Each heartbeat fueled her determination as she pushed herself to new limits. With fierce will, she focused solely on reaching the other side, the rush of wind and rain whipping past her ears as she sprinted through the air.

In a heart-stopping moment, Six released the girl's hand and leaped over the void, her body hurtling through the air.

With a bone-jarring impact, she crashed down on the opposite bank, pain flaring through her limbs as she collided with the unforgiving earth and jagged rocks below. Yet, despite the agony, she made it. 

Relief flooded Six as she scrambled to her side, her chest heaving with exertion. But her triumph was short-lived as she turned to see the girl swaying dangerously close over the edge. Despite her efforts to follow Six's lead, she hadn't quite made it, her grip slipping with each passing second. 

Panic surged through Six as she reached out on instinct to the girl letting go of her knife, who was several feet away, her heart pounding with the urgency of the moment.

“P-please, help me!” The girl's desperate plea cut through the air, her voice trembling with fear and desperation as she extended her hand towards Six.

Yet...

Suddenly...

Six froze.

Her mind was a war of confusion and dread. 

Reality had blurred and twisted before her eyes since she reached out to the girl, merging past and present in a disorienting whirl of uncertainty and terror. In the blink of an eye, the girl's innocent form contorted, morphing into something sinister—a chilling specter straight from Six's deepest nightmares.

A purple haze enveloped Six, its ethereal tendrils snaking around her, ensnaring her senses in its spectral grasp. The world around her dissolved into darkness, the void from the cliff rising up to swallow everything in its inky embrace. And there, hanging from the edge, the figure twisted and distorted before her eyes.

It couldn't be... he was dead—long gone—

But the specter before her bore an undeniable resemblance to someone she had once known. Someone she had believed to be lost forever. Someone she had left behind. Dread clenched at Six's heart as the chilling truth dawned upon her—her past had come back to haunt her, and there was no escaping its grasp. Panicking, Six's hand clutched at her chest, breaths coming in fast bursts, eyes wide—

Before she could fully process the chilling sight before her, the distant echo of approaching footsteps shattered the eerie silence, jolting Six back to the present with a gasp. Blinking rapidly, she watched as the oppressive purple fog dissipated, revealing the girl once again in her true form.

But there was no time to dwell on the surreal transformation. The guards were closing in fast, their looming figures now visible through the dissipating mist. Meanwhile, the girl remained suspended precariously from the cliff's edge, her tear-filled eyes imploring Six for help.

With urgency igniting every fiber of her being, Six cast aside the lingering shock and honed in on the task at hand. There was no time for second-guessing. As the guards closed in, their footsteps thundering like an impending storm, she knew she had to act swiftly to secure their escape.

But... 

Despite the urgency clawing at her senses, Six found herself ensnared in a web of indecision, ensconced within a tempest of fear and doubt. It was as though an unseen force gripped her, rendering her motionless, trapped within the confines of her own mind. Swathed in obsidian fog, she remained a silent observer amidst the tumult unfurling around her, akin to a specter trapped in a haunting nightmare.

Then, with a determined set to her jaw, she pressed her lips together as the rain intensified, drenching her to the bone in a matter of seconds. Amidst the chaos, Six's hand, once resting on her chest, gravitated to the damp earth, fingers curling around the hilt of her knife...

And Six's voice, her own yet not, emerged in a whisper, barely audible even to her own ears and the rain... 

“I'm sorry,”

A heartbeat lingered, the world around her fading into a deafening silence, drowned out by the relentless pounding of rain and the thunderous rhythm of her own heartbeat. Locked in a gaze with the girl teetering on the edge of the cliff, her eyes widened as she understood Six.

Then, hollow and numb, Six turned away, her heart weighed down by a profound emptiness threatening to engulf her entirely. Each movement felt sluggish as she struggled to her feet, as if wading through molasses, with every step a battle against the tangled web of roots and branches conspiring to hinder her escape as Six fled.

Tears cascaded down Six's cheeks, their silent descent blending seamlessly with the relentless rain. Lost in the turmoil of her own emotions, her vision blurred, her soul weighed down by a complex mix of guilt and regret. Amidst the chaos of her flight, she struggled to discern whether her tears were shed for the girl she left behind or for another...

In the next few moments, the haunting echoes of the girl's anguished cries clung to Six like an unshakeable phantom as she ran, each cry piercing through the air like a mournful melody, a stark reminder of her own selfishness. With the guards drawing closer, their looming figures casting menacing shadows over her escape, the girl's desperate pleas faded into the void, replaced only by the hollow echo of her body vanishing into the depths below. 

Six's steps faltered—

“Keep running,” a voice urged from within her, urging her onward.

Six listened, her feet pounding against the unforgiving terrain, pushing her forward through the dense undergrowth of the forest. But despite her desperate flight, guilt, a relentless predator, seized her conscience, its grip tightening with each passing moment—a sensation foreign yet all-consuming. Remorse, an unfamiliar companion, now gnawed at her soul.

In her mind's eye, the girl morphed into nothing more than dead weight—yes, dead weight. She reasoned, she was dead anyway. Six flinched, hard. For a fleeting moment, doubt plagued her steps, the weight of her choice bearing down like an unbearable burden. Where had that thought come from? Without the girl, Six most likely wouldn't have made it out of the camp—

“Stop thinking, and keep running, Six.” 

The voice, soothing and mysterious, one she had known and was always comforting to her, seemed to wrap around Six like a comforting shroud, clouding her thoughts. She listened once more, the noise of her racing mind vanishing as she surrendered to its guidance, her feet pounding against the earth on their own as she disappeared into the enveloping shadows.

The cliff, offered only a momentary reprieve from the relentless pursuit that awaited her. Yet, she couldn't afford to linger—not when the guards would soon descend upon her like hounds on a scent, they would follow. 

With a determined, yet confused feeling, Six pushed forward into the unknown, her path shrouded in uncertainty, her only certainty the relentless pursuit of the guards. 

So, amidst the murmuring trees and the gentle dance of leaves, Six fled, her mind still haunted by the girl, another treachery weighing heavily on her heart—a betrayal that had guided her onto this labyrinthine path of uncertainty. As she plunged deeper into the heart of the forest, rain mercilessly lashing down upon her, her thoughts consumed by the echoes of her past misdeeds, Six found herself pondering to whom she had truly uttered those words of sorry in a similar moment...

The girl.

Or... Mono.

Six didn't notice that she was fleeing west.

Chapter Text

There was a noise. 

A weird noise, akin to... rustling.

Mono stirred awake, puzzled by the sound. Oddly, his usual alarm bells stayed quiet, failing to ring out their usual warning in response to such an disturbance. But this... was different. It felt unfamiliar somehow, lacking the weighty presence of an Adult. They tended to be far noisier. Mono, a light sleeper by nature, would have sensed their presence even in his sleep. Years of sharpened survival instincts had ensured that. 

Instead, this rustling was subtle, almost soothing in its rhythm. It didn't trigger Mono's typical fight-or-flight response.  

There was that rustle again.

Curious now, Mono, concealed beneath his paper bag, cautiously peeled open his eyes. He was glad his bag was dark enough so that whatever was making that noise wouldn't become alarmed by his wakefulness and observation. Maintaining the facade of sleep, he remained as still as possible. But as Mono's gaze drifted towards the source of the peculiar sound, he was taken aback, noticing something else surprising.

He was currently being robbed.

Three small children rifled through his bag on the ground, completely unaware of Mono's observant stare concealed beneath his paper bag. Their frail figures and gaunt faces immediately drew Mono's attention—hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and tangled hair spoke volumes about their condition. Among them, a boy sifted through Mono's belongings, quietly discarding used bandages until his fingers closed around a small glass vial holding the precious remnants of antibiotics. His blue eyes widened in disbelief.

“...G-guys, look...” he whispered, his voice barely a breath, capturing the attention of the other two children—a boy and a girl—deep in their exploration of Mono's belongings.

“...The Adult had this...”  the boy revealed, holding up the vial for the others to see. Their eyes widened in astonishment, mirroring his own disbelief.

Beneath his paper bag, Mono fought back a frown. He wasn't an Adult.

“...B-but why...i-is it hurt maybe...? Where did it get it...?” the girl blurted out, snatching the vial from the boy's hands and examining it closely.

This time, Mono had to bite his lower lip to hold back an offended growl at being referred to as "it." Kids could be such rude little brats... Was he once this bratty too? Probably... but he wouldn't admit it.

“But if it's hurt, how did it make it this far up? We've had trouble following it since two days ago when it broke into the room in the grocery store...” the second boy chimed in.

Two days?  Mono wondered, a surge of alarm flooding his thoughts. Had they been tailing him all that time? How had he not noticed?

“Well, however it did it, it's clear this one is no normal Adult. It's stronger than the ones I've seen... Remember when it jumped out of the window to flee from another Adult? Why would it run from one of its own?”  the first boy interjected, adding to their discussion. “And it survived that fall too... no regular Adult could pull that off.”

“What are you getting at, Blue?” the second boy demanded, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice.

“...What I'm trying to say is...” The first boy, Blue's voice carried a serious tone, “...I believe it's not an Adult at all, but one of us, just unusually tall and big—”

“...Oh no, not this again, Blue!” the girl interrupted, frustrated. “Do you still think it can help us? It's clearly an Adult; they're all mindless, violent. This one is no diffrent. It's just a twisted trick to lure children like us close—!”

“Would you two please be quiet! You're gonna wake it up!” the second boy hissed at them, causing the girl and Blue to flinch.

All three of them slowly glanced over to Mono, who had been quietly eavesdropping on their conversation while pretending to sleep. Yet, his piercing gray eyes were still fixed on them through the two holes in his paper bag, hidden in the darkness underneath. Unknowingly, they made eye contact with him, and Mono held his breath.

“...We're sticking to the plan,” the girl whispered after a long minute, stealing a quick glance at the other two boys. “...We'll grab whatever we can from its bag, then make a run for it and bring it to the others...”

Others...? Mono wondered. So he had been right all along... there were more children in the Pale City. Of course they where. His focus snapped back to the children on the floor.

“...But it could help us! It might be able to get us more stuff if it's really not an Adult! And who knows, it might even be able to talk! We can't let this opportunity pass—”

“Enough, Blue!” the second boy whispered sharply, causing the others to flinch once more. “Violet is right, we grab what we can and then get out of here.”

With that final word, Blue's shoulders slumped in defeat, and they all resumed rummaging through Mono's bag in search of useful items.

Mono, on the other hand, was debating with himself in his mind. One side of him wanted to help them. It was painfully evident that these children were barely scraping by, if they were willing to get so close—to an apparent Adult—like Mono, for stuff. Yet, another part of him hesitated, wary of getting entangled in others' struggles. After all, the last time he had extended a helping hand, he was betrayed and left to perish in a void.

Mono pondered... If he intervened now, they would likely scatter in panic, except perhaps for that kid named Blue; he seemed to have grasped Mono's true nature, unlike the others. But could Mono really stand by and do nothing? Allow them to strip him of his belongings?

On second thought, though... That's when Mono had a revelation. Well, more of a decision than a revelation.

He would let them take what they needed from him. And, do nothing.

The longer Mono observed them from beneath his paper bag, the more he realized their desperate need for the supplies outweighed his own. The occasional cough or struggle, the sight of their bony arms as they reached for items... it all painted a stark picture of their desperation. And Mono, with his strength and size advantage, could easily replenish his own supplies later.

They were just children, vulnerable and struggling to survive in this unforgiving world, and the Pale City. Like he once had, when he was their age. And by allowing them to take what they needed, Mono could help them without directly involving himself. 

It would have to do.

As the minutes slipped away, the trio hurriedly gathered whatever they could, while Mono, pretending to be deep in slumber, watched on in silence. What they managed to snatch was just a fraction of what Mono had stashed in their bag. Slowly but surely, they inched closer to their exit, smoothly disappearing into the comforting embrace of the shadows.

Before vanishing completely, Blue stole one last glance at Mono, as if sensing an unspoken connection between them, before he turned and joined the others.

Mono remained motionless for a full ten minutes before finally allowing himself to stir.

His muscles protested with a slight ache as Mono sat up with a faint groan. Well... that was quite an unexpected start to his day. Being robbed by children who, judging by their appearance, were starving. Mono steadied himself on his legs, resting both elbows on his knees, while he crumpled the paper bag in his hands, his mind heavy with thoughts.

“No... no... no,” Mono whispered to himself, his mind racing. He couldn't go after them. He shouldn't. They'd manage somehow... especially after taking his belongings. Mono understood he had to let them go, despite the nagging urge to chase after and help them. 

Something scratching at his chin made Mono abruptly halt his thoughts. What on earth was scratching his cheek? Confused, he glanced down, but saw only his brown paper bag. He moved his head again... There it was, that scratching sensation once more. What in the world...? Growing more irritated than puzzled now, Mono quickly slid a hand under the bag and brushed over his cheek, trying to locate the source of the scratching. But then, Mono froze, his eyes widening in shock as he felt it. 

Stubble.

Fucking. Stubble.

With a slight gasp, Mono withdrew his hand momentarily, only to cautiously brush over his cheek once more. There it was again—a faint prickling of hair. A beard? Mono was growing a beard. The realization struck him with a mix of annoyance, fear, and pride. Beards were for men. Grown men. Was he old enough for this? But then again, how old was he anyway...The uncertainty nagged at him once more.

He'd been trapped in the Tower for so long, time had become a blur, and with all the torture, remembering birthdays was the least of his concerns.

But one thing was clear to Mono; he despised the stubble. It had to go.

Fully awake and thoroughly annoyed now, Mono leaped to his feet and retrieved his bag from the floor. With quick hands, he rummaged through it to see what the kids had taken. Some food—beef jerky, canned tomatoes, and snack bars. That was replaceable. What irked him was the stolen antibiotics... that wouldn't be so easy to replace. Yet, Mono knew where he could find more.

Mono knew, though, that he wouldn't return there again. And his wounds...

On that thought, Mono briefly paused, holding his bag with one hand while the other pulled aside his coat and lifted his shirt to glance at the bandages underneath. They looked oddly clean, and Mono knew why. He wanted to give his past self a pat on the shoulder. It had been a lifesaver to drench the new bandages in antibiotics first before putting them on his body; now it was proving very useful. The antibiotics were still seeping into his wounds and would continue to do so for a bit longer, so there was no rush to replace them for maybe 2-3 days.

So, the kids swiping the antibiotics wasn't the end of the world.

Another scratch on his cheek. 

Mono growled under his breath. His patience was wearing thin.

But first things first, that stubborn stubble had to go. The feeling of it scratching against his skin was driving him mad. Running his hand over his chin, he grimaced at the prickly sensation. Finding a knife or a barber's shop for tools became his immediate mission. It dawned on Mono that he also needed to arm himself. Right now, he was practically defenseless, relying solely on his own strength, which could only take him so far. He needed to get stronger soon.

Lifting his gaze and straightening his shirt and coat, Mono cast a quick glance in the direction the children had disappeared. Today was shaping up to be a busy one... plenty to tackle on his to-do list. But something else nagged at his mind. Mono made a mental note to watch out for the kids; they had mentioned following him before. And knowing their persistence, they were likely to continue... Because that's what he would do if he were them; why only rob him once when there was more to get? Mono knew he had to be cautious. 

But that, was nothing new.

════════════════

After leaving the spot where Mono had spent the night and been robbed by the children, he ventured back into the streets of the Pale City. Today was rainier than usual. A storm had rolled in overnight, and the rain poured steadily. Surprisingly, Mono found the downpour comforting and even took advantage of it. The rain was so intense that you could barely see your own hand in front of you, thanks to the cascading curtain from the sky. Amid the dark clouds and towering buildings, the city felt shrouded in mystery. In these conditions, even Mono's tall figure blended seamlessly into the surroundings, providing him with a cloak of invisibility.

So, he didn't complain and slipped beneath his trusty coat, finding refuge from the rain. His paper bag, too, proved waterproof enough to endure the downpour.

Mono had been wandering for a few hours now, maybe two since he woke up, passing by the looming shadows of buildings. He kept a sharp eye out for any danger or signs of pursuit. After all, the children had admitted to trailing him for two days without his awareness. Mono mulled over that revelation, feeling a surge of frustration at his lack of caution.

As Mono continued to roam the dark, rain-soaked streets, he couldn't shake off thoughts of the children who had trailed him.

They had seen his face.

The realization had struck him just moments ago, casting a shadow over his mind. It didn't sit well with him. They had spotted him since Mono had only acquired his paper bag a day ago... and considering they had been following him since he first scavenged food from the backroom of the shop on his very first day out... he hadn't had his paper bag then. So, yes, the children had seen his face.

He didn't know what to make of it. But what he did know was the last time someone had seen his face...

Mono's steps faltered abruptly, a sharp throb pulsing through his mind, prompting a soft groan to escape his lips.

The last one who had seen him had been Si—s...

Fucking, god dammit, just say her name,  Mono scolded himself inwardly.

Six.

He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Hah. He really was a mess, wasn't he? Unable to even utter the name of the one who betrayed him and left him to die. Was he truly that broken... scared of her? Pitiful.

Pathetic.

No, Mono thought harshly. He was not pathetic. It wasn't his fault. He did nothing wrong. 

It was her.

ClaNgG—!!

The sudden sound of something metallic echoed behind him, jolting Mono from his pitiful thoughts. He spun around, heart racing a bit faster in his chest. What was that noise? Mono scanned the alley behind him, fences and trash bags lining the sides, trying to pinpoint the source through the heavy rain and the constant rush of it.

At first, Mono saw nothing, but then, as another minute stretched by, a form emerged—a big form—the form of an Adult.

His first instinct was to run as he saw it; almost as tall as himself, wide and fleshy, the face a gaping hole in its skull, chest, and arms swollen as if water was underneath its skin. But Mono's instincts screamed at him to run from it; yet, he didn't. Another feeling—a strong one—overcame him, urging him to just stay and not move. The creature had likely detected Mono's presence as he passed by, yet it hadn't made any aggressive moves—which was very... unusual.

The grotesque Adult emitted a low, guttural clicking noise that reverberated through the narrow alley. Its head twitched from side to side, and its limp, fleshy arms hung at its sides. Despite the unsettling sight, Mono remained frozen, simply observing as it inched closer.

With each heavy step, the creature's approach quickened Mono's heartbeat, sending waves of fear through him. Yet, he willed himself to stay composed. The Adult moved sluggishly, and if things took a turn for the worse, Mono knew he could dart away.

It drew nearer to Mono, its sniffing growing louder as hidden nostrils under folded skin worked overtime. Finally, it stood right in front of him, pressing its face close to Mono's beneath his paper bag. Mono remained still, his gaze fixed on the grotesque figure, desperately trying not to breathe in its repulsive, foul odor. The creature persisted in its sniffing and groaning, its proximity making Mono increasingly uneasy by the moment. He felt as though he couldn't endure it any longer and braced himself to make a break for it...

But then, out of the blue, the Adult backed off, as if it had picked up on Mono's discomfort.

...the fuck? Mono's mind raced with confusion as he eyed the adult suspiciously.

It emitted a softer gurgling noise, almost like a sign of respect, before simply bowing its head and strolling past Mono, who stood there utterly bewildered. Glancing over his shoulder, Mono watched as the Adult slipped out of the alley and back into the rainy streets.

For a moment, Mono stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the spot where the adult had vanished. That encounter was beyond bizarre. Why didn't it attack him?

Mono stood there, rain cascading down upon him, mirroring the turmoil in his mind. He couldn't grasp what had just unfolded. After lingering for a few more minutes, unable to make sense of the Adult's strange behavior, he reluctantly resumed his journey through the Pale City's streets. Confusion and unease lingered with him, weighing heavy on his shoulders.

════════════════

Mono cautiously pushed open the back door to the barber's shop he had noticed ten minutes earlier. He brimmed with wariness about what awaited inside, yet the pesky stubble on his cheeks nagged at him incessantly. 

The lights were on inside, which raised Mono's suspicions a notch, but he reassured himself that he'd be quick. Just a swift grab of a blade and he'd be out. He could tame his stubble in safety later. Yet, as he stepped in cautiously, closing the door behind him with care, a sense of unease crept over him. The longer he lingered, the more certain he became that something wasn't right. The idea of bolting crossed his mind, seeking out another barber shop, but the relentless itch of his prickly stubble urged him forward.

Just grab one of those blade things and get out, he told to himself, crouching slightly with tense shoulders and arms poised for defense.

With the stealth of a feather, Mono slinked through the shop, eyes darting around for potential threats. He knew he wasn't alone when he suddenly heard a soft bang from another room, followed by a muffled grunt of annoyance. Time was running short.

And hurry he did, still crouched, moving faster as he began to search for the blades he needed in the middle drawers. But his hands found only tissues and various shaving creams—

“Who's there?” 

Mono immediately ducked down to the ground as a high-pitched, raspy voice echoed through the shop.

With his heart pounding beneath his ribs, Mono cursed himself for not hearing the back door—the one where he'd heard the noises—open. Now, whoever had been there was alerted to his presence, just as Mono was aware of theirs.

“I heard you, little brat...” the raspy voice echoed from the other side of the shop. “...I told you lot to leave this shop alone; there's nothing for you to scavenge.”

Scavenge? Mono wondered briefly. So, this man, whose voice belonged to, seemed to mistake him for someone else. Perhaps by "you lot," he meant the children...

Suddenly, footsteps echoed throughout the shop, accompanied by the huffs and rasps of the likely shop owner. Mono needed to leave as soon as possible. Silently, he crept over and stayed low, his eyes fixed on the door he had entered through. He had to get out—

SNIPP!

The sudden noise above startled Mono, causing him to jump down and tumble backward. As he spun around, his heart raced with adrenaline at the realization that he'd been discovered. Now, he found himself face-to-face with the shop owner, who wielded a HUGE pair of scissors.

The man holding them was small and chubby, with a wide face, small eyes, buck teeth, and dressed like a barber. Well, except for the scissors, which had deep red tips... suggesting they'd been used for more than just trimming hair.

Mono staggered backward, still holding his tense posture, as he slightly lowered his head, still concealed under his paper bag that had narrowly escaped being snipped. He fixed a determined gaze on the small man across from him, who seemed taken aback, his eyes widening at Mono's imposing figure—towering over him, with the Barber barely reaching up to Mono's waist. They locked eyes for a moment, a silent standoff between them.

“Who...” the Barber started, his voice wavering, “Who are you?” he asked Mono, his words stumbling out.

Mono stayed silent, his fists clenched, pondering why the barber didn't attack him. Could it be that Mono posed a greater threat to him than the barber did to Mono?

Thunder roared outside the shop, but neither of them flinched or moved, their gazes locked in an intense standoff. The Barber lowered his scissors, his mouth slightly agape, as he looked at Mono more closely.

“...W-wait... It's—it's you, isn't it...?” the Barber stuttered, his voice tinged with awe.

Mono furrowed his eyebrows. This man knew him? Impossible. He had been stuck in the Tower for who knows how long. Yet, Mono felt a strange familiarity with the little man before him. He tensed his shoulders, causing the much smaller man to flinch.

“...You... know me...?” Mono's voice was deep and tense, effectively intimidating the other.

“...It's you... It's you...” The barber stammered, his words repeating like a broken record as he took a step back from Mono, fear now etched across his chubby face.

Mono felt a surge of confusion. Why was this man afraid of him? He relaxed his tense posture slightly, lowering his shoulders and lifting his head, which seemed to calm the Barber a bit. Clearly, the man was afraid.

Clearing his throat, Mono spoke softly. “...I'm sorry, I think you are misstaking me for someone else—” 

The Barber shook his head as if trying to dislodge a stubborn thought, “No. It's you. You've got that same aura, it has to be you, Sir.”

Mono's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Almost all the way up to his hairline.

Sir?

The Barber before him then started nodding rapidly, mumbling to himself, “Yes, yes. It's Sir. Sir, the one...”

Mono was utterly confused. 

“...Ehrrr, No—” Mono started, “...I'm not a Sir, I'm just—”

“NO! You are! I would recognize that power anywhere, that... that static...” The barber stuttered, casting a nervous glance at Mono's hands.

Mono's eyes narrowed once more in confusion. Static...?

Slowly, his gaze drifted downward to where the barber's terrified stare was fixed. And then, Mono's eyes widened in shock as he saw what had the barber so petrified—static crackled between his fingers like miniature bolts of lightning, casting a mesmerizing blue and white glow.

Mono gasped under his paper bag and just stared down at his hands.

His powers... But he thought he had lost them since he had traveled through the TV to escape the Tower? Yet here they were, as vivid as ever, squirming and pulsating in his hands. Mono couldn't comprehend it. He hadn't sensed their presence, not a whisper. They must have surged forth when he jumped up, startled as the Barber's scissors nearly grazed his scalp. It seemed his panic and fear had unwittingly summoned them, unbeknownst even to himself.

That explained why the Barber was suddenly afraid of him.

Mono slowly flexed his fingers, bringing his right hand up to eye level. He stared at it, mesmerized, as the static throbbed and hummed, emitting a gentle blue glow that bathed the air and walls of the shop in its faint light. Mono relished the sensation—the reassuring presence of his awakened powers once more. He speculated that they had lain dormant, too exhausted after the Tower had drained them from him for years...

His lips curled into a silent snarl, anger swelling within him as he realized something.

The Eyes and the Tower had drained him to such an extent that his powers had vanished temporarily. It was a concept so twisted and unimaginable to him, so utterly grim, that his fury surged, palpable in the static dancing in his hand. The glow intensified, and the crackling lightning quickened, reflecting the intensity of his rage.

All the torture... all the pain... the horror...

Mono's attention snapped back to the barber, who, in the past minute, had let his scissors fall to the ground and fallen on his back. Trembling, he lifted a hand to shield his chubby face from Mono, clearly afraid. 

Then, Mono had an idea.

Beneath his paper bag, a slight grin formed on Mono's lips.

Slowly, with his hands by his sides again, Mono approached the Barber. The man began to whimper and mumble in panic, scooting back on the wooden floor until his back met the shop's wall. “...S-sir p-please—” 

Mono crouched down in front of the trembling man, who appeared on the verge of pissing himself. Resting his forearms on his knees, Mono let his hands dangle between them, the static swirling within his palms. He gazed down at the smaller man, tilting his head with a mix of curiosity and tension.

“...I have a question for you,” Mono said, his fingers twitching in a way that made the Barber almost jump up. “...Will you answer it for me?”

The small man cowering beneath Mono nodded vigorously. “...Y-yes! An-anything!” he stammered out.

“When was the last time you saw me?” Mono asked, his tone sharp and serious. 

Mono had a theory; Despite never having met the Barber before and being trapped in the Tower, the man recognized him and addressed him as "Sir." Mono believed the only plausible explanation for that was that the Barber must have encountered his older, monstrous self while it still roamed the streets... And since Mono had eradicated that other self when he was ten years old, he now had a reference point in time. With his other self gone, the Barber, being an outsider to everything yet still seemingly knowing, could potentially provide insight into how much time had passed.

The Barber's eyes narrowed, and he started to fidget. “...I-I don't know what you mean, Si—”

“You do,” Mono interrupted. “Try to remember. When did you last see this power?”

Mono lifted one hand, palm open, showing the trembling man just a hint of his static. The Barber's breathing grew rapid, his chubby face turning paler by the second.

“I-I can't—” 

“You, can.” 

Mono was getting impatient.

The Barber trembled so violently that his entire body seemed to shake, pushing Mono over the edge. With a swift movement, Mono withdrew his powers from one hand and seized the barber by the collar, pulling him close. The barber was now face-to-face with Mono, who stared at him with piercing blue, glowing eyes visible through the holes of his paper bag.

“I ask you one last time,” Mono growled quietly, “When have you seen thease powers the last time.” 

The barber appeared on the verge of fainting from fear. However, his thin lips on his chubby face parted, and he whispered, “Last time I remember was ten years ago.”

Then he simply stared at Mono, frozen in place.

Mono was frozen too, but for an entirely different reason.

Ten years.

It had been ten years.

Ten years since he had entered the Tower, rescued Six, been betrayed by her, and fallen into ten years of torture and pain.

Mono was stunned into silence. He had speculated about the duration of his imprisonment, but the reality of ten years hit him like a ton of bricks. Racing thoughts quickly calculated the passage of time. He had been a mere ten-year-old when he traversed the Pale City with Six, faced his doppelgänger, and became imprisoned. Ten long years, trapped and tortured within the Tower's confines. Ten years lost, while the world outside continued to turn. That realization settled heavily upon him, marking his age now at 20.

Mono released his grip on the barber, who collapsed to the ground, still trembling with fear. The man gazed up at Mono, who remained crouched, motionless, his mind reeling from the revelation. It finally clicked why the children in the morning had called him an Adult; he truly was one now—he had grown up. He was an adult. Really and truly grown up.

Mono suddenly felt a surge of panic as he realized that years—years of his life—had been stolen away from him. He never got to experience his teenage years, never had the chance to learn and grow like other kids his age. Instead, he was thrust into adulthood prematurely, forced to shoulder the weight of responsibilities and horrors that no child should ever have to face. It was a harsh reality to confront—the burden of having to grow up too fast, robbed of the innocence and freedom of youth.

He was forced to just accept it. Over. Ten. Years.

In an instant, Mono's mind fell silent. His eyelids drooped until his eyes were only half-open, tired, and empty. His once-tense shoulders now hanging limp at his sides. 

“...S-sir...?” The barber stammered from the floor, sensing Mono's shift. His voice trembled, barely audible amidst the tension. “...Sir, is everything alri—”

The air crackled with an ominous energy, followed by the deafening silence that ensued.

In an instant, the Barber's head erupted in a silent explosion, a gruesome display of violence that left a spray of blood and gore splattered across the walls.

With a sickening thud, the Barber's lifeless body slumped to the ground, crumpling like a discarded ragdoll. Blood and brain matter was splattered across the floor, mingling with the remnants of the once bright blue static that cracked across the remains. The room fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the faint sound of Mono's heavy breathing.

Mono's open left hand clenched shut, the crackling static within fading away. Blood and gore dripped slowly from him.

He hadn't meant to kill the other man, but he just wouldn't shut up.

Numb to his actions, Mono rose slowly, surveying the now-quiet shop. His eyes still faintly glowed as he resumed his search for what had brought him here in the first place. His mind was silent.

A minute later, he found the blades he sought and pocketed one. Silently, he slipped out of the shop, emerging onto the dark and rain-soaked streets of the Pale City. The downpour beat relentlessly upon him, washing away the blood and remnants of the barber from his clothes. But Mono paid it no mind. 

As if in a trance, he moved forward, step after step, through the deserted streets. The sound of rain tapping against the stone, accompanied by distant thunder, filled his senses. Lost in his silent mind, he pressed on, his movements guided by some unseen force.

A sudden faint scream behind him brought Mono to a halt.

With his head and shoulders bowed, he listened intently. The screams persisted, gnawing at something deep within his mind, as if he recognized the voice.

Then it clicked. It was one of the children from that morning.

Mono's immediate urge was to spin around and dash towards the screams, driven by the instinct to offer help—clearly, they needed it.

But instead, he stood motionless, listening as the cries grew louder and more desperate. His earlier decision to avoid getting entangled with them echoed in his mind. They had mentioned trailing him; perhaps they had followed him here and were now confronting the repercussions of encountering an Adult. Their decision. Yet...

In one swift motion, Mono turned and sprinted toward the source of the screams.

With agility, he leaped over a fence and rounded a corner—only to be confronted by an Adult, the same one he had encountered earlier, who inexplicably ignored him. The Adult clutched one of the children, Blue, in its meaty hands, his arm dripping blood. Nearby, the other two children lay unconscious and bloodied on the ground.

Mono's attention snapped to the Adult holding Blue, who was screaming in agony as the Adult's fingers tightened around his ribcage. With narrowed eyes and a fierce growl, Mono wasted no time.

Without hesitation, he lunged at the Adult, gripping its shoulder with one hand and pressing his thumb into the bone. The Adult immediately released Blue, who collapsed to the wet ground with a faint groan. Ignoring Blue's plight, Mono seized the groaning Adult by the neck, beginning to choke it.

The Adult fought Mono with all its might, but Mono, feeling numb and impatient, had no interest in a prolonged struggle. He still felt numb, and one more kill didn't matter much to him at the moment; everything felt dull and irritating. The Adult's groans and screams grated on his nerves.

With a frustrated growl, he tightened his grip around the Adult's throat, waiting until he heard the spine crack. Then, with one last feeble gurgle, the Adult went limp, and Mono released it, letting it slump to the ground.

“...Y-you...” a faint cough came from behind Mono, on the ground, “...It's you...” 

Everyone seemes to know me today. Mono thought morbidly, annoyance creeping in.

For a moment, Mono remained still, expecting the familiar panic attack to overwhelm him, just like the last time he killed someone—the Doctor.  He had taken a life for the second time today and braced himself for the overwhelming guilt. But instead, all he felt was numbness. No panic attack, no haunting hallucinations like last time in the hospital.

Just emptiness. 

“...You saved me...u-us...” the same voice from before whimpered behind Mono, still on the ground. Mono tensed his shoulders before turning to glance at Blue.

Mono watched silently as Blue struggled to sit up, holding his side in obvious pain, likely nursing a broken rib or two. Deciding his task was complete, Mono turned and walked past Blue without a word. He had helped them, saved their lives, and now he wanted to be on his way again. So, he would be on his way again. 

“...N-no! W-wait, please!” Blue squirmed on the ground and turned to Mono. “Please don't go! We are sorry for robbing you!”

Mono paused, a faint chuckle escaping him barely audible over the rain. “...So, now you're sorry after I saved you...? Not before that?”

Blue flinched on the ground, clearly taken aback by Mono's ability to speak. But he quickly regained his composure and shook his head.

“...N-no, I was before. I tried to tell my friends that you were different and I knew it, you are. You just proved it right now,” Blue replied, successfully sitting up this time. He glanced up at Mono, who remained motionless. 

Then, after a long moment, Mono turned his head, glancing down at Blue over his shoulder. 

Blue recoiled sharply as he caught sight of Mono's unnatural blue-gray eyes, their faint shimmer visible even through the heavy rain.

“...Why do you think I'm different?” Mono asked, his voice low and disinterested, yet carrying a silent threat. “...I could change my mind and decide to kill you all myself instead.”

Blue's scared expression changed to one of forced bravery. It was clear that he was afraid of Mono, but he pulled himself together and said with a clear voice, “... You won't. You didn't in the morning when you were awake.”

Mono couldn't hold back a little smile. So, Blue had known that he was awake. Smart kid. 

“You knew, huh?” Mono turned around to face Blue, who visibly flinched and trembled slightly. As Mono closed the distance, he crouched down in front of him, his larger form offering shelter from the rain.

 “Then why didn't you alert the others?”

Chapter Text

Why was this so hard?

Frustrating, that's what it was. Mono paused, taking a breath. He knew this was new; he'd never dealt with something like this in the Tower before.

With care, he once again brought the blade to his cheek, feeling the chill of the metal sending shivers down his spine as he tried to tame the stubborn stubble. Despite his careful efforts for a good 30 minutes now, all he had to show for it were a few nicks on his skin, each one stinging as if to taunt his attempts.

Outside, the night air softly drifted in through the broken window, carrying the scent of rain. A few droplets found their way through the cracks, tracing random patterns on the dirty, moldy walls of the bathroom. The air was heavy with the musty smell of neglect, every breath tinged with a feeling of being abandoned.

It was a threat to Mono's concentration, luring his mind towards wandering thoughts. Yet, Mono stayed centered, his gaze anchored on the mirror. Its surface, aged and cracked, mirrored his strained expression as he persistently battled the stubborn stubble.

“...Tsk, ow,”  Mono's frustrated grumble filled the small bathroom as yet another cut appeared on his skin instead of a smooth shave. Was he just not good at this?

The blade lingered over his cut cheek for a moment longer until Mono let out a heavy sigh and lowered it, gently resting it in his hand. He then gripped the edge of the broken sink beneath the mirror, frustration palpable in his grasp.

Mono's skin tingled, a sensation that sent goosebumps rippling across his arms and neck. It was a foggy, slightly damp night, with heavy rain outside drumming a steady rhythm on the streets. The discomfort it brought on his face made him long for his paper bag, (safely stashed away in his bag over his shoulder,) but he had sworn off wearing it until he banished that stubborn stubble. Mixed feelings of frustration and regret filled him as his mind wandered, processing recent events.

Blue had not answered his last question; his eyes had been filled with fear as he had looked up at Mono, who'd loomed tall over the much smaller figure, waiting for a response that Blue had seemed too afraid to give.

Later, as Mono had grown tired of the suffocating silence between them and stood up to walk away, he realized why Blue had remained silent. The memory of their tense encounter replayed in Mono's mind, and he understood. Mono wouldn't have spoken either, not after catching sight of his own reflection in the window of one of the city's many abandoned shops.

Mono had looked like a monster straight from a nightmare in a child's eyes.

Unnaturally tall and faceless, his features hidden behind a paper bag, his clothes partly stained deep red from his last... victims. With wide shoulders that maintained their imposing presence even when crouched, he presented a threatening figure to the wounded child cowering on the ground. And the last detail, Mono had failed to notice: his eyes—which had glowed an unnatural, haunting shade of grayish-blue—remained, ever since he had used his powers...

In that moment, Mono wasn't gripped by detachment or numbness as he had been in the shop or the alley. Instead, a surge of panic and guilt flooded over him. Poor Blue. Yet, even with that realization, Mono had too much swirling in his mind to genuinely care. Still... His brows knitted with worry, his jaw clenched tight as he replayed the scene with Blue in his head. His shoulders drooped slightly under the weight of his thoughts, and his gaze drifted into the distance as he grappled with his inner turmoil.

With a heavy sigh, Mono's thoughts plunged into the depths of his newfound understanding and the burdens it bore. Despite being in his twenties... was it? He still felt like a child, if he was honest, untouched by adult concerns such as his height, his stubble... or the fear of being seen as a monster.

In the Tower, where reality played by its own rules, Mono had roamed through a world where natural laws seemed like mere suggestions. Yes, he had grown up, but he never had to deal with adult worries like shaving or fitting through doorways without bumping his head. Additionally, the fear of being seen as a monster never crossed his mind. Amidst the Tower's eerie atmosphere, where monsters lurked in every shadow, Mono's own transformation had been the doing of the greatest monster of all: The Eyes. They had molded him into a strange blend of his past and future selves. So, Mono had been just one monster among many.

The more he thought about it... the more Mono realized that a real monster resided within him, born from his years of torment and suffering within the Tower's walls.

Its presence had become evident in the barber's shop. 

But... not everything inside the Tower had been bad.

Despite enduring torture and mind-breaking experiences that relentlessly pushed Mono to the brink of despair, making him consider ending it all more times than he could count—there had been moments of relief.

Had he ever experienced real hunger inside the Tower? No. The Tower provided for its own in strange ways, sparing them from the gnawing emptiness of starvation.

Had he ever worried about what others thought of him? No. Within the Tower, judgments seemed insignificant, overshadowed by its vastness and mysteries.

Had he ever fear the world outside, with its suffocating grip? No again. Inside the Tower, Mono was sheltered from the harsh realities that awaited beyond its walls, replaced by the Tower's own...

No... Despite Mono's reluctance to admit it, the Tower and the Eyes had protected him, and strangely enough, they had shown some form of care for him since Six had let him fall. The memory of the soft flesh at the bottom of the void, breaking his fall, remained vivid in his mind. Without it, he would have faced a tragic, gruesome, death. So, in a peculiar turn of events, they had saved his life, taking him under their care, perhaps even adopting him...?

The thought unsettled Mono, raising questions he wasn't sure he wanted answers to.

But he had also gained knowledge from them. Information that he often wished he could dismiss. It felt out of place in a world dominated by decay and disorder. Traditional education seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the necessities of survival. Except, of course, for that one school with the long-necked teacher—a bizarre anomaly in an already strange existence. But it didn't quite fit into the conventional notion of schooling.

As Mono's thoughts drifted back to that challenging time, memories flooded his mind. The TV room... it had been a place of suffering, where the Eyes drained his powers, tortured him repeatedly, and brought him to the brink of death by letting him bleed out. Yet, once again, amidst the pain, there was a lingering "but". 

They had used those screens to anchor him there. Not only did they show Mono haunting images of the people his powers had consumed and drawn into the TV, but also fleeting glimpses of the past.

Things like commercials or cooking shows, where fresh ingredients took center stage, where things were normal. These fleeting images contrasted sharply with the apocalyptic horror that now enveloped his reality. Yet, despite the grimness of his surroundings, Mono had found himself absorbing knowledge from the TV screens. Absorbed them, like a sponge. In their own twisted way, the Tower and the Eyes had provided him with an unconventional form of "education," exposing him to fragments of a world he could not remember.

And... Mono was oddly grateful for that unique education. It gave him a sense of maturity that he suspected few others his age possessed, assuming any of them had even survived to adulthood. Yet, while others may have overlooked it, for example, Mono found himself captivated by the mysteries of air. Not just its importance for breathing, but the intricate processes behind its creation—the delicate balance between plants and CO2, the fascinating dynamics of weather patterns, and the intriguing principles of animal behaviors and mapping, among... other subjects.

Suddenly, Mono's mind flashed with a blurry memory—from a commercial he had seen on the TVs. It had depicted a man confidently shaving his face, much like Mono had been attempting to do.

He got an idea. Feeling a blend of unease and optimism, Mono let the memory guide his hand. With careful determination, he lifted the blade once more, aiming to replicate the smooth strokes he recalled from the commercial.

Taking his time, Mono followed the remembered motions slowly, focusing on each movement with precision. To his relief, he successfully shaved a clean stripe without any nicks or cuts.

Surprised by how well it worked, Mono stopped for a moment, thinking about the commercial memory. Despite not having the special paste shown in the ad, he kept going. Slowly and carefully, he continued to glide the blade across his stubbled jawline, feeling a sense of satisfaction growing with each stroke. Each slow, deliberate movement boosted his confidence, serving as a reminder of the valuable skills he had unintentionally gained from watching the TVs in the Tower.

A few minutes later, Mono ran his fingers over his newly smooth face, relieved to be rid of the annoying stubble. Finally. With practiced ease, he pulled his paper bag back over his head, shrouding his features from sight. He always felt a sense of relief when his face was hidden again, shielded from the world's prying eyes. Now, with that problem gone, it was going back to the streets.

But, just as Mono was about to turn and leave, a strange sensation gripped his mind, rooting him to the spot.

A faint, almost ghostly pulse began to throb, barely noticeable amidst the bustling sounds of the rain outside. Initially dismissing it as mere nerves, Mono's unease grew as he stepped into the damp night air, only for the sensation to surge within him, gaining strength with each passing moment. Panic clawed at his chest as the rhythm pulsed, no, hammered, through his skull with an intensity that demanded attention.

'What... what is this?' Mono's thoughts raced as panic tightened its grip. 'Why won't it stop?'

With each throb, it felt as though an invisible force was pulling him deeper into its grip. His heart raced, his breath beginning to come in short, ragged gasps as the mysterious rhythm enveloped him. Mono's steps faltered, his body swaying as if caught in a tempest of its own.

A low groan escaped him, the pain in his head escalating with each passing second. Desperation surged as he stumbled forward, his hands reaching out for support against the nearest wall. Gritting his teeth against the rising wave of agony, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and dread. 'Make it stop,' he pleaded silently, his inner voice drowned out by the relentless drumbeat of this pulse.

Then, just as Mono felt his consciousness slipping under the relentless assault of the mysterious pulsing, a blinding burst of light erupted in his inner eye. He staggered back, his heart pounding against his ribcage, as a brilliant radiance consumed his senses, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

As the intensity of the light gradually waned, Mono's surroundings materialized once more, but something was dreadfully different. The air thickened with an ominous presence, and whispers, like the tortured cries of lost souls, clawed their way into his mind. Each word echoed with malice, a sinister melody that seemed to twist and contort his very being, plunging him into a nightmare realm beyond comprehension.

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽; ͓̽E͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽j͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽y͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽n͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽w͓͓̽̽f͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽f͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽m͓̽, ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓̽?”

Mono's cry ripped through the silence of the night, a primal echo of terror and agony. His hands shook violently as he collapsed to his knees, the world around him spiraling into a waking nightmare. Clutching his head, as if to prevent it from splitting apart, he felt a searing pain consume his mind, a malevolent force slashing through his thoughts like shards of broken glass.

Images of flesh flashed before his eyes—grotesque, surreal, morbid. Eye-less faces contorted in pain, mouths gaping in soundless screams. Shadows danced at the corners of his vision, whispering things that froze him to the core.

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽; ͓̽H͓̽a͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽f͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽g͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽c͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽p͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽w͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽s͓̽?”

Mono's mouth filled with the taste of blood, his voice a desperate crack as he cried out, “N-no... Leave me... ALONE!”

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽n͓̽; ͓̽D͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽n͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽d͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽c͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽m͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽u͓͓̽̽s͓̽. ͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽a͓͓̽̽y͓̽ ͓̽b͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽f͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽h͓̽ a͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽m͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽t͓̽, ͓̽b͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽n͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽f͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽m͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽h͓̽ ͓̽l͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽...”

“...no...no, s-stop...s—stop it! Get, OUT of my head!” Each word tore from Mono's soul, each syllable a desperate cry for release. But the Eye's influence only constricted tighter, suffocating him in their merciless embrace.

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽; ͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ a͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽l͓̽-͓̽s͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽ a͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽w͓̽a͓͓̽̽y͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽...”

Then, as swiftly as they had appeared, their presence vanished, just like that.

Mono was left on his knees, his breaths ragged and heavy, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain that gradually ebbed away in his mind. 

The relentless rain hammered down around him, its drumbeat a distant echo, as if he were submerged beneath the surface of a tumultuous sea. Something warm, wet found its way down the side of his face, blending with the rain that seeped into the eyeholes of his paper bag, tracing a chilling path over his trembling lips. The metallic tang of blood saturated the air within his paper bag, assaulting his senses and intensifying the sting in his eyes.

Then, in a moment that threatened to shatter Mono's very being, the enormity of his overlooked mistake crashed over him like an unstoppable tidal wave, merciless and unforgiving, sweeping away every ounce of reassurance he had managed to gather.

The very instant he had reclaimed his powers, he had unwittingly revealed his presence to the Eyes. They were able to see him, track him down with unforgiving accuracy, following the pulse of static, after Mono had killed the Barberer. He had even warned himself about it, that if he used his powers, he would be like a beacon for the Eyes to detect and find.

And they had.

Mono shouldn't have used his powers as soon as he got them back.

“...No. You shouldn't have...” 

Her faint voice was all it took for Mono to collapse fully onto the ground. 

His legs gave way beneath him, sending him crashing to the wet street ground behind him. As he fell onto his back, his hands instinctively found his chest, but the pain immobilized him, stifling his breath. 

The soft sound of approaching steps echoed nearby, but Mono couldn't move. He felt drained, unable to do anything but struggle for each breath. Every step seemed to thud in his mind, amplifying his panic. Exhaustion and fear gripped him, making him feel stuck, except for the shallow movement of his chest as he gasped for air.

And then, suddenly, everything crashed down on him like a wave of terror. 

Every moment, every decision since he got his powers back flooded his mind. The weight of his choices, the consequences of his actions, bore down on him relentlessly, threatening to overwhelm him with regret and despair. Panic tightened its grip, consuming him completely.

Mono had wondered where his panic attack had been when he had killed two Adults back-to-back; well, he got his answer now. The intensity of his panic surpassed anything he'd ever felt, evident in the haunting hallucination of her.

“...What have you done...Mono...?” 

Mona could barely make out her figure, a mere shadow kneeling beside him in the relentless downpour. Blurred by the rain, yet he recognized her unmistakably. Each inhale felt like a shard of glass in his chest, her very presence twisting him with pain. Gasping for air, his throat constricted, leaving him gasping like a fish trapped under a paper bag. Through narrowed eyes, he fought to focus, but it was a battle against the storm itself.

“What have you done?” Her blurred figure beside him repeated the question, her voice barely audible above the rain's roar.

Struggling to breathe, Mono met her gaze, “...S-something bad...” he managed to rasp, his hand gripping his chest as if his skin were tearing beneath his clothes, the pain searing through him like fire.

Her form tilted its head, a small, delicate hand reaching out towards his chest, “...Why, Mono... Why did you do something bad?” she questioned, her distorted hand hovering over his, almost glitch-like in its appearance.

Mono's very being throbbed with a sudden ache, longing for her that echoed the haunting comfort he once found in her presence. The trembling skin of his hand upon his chest tingled, craving her touch, her whispered reassurances that all would be okey. But he knew deep down he wasn't worthy of such comfort.

With bated breath, Mono's gaze locked onto her form beside him, his words weighted with the echo of years of torment and anguish inflicted by her:

“...Because you made me too.”

Her smaller hand brushed against his, sending a shiver down Mono's spine as if touched by ice. Yet, in that moment, something extraordinary happened. Mono's burdens—his fears, worries, and panic—seemed to evaporate, replaced by a profound sense of relief. With a greedy gasp, he filled his lungs with air, feeling a wave of calm wash over him.

In that fleeting moment—just a heartbeat in time—her distorted form seemed to soften, revealing the old Six—the friend Mono had longed for. And she smiled, a genuine and warm smile, that pierced through the chaos, soothing his troubled mind. He felt the gentle pressure of her thumb, tracing soothing circles on his hand, offering a brief respite from the storm raging within him.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, leaving Mono once again immersed in the tumult of his reality.

And just like that, she was gone. Mono remained alone on the ground, his breaths shallow and quieter, the world around him reverting to its usual state of horror.

Raindrops trickled into the holes of Mono's paper bag, patterning softly against his face as he shifted and rested his head on the cold, wet pavement below. With a heavy heart, he stared up at the sky, its dark clouds seeming to mirror the tumult within him. Was that rain, or were those tears streaming down his face? He couldn't tell anymore.

Mono didn't even know what he was crying for; emotions seemed to overwhelm him lately. But then again, that wasn't anything new. He had always been too emotional for his own good, unable to escape the weight of his feelings even in the darkest of moments.

As Mono gazed up at the sky, his eyes followed the jagged outlines of the towering, crumbling buildings of the Pale City. His mind quieted for a moment before he began to process the weight of his actions. The act of taking lives, the loss of control over his emotions, and consequently, over his recently regained powers—all of it pressed upon him. Yet, strangely, the burden felt lighter than it had just moments ago during his panic attack. It was as if the hallucinated Six, who lingered with him, had carried away that overwhelming panic when she touched his hand. It was a strangely calming sensation amidst the turmoil of his thoughts.

But the buildings around him seemed to loom over him, their towering presence pressing down, enclosing him in a cocoon of stone and concrete. And Mono suddenly knew exactly what he needed to do—something he should have done the second he had returned to the streets.

Leave.

Mono felt an urgent need to escape the Pale City. Here, there was nothing but pain and suffering awaiting him. The Eyes lurked closer, the Tower loomed within reach... but leaving wouldn't deter them. They would follow, relentless in their pursuit. Yet, despite this knowledge, Mono believed, no, knew that his chances of survival and temporary freedom were greater outside the oppressive confines of the city's concrete walls.

And Six...

Mono sat up with a groan, his head throbbing as a particular memory flashed through his mind.

Maybe... she was still out there. Perhaps, considering his suspicion that the cycle had either restarted or broken... there was a chance that she was there.

There. Where they had first met.

Part of Mono longed to see her again, if she was alive; another part of him scolded himself for holding onto her memory for so long. She might be gone forever. Or maybe, there was another possibility: perhaps  she had returned to her younger self, the cycle starting anew, patiently awaiting Mono's return to set her free, if she remembered him.

But one thing was clear to Mono: he needed to leave the City, and soon. 

He had a destination in mind, after he had left the Pale City, a place to stock up on supplies before heading further north to explore new territories. As he solidified this plan, he also made a promise to himself: even if Six was still out there, he wouldn't go searching for her. When he embarked on this journey, he was determined to leave his past behind, including her, and start anew.

But first he had to get ready for such a journey.

Determined, and now with a clear goal in mind, Mono stood up and took a moment to simply be, allowing the weight of his decision to settle within him. The air around him seemed to hum with purpose as he embraced the certainty of his choice. It was as if each breath he drew served to reaffirm his resolve.

Yes, it felt right. With a sense of calm, Mono made another promise to himself. He turned around slowly, his gaze drawn to the imposing figure of the Tower in the distance. Its silhouette seemed to pierce the skyline, its top light pulsating like a heartbeat. In that moment, Mono felt a strange connection to the structure, as if it acknowledged his presence, silently acknowledging his commitment to carve out a new path for himself.

He would never use his abilities again...

That promise was etched into Mono's mind. He despised his powers, always had, a sentiment that had been with him since birth. 

They had wrought so much pain, claimed so many lives during his imprisonment in the Tower he now gazed upon. For years, he had been nothing but a tool, his abilities manipulated, and used for gruesome purposes. All he yearned for was normalcy, for an existence free from the burden of his gifts. And if he refrained from using his powers, the Eyes couldn't track him. It was the only logical choice. Mono would find alternative means of survival, even as he sensed his powers protesting his decision at this very moment...

With a growl slipping past pressed together lips, Mono made those silent vows to himself, to the Tower, and to the Eyes within.

He swore never to let himself be manipulated like that again. Those powers were his, and while he might never use them again, he alone would decide what to do with them. It was his choice, and no one else's. Never again.

With a firm breath, Mono squared his shoulders and cast one last glance at the Tower, the silent promise lingering in his gaze. Then, with purposeful strides, he turned and retraced his steps, his heart set on returning to the children who undoubtedly still needed his help. And in exchange, they could help him with something too.

════════════════

“Keep running.” 

Breathing heavily, Six pressed on, tears and sweat of exhaustion tracing silent paths down her weary face, each step a testament to her unwavering endurance in a journey spanning hours.

Her body was drained, yearning to collapse with each step, yet she kept teetering on the edge of giving up. Each time she felt like she couldn't go on, her powers stepped in, gently catching her if she stumbled and urging her to keep going with silent encouragement.

Despite feeling tired beyond belief, Six didn't falter. She stayed focused, determined to keep running. She was so exhausted that she couldn't even think, only breathe and feel.

And feel she did. So many things.

Guilt was the most prominent feeling, even though she wasn't exactly sure what for. Fear was another. Uncertainty was there too, as she didn't know where she was running. Then there was one last feeling—unexpected yet undeniable: 

Longing.

She missed... him.

The realization had hit her as she thought back to the apology she uttered at the abyss, fleeing from the guards hours ago.

A part of her recoiled at this feeling, wanting to suppress it. As she had never, missed him in all those years. But another part whispered, reminding her of his comforting presence. She'd never admit it, but she missed his protection, his calm demeanor in times of crisis like the one she had narrowly escaped from, at least for now.

Six knew he would have protected her, shielded her from the guards and perhaps even helped her escape from the camp. She remembered him as protective, unflinchingly courageous in the face of danger. Yet, she acknowledged the selfishness in longing for his presence, knowing it was an impossible wish.

Yet, amidst her thoughts, another emotion arose as Six continued to run: grief.

He was gone. 

Dead, lost at her hand when she let him fall. Something had stirred deep within her, awoken since she saw his fleeting hallucination in the throes of that life-or-death moment. It was a profound sorrow, mourning his absence, yearning for his comfort. It was a silent ache that whispered for his return, even as she fled through the darkness.

Six grappled with a newfound aspect of herself, one that seemed to have emerged out of nowhere. In all the years that had passed, she had never encountered this depth of grief.

The sudden onset of these emotions, after a decade of dormancy, left her unsettled. It was as though her feelings had chosen this moment to resurface, stirring up a wave of confusion and introspection within her.

Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions, Six chose to let them pass through her without resistance. For now. She knew she could address them later, at a more suitable time. Her focus was on heeding the internal urge to keep running.

Thus, she pressed on, navigating the seemingly endless expanse of the forest. Each step brought her over gnarled roots and through patches of muddy ground, ascending and descending rolling hills.  Despite the exhaustion threatening to consume her, she pressed on, her powers manifesting to catch her whenever she stumbled, their familiar presence serving as a source of comfort. The calm, reassuring voice echoed in her mind, urging her onward: “Keep running.”

It wasn't until an hour later that she began to notice them.

Bear traps.

Scattered throughout the area—larger than the standard variety, casting a somber shadow over her path.

As confusion and alarm crept over Six, she slowed her steps, eventually coming to a halt. She fixed her gaze on a particular spot, taking advantage of the brief pause to catch her breath. However, she sensed a palpable unease emanating from her powers, indicating their dissatisfaction with her pause.

“Keep running, Six.” 

She furrowed her eyebrows, a troubled expression clouding her features. “...No, I need a m-moment to b-breathe...” 

As she spoke, she felt her powers instinctively emerging from her hands, cascading down to the mossy forest floor in a swirling vortex of dark mist that enveloped her up to her ankles. Despite their usual insistence, they relented for now, granting Six a precious break. Six took full advantage, allowing herself to inhale deeply, her focus fixed on the looming bear trap just a few feet away. Only now did she truly register the exhaustion weighing down her limbs, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her skin, her legs trembling with fatigue. Yet, a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, offering a soothing coolness against her overheated skin.

As Six's breaths steadied, she seized the moment to compose herself. With deliberate inhales and exhales, she calmed her racing heart, determined to regain her focus. Retrieving her bag from her shoulder, she set it down before her on the ground. Kneeling beside it, she opend it, preparing to take inventory of her belongings.

As Six rummaged through her bag, her fingers found the familiar texture of her yellow raincoat. With a small, sad smile, she pulled it out, its bright color a cheerful contrast to the gloomy forest. Determinedly, she quickly took off her muddy coat, her movements purposeful as she freed herself from its weight until she was bare. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she felt the burden lift, replaced by a sense of lightness and freedom.

Pushing her yellow raincoat aside, she hurriedly grabbed the rest of her clothes. Underneath, she found her old garments, each one a reminder of past adventures. Memories flooded back as she put them on one by one—a soft shirt smelling of campfires, shorts stained with dried dirt, and a knitted jacket that had seen many nights under the stars.

With careful movements, she dressed herself, feeling comfort in the familiar fabrics. Each piece connected her to the miles she had traveled and the challenges she had overcome. As she finished and buttoned up her knitted jacket, a calmness washed over her, like a gentle breeze in the forest. Finally, as the last piece, her yellow raincoat came over all, and Six was her old self again.

Efficiently, Six stuffed away the discarded muddy coat, recognizing its potential usefulness despite her distaste for it. Her hands moved methodically as she then checked her belongings, each item a lifeline to her. Her lighter, an old photograph, and other essentials were all present and accounted for.

Then there was Van's knife—a recent addition, yet it already felt like an extension of herself. Gripping its handle, Six felt a sense of empowerment, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. But the memory of it, pressed against her throat, was still fresh within her mind... and Van's—

“Enough rest,” the voice that belonged to her powers, spoke up around her, “You need to keep going.” 

She paused, her brows furrowing as she felt a pang of annoyance and irritation. Since when did her powers have a voice? And commanded her? They were supposed to be under her control, they were her powers...

“Yes, and no.” They answered her thoughts, “You stole us.” 

Six tried not to linger too much on the unsettling realization that her powers seemed to have a mind of their own and could apparently read her thoughts, but they were right. She had stolen them. From the Lady of the Maw. But that still made them hers now; she commanded them. 'You are still mine. You answered to me. You accepted me,' Six declared silently to them, her voice echoing in the recesses of her mind. She glanced around at the calm black fog surrounding her, the embodiment of her powers, as she slowly rose to her feet once more.

“We did, and we are, but don't forget,” the fog began, its tendrils weaving around Six like ethereal ribbons, before slowly coalescing around her form and melding back into her body through her hands, “You where the one that called for us first.” 

Six flexed her fingers and then clenched her hands shut, mulling over their words. They had a point, she admitted begrudgingly. From the instant she set foot on the Maw, she sensed their presence, as though they were awaiting her, destined to be hers. A calling, perhaps. 

But even as she acknowledged their connection, she couldn't ignore the restless energy of her shadows swirling within her. They pulsed with strength and potency, waiting for her command, a reminder that she was still the one in control, despite their enigmatic bond.

'Did...' Six took a moment to formulate her question, 'Where you always able to talk?'

“Yes.” 

Her powers, the shadows, once again emerged from her palm, rising to her face. They coiled and twisted, resembling a serpent-like form without scales or a face. Six watched them intently. They had never been this lively or chatty before; she hadn't even known they could speak.

“So, all these years you could talk, but chose not to. Why?” Six's voice echoed in the stillness of the moment. She was uncovering new layers of her abilities with each passing second.

“It wasn't necessary,” came the simple response.

Six's eyebrows drew together, a faint crease forming between them, as her lips parted slightly. She wasn't sure whether to feel shocked or hurt. One thing was becoming clear: her shadows were sentient, possessing a mind of their own. She had never known that before.

“You didn't feel the need to. Why?” she pondered aloud.

“You didn't have to know. Again, it wasn't necessary.”  

“Why wasn't it necessary?” 

“That question is unimportant. What difference would it have made if we had spoken?” The voice of her shadows questioned, resonated with a hint of curiosity.

That made Six stop and think. The truth was, nothing would have changed. Whether they talked or not, it wouldn't have made a difference. Still, it kind of bothered Six that they could suddenly speak and had been listening to her thoughts all along. But as they said, it didn't really matter.

“Then why...” Six hesitated, focusing on the strange form of her shadows in her palm, “...why speak up now?”

The black fog in her hand sank a bit, forming a small puddle, some of it flowing down like smoky liquid to the ground.

“You needed our guidance. If we hadn't intervened, you would have died.” they explained calmly.

Died? Six's mind raced, suddenly shocked. How? And why? Why would her shadows say that? She had been in danger yes, but the guards wouldn't have killed her on Van's command, but—

“The one who introduced himself with that name...” Her shadows interrupted, drawing her gaze to the swirling darkness in her hand. “...he would have been the one to kill you.” 

“What?”  Six spat, her confusion giving way to anger. “What do you mean by that? Van could have killed me whenever he wanted. He didn't. He told me he wouldn't.” 

“He said that because at that moment he couldn't. But his promise, that was real, and you must have noticed that he is different...” 

Six's gaze sharpened. “What do you mean by, 'different'?” 

The shadows in her hand rose again, meeting her gaze. “...We broke bones in his body, tore organs, made sure he would bleed out, things a normal living being wouldn't survive, yet he was alive, and gave commands when you fled... And we, felt something, when we tourtured his body.” 

“What did you feel?” Six's breath caught, a hint of panic creeping in.

“Power.” 

Her eyes widened, and she drifted into a daze, needing a moment to process. So... Van survived because he had powers too? Like her? But how? And why? What kind of powers did he possess? Questions flooded Six's mind all at once, overwhelming her until her weary legs buckled beneath her. She collapsed, but her shadows swiftly extended, forming a huge, twisted hand-like shape to catch her before she hit the ground. 

This was worse than Six had imagined. Van? With powers? If even her own powers had sensed his, there was no denying it. And as she thought back, Van had mentioned other kids with abilities like hers. His reaction to her powers, when he first saw them, hadn't been fear... but almost, amazement. Normally, people would almost faint at the sight of Six's abilities. But there had also been something else in his eyes that she had overlooked—when he saw her powers...

Greed.

And Six suddenly understood his promise and the way he had said it;

...And I promise you... I will find yours, and I'll break you, until you beg me... to relieve you of it.

...relieve you of it. That realization hit hard. He wanted her powers. Why else would he phrase it like that? But why would he even want them?

Shocked, Six turned her head and glanced at the shadows enfolding her. “H-he wants you...” Her voice wavered, small and tremulous with the weight of her realization. “...Can he even do that? Take you from me?”

“He can. Just like you took us from our old holder,” the shadows responded, seeming to coil protectively around her. Six was rendered speechless, her gaze fixed on them. Her shadows continued, drawing nearer to her.

“And that's why you need to run, Six. If he catches you, he will make that promise a reality, and break your mind and body to death when he tries to take us from you.” 

“He can't,” Six declared, sitting up with a fiery determination flashing in her eyes as she balled her fists, “I will fight him. I wounded him once, I can—” 

“You can't.” Her shadows interjected, their tone calm but firm. “He has been holding back. Letting you wound him to test your limits.” 

“He has been holding back...?” Six's disbelief was palpable, but realization slowly dawned. “He has been holding back... that means...he is stronger then me? Then you? I-I don't fully understand...” 

“He's not stronger than us, but that power we felt... it's similar to our origin. We wounded him, yet he remained standing. It suggests he possesses a power we can't win against in a fight,” her shadows explained gently, guiding Six back to her feet. She listened intently, still in a daze, as they revealed insights beyond her grasp.

“And you don't confront what you can't defeat. That's why you need to run, Six. Run as far as you can. We tried to guide you in the direction he warned you not to go.”  

“...The west...” Six murmured, understanding now.

Everything fell into place like a puzzle before Six's eyes. 

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks: the reason why her powers couldn't prevail against his was crystal clear. She had wounded him once, left him to bleed out, and yet he still walked among the living. The countless broken bones, the gaping wounds—they all pointed to one undeniable truth: his powers had to do with some form of regeneration. No ordinary person could heal such injuries. It meant that no matter how many times Six would try to end him, he could not really die, and would just regenerate, like he had back at the camp.

She could not win.

The gravity of the situation settled heavily on Six. The urgency to flee intensified, each piece of the puzzle fitting together with alarming clarity. It wasn't just about survival anymore; it was about escaping a relentless adversary who coveted her abilities. Van true motive for bringing her to the camp became glaringly obvious—her powers were what he truly sought, not some fabricated tale about his sister, as he had explained to her when she asked him why he had brought her to the camp. He had sensed her abilities somehow, manipulated her into using them by making her... uncomfortable... it all made perfect sense to Six now.

And her shadows were right; she needed to run away. Her pride be damned. It wasn't just a matter of survival; it was a matter of life and death.

Six's eyes scanned the ground, landing on the bear trap before her. It was just one of many scattered along the path she needed to take, with more lurking behind it. The direct route was fraught with danger, but it was the only way forward. She knew what awaited her in the west—the Pale City, a place she had long avoided. Yet now... it seemed to offer sanctuary from Van's relentless pursuit.

Furrowing her eyebrows and steeling her resolve, Six forced her tired legs to move. Her shadows, sensing her determination, retreated beneath her yellow raincoat, enveloping her lower body and thighs. They moved with her, providing support with each step and steadying her whenever she wavered, preventing her from collapsing under the weight of exhaustion and fear.

So Six pressed onward to the west, her bag slung over her shoulder as she navigated the forest floor, her senses alert for any sign of danger, careful to sidestep the bear traps scattered along the way. Each one triggered memories of the past, but she pushed them aside. These traps were relics of another time, not freshly laid. Six didn't dwell on who might have placed them; the only one she could think of was long gone.

As nightfall descended, Six felt the strain in her legs intensify, aching and burning with each step. She knew she couldn't push herself much further. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, but she couldn't afford to succumb. If she collapsed now, Van and his guards would surely catch up, their knowledge of the forest giving them an advantage. They probably knew these woods better than she did. Still, Six took comfort in the fact that she had gained about a two-day head start.

Eventually, her weary eyes caught sight of a makeshift shelter—a sizable tree stump nestled among a cluster of towering trees. It was a humble shelter, but to Six, it looked like a haven. The dense canopy of leaves above shielded her from the rain, the soothing patter of droplets above providing a backdrop to her weary thoughts.

This would have to do for the night.

As Six reached out to settle into the makeshift shelter of the tree stump, her fingers already gripping its sides, a sense of relief washed over her. But just as she was about to step inside, she heard something that immediately made her tense up.

It was the rustling of leaves in the bushes nearby, but there was something off about it—irregular, unnatural, not the gentle sway caused by the wind.

Six's senses heightened, her heartbeat quickening as she realized the forest had fallen eerily silent. The chorus of chirping insects had abruptly ceased, leaving only the soft whispers of wind and the rhythmic patter of rain on the leafy roof above.

A chill ran down her spine as the unsettling feeling of being watched gripped her. With a sudden urgency, she spun around, instinctively reaching for her powers who already were alert too—

But before she could react, a searing pain erupted at the back of her head. 

A wave of dizziness crashed over her, her vision blurring as her body rebelled, refusing to respond... Darkness crept in, engulfing her senses, and with a desperate gasp, she collapsed to the forest floor. The world started to fade into blackness, but before she succumbed to unconsciousness, the final image she glimpsed was a pair of big, muddy brown boots, looming before her.

And, with the last realization dawning upon her as she recognized them, Six passed out cold.

Chapter Text

The Pale City's streets were shrouded in darkness and quiet, save for the steady beat of rain falling on the cold stone below. Mono went on, his footsteps echoing faintly through the empty channels. He listened closely to the calming patter of raindrops as they danced on his paper bag, his only company on this lonely walk through the dark night.

The children were simple to find; they hadn't wandered too far. Blue, barely conscious carried the others along in a plastic bag down an alley. When Mono finally noticed him, the little child was on the verge of passing out. Mono moved slowly from behind, purposefully making his footsteps louder on the damp roadway to avoid scaring Blue.

“Blue,” Mono softly called out.

When Mono addressed him, the boy appeared startled, his shoulders snapping forward in fright and his muscles tensing as if he were bracing himself for a sudden danger. It gave Mono a pause. Blue's hold on the plastic bag carrying his companions tightened automatically, almost protectively, as if he could shelter them from oncoming threat.

Mono realized something had happened while he was away, and Blue was noticeably scared and appeared paralyzed on the spot.

However, with a quivering hand, the boy gently quit his grip, each finger withdrawing from his grasp on the bag with anxious reluctance. He shifted to meet Mono's gaze, moving carefully and slowly. Their gazes locked in a hushed interchange in the dim light of the lonely path, and in an instant, Mono's feet faltered as he caught the wide range of emotions etched on Blue's face—a momentary tightness pressing against his chest, a twinge of fear racing through him—before he steeled himself and walked on, picking up the pace.

In the pouring rain, discerning details was like peering through a fog. Despite the chaos, Blue's wordless cries began to pierce through the rain as soon as he recognized Mono, albeit dampened by the rainfall. With each step closer to Blue, Mono's sight focused, identifying the presence of blood—a lot of it—making the situation worse.

Mono was now practically running towards Blue, his pulse beating in his chest with each step. Mono's breath caught in his throat as he noticed more and more of the deep red — on Blue's shoulders, legs, chest, and hands; he appeared to be drenched in it. 

Something bad had definitely happened. Something horrible.

As Mono got closer to Blue, the severity of the situation hit him hard, bringing up memories of his own past tragedies. His pulse stuttered as he saw the depth of Blue's injuries, each drop of blood a sharp proof of the misery he had undergone.

Mono's legs gave way beneath him as he reached Blue, causing him to a drop onto his knees on the wet ground. He slid slightly after impact, with the wet ground providing little resistance. His arms dangled limply at his sides, yearning to reach out but unable to move. 

Mono, hunched over and his towering frame visible once more, could only look down at Blue with wide eyes, a mixture of shock and concern clouding his features as he struggled with how to proceed. However, one feeling surfaced clearly: the urge to comfort Blue, to shelter him from the unimaginable acts of violence he'd experienced, reflected by the hollow look in his eyes—much as Mono knew himself.

It was a terrifying expression. It was a look that indicated that something inside was broken and beyond repair.

Blue, sniffling and unblinking, staggered halfway to Mono, his movements strained and unstable. One leg lagged behind, revealing a horrible, gaping bite mark lit by the moonlight on the wet night—raw and bleeding, gnawed to the bone yet not broken. Despite the pain, Blue kept going, driven by an intense need. The need was for comfort. His cries blended with the steady pace of the rain as he approached Mono, who knelt, caught between wanting to help and not wanting to make matters worse. However, Blue reached out first, his shaking fingers grasping Mono's coat and desperately holding onto the cloth.

It was a small gesture, simple, but it spoke volumes—a wordless plea for comfort and reassurance in the face of terrible distress and misery, regardless of whether they were strangers.

Mono reached out without hesitation and drew Blue up  into his arms, hugging him tight.

Blue immediately cuddled into Mono's chest, seeking shelter in the larger boy's embrace, his tears becoming stronger with each passing instant, his cries breaking the silence of the night.

Mono gripped Blue tightly, feeling the younger boy's shaking body and the unmistakable waves of dread and anguish pouring through him. Driven by a need to protect, Mono leaned in, covering Blue from the unrelenting rain with his own body, softly reassuring him of safety amidst the chaos, as best he could.

Mono winced as he felt Blue's hand clawing madly into his chest; his own wounds were still healing. Nevertheless, he strengthened his hold, desperate to provide any comfort he could.

Blue's cries were muffled by the thick fabric of Mono's coat, and each tear was absorbed by the cloth, a mute reminder of his misery. As Mono felt the weight of Blue's despair bore down on him, his heart twisted with pity, wishing to relieve the younger boy's agony.

Wondering just what the fuck had happened, Mono held onto Blue for few long minutes, silently offering comfort that the much smaller boy so desperately needed.

As time passed, Mono's attention shifted to Blue's bitten and wounded leg, which was now laying limply in his lap. The blood continued to pour, and an alarming amount had already drenched Mono's clothes. Blue was clearly going to lose consciousness if the wound was not treated soon.

So, adjusting his arm, Mono held Blue close and guided his head to rest on his shoulder. With his other hand free, he swiftly took his bag from his back and set it in front of him. He effortlessly opened it and rummaged through its contents in search of some leftover fresh bandages.

Despite his tears, Blue stole glimpses at Mono's activities out of the corner of his eye. Mono gently grabbed hold of Blue's damaged leg, stretching it out to apply bandages and halt the bleeding. Blue's sniffles persisted on Mono's shoulder, but the regular pattern of Mono's moves appeared to soothe him.

“...Th..thank y-you,” Blue whispered faintly after witnessing Mono care for his leg for a minute.

Mono said nothing, his focus completely on the work at hand, despite the difficulties of performing it with just one hand. Still, he was hesitant to ask Blue the burning question on his mind, not wanting to add to the stress. He knew he'd have to ask eventually.

Another minute passed, and Blue's leg was tightly wrapped, the fresh bandages wet but effectively stopping the blood, at least momentarily. After completing the task and noticing that Blue had sufficiently calmed down, Mono began cautiously trying to gently peel Blue away from him. However, when he tried, Blue reacted with a terrified squeal and clung to Mono, squeezing even closer.

Mono breathed deeply. That was exactly what he wanted to avoid—Blue developing an emotional attachment. However, it seemed like it was already too late.

“Blue, let go,” Mono said gently.

“...N-no.” came the slightly grumpy response.

Mono sighed. He figured he could hold Blue for a bit longer, but he still wanted answers.

After another minute of waiting, Mono had enough; “I know this is going to be uncomfortable,” he said, carefully selecting his words, “but... what happend?” 

Blue drew closer to him, hiding his face in Mono's shoulder, clearly uncomfortable. Mono tried to ignore it. After a brief pause, Blue murmured, almost too low to be heard, “...they are dead.” 

Mono took a minute to understand what the little child was saying before turning his focus to Blue's two friends, who were remained still on the plastic bag. Lifeless. 

Mono pressed his lips in to a thin line, refocusing his gaze on Blue, examining him closely from the corner of his eye. 

“...And your leg?” 

Blue shifted, his eyes welling up with new tears as he glanced up at Mono. “...A-after you left, more Adults came. They smelled... the blood...” 

Mono's jaw tightened and his expression hardened. 

Of course. More adults. The city was overrun by them. And three vulnerable children... two of them had been unconscious or already dead from the previous attack by the Adult Mono, who killed with his own hands... others lurked in the shadows, waiting to pounce on the defenceless. And Mono, having been engrossed in his own thoughts, had failed to observe or protect. Even if it was not his responsibility... If he had been more watchful and observant, perhaps the others would still be alive. They were only children.

Mono cursed himself deeply, a surge of self-directed hatred coursing through his veins—

“I tried to fight them off,” Blue's voice trembled and raw, full of emotion as he remembered what happened. “They wanted... they wanted... they wanted to e-eat them. I couldn't let them. So I fought. I tried, I really tried!” 

“Shhh, it's okey,” Mono whispered soothingly down to Blue, his tone kind yet harsh as Blue's voice erupted in loud fear and sobbing. “You're very brave for trying to fight them, and it's nothing short of a miracle that you're still even alive...” 

Blue's tears gushed anew, his sobbing booming in the dimly lighted alleyway as he sank his face into Mono's shoulder again, seeking protection from the horrors around them. With shaking small hands, he gripped to Mono's coat, fingers curling firmly into the fabric in a frantic search for comfort, his misery evident.  

Mono let him. Blue was clearly deeply traumatized. 

Mono's gaze instead moved across the scene, his thoughts clouded. The rain continued to fall relentlessly, adding to the melancholy atmosphere. It was painfully evident that Blue, especially with his damaged leg, would not be able to survive alone on the harsh city streets. Mono groaned silently, understanding that he would have to take Blue under his wing for the time being, which was not exactly what he had planned when he had meant to return to the children.

His original plan had been to reach some type of agreement after overhearing Blue's suggestion of reaching out Mono for help. 

Mono would've helped them collect difficult-to-reach items, a chore made simpler by his bigger size than the children. In exchange, Mono could obtain some supplies for himself, with the children directing him to where the main stuff were stored. This arrangement would've allowed him to better prepare for his journey from the Pale City.

After all, he'd been gone for ten years, and the kids knew the city far better than he did. Their collaboration had the potential to be mutually beneficial. That plan, however, had now failed. Mono wouldn't bother asking Blue questions about it right now, with him being the lone survivor. He was fully aware of the stress and misery that a situation like this may cause in a child. Having gone through them personally in his youth...

Brushing away any painful memories, Mono got to his feet and made his way over to the plastic bag carrying Blue's deceased friends. However, a snippet from their previous conversation reappeared in Mono's mind: the reference of "others." Perhaps Mono didn't need to take Blue under his wing after all, given his own struggles for survival. He didn't think he was fit to care for a child.

“Are there others you could go to? Like, are you part of a larger group or something?” Mono asked, his voice filled with both curiosity.

Blue, supported by Mono's steadying arm, continued to rest on his shoulder as he talked. “I... I wouldn't call it a bigger group,” he began, “but Violet, Green... and I were together with four others. My little sister is also among them.” 

Mono paused, his brow furrowing in surprise. “Your... little sister?” 

Blue nodded, his gaze dropping. “Yes... she was one of the reasons why I persisted in returning, despite my injured leg... And in bringing back the others...” 

“To your hideout...?” 

“Yes. We wanted to return there anyway after we robbed you but...” 

“But, you got attacked.” 

“...Yes,” Blue concluded.

Mono gave a quiet hum, bits of the puzzle gradually coming into place and a plan emerging in his thoughts. After a lengthy moment of thought, he bent down and tenderly wrapped the bodies of Blue's friends in the plastic bag. He lifted them up and cradled them in his right hand, returning his focus to Blue... attempting to ignore how thin and boney their little bodies felt in his fingers. His the bag was once again slung over his shoulder.

“Show me the way, I'll bring you to them, with your friends.” Blue's eyes brightened with gratitude as Mono spoke. And then, he nodded.

They'd been walking for a while when Blue piped up.

“...By the way,” Blue said, motioning with a pointed finger to indicate where they should go next, “...what's your name?” 

Mono halted in mid-stride, a quiet expression on his face as he bit his lip, knowing why Blue had started with that now. He wasn't exactly keen about getting closer to Blue; his primary goal was to get Blue back to his group and out of Pale City as soon as possible. His name was private, therefore he preferred to keep it to himself.

“Mono,” his mouth said on its own.

Well, there went that intention. He mentally groaned.

“Mono...” Blue's voice trailed off, filled with interest,  “Interesting name, does it mean something?” 

Mono cringed internally. The mention of his name's meaning was like rubbing salt in the wound. He knew a little, having learnt it the hard way during a lecture by the Eyes. Blue's innocent question seemed like a rerun of history. With a groan, he ignored his discomfort and continued walking.

“It means 'one,' 'alone,' or 'single,'” Mono said, his voice harsh and annoyed. The reminder of his loneliness always hit a nerve, like a comic reciting the same stale joke, especially because it was his own name.

Blue's brow furrowed slightly, his face alternating between curiosity, uncertainty, and enlightenment like a dog learning a new trick. “Ohhh,” he whispered, craning his neck to meet Mono's gaze, his eyes wide with surprise.

“So your name means...you're alone?” 

Ouch. The words stung more than he had expected, Mono couldn't help but emit a muffled scoff beneath his paper bag.

“Yes,” he replied curtly, tone sharp.

Blue seemed to sense Mono's growing frustration and decided to drop the subject, but not before expressing his gratitude.

“Thank you for saving me, Mono,” Blue whispered, leaning closer and clutching Mono's coat as they traveled through the alleyways and streets. Despite himself, Mono felt a warm warmth spread through his chest, which relieved his fury slightly. His mind, however, didn't like that feeling at all... reminding him too much of back then... 

Mono didn't reply.

They arrived to Blue's "hideout" about an hour later, conveniently placed on the north side of the city, which suited Mono's plan because he had planned to travel north anyhow. It was tucked up near a sewer entry in a small maintenance room, providing a concealed location. However, as they reached the round hallway, Mono had to fight back a gag; the overwhelming odor of rot and filth assaulted his senses. Still, he believed it was an ideal place to hide because the odor would keep most creatures away; not even Adults would dare to enter such a nasty environment. So, in that sense, it made a good cover.

But, once again, as he wanted to move on, Mono lamented his height, having to stoop down slightly to squeeze through the entryway. Nonetheless, he made it, with Blue guiding him to the side door, which functioned as the hideout's entrance. Unsure of what awaited him inside, Mono remembered Blue's earlier warning: keep quiet and let him handle the explanations, as the sight of Mono may cause panic among the others, who would mistake him for an Adult.

And he was probably right.

“...The signal to alert them is to knock three times followed by two more knocks,” Blue stated to Mono before looking at the door.

Mono's eyes followed suit, though it was tough with him bowed so low. Nonetheless, he was able to hold Blue near to the door so he could knock the signals. After the last knock resonated through the sewers and no reaction came from the other side for a minute, Mono became concerned that something had happened to them as well. But then, they heard footsteps on the other side, and the door squeaked open slightly.

There was nothing to see at first, save for the brown hair of someone racing out, and Mono caught a glimpse of a white, somewhat ripped dress passing by—before a small girl sprang onto his arm, hugging Blue on Mono's shoulder closely.

That must be the little sister Blue had mentioned.

“L-little, Stop, you're squeezing me to death—” Blue wheezed out, though he returned the hug from his little sister, who truly lived up to her name. Not bigger than one of Mono's hands, she had short brown hair and blue eyes, mirroring her brother's features. And her name was Little? 'Odd,' Mono pondered, considering the color-themed names of the other children he had encountered.

Feeling awkward, Mono just let the siblings have their reunion moment on his shoulder and chose to be silent.

After a minute, Blue gently released go of his sister, smiled for the first time, and shared a glance with her before bending his head and peering over her shoulder through the open door. His brows furrowed slightly, and Mono sensed something was off. Blue turned back to gaze at his sister.

“...Little, where are the others...?” 

His sister remained silent for a bit, as did Blue, and their eye contact became increasingly strained. Mono recalled Blue telling him there were maybe four more, but right now there was only his little sister. Mono turned his head to take a sneak peek behind the door, but the inside was too dark to see clearly. 

His attention was drawn back to the siblings who were just on his arm and shoulder, and Blue's sister, Little, looked like she was close to tears. Blue, sensing her distress, gave her a reassuring nod, which she returned with a slight tremble in her chin. Then, without uttering a word, Little began to explain, her hands moving gracefully in the air, weaving a silent explanation. 

Mono was completely perplexed, recognizing it as sign language, and he simply watched.

Blue's eyebrows furrowed more and more, “They have been gone since the morning...? They came after us? But, why?” 

Little sat back, her look a combination of fear and anxiety as she shook her head and nodded to Blue's leg. Even Mono could understand; they had been worried. And for good reason... his gaze instinctively shifted to the bag in his other palm, which contained the lifeless bodies of Blue's friends. Guilt crept up Mono's spine once more, weighing hard on him as he dealt with the reality of the situation. 

Blue understood too, and his eyes went wide, “...Oh no, they are out there aren't they?” he asked shocked, Little nodded again, her head dropping to look at the floor.

Mono watched Blue intently, his mind already anticipating Blue's next move. Just as he expected, Blue shifted his head to glance up at Mono, his expression a silent plea. Before Blue could utter a word, Mono cut him off, his voice firm.

“No, I won't, Blue,” Mono said, his gaze unwavering. “I told you I would help you get back, and I did. You're in no condition to go searching for them, so just wait until they come back.”

Mono could see the frustration and disappointment in Blue's eyes. Yet, as much as he felt the weight of responsibility, he understood it was none of his business if Blue decided to venture out alone. Despite the urge to intervene, Mono wrestled with the realization that he couldn't control Blue's choices. Again, it was none of his business.

He groaned quietly, torn between responsibility and acceptance of his own limits. While struggling with his conflicted emotions, Mono couldn't escape the feeling that he needed to do more, that he was somehow failing Blue. Nonetheless, he reminded himself that everyone had their own path to take, and it was not his responsibility to carry out Blue's decisions, no matter how much he cared. 

And... Mono suddenly realized he already cared, a bit too much. Better to cut it off right away. 

“I'm sorry, Blue, but I will be on my way again,” he said slowly, maintaining Blue's gaze, and placed him gently down on the ground before the open door. 

Little hopped down from him and helped her brother stand on one leg. Mono carefully set the bag containing Blue's friends beside them on the ground as well, pausing briefly as all eyes fixated on it. Little gasped in realization of its contents, prompting Mono to briefly close his eyes, overwhelmed by sadness and guilt once more in his chest. With a heavy heart, he rose to his feet, adjusted his bag over his shoulder, and cast one final glance at Blue and his sister before heading towards the sewer's exit.

He was almost out when Blue's cry echoed behind him, “Mono! P-please wait!” 

Mono's lips shifted into a wordless scowl, his anger bubbling up as his legs suddenly stopped moving, leaving him locked in place. Tension grabbed his body, causing him to roll his shoulders back with an angry determination. He was acutely aware of the feelings surging through him, yet he furiously rejected them. Or tried to. He couldn't afford to let them overtake him again, memories of the past lingered in his thoughts, plaguing his every move...

“Please—please wait! Don't leave!” 

He couldn't allow it; he would only get hurt... like last time.

Would he?

Then Mono realized. 

He was afraid.

Afraid of being used, and hurt again.

But they were children, innocent children in need of his help. She had been a child too.  Of course, they did. And he knew that; Blue had a bad leg, he couldn't go out and get food; and his sister was so small that any random Adult could come by and crush her. They couldn't care for themselves, especially not with the others around, upon whom they had obviously relied on until now. 

But they were out, searching for Blue and his friends... and Mono, as well as Blue, knew... they wouldn't come back. 

In short, if Mono left, Blue and his little sister would die. 

“Please s-stay! At least for a while till the others come back,” Blue's voice rang out in desperation, closer and more urgent than before. Mono could sense him creeping closer behind him, accompanied by his sister's gentle walk.

With a tense glare, Mono looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with Blue, causing the smaller boy to freeze in his tracks. 

“You know as well as I do, that they wont come back.” 

Mono's voice was tinged with brutal finality and echoed across the sewer.

Blue flinched like he physicly had slapped Blue, and gasped loudly. Mono held his gaze, and slowly accseption and realization shimmered within Blue's eyes. A little sob escaped him, and his little sister was quick to hug her brother from the side, burring her face in his ribs, also softly crying. 

“Then...” Blue said with shaking voice, “...then help us, please...”

Mono stood in silence, looking to the floor, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The cries of the two little siblings echoed in the air, their desperation so palpable it felt suffocating, like a heavy fog enveloping them all. It was a stark reminder of the harsh reality of life in the Pale City, especially for children, a reality that Mono had hoped to escape but was now forced to confront head-on. 

Mono took a deep breath, “...How can I help you when all I can do is watch it all being for nothing...?” he asked, his voice somewhat hoarse from his own emotions.

Blue's breath seized in his throat, and his heart sank as he felt Mono's words cut him like ice. He dropped his head, knowing precisely what Mono was referring to, and the harsh truth stabbed like a knife in his soul. 

Why help them if they were destined to die anyway once Mono left? 

But the little boy suddenly clenched his fists with a resounding thud, an angry grunt escaping his lips, forcing Mono's attention back to him. Little tightly gripped her brother's side, her eyes wide with fear.

“...Even if... it's all for nothing...I refuse to submit to this world,” Blue growled out, his voice dripping with years of pent-up anger; his sister flinched. “I refuse to just accept it! To just accept that when we ask for help, it just be for nothing! Just because this world dictates it does not work, does not mean we can stop trying and prove it wrong!”

Mono's eyes widened, his heart missing a beat. Blue took a deep breath.

“I refuse to just give up!!” He screamed out so loud that it echoed around the sewer for a few moments, until the eerie silence settled in once more.

...

Give up...

Give up...?

Mono was in shock, his mind racing, his lungs demanding him to breathe. Had he... given up?

No, he couldn't have; otherwise, why would he be here, free and out of the Tower, away from his pain and suffering, yet... why did he deny them his help? Because he had given up? Lost hope that it could be different? Because he had forgotten what it is like to help others? Because he was afraid to help?

Mono was instantly overwhelmed with shock and distaste at himself for refusing them his help simply because he was afraid—knowing that his younger self would not have hesitated to help anyone in need. His younger self was stronger in that sense, unafraid, naive, and only wanting to help others survive in this world. Because it was the right thing to do.

And now that those two siblings had begged him for help, he was going to leave? To let them die? To demonstrate that, as Blue put it, help was useless in this world?

No... No...

NO.

He wasn't. And Blue just had opened his eyes.

Mono, with a gasp, snapped himself out of his thoughts, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He swallowed hard, “...never give up on that Blue...” he whispered, almost too silent to hear, and he wasn't sure if Blue even heard him. He didn't care.

What he did care about, however, was the flood of emotions that returned, reigniting a fire within him that had long been dormant. With determination in his eyes, Mono quickly spun on his heel and went forcefully back to the siblings, who appeared to notice the change in his manner and stumbled towards him.

Mono knelt down, overcome with warmth, and he quickly scooped them both up from the floor, embracing them fiercely. He could feel their frantic breaths against his chest, their trembling bodies seeking comfort in his arms. Having been afraid of what could've happend.

“...You are right, Blue, forgive me... I will help you,” Mono whispered into the younger boy's hair, his voice trembling with sincerity, his heart heavy with the weight of his earlier hesitation.

Blue didn't move at first, his body tensed with uncertainty, but then he slowly relaxed into the embrace, his grip on Mono's coat tightening as if seeking reassurance. It was the second time today he found comfort in Mono's arms. His sister, mirroring his actions, joined the embrace, her small frame nestled against them both, finding comfort in their shared warmth. Seemingly already beginning to accept Mono.

And something weird happened in that moment, taking them all by silent surprise.

 The two children, without hesitation, surrendered to it, embracing it. Mono hesitated, his heart pounding with uncertainty, but then, like a floodgate giving way, he too succumbed.

It was the beginning of a bond, woven from the threads of desperation, reassurance, and comfort, its power undeniable, its grip unyielding, that not even he could deny. 

But that warm and intense moment was suddenly broken by a light grumble.

Mono uncurled his arms slightly and glanced down with Blue at Little, embarrassedly burying her head in his stomach, her belly once more grumbling loudly.

Mono couldn't help but chuckle. Somebody was hungry. Blue offered an embarrassed laugh and gently pushed his sister's head to his side, where Little instantly hid.

“...Uh, sorry about that...” Blue said softly, his expression once more turning to slight desperation and sadness, “...but she... We... haven't eaten in six days.”

Mono's already weakened heart at the moment seemed to lurch in his chest, the weight of his bag over his shoulder suddenly feeling burdensome, the food inside taunting him with its presence. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to steady his emotions. He looked at them a little longer, the desperation in Blue's face reflecting the still dire situation they were in.

Glancing around, Mono's gaze landed on the open door of their hideout, its darkness contrasting sharply with the dim light of the sewer tunnel. The faint sound of dripping water echoed in the distance. Mono slowly stood up, the siblings gripping him tightly to hold on, as Mono once more had to bend over to even fit in the tunnel. But it didn't bother him at the moment, and he made his way over to the door.

He sat the siblings down in front of it, silently gesturing to them that they should head inside, which they did, Little once more supporting Blue with walking. Mono gently picked up the plastic bag, which held Blue's, and probably Little's too, dead friends, and headed inside the room after them.

Their sanctuary was a little side room that Mono could barely stand in without stooping. The walls were rough and moist, with a subtle mildew scent in the air. A few candles provided the only light in one corner, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows across the room, creating an eerie atmosphere.

Empty shelves lined the rear and left walls, their surfaces grimy and neglected. The wood displayed traces of wear and tear, indicating the hideout's improvised character. Between the shelves were makeshift mattresses made of old blankets and dirty clothing placed on top of each other. It was a clumsy attempt at comfort in the midst of devastation, but the beds were empty, and would likely remain that way forever.

Blue and Little moved across to a larger bed against the right wall, which was a nest of blankets and clothes too large for them to fill. Despite its size, the bed appeared aged and ragged, but it provided a sense of warmth and protection amid the cold, harsh world outside. They sat down together, huddled close for warmth.

Mono set the plastic bag down again, the weight of its contents a terrible burden on his shoulders, and slammed the door behind him, blocking out the darkness of the sewage tunnel. 

He then crouched down, removed his backpack from his shoulder, and opened it in search of something to eat. Little's stomach continued to grumble, and Blue's did as well, leaving both of them humiliated and hungry. Mono had promised to help them, and he would, beginning with sharing what food was left in his bag. The rustle of a snack bar drew his attention, and his fingers quickly took it from the bag, tossing it to Blue and Little. Both siblings gasped in surprise, but he was too focused to pay attention, wanting to obtain some food for himself.

“...A-are you sure...?” Blue asked Mono from the other side of the room. Mono scoffed without looking at the smaller boy, “Yes, otherwise I wouldn't throw it to you, would I?” 

He was met with silence that was soon broken by the rustling of the siblings opening the snack bar and eagerly biting into it, their hungry munching echoing in the small room. Mono once again paid no attention, or to the fact that he probably saved them from starvation, and grabbed a can of preserved peaches for himself. With a sense of familiarity, he also reached for the spoon he had acquired in the room he had stayed in a few days ago.

As he sat down, the dim candlelight casting flickering shadows across the walls, Mono felt a pang of exhaustion wash over him. But for now, he pushed aside his weariness and focused on opening the can. The familiar sound of the metal lid being peeled back brought a sense of relief as he scooped out a portion of the sweet fruit and brought it to his lips, savoring each bite. His paper bag rustled each time he had to lift it slightly to eat properly. But that was nothing new.

They all ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the quiet rustling of wrappers and the occasional slurp of juice from the can of peaches. 

Once the siblings had completely devoured the snack bar, they leaned back against the makeshift bed, their expressions now relaxed and content. Little had drifted off to sleep, her head resting on her brother's shoulder, her breaths coming in gentle, rhythmic patterns. Blue, too, seemed on the verge of sleep, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Yet, before succumbing to slumber, he glanced up at Mono, his eyes lingering on the half-empty can of peaches, a silent question in his gaze.

Without saying anything, Mono reached forward and offered Blue the rest of the can and the spoon, which he took and began eating the remaining peaches. Mono had already finished his meal, so he was relieved that the remaining food did not go to waste. He sat back down and listened while Blue chatted gently in between nibbles.

“...Thank you... I really can't thank you enough, after all you have done for me...”

Mono rested his head against the door, ensuring that his weight was against it so that if anyone tried to break in, he would notice. He shut his eyes and listened to Blue.

“But, I am confused about one thing,” Blue murmured, prompting Mono to peep up from the holes in his paper bag while Blue watched him. “You said, 'forgive me'—forgiving for what exactly...?”

Mono closed his eyes again, shame sweeping over him from back at that moment when he hesitated to help innocent children.

He took in a long breath. “For giving up on hope...” Mono replied, making Blue furrow his eyebrows in confusion. 

“W-what do you mean...? I'm confused—”

Mono let out a small laugh, “Don't worry about it, go to sleep Blue.”

He closed his eyes and didn't wait for an answer, instead hearing Blue grudgingly cuddle into the sheets of their bed, snuggling closer to his sister, until all Mono could hear was the younger boy's breaths slowing, till he had fallen asleep. 

Feeling his own eyelids growing heavy, Mono breathed in calmly and slowly, trying to process what had happened today, about what he had forgotten and a child had had to remind him of how he really was, of what he had always been from the start: helpful. Mono couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude towards Blue for reminding him of his true nature.  

And thanks to Blue, who had opened his eyes, Mono felt that instinct again, something he had thought had died and rotted away in the Tower. Drifting off into his thoughts, Mono also slowly drifted away into sleep... until his breathing intertwined with the soft exhales of the siblings. 

.

.

.

.

.

Somewhere far north...

Over the sea, in the dark forest... 

The air was heavy with an eerie calm, broken only by the foreboding crunch of footsteps. Each stride echoed through the dense undergrowth. They belonged to many, a horde of shadowy figures moving with sinister intent, their forms barely visible amidst the dense canopy of leaves overhead. They followed one figure, their leader, who came to a halt before a tree stump. The others came to a stop and stood nearby.

His tall form crouched down in front of it, his hand extending out to brush over a few... blood spots on the grass. Carefully smearing it on his fingers, he then brought them up to his nose and then to his lips to taste. As the taste of blood hit his senses, he began to growl.

“She was here,” Van hissed angrily, causing the others to back away slightly in fear... 

“...He has her.”

Chapter Text

As she regained consciousness, the world appeared to emerge from a cloud of blackness, like a hesitant daybreak dawning over a desolate place. 

Forms and colors slowly began to emerge from the shadows, swirling behind her closed eyelids as they slowly outlined the lines of her surroundings. A intense, deep-throbbing headache that pulsed in time with her heartbeat was the first feeling she felt. Each throb served as a reminder of her newly awakened state, and every ache... seemed like a vicious hammer slamming through her skull. Unpleasant.

Six's brows knitted in concentration as she struggled to remember what had happened, her mind a tumultuous sea of fragmented memories. It seemed like attempting to piece together shards of a broken mirror, each jagged piece sharp and detached, mocking her with its cryptic nature.

Then, like a bolt of lightning tearing through the darkness, it hit her, quite literally—she had been struck over the back of her skull. The memory flooded back in a rush, sending an electric shiver down her spine as the events of earlier moments unfolded in her mind with dreadful clarity.

She had been running, hurrying through the dense undergrowth, anxious for a break, a chance to sleep for the night. But then... the forest had fallen into eerie silence, interrupted only by the sudden start of burning pain. And unexpectedly, as the fog of uncertainty cleared, she remembered everything: the fear, the rush, the impending danger.

Six's eyelids felt heavy as she blinked them open, the dim light filtering through the curtains painting the room in soft hues of morning. Shapes slowly began to take form, the outlines of unfamiliar furniture and decor materializing in the room. The air felt cool against her skin, carrying the earthy scent of the forest mingled with a hint of freshly cut wood...and something metallic.

The rustle of fabric beneath her drew her attention downward, and she realized she was lying in a bed, wrapped in layers of blankets. Odd. She slowly shifted her head to the side, her gaze settling on a nightstand covered with strange items and an ugly, brown, flickering lamp that cast a comforting warmth. She then became aware that some parts of the pillow she was resting on, had a red stains on it. 

Blood? Her blood. She had been hit very hard over the back of her head then.

As Six's gaze roamed the room, her eyes fell upon the ominous silhouette seated beside her bed, its presence a chilling reminder of the looming uncertainty enveloping her since she woke up. There was something unsettling about its shape—unnatural, looming large in the dimness of the room. She tried to focus on the figure, the features gradually sharpening into clarity.

That's when her blood ran cold.

She held her breath, her gaze fixed on the figure, which turned with a deep, eerie growl. A shiver went down her spine as they slowly turned to meet her gaze. In that heart-stopping moment, a surge of deep fear swept across her chest. The single hole in the potato sack wrapped over his head appeared to pierce into her very soul, his stare keen and penetrating, like a blade cutting through the darkness, even while hidden under his chosen mask.

Six felt as if she had been dragged into a waking nightmare, far worse than any dream she had ever had. Because that's all it was: a nightmare. It had to be.

Because he was dead.

All Six could do was fix her gaze on him, her pulse hammering in her chest, each thump becoming louder with each passing moment.

The Hunter met her gaze, his breathing slow and laborious, every breath a raspy reminder of his existence. Exactly how she remembered. Despite the familiarity, her mind struggled to grasp the reality of the situation. She found herself trapped in a whirlwind of shock and confusion, unsure which way to turn. Was this a nightmare she'd wake up from while still unconscious? Or was the horror before her real?

Six was unable to decide which was worse.

And if it was real, how could that be?!

Six was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the Hunter's movement until his huge, gloved hand hovered near her face. She gasped, drawing back in fear, but it was too late—his fingertips brushed over her cheek, catching a tear she hadn't realized she'd shed.

Heart racing, she gazed in frightened stillness as the Hunter let out a low murmur, his gaze fixed on the tear glistening on his fingertip.

For a tense moment, the air hung heavy with uncertainty, before Six's instincts finally kicked in.

In a heartbeat, the tension erupted into chaos. Six's shadows went into overdrive as they sensed their panic, and she called them with lightning-fast reflexes, rising up from the bed in a blur of action. She moved with more agility than the Hunter, evading his grip as he surged forward with a snarl.

Six unleashed her shadows with furious intent, engulfing the Hunter in a deadly grasp. But just as victory seemed within sight, something strange happened.

Her shadows, bounced back.

The Hunter came to a rapid halt, his attention fixed on himself for a second before slowly raising his head to meet Six's eyes. His irregular huffs were suddenly sarcastic, echoing in the strained calm of the room like a cruel chuckle. He was mocking Six's attempts to use her abilities, laughing at her.

A flood of helplessness poured over Six like a tidal wave, smothering her with its weight. The Hunter's frightening presence permeated the room, throwing a shadow over her once-mighty abilities, making them feel frail and small. He stood before her like an impassable barrier, immune to the deadly power that had always been her most powerful protection.

Six's usually precise control over her powers slipped, causing them to surge around her in an uncontrollable torrent of energy. She just stood there, wide-eyed and terrified, feeling like an impotent piece in some cruel game of fate. Despite her impulse to flee, she stayed glued to the spot, caught in a nightmare with no way to get out.

“Six, run!” her shadows screamed in terror, their voices echoing through her mind like a haunting chorus.

They didn't need to tell Six a second time. 

Her body acted on instinct; she didn't think, launched herself from the bed and shot forward in a furious sprint. Her shadows swirled around her legs, urging her toward the room's only doorway. Six's pulse raced as she realized the door was locked. Without hesitation, she raised her hand, allowing her shadows to engulf her arm, transforming it into a shadowy extension reaching for the lock. With a smooth motion, she manipulated the mechanism, quickly unlocking the door.

All of this happened in one breathless second, with the Hunter's heavy, thunderous step coming up behind her like an impending storm. 

The door flew open with a click, and Six's shadowy hand reached out from her arm, quickly grasping the handle and jerking it wide open. She lunged out into the corridor, nearly losing her footing on the stairs below. Her shadows surged into action, wrapping around her like protecting tendrils, cushioning her fall as she tripped and slid down the steps. Desperation drove her movements as she struggled to flee, but the Hunter's footsteps rang ominously behind her, closing in with each passing second and merciless in their chase.

The surroundings faded into fleeting glimpses of familiarity as she dashed through the house—the Hunter's cabin. Despite the urgency of her escape, she was drawn to the details, the creaking old wooden floors, the flickering light from barely lit lights, and the sinister shadows that appeared to dance with malice.

Instinct screamed at her to run faster, to widen the gap between her and the Hunter's clutches.

With every pounding step, the sound of the Hunter's chase rang behind her, a constant reminder of the danger at her heels. But she persisted, her will unyielding, driven by the basic urge to survive. Nothing else mattered except getting through that door—

G R A B.

A sharp shock of pain blasted through her skull as the Hunter's gigantic hand clamped onto her top head, jerking her back mercilessly, evoking a scream of misery Six.

Her abilities surged and writhed against the Hunter's control, like frantic tendrils attempting to break free. However, it proved useless, as had her previous fight with the Adult. Hope shattered, her soul crushed by the Hunter's relentless, vice-like grip.

With each terrible pull Six felt shockwaves burst through her body, threatening to tear her skin from her head under the Hunter's merciless hold. Rivulets of blood flowed down her cheeks, mingling with her tears, as a scream of fury, dread, and unfathomable terror from her voice. The monster didn't care.

Every growl and groan from the Hunter echoed through the air like a frightening symphony of cruelty, a relentless reminder of her impending demise. Her clothes tore and shredded with each cruel pull across the floor, and the constant pressure on her skull threatened to break it like a delicate eggshell.

Six was pulled down the basement steps in a blur of misery and despair, each step pushing her further into a nightmare she couldn't comprehend. Dread gripped her as she was thrown into a room of unimaginable horrors, a place all too familiar but forever dreadful.

Her body slammed with the ground, the contact resonating with bone-jarring intensity as the Hunter threw her down, sending her skidding across the floor. A swift, searing agony ripped through her side, indicating that one of her ribs had likely given way. Six, gasping for air and coughing up blood, raised her head to meet the Adult's cold stare, who stood at the doorway, breath heavy with indifference, staring down at her.

Six, trembling and with tears running down her cheeks, could only meet the Hunter's stare with weak, ragged breathing. Her shadows enveloped her protectively, providing a glimmer of comfort in the face of imminent threat. Even they crumbled in the face of the Hunter's rising danger, who remained unmoved with their hopeless attempt to shield her.

With a frightening snarl, the Hunter turned away and slammed the door shut, sealing Six in the basement room—a chamber of haunting memories from her childhood. It was the very place where she endured months of distress and isolation, the echoes of which still reverberated within its suffocating walls. And now, trapped once more, her mind raced, dwelling on the memories of her music box, memories of Mono—

The thunderous thud of the Hunter's heavy footsteps gradually faded into the distance, swallowed by the ominous clang of the basement door locking shut from upstairs.

As the echoes faded, a choking silence fell, engulfing Six like a cold hug.

Six's shadows slowly faded, swirling into an eerie mass of black fog as she lay shivering and crying on the ground, trying to make sense of the terrifying experience she had just gone through. With an eerie rush, they slithered over the floor, inching closer to the doorway. Their phantom tendrils stretched and probed, eagerly trying to remove the lock and liberate Six from her prison.

Despite the lock breaking, the door remained shut; something was blocking it from the outside. Her shadows returned to her, merging with her trembling form. As the shock ebbed away, the full extent of her injuries came sharply into focus.

On her knees, she struggled to get up, reaching up to touch her head, only to flinch at the sensation of bleeding skin. Six brushed her palm along the jagged lines where the Hunter's grip had torn her skin. Though it hurt, the injuries were not severe; they would heal.

She looked down at her chest and sides with dread, sensing a gnawing pain that hinted at something seriously wrong beneath her skin. Six felt weakness rush over her, fighting against the increasing horror that threatened to consume her.

With wary breathes, the air seemed oppressive, heavy with foreboding weight. Then a strong coughing fit overtook her, sending shocks through her already bruised body. A red puddle formed beneath her, mixed with thick, black blood spurting from her lips like a horrible fountain.

Six grabbed her side, shaking as if she were being torn apart within. Each cough cut through her like a sharp razor, trying to break her weak will. Her shadows appeared through tear-blurred vision.

“Six...” Their voice was soothing and quiet, making Six fail to hold back a humiliating sob. 

“...” 

With a mournful wail, Six crumpled to her side, her entire body trembling with distress. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably, a testament to the agony that gripped her. How had everything spiraled out of control so rapidly? Just yesterday, she had been fleeing for her life, and now she was caught up in something that should have been a distant memory. It was a violation of reason and defied all logic. This isn't how it should be. It's not supposed to be.

“Six,” With a rush of air, her shadows drifted up to her face, changing shape, “We feel your pain, we can ease it.”

Six's eyes widened, with clinched teeth, the agony visible in every line of her face. “...E-ease... it...?” Her words came out as a rasp, each syllable an effort against the constant pain radiating from her shattered ribs.

Her shadows paused for a fleeting moment, awaiting Six's nod of consent before diving into action. With a silent understanding, they descended upon her chest, their dark tendrils intertwining seamlessly with her flesh. Like spectral surgeons, they navigated the jagged terrain of her fractured ribs, their soothing darkness seeping into her very being.

Amid the murky fog of her thoughts, their words emerged, barely audible yet laden with grim certainty, “This will hurt.” Six uttered no protest, only emitting a deep growl of determination as she steeled herself.

In the heavy silence, a palpable tension hung in the air, thick with anticipation. Then, they acted. Six felt the firm grip on her ribs, and with a sharp snap, they were forcefully pushed back into place. A bone-chilling sensation raced through her, accompanied by a searing pain that ignited every nerve in her body. Despite her best efforts, a primal scream tore from her lips, echoing in the dim cellar.

Snap after snap, the room filled with the discordant melody of her bones realigning, a painful symphony conducted by her own shadows. Six's cries reverberated off the cold stone walls as she thrashed and convulsed, tears mingling with the sweat of agony. As the suffering reached its climax, the shadows faded from her chest. Their black bodies pulsated with energy as they hovered near her face, mute witnesses to her suffering.

But, as her shadows had said, the pain began to fade gently, like a gentle tide retreating from the shore. Despite her damaged ribs, the focused attention of her shadows marked the beginning of the healing process. As the bones where now more in place then before. Six's frantic gasps for air turned into soothing crying and raspy exhales as the echoes of her pain faded away.

Her senses sharpened as her discomfort subsided, and she began to notice something.

A smell.

Six sensed the sickening presence of a foul stink assaulting her senses. She was very familiar with that smell, which made her stomach turn in disgust and sent shivers down her spine.

“What is—” With her heart beating in her ears, each beat echoing like an approaching doom drum, and her chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm, Six's voice failed, scarcely more than a whisper as she struggled to speak. She threw a nervous glance around and noticed something concealed beneath the wooden bench.

Huddled beneath the bench was a form that was almost visible in the dim light. Not big enough to be anything but... a child. Lying sideways. She immediately realized the truth and felt a flood of horror sweep over her.

It was a body.

Small, lifeless, and eerily familiar. Six was overcome by a wave of panic, her heart racing as she grappled with the terrifying reality of the situation. 

Her shadows crept forward with caution, inching closer to the lifeless form. Six watched anxiously as the inky shapes advanced, their movements casting eerie darkness across the dimly lit chamber. Just when she thought she couldn't bear the tension any longer, they recoiled suddenly, darting back to her with such speed that Six felt a shudder go down her spine.

“What is it?” Six's voice quivered with fear as she awaited their answer. But the shadows stayed mute, their enigmatic presence only amplifying the stifling atmosphere suffocating the scene, intensifying the dread in the air.

“What's wrong?!” she demanded, her voice now tinged with desperation.

“...It's...”

“It's you...”

The words crashed into Six like a sledgehammer, stealing the air from her lungs and sending shockwaves through her being. “What...?” she gasped, her world spinning into chaos.

Six's eyes locked onto the body concealed within the shadow of the wooden bench, the stench now more suffocating than ever. She felt trapped, unable to break free from the unfolding nightmare before her. In that moment, all she could do was stare, her expression a mix of dread, and confusion.

As seconds turned into painful minutes, Six fought the horror that gripped her thoughts. The want to confirm what she was seeing surged within her. Ignoring the searing pain of her fractured ribs, she dragged herself forward on her knees, motivated by an unquenchable need to confront the truth directly.

When Six stretched her hand to touch the body's shoulder, her shadows darted forward, their black threads entwining around her arms and pulling her back with a strong tug. 

“...Six, no, don't look..” Their tones had a feeling of desperation mixed with fear.

But Six's emotions boiled over—a potent blend of anger and fear coursing through her. This whole situation was at its worst already. “If what you say is true—I have to see for myself.” 

After a tense minute, her shadows melted back into Six's form, vanishing into the air, leaving her isolated in the oppressive silence of the room. Six drew in deep breaths, her head bowed, hands trembling as she extended them towards the body's shoulder. With a hesitant touch, her fingers brushed against the cold, lifeless flesh. With a deliberate shove, she flipped the body onto its back, the pale skin seeming to glow too brightly in the dim lighting of the room.

A shiver raced down Six's spine, her breath catching in her throat as the half-shadowed figure lay before her. The distant thumping of her heart filled her ears, a rhythm disjointed and eerie. Refusing to accept the truth her eyes presented, she thought, 'It can't be true...'

But it was brutally obvious when she looked at the face of the nine-year-old child lying in front of her, frozen in time. 

It was definitely her. 

Plunged back in time to this precise age, her younger self. Breathless and reeling, the discovery overwhelmed her like a tidal wave.

It felt as though she was witnessing the horrifying conclusion of an alternate reality—one where Mono hadn't intervened, leaving her abandoned to perish and starve in this desolate, dark room. The sunken face, gaunt body, and protruding bones of her younger self painted a chilling picture of the suffering endured in her final moments. While anyone else might have recoiled in horror, Six found herself strangely numb to the macabre scene before her, paralyzed by the shock of it all. What unsettled her most wasn't the sight of her own lifeless form, but rather the stark reality that her younger self's body existed in this place at all.

As she gazed down at the lifeless form of her past self, Six felt a chill settle over her, her mind struggling to comprehend the inexplicable. The Hunter being alive, her child corpse lying here, this room unchanged from her memories—all of it defied logic and reason. She felt as though she had entered a nightmare or a warped world in which the rules of nature were broken.

Six drew in a shaky breath, attempting to assemble the fragments of the puzzle laid out before her, yet they stubbornly refused to fit together. Why was the corpse of her younger self here? How could she be kneeling over her own lifeless form? And why was the Hunter still alive? Her mind churned with uncertainty and anxiety as she grappled with these questions. Amidst the swirling confusion, one thing remained glaringly evident: nothing about this situation was normal; everything about it felt wrong. So, why?

And above all, how?

How was this possible? 

Desperately, she looked for some form of understanding, but the truth remained elusive, concealed in shadows like the pale light seeping through the single window. Six lifted her eyes to the ceiling, the weight of dread pressing down on her like a choking blanket. The gloomy lighting cast eerie shadows over her face, emphasizing the tiredness etched into her features. She felt devastated and defeated, as if her entire being had been irreversibly shattered.

She didn't understand. She didn't understand any of this.

The rhythmic scratch of Six's thumb marking the third day on the wooden wall of the room was a familiar sound, though it was drowned out by the pitter-patter of rain outside, offering a somewhat soothing backdrop.

With little sleep and a sense of sluggishness weighing her down, Six found herself drifting in a state of boredom. Her thoughts drifted to Van, almost wishing he would miraculously appear and whisk her away from this dreadful place that seemed to embody her worst nightmares. Yet, deep down, she only wished for his presence, knowing that his arrival would likely seal her fate. She knew he was out there in the forest, undoubtedly aware of her whereabouts by now, but not coming to retrieve her since the Hunter was on the loose nearby.

And speaking of the devil, the loud groaning sounds from above informed Six that the undead beast had just returned from the wilderness, most likely bringing a hunted animal and was going to prepare meals. Her mouth started to water at the thought of food. 

She hadn't eaten in the last few days since she had been kidnapped.

Six had water, the occasional rain trickling in through the lone window, too small for her to escape through. She improvised, collecting some of the rainwater in a makeshift metal bowl originally meant for her needs at the relief facility. However, she had repurposed it for survival. Despite this resourcefulness, she faced another challenge: her own bodily cycle, now causing discomfort in her lower abdomen. It had started yesterday. The pain and contractions were intensifying with each passing day, adding to the suffering of her situation.

Groaning and curling up, clutching her belly, Six entertained the wild notion of ripping out her insides, the source of her agonizing pain. Why did a female body even need such a thing? She had no use for it, never had, and never would. She couldn't understand it. All she knew was that she bled once a month from there, it hurt like hell, and she cursed it with every fiber of her being. Trapped in this room, time seemed to stretch endlessly, and her thoughts often turned to this torment, forced to dwell on it just to pass the agonizingly wasted hours.

Six knew little about her own body, and delving into self-discovery wasn't on her agenda. Survival was her priority, and she was adept at using whatever tools necessary for that purpose. But this? It baffled her. It frustrated her.

“...It allows you to have children,” her shadows suddenly interjected, keeping pace with her thoughts.

“...W-what?” Six groaned, eyebrows furrowed, glancing sideways where her shadows had taken form on her shoulder. “...the pain allowes me to have children? How would that even work?”  

Her shadows where quiet for a long moment. “...Do you really want us to explain?” 

Six scoffed and shook her head, “No, I don't really care.” 

Both of them fell silent once more before suddenly Six felt another painful clench in her belly, and she sensed something wet leaking out of her. Biting her lower lip, Six slowly stood up and made her way to the other side of the room where old blankets were stored—something, at least. Growling in pain and anger, she grabbed one and pressed it between her legs. This whole situation was just frustrating.

Six fell asleep on the covers, taking a little relief from her frustration and rage. Unbeknownst to her, a small rock was thrown through the only window in the room. It bounced off the ground and landed in the center of the room, drawing the attention of Six's ever-watchful shadows. They, never sleeping and constantly looking over her, gently slipped out of Six's body to examine the little stone on the floor.

There was a small note tied to it. The shadows curiously untied the note from the rock and began to read it, it was for Six.

Little coat,

I know you're stuck in there, trapped by that monster. Of course, you wouldn't listen to me when I warned you about not going to the west. I bet you kept your ass here if you really knew.

I'm offering you a way out, out of mercy, as I know that monster enjoys starving people. I can get you out of there if you obey and stay by my side. As for your powers, they will be of use to me, but I won't take them from you. You can live with me, be protected, fed, and we'll forget that you ran away in the first place. Just say the word.

Write your answer on the back of this note.

—Van

The shadows simply stared at the note, perplexed by Van's abrupt offer to aid Six, especially considering her previous actions of torture and escape. It appeared he had tracked her down despite it all. However, the decision ultimately rested with Six alone. Yet, the shadows were keenly aware of her deep-seated hate towards Van; she would sooner choose death over accepting his help. Furthermore, Van's request for her response, scribbled on the back of the note, seemed rather stupid. What exactly was she supposed to write with? She had nothing at hand.

However, the shadows couldn't shake the memory of the intense discomfort their holder experienced when Van had touched her inappropriately, with Six unaware of what was truly happening... It stirred an unfamiliar anger within the shadows, a sensation they had never experienced before, at least not like this. So, seizing the opportunity, they penned a response by tearing the words into the note with their shadowy claws. Six would surely approve of their answer.

With their reply finished, the shadows tied the note back to the small rock and hurled it out the window, hearing it thud against a tree as it fell, followed by faint footsteps, likely to retrieve the note. If the shadows had faces, they would have grinned in satisfaction, knowing their response would provoke whoever read it. 

The morning of the 4th day brought an oddly unsettling sensation for Six. As she woke, a different kind of hunger began to gnaw at her—not the typical empty stomach, but a deeper, primal urge. It had been a very long time since she had felt that hunger, yet she recognized it as somehow connected to her shadows. Sitting up on the blankets, which were sticky and stained a deep red, she pushed aside the discomfort and turned her attention inward, towards her shadows.

“...Did you do something?” She asked them aloud, sensing their involvement. Her shadows remained silent for a moment before responding, “Yes,” they simply replied.

Six's irritation deepened, “...What did you do?” 

“A note tied to a small rock was thrown in through the window last night while you were asleep.” 

Six snapped to attention, her gaze darting to the window. “And you thought it was a good idea not to wake me?!” she yelled, her anger flaring.

“The note was from Van.”  

Six froze, the mention of that name sending a shiver down her spine. “...V-van...?” 

“Yes, he proposed a way out for you if you completely give yourself up to him.”

Six couldn't help but let out a sudden dry laugh.

“...Oh, really, so he's here now? Give myself up to him, huh? Just to escape from here? I'd sooner starve.”

“We anticipated that response, so we took the liberty of replying to him,” her shadows explained.

“What did you say?” Six asked, eager to know their response.

. . .

F u c k  y o u

Van rolled his eyes with a groan when he saw her reply on the back of the note. Typical of her, choosing a painful slow death rather than give up her pride. Fine with him; he could wait until she was screaming from that room for help in a few days. And then, he would be the knight in shining armor and save her... after she begged at his feet for forgiveness.

Furrowing his eyebrows and leaning against a tree trunk at the side of the forest, he stared at the cabin. Watching as the monster, the Hunter, readied some traps for hunting. He couldn't go into the cabin and just get her, as the Hunter was never far from the cabin when he had a prisoner, and he guarded them in his own weird way... and Van didn't want to meet the big shotgun's metal frame, which was resting on the Hunter's back.

He tensed his shoulders and glanced to the other side of the cabin, to the little window that led to the room holding Six. Van knew she was in there right now, probably laughing at his note. 

'She may be laughing now, but not for long...' Van thought grimly, crumpling the note in his hand that was at his side. She would come crawling back to him, eventually; he just had to wait... till the hunger took a hold of her.

. . .

Six nodded approvingly at her shadows floating in front of her. 

Yes, that was the same answer she would have given regardless. She didn't need Van; she could attempt to escape on her own, although it wouldn't be easy. And perhaps, just perhaps, the Hunter would provide her with food eventually. If her memory served her correctly from when she was nine and trapped here, he did bring her some food in the beginning. If this Hunter was the same, he might do so again.

But hunger gnawed at her stomach, making it hard to ignore.

Shaking her head and suppressing the hunger, Six knew she needed to clean up first. The blood clinging to her was sticky and repulsive, but at least the pain had subsided a bit for now. Glancing over at the bowl holding some water, Six stood up on shaky legs and knelt back down in front of the bowl. With a bit of luck, maybe it would rain tonight, and she could refill it. But she couldn't be certain when she would get water again.

So, gently cradling the bowl in her hands, Six greedily gulped down several mouthfuls of water before setting it back down and beginning to undress.

Cleaning herself was a ritual that brought her a sense of calm, and here, in this secluded basement room, she relished in the solitude. Soon, she rid herself of the blood, sweat, and grime that clung to her skin, taking extra care to inspect her healing ribs. Her gaze drifted to the pile of blankets where she had slept, lost in thought.

“Shadows?” Six murmured softly. They materialized, their presence comforting yet enigmatic. Six nodded toward the blankets. “Could you bring me one? ...Please.”

Her shadows hesitated briefly, perhaps surprised by her request, but eventually complied and floated back with a blanket. Six accepted it and swiftly tore it into strips, fashioning makeshift bandages. As she tightly wound the strips around her upper body, she cursed herself for not doing it sooner, the frustration evident in her clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

Once she finished, she hastily redressed herself and made her way to the wall. With her nail, she marked a fourth notch, the hunger gnawing at her stomach serving as a stark reminder of the fourth day without food.

The 6th day unfolded much like the ones before it, but with each passing moment, hunger gnawed at Six more intensely. She desperately searched her mind for any means to obtain food... she didn't care if it was a rat or a bird; she just needed something to bait. Yet, she had no idea where she could find such bait. Then, in the midst of the day, her gaze landed on the corpse... it was flesh, and could serve as bait. But... resorting to using her own child's corpse? The thought made her stomach churn, and she quickly dismissed it; she wasn't that desperate. Besides, that thing was an abomination, defying reality itself. She still couldn't comprehend why or how it was here.

By the 8th day, Six's strength waned, her body refusing to obey her commands. It became a struggle just to reach the bowl for a sip of water—the only energy she could muster. Seeking solace in sleep became her only respite, a fleeting escape from the relentless hunger gnawing at her insides. Yet, with each passing moment, the allure of using the rotten flesh of the corpse as bait to catch a rat or a bird grew stronger, a desperate measure in her fight for survival.

On the 10th day, desperation drove Six to entertain the grim idea of using the corpse as bait, no matter how unsettling it was; her stomach's relentless agony left her no choice. With the assistance of her shadows and moving painstakingly slowly to conserve energy, Six reluctantly uncovered the corpse. She had wrapped it up earlier to shield herself from the grim reminder of her circumstances. Her shadows tore out a small piece of flesh, which Six then gingerly lifted to the window bench, placing it there in hopes of luring a bird or crow. But despite her efforts, nothing came.

On the 14th day, Six awoke to the desperate cries of her stomach, whimpering and begging for relief. The hunger had become so consuming that it left her gasping for air.

She had always prided herself on her resilience, but now that very pride stood as a barrier to her survival. Her shadows enveloped her like a protective shroud, gently applying pressure to her belly to dull the ache of hunger.

In that moment, Six regretted her prideful defiance of Van's offer. If only she had swallowed her pride and accepted his proposal, she could have found a way out later, once she was free from this torment. She had escaped him once before; she could have done it again. But now...

Another whimper escaped her lips as a particularly fierce wave of hunger coursed through her, causing her eyes to well up with tears from the pain. In that moment, nothing seemed to matter except for the gnawing emptiness in her stomach. Questions about the Hunter's survival, her own confinement in this room, and the presence of her own corpse nearby faded into insignificance compared to the urgent need for sustenance.

But then her thoughts drifted to the gruesome sight of her own decomposing body hidden beneath the wooden bench, wrapped in a blanket, flesh rotting away... Six recoiled in horror, forcibly halting her train of thought with a cry of disgust. Yet, her stomach rumbled louder, relentless in its demand for nourishment. Any food would do.

Any food.

Any food...
Any food...

“No!” Six's voice reverberated through the room, filled with defiance as she turned onto her side. She refused to succumb to such depths; starvation was preferable to that. She'd rather waste away like her own little body on the other side of the room.

Her shadows floated up, attempting to offer solace as they nuzzled against her chin. But instead of comfort, their touch only amplified Six's anguish, driving her to tears. They sensed her agony.

“...Six...you're starving...” Their words were gentle, their nudges on her chin tender. “...It's a dire situation...It's about survival...”

“No! I-I won't!” Six's cry echoed, her body rolling onto her back. Tears streamed down her face as hunger tore through her, her heart pounding, her muscles growing numb with the relentless pain. 

“...Six...” Her shadows' voices were soft, almost soothing, they had followed her gaze. “...It's okay... you have no choice...”

“I-I do! And I'd rather starve than do that!” Six's response echoed with despaired, her voice strained and tinged with desperation. Blood coated her tongue from the force of her outcry, a bitter reminder of her determination.

Her shadows remained silent, bearing witness to her anguish as she writhed and wept. They could feel the urgency of her hunger. They understood that she faced certain death if she didn't eat soon. They knew what had to be done.

“...We won't let you die...”

With tear-filled eyes, Six gazed up at them, her mind racing with confusion and fear. Helplessly, she watched as her shadows floated toward the wrapped-up corpse beneath the wooden bench. Panic surged within her at what they were about to do, but she was too weak, too powerless to intervene.

As the shadows unraveled the corpse, Six's heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to scream, to protest, but her voice failed her. She could only watch in horror as the shadows seemed to search for something within the decaying flesh. The sight made her stomach churn with dread.

Then, without warning, the shadows delved into the corpse, causing it to twitch unnervingly. Six recoiled in shock, her eyes wide with terror. She couldn't comprehend what was happening until the shadows emerged again, holding a white mass in their shadowy claws. Some of it fell to the ground, wriggling and squirming.

Six's initial dread gave way to relief as she realized what it was. Maggots.

Her shadows approached Six once more, offering the gathered maggots. Despite being a source of protein that could stave off her hunger, Six hesitated. The knowledge that they had originated from her own decomposing body made her stomach churn with revulsion. She couldn't shake off the unsettling thought that her shadows might force her to consume part of her own rotten flesh.

“...The flesh is too rotten. Did you really think we would've given you yourself to feed on?” Her shadows responded to Six's unspoken fears, holding out the maggots a bit closer to her.

Tears welled up in Six's eyes as she looked up at them, the initial shock of her assumption slowly fading. She weakly shook her head, attempting to sit up, but her shadows gently pushed her back down with another tendril, their silent insistence clear.

“You're too weak, swallow your pride and let us feed you.”

Six would have growled in anger if she had more strength, but her hunger prevailed. Reluctantly, she let her head fall back onto the blankets and parted her lips, opening her mouth to accept the food. Her shadows, bit by bit, gently fed her. Swallowing each bite, ignoring the wriggling and squirming of the maggots in her throat, she began to eat more eagerly, her stomach demanding sustenance.

Over the next few minutes, her shadows retrieved more maggots from the corpse, and Six continued to eat until her stomach was full. She tried not to dwell on where the maggots had come from, but she knew she had to eat. No matter how disgusting it was to her, it wasn't the worst thing she had ever eaten.

Her thoughts drifted back to the Maw and the desperate measures she took to survive there. Raw flesh, a rat, a Nome... She clenched her eyes shut, forcefully banishing those memories. They belonged to a time long gone, buried deep in the past. Yet, were they truly gone? As she swallowed the last of the maggots, her stomach finally quieted, her gaze involuntarily shifting to the corpse beneath the wooden bench... her own child's remains.

It made no sense why it was here. She still couldn't wrap her mind around it. The more she pondered, the more confusing it became. A part of her urged acceptance, to stop dwelling on it. But another part clamored for answers. Yet, deep down, she feared that unraveling the mystery would lead her to a truth so profound, so unsettling, that it could shatter what little remained of her sanity. If it wasn't already teetering on the edge.

Her attention snapped back to her shadows, now nestled against her chest, their presence a soothing weight against her as she breathed more steadily. It was odd how they had become such a source of comfort in such a short time. Just a fortnight ago, she hadn't known they could even speak, let alone offer solace in this way. Yet here they were, almost cuddling with her.

Six welcomed the comfort, though her pride begrudgingly accepted it. After all, no one else was around to witness her moments of weakness, except for the non-human entity lying atop her.

“...Um, shadows?” Six's voice broke the silence, calm yet tinged with curiosity.

Her shadows responded, their form shifting slightly closer to her face. “...Yes?”

Six swallowed hard, her mind racing as she prepared to ask her question. She needed to know if they had any insight into the bizarre circumstances surrounding her captivity. “Do you know why the Hunter is still alive? Or why my... my own younger corpse is here...?”

They paused before answering, a gesture that only heightened Six's nerves. Eventually, they settled back against her chest.

“...We... don't know for sure ourselves... but it has something to do with time.”

Six's eyes widened. “...Time?”

“Yes. As you know, time spans our lives, and fate is a point in time that represents our destiny. So, one possible reason for these occurrences, if they are not supposed to be here as you said, is that time may be starting to overlap.”

“...Overlap...? I-I don't understand...”

With a sigh that seemed to echo through the dimly lit room, her shadows attempted to clarify. “...The nature of time is difficult to explain, but the explanation you seek is most likely that your timeline and your younger self's timeline overlapped somehow. That's why the Hunter is alive, and you found your younger self's corpse in this very same room where you spend your own time now.”

Six, furrowing her eyebrows, attempting to comprehend the shadows' explanation. They were a higher being than her and understood things better. “…So...you're saying that my life and my past overlapped?”

“...In a way yes,” her shadows confirmed.

Six was now more confused then before. “...But... how is that possible?” 

“...We don't know, but we have a suspicion. We've had it since we stepped foot on this land.” 

Six grasped the implication—they meant "we" as in both of them—and it had only been half a month. But her shadows had never spoken before. Now, everything was different, and it didn't make sense. Furrowing her eyebrows, Six felt her heartbeat quicken. “...What is your suspision?” 

“...That time itself has been disturbed, and events are all over the place now,” they replyed, their voice deeper then usual, signaling their seriousness.

Six was utterly shocked. 'Can that really happen? Time itself being disturbed? But... how? How is that possible, and who could possibly be capable of such a thing?' Her mind raced with questions. She couldn't grasp the intricacies of it all; after all, she was just a girl trying to survive in this unforgiving world. And now, her own shadows were whispering to her that time had been... shifted? Disturbed?

As her thoughts swirled in confusion, she delved into memories of the powerful beings she had encountered. There was herself—perhaps her own powers had unknowingly caused this disruption. Then there was the Lady, whom Six had vanquished. Could her demise have somehow torn at the fabric of time? And what about the enigmatic Pale City, the imposing Tower... and Mono—

Six's eyes widened in disbelief, a gasp escaping her lips. 

Mono... He was dead. 

But... the memory flooded back from when she was still on the mainland. The dream, vivid and haunting, where she inhabited her younger self at nine years old, standing once more in the Tower's eerie expanse. She followed the familiar melody echoing through the corridors, leading her to the TV screen... static-filled, and the sensation of a large hand pressing against the other side when she touched it...

In that moment, she realized there were only two beings capable of interacting with a screen like that, manipulating the static, the TVs. But both of them where dead. Or...where they?

Six's thoughts slammed to a halt.

Could it be? Was Mono... alive?

But how? She had seen him plummet into the void; surely, that fall should have been fatal. Yet, a nagging doubt lingered. She hadn't witnessed his lifeless body. And that dream...

Was it truly just a dream?

Six had traversed the realms of her dreams before, where reality blurred with the surreal. Since that dream, chaos had consumed her world: her shadows speaking, her capture, and now this, trapped in a room from the past... Could it be that Mono, if he survived, had shattered time with his static powers? Was that him in the TV screen when their hands had touched?

Six was suddenly overwhelmed by the whirlwind of theories racing through her mind, causing her to grimace. It was all unfolding too quickly, too intensely. Just when she had almost starved, now everything—the past, the present, the future—teetered on the brink of uncertainty. Was she trapped? Frozen in time?

The notion shook her to the core. How did one even get unstuck from time?

But the thought of Mono still being alive... even though she never had thought about that, it sent shivers down her spine. It scared her. A lot.

If he were indeed alive, he was out there, possibly harboring a thirst for revenge against her for what she had done. And his powers, the static... She had glimpsed their potential as children, but that was ages ago. After ten years, who knew how much stronger he had become?

Suddenly, Six felt a surge of fear grip her, despite not knowing for certain if he truly was alive.

Would he come after her? Would he seek revenge? Would he—

“...Six,” her shadows interjected, “...Calm down, you’re panicking.”

Six snapped her eyes open; she hadn’t even realized they were shut tight during her chaotic thoughts. Glancing down at the shadows on her chest, she noticed her breaths were rapid and ragged. She hadn’t even noticed. Her shadows were right; she was in full-blown panic mode. All because of the mere possibility of him being alive.

Her lips quivered as she voiced the only question hanging in the air. “...Is... Could it be that he... that he is alive?”

Her shadows rose once more, their gaze locking onto hers, staying silent for what felt like an eternity. They understood the weight of her question, aware of the weight of their response.

“...No,” they replied calmly, watching her tension ease slightly. “...You’re overthinking. No one could survive a fall like that; he’s gone.”

Six swallowed hard, and in an instant, all her previous thoughts, doubts, just evaporated. It was as if her mind had hit the reset button, returning to its former state. Her shadows were right, and deep down, she knew it too; Mono was gone. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, clinging to the hope that he might still be alive after all these years. But deep down, she knew it was impossible. With a nod, Six closed her eyes.

No, it couldn't have been him causing this disturbance in time. Mono had been strong, sure, but not that strong. There had to be another reason, another explanation.

As she lingered with her eyes shut, exhaustion washed over her, weighing her down. Six found herself slipping into sleep, her mind still grappling with the whirlwind of events. Yet, just before she drifted off, something changed. Outside the window, a soft white flurry began, casting a gentle glow into the room.

Six was already lost in dreams as the first snowflakes danced through the solitary window, painting the world outside in a tranquil blanket of white.

Chapter Text

Mono made the final leap onto the rooftop, the rain slicking the surface and making it slippery. Yet, he navigated it with practiced ease. Over the past weeks, he had regained his footing, mastering the art of movement even in adverse conditions. Below him, the pitter-patter of smaller steps echoed, and he glanced back to see Little trailing behind.

Mono quickly found a problem.

Little's petite frame made climbing difficult, unlike Mono's.

“Need a hand, Little?” he offered, holding back a chuckle at her adorable attempts to follow him.

A firm shake of her head and an indignant huff were her response. Behind his paper bag, Mono rolled his eyes and redirected his gaze forward. “Suit yourself,” he remarked with a hint of amusement, knowing exactly what would follow.

With a calm manner, he rose to his feet, squared his shoulders, and pretended indifference, as though he planned to move on without her. 

He silently counted to eight (a new personal record, he mused) before the familiar whine from Little reached his ears. Suppressing a chuckle once more, Mono recognized that this situation had become a regular occurrence during their scavenging expeditions over the past week. Blue's injuries still prevented him from walking, although he was gradually recovering back at their base.

Mono turned around again, hands on hips, looking sternly at Little, who blushed with embarrassment.

“Every single time you insist on coming along when I could handle it myself, but no, little miss wants to tag along only to get stuck at every turn, yet stubbornly refuses my help...” Mono scoffed down at her, which made her giggle. 

Little then stood up on her tiptoes, outstretched her arms towards him, and made grabby hands.

Shaking his head, Mono crouched down on one knee and leaned forward to scoop her up with both hands. She eagerly climbed up his arm to his shoulder, plopped down, and held onto his coat's collar, apparently done with walking on her own feet. Mono glared disapprovingly at her from behind the holes of his paper bag, but she cheekily stretched out her small pink tongue at him. Rude little thing, he thought.

But he didn't mind; they were much faster this way anyway. With Little comfortably perched on his shoulder, Mono could walk much further without her trailing behind. So, being used as transport wasn't half bad. Probably.

He picked up the pace again, feeling the muscles in his body respond eagerly to his mind's commands. Mono darted across the rooftops, finding them safer than the streets below, effortlessly leaping over gaps between buildings. 

His body felt significantly stronger compared to just two weeks prior. Having fully healed from his wounds sustained at the Tower, Mono had begun to regain much of his lost muscle mass, aided by the at least two meals a day, sometimes even warm ones, and the near-daily scavenging runs. His physical strength was further growing, and enhancing his strength and stamina by the day.

Mono welcomed it and was glad that his body was back to its normal, healthy shape, even a bit more than he was used to, as he had begun to notice that his coat was getting a bit tight on his upper body, arms, and shoulders. Nonetheless, he found reassurance in his well-being and the progress he had made.

The siblings had grown more attached to him too, and he to them, as they supported each other in their struggle for survival. They also had gained healthier weight and were doing much better than before. They also had buried Blue's friends. However, Mono found himself increasingly troubled by something he had observed in the distant clouds over the sea on one of their scavenge runs, on the outskirts of the Pale City: 

Snow. 

The impending cold season posed a significant challenge, threatening to make survival, although manageable for now, much more difficult in the coming months. They needed to prepare for winter, even though it meant Mono would be forced to stay in the City for longer, something he didn't exactly want to do.

Thus, he had begun to toy with the idea of bringing the two siblings along on his journey out of the Pale City. It was a dangerous thought, both for himself and the children, as he would be (and already was) responsible for them. He would need to look out for them and provide for them.

However, leaving right now, was out of the question. Even though he had started to prepare extensively. Blue was still injured, and they couldn't travel until he had fully recovered. So, in a somewhat frustrating turn of events, Mono was stuck, unable to proceed as planned—

A gentle tug on his paper bag snapped Mono out of his thoughts, causing him to stop running and glance at Little out of the corner of his eye. 

Little furrowed her brows and signed something with her hands. Having spent time with them, Mono grasped the point of her message. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he understood what she was trying to say, silently cursing himself. It seemed he had been so consumed by his thoughts that he had accidentally passed the shop they had intended to scavenge today. 

Clearly, he hadn't been paying attention, especially since Little had been trying to get his attention. 

Frustrated with himself, he rolled his shoulders back and turned around. Mono muttered a quick apology to Little and picked up the pace once more, this time heading in the right direction.

. . .

Breathing heavily after running for a few minutes, Mono came to a halt on the side of a rooftop, crouching down to catch his breath while scanning the streets below for potential dangers. Little clung tighter to his coat's collar, looking visibly frightened, as she always did during this part of their scavenging runs. 

Blue had explained to Mono that Little had been traumatized when she was younger, to the extent that she lost the ability to speak. Understandably, she was very afraid of any Adults lingering in the streets.

Mono tilted his head slightly to the side, this time checking for unusual noises after the street was visibly clear from any threats. Satisfied with the silence, he tensed his shoulders and leaped from the roof, landing soundlessly on the wet street, his legs softening his fall. Mono could jump considerable distances now, thanks to his size and newfound strength.

Still keeping a low profile, Mono approached their target: a grocery store combined with a clothing shop.

Quietly, he pushed open the front door and swiftly reached up to the ceiling to prevent the little bell from ringing, that would normally ring when someone entered, successfully silencing it. They couldn't risk alerting anyone nearby. Closing the door behind him, Mono crouched down and allowed Little to hop off his shoulder. And, together, they silently began to scour the shop for anything useful.

Mono wandered over to a door that was most likely the entrance to a storeroom, or, as it was also known, the place where the good stuff was stored. He paused before it, then politely tried the handle—which was, of course, locked. He mentally groaned; well, it was worth a try. The reason he attempted this was to avoid making noise by banging the door open. But it seemed like he had no other choice.

Taking a step back and turning his shoulder to the door, Mono rammed into it—and broke it open with a loud bang. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Let's hope nothing heard that.

But shifting his gaze to the goods inside, he had hit the jackpot: the room was stacked with canned doses, snack bars, and even sweets.

Mono went to work. 

He knelt down with one knee on the cold floor and grabbed his bag from his shoulder, placing it down and starting to grab things from the shelves, stuffing them into his bag. He knew it was going to be heavy, even for him, when they left again—

A sudden scream shattered the stillness of the shop.

Alarmed, Mono released the can he had been about to place in his bag, the metallic clang as it hit the ground echoing through the silence. His heart raced, eyes widening as he strained to listen. There it was—the unmistakable sounds of struggle emanating from the other half of the shop. 

Little.

Without a thought, he sprang up and dashed out of the room, across the shop, jumping over the checkout counter and shelves. Once again, thanks to his size, it was fast and easy. The sounds of struggle continued as Mono reached the other side of the room in a heartbeat, almost colliding with the shelves there in his panic. He came to a brief halt as he saw Little and another child fighting on the ground, a discarded and torn snack bar lying beside them.

Mono couldn't hold back a growl of anger as he rushed over and knelt down to help Little, who looked bad, with a bruised cheek and bloody lips. The other child was bigger than Little and stronger, but the scream had come from the other girl who was attacking Little, as the smaller girl had managed to poke her in the eye.

Mono crouched down and snatched Little from underneath the attacker, grabbing the girl by her red hair and forcefully tugging her back, making her scream in pain. Mono paid no heed to her cries as he focused on protecting Little, holding her close to his chest while she clung desperately to him. Slowly, he raised the red-haired girl up to his face, holding her up before his paper bag.

She fell eerily silent.

A silent stare-down followed, with Mono clearly dominating the space in the room, until the red-haired girl, still held up by Mono's hand, sniffed and lowered her gaze to the ground, submitting. Mono gave her another warning growl before shifting his attention back down to Little on his chest. He swiftly bowed his head and inspected her. Thankfully, the fight hadn't escalated beyond control, thanks to Mono's timely intervention. He heaved a relieved sigh, giving Little a questioning nod, which she returned, burying her head in his coat. She was mostly okay, just scared.

Mono's attention returned to the girl hanging by his hand, narrowing his eyes at her, yet remaining silent. It was she who spoke up first, albeit very hesitantly, thanks to Mono's intense hostile glare.

“I—I w-was h-hungry,” she said softly, her voice sounding raw and raspy, as if she hadn't had water in a while. Mono ignored her tone.

“And being hungry excuses attacking another child for food, even though there's more than enough in this shop?” he hissed, tensely gesturing to the shelves beside them. 

The red-haired girl flinched and curled up into herself, arms wrapped around her, clearly afraid. Mono watched as she began to tremble and tear up, realizing he was holding her hair too tightly, evident from the pain in her expression.

Mono released her, allowing her to fall to the wooden floor with a thud. She let out a whine, clutching her hair and staring up at him with teary eyes. Mono grabbed the snack bar she had attacked Little for and threw it over to her. She stumbled as she caught it, staring up at Mono with wide eyes. 

“Next time, even if you are desperate, look around first before you attack someone. If I had been an Adult, you would have been dead,” Mono said grimly, standing back up to his full height while holding eye contact with the girl.

“...B-but you are an Adult?” she responded, tilting her head in confusion. 

Mono almost choked and wanted to truly show her how much like an Adult he could be. But he held himself and his anger back, and with a last huff, turned on his heel, Little held close to his chest, and walked back over to the storage room. He retrieved his almost full bag and slung it over his shoulder. Turning once more, he intended to leave the shop and head back to the front door, but the red-haired girl was standing in the doorway. 

With a narrowed gaze that betrayed her intentions, he held her stare, silently pondering whether she truly intended to provoke a confrontation. While he harbored deep compassion for children, this particular one had harmed Little, and his protective instincts wouldn't allow her to hurt her again.

Suddenly, the red-haired girl's expression softened, catching Mono off guard as she now appeared much more vulnerable. Her gesture of bowing her head surprised him, eliciting an uncomfortable tightening in his chest.

“...Y-you treat this girl like she is your sister...and you are apparently not like the other Adults... I know this is wrong to ask after I attacked her but—”

“No.”

The little girl flinched and glanced up at Mono after he gave his answer to her question, before she could even ask it. He already knew.

“...N-no...? But you don't even know what I was gonna—”

“I won't take you in, so, no.” Mono replied coldly, feeling Little tense up against his chest.

The red-haired girl looked hurt for a second before understanding crossed her features, and she clenched her fists. “I understand... and I'm sorry for attacking your sister.”

“She isn't my sister, just someone I... I care about...” Mono was a bit shocked at how naturally that came from his lips. It had been a long time since he had... cared.

The little girl scoffed and tilted her head up at him. “...So you take in a random girl, but not me?”

He was left speechless by the audacity of the little redhead, attempting to twist the situation to make him feel guilty.

In a swift motion, too quick for her to react, Mono crouched down to her level, bringing his face mere inches from hers. She gasped and recoiled, hindered by the doorstep behind her. Mono's gaze bore into her, his eyes visible through the holes of his paper bag.

“...Because this 'random girl' knows her manners and doesn't have the audacity to be as rude and careless as someone else right before me... someone who doesn't know when to stop before things turn dangerous...”

The implicit threat in his words was unmistakable, and the red-haired girl began to tremble, the defiance in her eyes fading s she realized Mono was on the verge of taking action. “...I-I'm s-sorry...” she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes, consumed by fear.

Mono froze.

What... was he doing?

Was he really threatening a little girl?

Instantly, he recoiled and stood upright, taking a step back. He hadn't realized the severity of his actions until now, and the realization that he had frightened an innocent child, who, like them, fought for survival. Guilt and anger at himself surged through him with such intensity that he let out a frustrated growl. Adjusting the bag over his shoulders, he walked past the still frightened girl, muttering, “...No, I am the one who is sorry...”

He didn't care if she heard it; he suddenly just wanted to get away, feeling suffocated by the air in the shop.

He bolted out of the shop, his steps quick and urgent, returning to the rainy streets now cloaked in darkness. But Mono groaned audibly as an unexpected shiver ran down his spine, a surge of pain catching him off guard. He stumbled towards the nearest wall of a building, leaning heavily against it as he struggled to catch his breath, bewildered by the sudden pain coursing through him.

Closing his eyes tightly, he attempted to calm his racing heart, but the pain persisted. Then, he noticed a strange warmth in his right hand. Startled, he brought it up to his face, discovering with a mix of shock and confusion that static crackled within his palm.

He hadn't summoned his powers. He hadn't even consciously called upon them. Yet, here they were, crackling with an unsettling energy beyond his control.

Panicked, he tried to suppress them, to push them away, desperate to keep them hidden from Little—

A gasp from her told him it was too late.

Grimacing, Mono turned his head down and saw Little staring at his hand, her eyes wide as they fixated on the uncontrollable static dancing within his palm. He felt a surge of fear, convinced she now saw him as a monster, something abnormal. His panic intensified, his breathing becoming more labored with each passing moment.  She's going to scream, to fight—

But then, to his shock, Little reached out her hand, extending it toward the crackling static in Mono's palm.

With a loud gasp, Mono jerked his hand away from her, out of her reach. “Little, no! Don't touch it, it will kill you!” he screamed down at her, causing her to yelp in surprise and stare up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Little looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes, confusion and fear evident in her expression.

Scared of him.

Mono focused on her, not even noticing that the static had vanished from his hand, and gently held Little with both hands, one hand tentatively reaching out to touch her tear-streaked cheek. But she flinched back, causing Mono to tense up and lean his shoulder against the wall.

“I'm...” he stammered, looking at her desperately, “I'm sorry, Little... I didn't mean to yell at you... please forgive me.”

She sniffed and gazed at him for a long moment, tears still streaming down her face. Mono felt worse than he ever had, furious at himself for losing control of his emotions, bewildered by the sudden activation of his powers, and disgusted with himself for shouting at Little. His shoulders slumped, and he let his head hang, a whirlwind of thoughts raging in his mind, each one more tormenting than the last, until suddenly—he felt a touch on his palm.

His head snapped back up to look at Little, who was gently nuzzling his palm with closed eyes, holding it with both her hands. Silently accepting his apology and seemingly unafraid. Mono gasped in relief, tilting his head at her, gently stroking her head as it was too small to fit in his palm.

“I'm really sorry...” He apologized again, but Little opened her eyes and began to sign with her hands; “It's okay, I'm scared too.”

Mono paused, realizing what she meant. She was right; he was scared too, just like her. Afraid of his own powers, of what they could do when out of control. And Mono realized Little was comforting him, even though he should be the one to comfort her after yelling at her.

He let her go and lifted her up to his shoulder, allowing her to climb up and hold on to him like she did on their way here. As he turned, about to jump up to a nearby roof, Mono glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, noticing her curious gaze, her trust in him evident despite everything.

“Little... I... I would appreciate it if you would keep that to yourself... what happened,”  Mono said gently, holding her gaze, silently pleading for her understanding.

To his relief, Little nodded, resting against his throat and grasping the collar of his coat. Mono smiled sadly. “Thank you...”

She didn't reply, so Mono straightened up and began moving again, back to their home.

Unbeknownst to both of them, the red-haired girl stood at the showcase window of the shop, her eyes wide with shock at what she had just witnessed.

Their journey back was silent and swift, and about half an hour later, they found themselves back at the sewer entrance and the door to the side room. Mono bowed down, opened the door silently, and entered. Blue was already waiting for them, and he welcomed them back warmly. Little and Mono remained silent about what had happened outside the shop, but Blue noticed the bruised cheek Little had and, naturally, asked what had occurred.

While they all ate dinner, Mono explained the events, and eventually, the siblings drifted off to sleep. Meanwhile, Mono found himself unable to rest. His mind was consumed by thoughts of what had transpired outside the shop and the encounter with the red-haired girl. Leaning against the wall, he lifted his right hand to his face and gazed at it, pondering why and how he had not sensed his powers activating. The realization dawned on him that he had simply not noticed.

And that realization was incredibly dangerous.

What if he had accidentally touched Little?

He was well aware of the capabilities of his powers, having witnessed time and again how they could drain the very essence from someone, leaving behind nothing but a static shadow. His other self, the monstrous entity that had haunted the City for so long, had a penchant for preying on children, all in the desperate hope of finding her again.

And then, today, he had allowed himself to become so consumed with anger towards that red-haired girl, merely because she had stirred memories of her within him, that he just—

Suddenly, Mono gasped, the realization hitting him like a bolt of lightning. His emotions. His rage... they had triggered it. They had sensed his fury towards someone, towards the red-haired girl, and instinctively, his powers had begun to surge. It was a reaction he hadn't even noticed, a reflex honed over years of existence.

As he absorbed the gravity of the situation, shock washed over him. His powers had almost been poised to drain that girl's very soul in response to his anger... He had nearly succumbed to the same impulses as the thin monster would have. He had nearly done something he would have done.

Without even noticing it. 

Almost naturally.

Mono was suddenly overwhelmed by a profound sense of fear. It gripped him fiercely, real and potent. He realized he posed a threat to everyone around him because he could lose control of his emotions at any moment. Reflecting on recent events, he understood the gravity of his actions: he had nearly killed the red-haired girl unintentionally, had lashed out at Little, and had only comprehended the cause of his powers' activation after the fact.

His breaths came in ragged gasps as he clenched his fists, his head heavy with the weight of confusion and fear. He wanted to escape the City, but with Little and Blue by his side, the thought filled him with apprehension. After what happened with Little, he couldn't shake the nagging doubt about their safety. 

About their safety...with him.

. . .

As the days wore on, Mono's unease intensified. He felt a pressing need to discuss the idea of leaving the City with the siblings, longing for a swift departure. However, he grappled with conflicting emotions.

During their regular scavenging expeditions, Little grew increasingly curious about his static powers. Much to his annoyance. Despite his initial attempts to dodge her questions, he couldn't ignore her natural curiosity. So, seizing the opportunity, Mono tried to explain and emphasized the danger his abilities posed to others—a mere touch from him could be fatal. Consequently, he was careful to refrain from using his powers, whether intentionally or not. Yet, his unease persisted, fueled by the fear of being detected by the Eyes once again. To mitigate the risk, he remained vigilant, avoiding going out whenever possible.

But then, Blue's condition took a turn for the worse.

While his leg appeared to be healing, an unnoticed infection had quietly festered within the inner flesh, hidden from view.

Blue groaned in discomfort as Mono knelt down to examine his leg, with Little anxiously by her brother's side, clinging to him. With care, Mono peeled back the bandages, which Blue had been changing himself until now. And immediately—the pungent smell of decaying flesh assaulted Mono's senses, nearly causing him to retch. It was far worse than he had expected. He could tell this had been like this for some time... and yet, Blue had stubbornly insisted on tending to the bandages alone... now he knew why.

“...Blue,” Mono's voice was deep and tense, “How long have you kept silent about this?”

Little gasped and stared up at Mono, shocked by his accusation. He paid her no mind, his attention fixed on Blue, who breathed heavily with half-lidded eyes, his skin sickly pale.

“...S-since a week...” Blue's response came slowly, tinged with guilt.

Little whimpered, tears brimming in her eyes as she grabbed Blue's shoulder, shaking him with a mix of anger and concern.  He hadn't even told in his own sister it seemed. And he hadn't told Mono probably because he felt guilty about burdening him. Mono felt a pang of deep upset, sitting back down on his knees and glancing at Blue, who hung his head in shame and buried his face in the blankets. Little's desperation grew, and she eventually settled into a hug with her brother, feeling lost and unsure of what to do next.

Mono, meanwhile, understood precisely what could help Blue's pain. However, he staunchly opposed the idea, dreading the prospect of revisiting that place. 

But, glancing back at Blue, whose injured leg occasionally twitched in pain, Mono felt the weight of the situation pressing upon him. It was clear; if left unattended for much longer, Blue risked losing not only his leg but also his life. Despite his reservations, Mono knew that he had no alternative. As so often it seems.

Silently, he rose to his feet and turned away from the cramped confines of the room. Ignoring the puzzled sounds emanating from Blue and Little, he grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and made his way to the door. With a tense grip, he opened it, stepped out, then firmly shut it behind him, mentally bracing himself for the task ahead. 

Mono felt the urgency weighing heavy on his shoulders, knowing that Blue's chances of survival dwindled with each passing moment.

Without uttering a word, Mono exited the sewer and returned to the streets. Time was of the essence, and he knew exactly where to find what he needed.

. . .

It felt as though Mono had stepped back into the very night he first breached the Hospital's front window—utterly still, utterly dark. 

The air bore the weight of decay and antiseptic, a dense mixture that hung heavily amidst a silence so profound it swallowed every sound. Yet, undeterred by the dimness, Mono pushed forward, his determination unwavering even in the near-blindness without his trusty flashlight, that had broken long ago. Blue's condition was dire; antibiotics were vital for his survival.

Mono paused, drawing in a deep breath. His senses, almost numb, were sharpened solely by the urgency of finding the antibiotics...and, despite being keenly aware of the risks involved, and despite the promise he had made to himself—he lifted his right hand.

Summoning a spark of static, he watched intently as it crackled softly, gradually merging into a glowing orb in his palm. The ethereal light cast eerie shadows that danced over the chipped paint and broken tiles of the hospital walls, imparting a haunting charm to the surroundings. Now able to see, he moved deeper into the hospital, his steps slow and careful, echoing in the empty hallways. 

Not far in, Mono sensed their presence. They had found him. And they began to talk.

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽; ͓̽W͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽y͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽p͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽u͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽g͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽f͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽k͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽w͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽s͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓̽?”

Mono ignored them, striding down the hallway, mentally noting each corner to navigate his path. However, despite his best efforts, he sensed their penetrating gaze delving into his thoughts, probing for answers. 

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽t͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽d͓̽; ͓̽A͓͓̽̽h͓̽, ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽s͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽f͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽m͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽f͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽y͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽c͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽d͓̽,” they said in his mind, their tone tinged with amusement. 

Mono clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to lash out at them, he could taste the metallic tang of blood.

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ a͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽k͓̽; ͓̽D͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽b͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽s͓̽a͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽m͓̽? ͓̽D͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽g͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽y͓̽ ͓̽c͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽? ͓̽E͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽h͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽h͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓̽ ͓̽l͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽m͓̽a͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽, ͓̽w͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽y͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽p͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽e͓̽?”

“Because I care, because I'm not the emotionless monster you tried to shape me into,” Mono growled, the static in his palm crackling brighter in response to his rising anger.

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽l͓̽; ͓̽w͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽d͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓̽'͓̽t͓̽ ͓̽h͓̽a͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽o͓̽; ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ͓̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽n͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽i͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽e͓̽. ͓̽E͓͓̽̽v͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽m͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽f͓̽ a͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ͓̽t͓̽a͓͓̽̽k͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽h͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽m͓͓̽̽e͓̽.” they stated calmly.

Mono's shoulders began to tremble with anger, and he halted in his tracks, the static in his hand pulsating with increasing intensity. He fell into a momentary silence, but soon a smile crept onto his lips—the dangerous, silent kind rarely seen on Mono.

“Oh? Does he..?” His voice, low and raspy, simmered with anger yet carried an unsettling calmness. “Then you admit that I am worse than you? Greater than you?”

A growl of frustration emanated from the Eyes in his mind, fueling Mono's satisfaction. The static in his hand intensified, casting a brilliant glow that illuminated the entire hallway, while his eyes took on an unnatural silver glow as he narrowed them.

“͓̽W͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽w͓̽a͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽n͓̽; ͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽l͓̽ ͓̽N͓͓̽̽E͓͓̽̽V͓͓̽̽E͓͓̽̽R͓̽ ͓̽b͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽g͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓̽a͓͓̽̽n͓̽ ͓̽U͓͓̽̽S͓̽, ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽o͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽C͓͓̽̽R͓͓̽̽E͓͓̽̽A͓͓̽̽T͓͓̽̽E͓͓̽̽D͓̽ ͓̽Y͓͓̽̽O͓͓̽̽U͓̽. ͓̽Y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓̽ ͓̽s͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽d͓̽ ͓̽k͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽w͓̽ ͓̽y͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽r͓̽ ͓̽p͓͓̽̽l͓̽a͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽e͓̽—”

“And you should shut up.”

Mono's hand clenched tightly, the static within having grown into a pulsating, glowing ball of fury. With fierce determination, he squeezed it until it erupted into a blast of energy so powerful that the walls around him trembled and warped under its force. In a swift surge of raw power, Mono expelled the Eyes from his consciousness, the violent rupture of the connection being severed sending painful shivers coursing through him.

As the echoes of the static blast subsided, a profound silence enveloped the air, interrupted only by the faint reverberations echoing down the hall.

Without pausing to dwell on the moment, and reserving his tendency to overthink for a potential panic attack later, Mono squared his shoulders and pressed forward.

A few minutes later, Mono found himself back in the room where he had first discovered the antibiotics, standing once more before the shelf. Without a word, he commanded his static into a glowing orb, allowing it to hover in the air above him. With his hands now free, he swiftly gathered the medicine and a set of bandages, the static ball casting a soft, comforting glow over the room as he worked.

Once he had everything he needed, Mono slung the full bag over his shoulder and silently left the room. The glowing orb of static trailed behind him, lighting his way down the hallway.

Suddenly, a rotting smell assaulted his senses, causing Mono to pause.

Then, a gurgle followed by a groan echoed from ahead—the unmistakable sounds of someone dragging themselves across the ground. Or, more closely, along the ceiling.

Mono let out a sigh and tilted his head. “Well... look who's back from the dead...”

An angry gurgle served as the reply, and slowly the eerie form of the Doctor was illuminated by Mono's static ball as he crawled along the ceiling. The Doctor appeared rotten, his neck still broken from when Mono had snapped it, with part of his skull visible and flesh dangling uselessly as he inched closer to Mono, who remained unimpressed.

“I guess this has something to do with the Eyes, them trying to stop me...” Mono thought out loud, his voice tinged with frustration as he narrowed his gaze at the approaching Doctor. 

“What a pathetic attempt...”

With a swift motion, Mono lifted his hand and directed the floating static ball directly at the Doctor. “I'm not in the mood; go back to the dead,” he said calmly, though his eyes glowed with intensity.

With a swift and fluid motion, he swung the glowing ball, aiming directly for the undead Doctor's empty eye socket. The impact was thunderous as the static exploded into a powerful blast, engulfing the Doctor in a torrent of energy just as Mono had done with the Eyes.

In an instant, the Doctor's body was torn apart, flesh and body parts erupting from the ceiling in a gruesome spectacle that sprayed the hallway with a horrifying image of gore and decay. Deep red splatters of blood, along with pieces of rotten flesh, painted the walls and floor in a macabre pattern.

A vile mixture of blood and entrails rained down, some droplets even reaching Mono's paper bag, staining it with the grotesque evidence of the carnage.

Disgusted, Mono tilted back his head, his expression twisted in revulsion, and slowly wiped the blood away with his free hand.

Not wanting to linger a moment longer, as anger simmered within him at the interruption of his task, Mono pressed on. He paid no heed to the grisly remnants of the Doctor as he walked barefoot through the hallway. Summoning another floating static ball for light, he made his way back outside to the rain-soaked streets of the Pale City. All that mattered now was returning to the siblings.

Through the heavy rain that had begun since his departure, Mono was drenched, exhausted, and silently seething at the ordeal he had endured. But his focus remained: getting to Blue and apply the antibiotics. Unpacking his thoughts could wait.

Approaching the sewer entrance, Mono grasped its top, bowing down to enter, his gaze fixed on the darkness ahead. Yet, just as he neared the entrance to their shelter, where he had left Little and Blue only half an hour ago, a chilling sight greeted him.

The door was smashed in. 

Chapter Text

Mono's bag slipped from his shoulder with a resounding crash, its contents rattling like a cacophony of dissonant bells as they tumbled to the ground and splashed into a dirty puddle beside him. He didn't react, remaining motionless, his gaze obscured beneath his tattered paper bag, fixated on the remains of the door leading to room where he and the siblings had sought shelter. Where he had left them. The wood was splintered and bent inward, as if something immense had struck it with such force that even the doorframe bore the scars of the violent intrusion.

He feared the worst.

In the blink of an eye, Mono darted towards the shattered door, gripping the broken doorframe with both hands as he thrust his head inside, searching the darkness frantically. But the room remained cloaked in shadows. His breath quickened with rising panic. “Blue?” he called out, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear as he looked around. “Little?” 

Clinging tightly to the doorframe for support, his eyes fell to the ground below, freezing at the sight that sent a chill down his spine—blood stained the floor.

No. No. No, his mind pleaded desperately as he sank to his knees, a trembling hand reaching out towards the bloodstained floor—flinching upon contact—as it was still warm to the touch... 

A hushed sob escaped Mono's throat as his eyes followed the trail of blood across the floor, revealing a small severed leg... white cloth still clinging to it. It was Little's. Another raw sob escaped him as he looked away, not wanting it to be real, until his eyes landed on a small form sprawled amidst blankets, only partially visible in the shadows—exactly, where he had last laid eyes on him half an hour ago.

Mono's voice was only a raspy whisper; “Blue...” 

On his knees, Mono crept over to Blue on the blankets—his knees gliding through the warm blood on the ground as he leaned over his little friend. As more blood slowly oozed from Blue's form, completely staining the blankets beneath him with a deep crimson, Mono's shoulders trembled. It hadn't been long then since they had been attacked. His eyes, now brimming with tears, swept over Blue's body, taking in the sight of his torn-open stomach and spilled guts, as though some wild beast had ripped him apart. Part of his face was missing—ripped away to reveal the bloody skull beneath the flesh, visible through an empty eye socket, staring back at him. The other still held Blue's once radiant—but now glassy—blue eye.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Mono's lips quivered before parting, releasing a heart-wrenching cry as he took off the paper bag on his head, threw it to the side, and bowed down to Blue, resting his forehead on his small chest. His tears flowed, and his entire frame shook with grief. His hands clenched into fists at his side, his mind racing—but then, unexpectedly, he felt it—faint movement beneath his head.

Gasping in shock, Mono paused and lifted his head, staring down at Blue's motionless face—but then he noticed it, or rather heard it: the gurgle of a raspy breath. Blue was still breathing. 

“Blue!” With a sharp intake of breath, Mono jolted upright on his knees, palms outstretched toward the smaller boy, desperation woven into every movement. Blue's remaining glassy eye shifted, then fixed onto Mono, a tear welling up and tracing a path down his blood-streaked cheek, as he recognized him, leaving behind a glistening trail. “...M...m-mo...no—”

“B-Blue, you're alive...!” Mono's frantic gaze swept over Blue's form, tears now streaming freely down his cheeks, a pained smile of hope flickering across his trembling lips. “...H-hold on... I'll try to find something, the bandages—I brought some—” But before Mono could finish his sentence, his vain and frantic words were interrupted.

“...c..come clos...er.” Blue's raspy voice faltered, his eye rolling back into the recesses of his skull.

Mono's heart fractured into a million shards, anguish gripping him as the fleeting hope of Blue's survival slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, his hopeful smile, frozen on his lips. Then, with heavy tears clouding his vision, Mono bowed down to Blue once more...honoring his request and drawing closer to his pale, blood-streaked face, every breath agonizingly slow, and listened.

“...M...my s-sister...” Blue's choked, blood spilling from his lips, “...m...my s-sister...please...save her...protect her...in this...w-world... w-while I c-can't, anymore...” Blue's last words whispered faintly in Mono's ear, a fragile plea that lingered like a haunting melody, before fading into silence...as Blue's breath stilled.

Then, there was silence. 

Mono's whole body slowly began to shake...his eyes narrowed, lips pressed together in raw emotion... His mind eerily silent, mirroring the stillness of the room. Slowly, he reached out for Blue, grabbed his already cooling body, and lifted him up to his chest, Blue's arms limply falling to the side, hanging in the air while Mono pressed his face close to Blue's throat. 

The grief. The intense pain. The memories flooding through his mind—the time with Blue, with Little, the first time he met them, the shared moments, Blue's last plea to him to protect his little sister who was most likely dead—it all consumed Mono.

Before it became too much. 

He pressed his eyes shut, and screamed.

It was a scream, so violent, so raw of pure pain, of pure sorrow, that he could taste blood. It was a scream of loss, of what he had lost. 

In the mere span of three weeks, he had known Blue, Mono only now realized how much he had truly cared for him. For them. Blue had been the one to give him hope again, to show him that together, they could survive, to try to make this world a better place for themselves, to try and fight against it. Blue had reintroduced him to the warmth of friendship, had opened Mono's eyes and fight his inner fears...

However, most importantly, Blue had restored a part of his humanity. 

But now, as Mono held Blue's lifeless body, that fragment of his humanity, along with the pieces he had regained since leaving the Tower...

Had died with Blue.

There was only a hollow feeling, the pace of his heartbeat, now slow and calm. As it was now only beating to keep Mono's body alive. Without feelings.

The minutes stretched by... and so did Mono's thoughts, gradually grinding to a halt... each emotion within him crumbling away, piece by agonizing piece. Except for one—the emotion that had burned within him since the very beginning, that had stayed with him since the Tower, since the years of torment... since everything.

Rage.

And it wasn't just simple rage; it was silent rage born from suffering, forged from the void of an endless cycle of torture, loss, pain, and hate—hate at this clusterfuck of an apocalyptic world that knew no mercy. 

Having been frozen for many long minutes, Mono's body stirred. In those long, silent minutes, Blue's body had grown cold. Glancing down, Mono carefully adjusted Blue's form, cradling it with one hand, while his other hand reached out to the side for the familiar texture of his paper bag that he had thrown away. With a swift motion, he pulled it back over his head, hiding his emotionless face behind the brown paper.

Standing up, Mono exited the room, reentered the sewer, and slowly walked back to the entrance. He briefly stopped and bent down to pick up the dropped bag, slinging it back over his shoulder before continuing his way outward. Outside, the darkness of night had descended upon the streets, accompanied by the relentless patter of raindrops cascading from the clouds. It was as if the sky itself was mourning. In the distance, the faint rumble of thunder added to the somber atmosphere, echoing through the silent city. 

He turned to the side and walked all the way to a house with a backyard, the same place they had buried Blue's friends three weeks prior. With Blue now joining them in their grave. Mono, as he carved out a hole in the dirt of the backyard, became drenched in the heavy rain, his bare feet slowly but surely losing footing in the grass that was turning to mud. But Mono didn't stop digging until he was done and gently placed Blue's body into the dug grave.

Mono stared at him for many long minutes. 

Thinking back to about an hour ago, he remembered the surge of frustration towards Blue for concealing the severity of his injured leg. In that moment of blind focus, Mono had left them vulnerable—alone and defenseless—while he dashed out for antibiotics. Wanting to save Blue, wanting to help him. But it was a mistake, his mistake, one that ultimately led to their deaths—just because Mono had been careless for only a moment.

As most likely...an Adult had torn down the door while he was away and ripped Blue's stomach open and probably eaten Little completely except for her tiny leg... that was the only remnant left of her...that Mono had seen. The memory of Blue's final plea lingered in Mono's thoughts...

...my s-sister...please...save her...protect her...

His eyes remained fixed on Blue's still form, raindrops mingling with his silent tears, slowly filling the grave.

“I'm sorry...” Mono whispered, the words barely audible over the pitter-patter of raindrops. “I'm sorry I can't fulfill your last wish... to protect your sister...”

His voice faltered, choked with emotion, as he struggled to continue. “I'm...sorry that I left you alone.”

Mono stood there, locked in a silent exchange with the lifeless body of Blue before him, longing for a response that would never come. As the rain continued its relentless drumming, Mono's trembling hands reached for the shovel once more. Each movement to cover Blue's remains felt like a sharp dagger thrust into his already broken heart. 

A few minutes later, Blue's grave was covered up, and the burial was complete. Mono had taken care to ensure that nothing could come and dig up Blue's body, as he had made sure to cover part of it with heavy rocks. Mono's eyes wandered over to a spot in the grass beside Blue's grave—the spot where he should have buried Little too, together with her brother. But he didn't see her body. It was probably in the belly of an Adult... wandering around somewhere in the streets of the City, maybe even close to him...

With each passing moment, Mono's fists clenched tighter until the knuckles turned bone-white under the strain of his building rage, consuming his senses. 

Slowly escalating to the point where he didn't even notice his abilities start to respond to him, his eyes flickering with an eerie silver-blue glow as a dark, static energy began to flow out of him. This unseen force disturbed the rain, creating an invisible sphere that repelled the falling drops, forming a shimmering net of water droplets around him, caused by the magnetic field of his static powers. 

He had lost his humanity. He had lost his emotions. He had lost the siblings to his own carelessness... but that didn't mean he couldn't avenge them. The only emotion left inside of him, the rage, demanded it.

Within a heartbeat—Mono vanished from the spot.

And without noticing, for the first time in his life, teleported. 

Teleported back to the street. Back to the sewer... And then further, and further, and further, eyes searching for the one Adult responsible for their deaths.

The buildings and concrete streets crumbled beneath his feet. The way he teleported around every few blocks, the very fabric of reality bent and contorted to the whims of the static's will—his will. He didn't notice because he didn't care. His singular focus was avenging Little and Blue, about finding the Adult... 

And.

Tear. 

It. 

Ḁ̸̬̌̔p̴̜͐͌a̴̯͌̆r̸̘̻͝ť̷̙͇̈́.̴̺̇̾

Mono stopped for a brief second, his momentum driving his shoulder into a nearby wall. The sudden halt of his teleportation, coupled with the sheer force of impact, sent the wall crumbling and scattering in all directions. Traces of static filling the air. The whole building groaned and whined as one of its supporting walls was destroyed. Yet, Mono remained indifferent; he tensed his shoulders and straightened—then teleported again, this time to a cross line over the street ahead. As an Adult was there.

Without another moment's hesitation, while teleporting, Mono materialized behind the Adult. With a swift and brutal motion, he grasped it by the neck and hurled it to the ground. The Adult's anguished cry reverberated through the surrounding airspace as it scrambled to confront its attacker, a desperate plea lost in the night. But Mono didn't care. He knelt down on its chest with one knee, his knee grinding into its chest, anchoring it to the unforgiving pavement.

Then, with primal strength—he tore into the Adult's stomach with his bare hands. 

His fingers plunged into its warm flesh, rending and clawing through muscle and sinew with relentless brutality. The Adult's horrified screams of pure agony filled the air, desperate attempts to escape suffocated by Mono's unyielding strength. Ignoring the pleas for mercy and the gushing blood that coated his hands—and sprayed the rest of him—Mono didn't stop. With a chilling calmness against the carnage, he continued his onslaught. He gutted the Adult, tearing through its abdomen with savage fury. The stench of blood and entrails filled the air as he dug deeper and deeper.

As he finally reached the stomach's contents, he didn't find what he was looking for—the cavity was empty. Little was not there, and the realization only fueled Mono's fury further, driving him to continue his relentless search.

He teleported again, leaving the now-dead Adult gutted open on the street. He searched for the next one, repeating what he had just done to the first, but once again, the stomach was empty. He tried again, found the next one, did it again—and then the next one—and the next one—and the next one—and the next one—

Soon, the city's nearby streets were littered with the dead bodies of Adults that Mono had left in his wake. Now, he stood in the middle of a street with a small fountain, breathing heavily, his shoulders swaying up and down in time with his breaths, stained from top to bottom with blood. Briefly needing time to recover, as the rain around him continued to pour down as if nothing had happened.

Suddenly, the faint sound of a voice reached his ears, and with a low growl—still fully immersed in his primal raw state of rage—he turned his head and looked behind him.

The red-haired girl from the shop, trembling and drenched from the rain, stood there at the side of the street. Her eyes wide with fear, hands holding on to the building as if it could protect her from Mono. Yet, she was brave, and opend her mouth again.

“...Y-you a-are l...looking for h-her...” she stammered out, her voice trembling, the words barely escaping her quivering lips. Mono remained silent, his unnaturally glowing eyes boring into her, suffocating her with their intensity. 

“...I-I know where s-she is I t-tried to help—” 

But a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air, shattering her sentence as Mono teleported in front of her the moment the she had said the word 'she,' and crouched down to her eye level. Once more, coming face to face with her like back in the shop. This time, though, the danger...Mono had warned her about was much more real.

The red-haired girl's heart hammered in her chest as she realized the true danger she was in. The darkness and static that surrounded Mono seemed to swallow everything in its path, leaving her paralyzed in its suffocating embrace. She began to whimper softly in fear, her body shaking more and more uncontrollably.

Mono just watched as the rain fell down around them and said one single word. 

“Where.”

His voice cut through the air like a sharpened edge, its chilling resonance leaving no room for doubt—as her very existence hung in the balance. The weight of his command pressed down upon her like an unbearable burden, each syllable a harrowing reminder of the danger that loomed. She had seen the aftermath of his wrath...the twisted remnants of those who dared cross his path, and the thought of joining them filled her with bone-chilling dread.

“...T-the Adult that took her...” the red-haired girl whispered out, trying to hold Mono's gaze, “...h-he is i-in...the shop where... I-I...I attacked her...”

She watched as Mono's pupils dilated, and the glow of his unnatural eyes intensified. He then stood up and swiftly turned before he vanished before her eyes—a loud blast lingering in the air that almost burst her eardrums as Mono teleported away. 

Mono passed the buildings once more, reality bending as he teleported so fast that the air gave way to his form. Within a few moments, Mono was in front of the shop, and immediately his eyes settled on an Adult within. Its face still bearing a blood trail to its chest—Little's blood. 

He saw red.

The ground beneath him ruptured as he made his final teleportation, crashing mercilessly into the shop and obliterating its walls as if they were made of brittle glass. With a feral snarl, he pounced on the Adult, seizing its face in a vice-like grip. With a sickening crack, he smashed its skull against the unforgiving floor, blood splattering in a grotesque display of violence.

Mono's weight bore down upon the Adult, crushing its feeble attempts to resist. With a primal fury, he plunged his hands deep into its abdomen, tearing through flesh and organs. Just like he did with the others. The Adult's screams were drowned out by the sickening squelch of tearing flesh and the metallic tang of blood that filled the air. 

With each savage rip of the flesh, Mono reveled in the carnage, his actions fueled by a primal instinct that knew only the language of destruction. He ripped and tore until the Adult lay gutted before him, a lifeless husk of its former self, a testament to the brutal efficiency of Mono's wrath.

When he finally reached its stomach, he paused for a moment as he felt that this one was not empty—and without hesitation, he tore open the stomach wall's skin and froze up as it revealed Little's face, her eyes closed. 

Mono grabbed her and tore the remaining flesh away, bringing Little's body to his face. Her leg was still torn off, but otherwise, exept for a weird black spot on her throat, she looked fine, as if she was almost sleeping...and Mono, and his rage, died down. His hands, holding her little body, began to tremble as he could only stare at her, grief once more overcoming him. And, his sorrow consuming him, Mono's head dropped, and he silently began to cry. 

He had discovered her, and now he could lay her to rest beside her brother... yet she remained lifeless. Another soul gone, Mono mourned her deeply, his shoulders trembling and shaking with a blend of anger and despair.

Suddenly, a faint cough broke the silence.

Mono froze, his gaze shifting slowly downward to Little's body cradled in his hands—only to witness her chest twitching.

In a state of shock and panic, Mono's mind raced as he grasped the fact that Little still clung to life. Disregarding the blood and gore that  coated her, he swiftly lowered her to the ground, his movements brimming with urgency and determination. Kneeling beside her, he pressed his hand firmly against her chest, silently urging her heart to beat stronger, her lungs to clear.

But Little's struggles persisted, her gasps for breath growing more desperate by the moment. She needed air—fast.

Mono knew what he had to do to prevent her from slipping away. Drawing upon a memory from the TV screens back in the Tower, he acted swiftly and without hesitation. Hastily, he lifted the corner of his paper bag. Leaning over her, he pressed his mouth to hers, forcing precious air into her lungs while blocking her nose. Moments stretched as he withdrew, his eyes fixed on her, waiting.

Then, with a violent cough, Little gasped for air, her eyes fluttering open in a desperate bid for survival.

As Little gasped for precious oxygen, Mono's heart twisted with relief. He had done it—he had saved her, and the rush of knowing she was alive sent a surge of calm through him. Easing back, he helped her breathing, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps, the intensity of the moment still coursing through his veins.

But amidst the moment, a knot of confusion twisted in Mono's stomach. How had Little survived, trapped in the Adult's stomach for so long without air? For now, he pushed aside the question, focusing solely on the miracle before him—Little, breathing and alive. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

But then Little's agonized screams tore through the air, her fingers digging into her knee where her leg had been brutally torn off—it was still gushing blood, staining the ground crimson.

Reacting swiftly, Mono grasped her, turning her so that the gruesome sight of the severed limb faced him. They had to staunch the blood flow, and they had to do it quickly. Little's cries echoed, a haunting melody of pain and desperation. For a moment, Mono could only stare helplessly. Then, an unsettling idea struck him... it was dangerous, but it could help. 

With no other options in sight, Mono lifted his hand, steeling himself for what he had to do.

He summoned a bright ball of crackling static, its warmth tingling in his palm as it steadily grew more intense. Despite the nagging fear that his powers might inadvertently harm Little, he steeled himself for the attempt. With deliberate care, he aimed to apply just a fraction of the static's energy—a charge that now crackled hotly in his grasp, wisps of steam trailing into the air.

Pausing briefly, Mono took a deep breath before reaching out to firmly grasp Little, preparing for her inevitable response. Then, he held the searing static to her leg, praying fervently for the heat of it to stem the bleeding.

Instantly, Little screams erupted into shrill cries of pain, causing Mono to wince,  though he felt a surge of relief as the static didn't affect her in any other way but precisely what he intended—cauterizing the wound.

“I'm sorry... I'm sorry...” His voice barely rose above a whisper as he watched Little endure the pain he inflicted.

As soon as the wound was fully sealed, he banished the static and immediately moved to comfort Little, who was already crying. With gentle care, Mono lifted her to his chest, mindful of her injured leg, and began to murmur soothing words. “Shhh, I'm sorry... It's over... you're safe now... I won't hurt you again...”

Little wept, first unresponsive to his touch. Yet, as her sobs softened into gentle whimpers, she seeked comfort in Mono's coat, clinging tightly to it as she buried her face within. Mono's whispers persisted until he fell silent, his expression once again a mask of no emotion. As time passed and Little's cries gradually faded away, Mono's mind eased into a calm, allowing the emptiness to seep back in, enveloping him in an unsettling silence... for he knew all too well...what would come next. Mono waited.

After a few minutes, Little slowly lifted her head, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as she took in Mono's towering form. He was still covered in blood and gore, a reminder of the brutality he had unleashed in his relentless pursuit of her. In that intense moment, Mono felt the weight of her gaze, sensing that she now truly saw him for what he was: a monster.

Driven solely by his fury, Mono had become devoid of all other emotions. Little could see it in his eyes as their gazes locked—hollow and dark, devoid of any hint of remorse for his actions.

Expecting her to recoil, to reject his touch, to scream at him with horror, Mono waited. But to his surprise, Little did none of that. Instead, she did something unexpected..

Tears streaked down her cheeks as she furrowed her eyebrows, her hands trembling as she signed, “You saved me...” a sad smile went over her lips, “...brother...”

Mono's pulse skipped a beat. She had referred to him as brother...? 

...A title saturated with trust and familial tenderness. It hit him like a thunderbolt, this unforeseen recognition of kinship—even though Mono was currently covered in the evidence of his killing spree. The word reverberated in his mind.

Despite his seemingly emotionless facade, the revelation that she regarded him as family deeply...confused him. 

She was just a child of course, seeking comfort and security in the only way she knew how—by seeking solace in the arms of family, even if it was a makeshift one. But Mono...? Especially after what he had done, feeling no remorse for his actions, as he had turned in to a merciless killer—was not a good brother figure. It was a role he had never imagined for himself, yet Little saw that differently, faced with the truth that she had come to regard him not only as a protector, but as a brother.

But, just then...even though he was confused at Little calling him brother...something small, inside of Mono's heart, returned. Not fully, but a small spark of emotion.

Mono didn't utter a word as he bent down to her level and lifted her onto his shoulder more securely. Little immediately wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pressing her face against the exposed part of his cheek, uncaring of the blood that marked him. Mono held her close, his chin resting gently on her back.

In this tender moment, their connection deepened, deepening Mono's protectiveness over her. It was nothing short of a miracle that she was alive, and in that instant, he felt an sense of relief wash over him, even only faintly. Despite everything he had endured, he hadn't lost everything after all. And he would fulfill Blue's last wish.

Little eventually released her tight grip and gazed up at Mono, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear. With trembling hands, she signed, “Where is Blue? Is he okay?”

She didn't know. She didn't know that her brother was dead. She must have been taken first, before Blue was next. Mono, despite his current emotional detachment, didn't hesitate. He spoke, each word laden with sorrow yet delivered with a chilling calmness.

“He is dead.”

Time seemed to freeze between them as the words lingered in the air, heavy with anguish. Mono observed the waves of emotion crashing over Little's face—shock, disbelief, and finally, the crushing weight of reality. Tears pooled in her eyes, her entire body trembling with grief.

For a moment, neither of them uttered a word. Mono held her gaze, his heart beating slowly, yet knowing he had shattered her world. Then, as the first tear rolled down Little's cheek, she buried her face in her hands, her sobs echoing through the silent room. Powerless to ease her pain, Mono could only watch, his own heart devoid of emotion.

Time passed, and eventually, Mono rose to his feet. With one hand gently holding her on his shoulder, he drew Little close, her face nuzzling in the curve of his neck as she clung tightly to his coat's collar, seeking comfort. Mono's free hand reached up, adjusting his paper bag before he turned and led them out of the shattered shop and back onto the rain-soaked streets.

Their journey was shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the echo of his footsteps mingling with the relentless patter of raindrops against the pavement. Mono could feel Little trembling, partly from the cold rain that drenched them, partly from her sadness, and partly... he could sense it... from her fear of him. 

Understandably so.

As they made their way down the streets, they passed all the Adults Mono had killed in his rage, and Little saw them all—the victims of his unbridled fury. 

He watched her from the corner of his eye, observing her expression while still holding her close. Fear was unmistakably etched across her face. Yet... Mono remained unmoved. There was no flicker of remorse, no hint of concern, no pang of guilt that Little feared him. He simply observed her, detached from her emotions. The only sentiment he harbored was protectiveness over her...ensuring her safety as Blue had entrusted him to do. Her fear of him didn't matter; she still seeked comfort in his presence, despite her fear.

Little had witnessed him at his most volatile, had witnessed his formidable power, yet she remained by his side. Mono wondered... was it genuine comfort she sought, or was it merely fear that now bound her to him?

Nevertheless, he remained indifferent, despite knowing he should care. Yet, his detachment persisted, with only her safety holding any significance for him. With one hand, he tightened his grip around her, able to enclose her whole body, and pressed on.

Returning to where Mono had laid Blue to rest, he slowly knelt down, attempting to gently release Little from his shoulder. However, she clung desperately, her fingers clawing at him. Pausing, Mono allowed her time to turn on her own, which she eventually did. As her gaze fell upon the humble mound of dirt marking Blue's grave, she succumbed once more to uncontrollable sobs.

Mono allowed her tears to flow freely, giving her the time she needed to release her sorrow, and say goodbye. When he sensed she had cried enough, he gently redirected her attention towards him. Little raised her tear-streaked face to meet his gaze, her eyes bloodshot from the weight of her emotions.

“Little,” Mono's voice remained calm and steady, “Is there anything you need to gather before we leave?”

Startled, Little looked up, her expression reflecting confusion. Slowly, she raised her hands and began to sign, “...Leave?”

With a brief nod, Mono replied, “Yes, I'm leaving the City. But...would you like to stay?”

In a moment of panic, Little's response came in a shrill gasp, her fear palpable as she quickly shook her head, and moved her hands. “No! I want to come with you!”

Mono silently looked at her for a moment before rising to his feet, his grip on Little tightening as he held her close. Silently reassuring her that he wouldn't have left without her anyway...he would have just taken her with him, even if she didn't want to. He had silently promised Blue to take care of her, even if it was against her own will. Little nestled her head against his throat, a silent acknowledgment of her readiness. So, Mono turned his head, adjusted the bag over his shoulder, and shot one last glance down at Blue's grave.

Then, without another word, he turned.

And began their journey north.

Chapter Text

Six raised her hand in front of her face as she lay on her back on the cold, hard ground. Her nails were torn and jagged, and the skin around them was bloody and chewed away. She sighed softly, letting her hand drop back onto her chest with a gentle thump.

She supposed she couldn’t help it; hunger does strange, terrible things to a person. Turning her head slowly to the side, she studied her hand more closely. The skin was stretched tightly over the bones, giving it a skeletal look that sent a shiver down her spine. Each joint and vein stood out prominently, a silent testament to her current fragility.

Well, surviving on maggots keeps you alive, she thought bitterly, but it doesn’t do much else... The taste of the wriggling creatures lingered in her mouth, a constant reminder of her desperation. She could almost hear the faint, distant echo of her own heartbeat, a fragile rhythm that seemed to mock her existence.

How long has it been? The thought echoed in Six’s mind.

Turning her head, she glanced at the wooden wall and began to count. About thirty scratch marks... thirty days? Six cast a fleeting glance at her hand, noting her ragged nails. Ah, that would explain their sorry state. With a sigh, she let her head fall back to the ground, staring up at the ceiling. Goosebumps prickled her skin as a chill settled in. Six shivered. It was getting colder.

She tried to ignore it. 

In her years spent wandering distant lands, she had faced only two winters, each more brutal than the last. The cold was so fierce that if you didn't flee swiftly, you'd freeze within moments. Six had often emerged from her shelters after a night to find unfortunate souls frozen in place, captured in their final moments before turning to ice.

The weather and seasons, like everything else in this world, were deadly and merciless. Winter, now creeping across the land, drew nearer to Six with each passing day. She could feel its icy breath, whispering promises of doom. The first frost storm would be her end; she knew it. Huddling under blankets or hiding wouldn’t matter. The cold would find her. It would seep in and claim her.

Trapped in this basement for weeks, she faced the grim reality that she would soon join the corpse of her younger self, preserved in the unforgiving chill. She tried to make peace with her fate, but the thought gnawed at her. Of course it did. Each creak of the wooden planks and each gust of wind howling outside reminded her of the inevitable. The cold was not just an enemy; it was a relentless hunter, and she was its prey. 

Six knew death was near, whether from the merciless cold or the gnawing grasp of hunger. Even with her 'temporary' solutions, Six was unable to escape it. As her thoughts fell into darker territories—ones she’d struggled to avoid all week—a voice emerged from the swirling black fog of her shadows.

“Six...” The whisper echoed, urging, “Don't give up yet.”

With a bitter scoff, she turned towards the shadows. “Don't give up? I'm not giving up; I'm accepting my fate. There's a difference. When I die...I want it to be in peace.”

And Six could sense it—a creeping weakness seeping deeper into her bones with every ticking moment. Her shadows mirrored the shift, embracing her with a still calmness, their tendrils gently enveloping her, offering soft nudges of comfort. Over time, their connection had evolved into something more affectionate—unexpectedly, a bond born of shared captivity. Despite Six's reluctance towards physical touch, their soft touches gave them a fleeting, if illusory, moment of comfort as night fell.

She reached out, gently intertwining her fingers with their shadowy ones. Their little black tendrils coiled around her hand, dancing and playing. As Six maintained her steady gaze at the ceiling, watching her breath appear in wisps of white, she couldn't ignore the chilling reality of the falling temperature. But she refused to succumb to its icy grip just yet. With a determined effort, she shut her eyes, submitting to the safety of her own mind, and sought peace in the middle of her thoughts' swirling chaos.

As Six's eyes flickered open once more, she found herself gasping for breath, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes wide with fear.

Plagued by a haunting nightmare, Six had been transported to the barren expanse of the Pale City, its streets wet from the everfalling rain and littered with lifeless forms of Adults, scattered like discarded dolls. She had witnessed the scene as a reluctant bystander, trapped and looking through the eyes of a small, helpless figure. Suddenly, a towering, distorted shadow had surged through the streets, its presence ripping through the cityscape, causing buildings to quake in fear. She had been able to almost taste its anger.

Questions flooded her mind like an unstoppable tide bursting on the shore. What was the meaning of this dream? Was it just a trick of her imagination, or did it hide a deeper truth? Why had the Pale City, a distant memory from her past, suddenly resurfaced in her subconscious with such startling detail after years of silence?

As Six struggled with these thoughts, doubt fell on her like a dense, smothering cloud. How could she remember the city's features with such vivid clarity after so long? Why now, after all this time? And how?

It had felt real—much like the harrowing nightmare she had just weeks ago, before embarking on her journey across the sea—the dream where she'd found herself trapped back in the Tower, every detail hauntingly vivid, as if she were physically present. As if she were there. It couldn't be a mere coincidence. Six sat up abruptly.

“Shadows?” she called out, her voice echoing in the quiet confines of the room.

They materialized instantly, hovering before her expectantly, awaiting her question. With a furrowed brow, she voiced her thoughts aloud: “I had a nightmare. It felt so real, and the last time I experienced such vivid dreams, chaos followed. Could it be possible...” Six tilted her head to the side, resting it against her shoulder in thought. “...could it be that these nightmares are not my imagination, but... real?”

“If you have a connection to someone or something in another place, yes.” her shadows replied.

Six's eyes widened with a flicker of realization. It was possible then. Did the scenes she'd witnessed in her dreams actually unfold in reality? And did she possess a connection to someone else who had been there in the city, granting her the uncanny ability to see through their eyes? But who could she be connected to, and how did it work? A whirlwind of questions churned within her mind, each one demanding answers. As Six parted her lips to voice her questions, but she found her shadows already composed, as if saying, We know what you want to ask.

Confused, Six was frozen for a moment before it dawned on her: they could hear her thoughts. They had explained it to her after all. The fleeing confusion vanished, and she closed her mouth again, allowing them to explain while Six listened carefully.

“A connection to someone or something is achieved through experiences. You don't have to have met that person or thing for a connection to form; you just have to have something in common with them.” 

Something in common with them? But... what connection could Six possibly share with some random person whose eyes she had glimpsed through? Six leaned back, fixing her gaze directly on the shadows, another question burning on her tongue. Since they seemed to possess such insight, she couldn't help but ask, “How do you know? And how did you not tell me about it before?”

The shadows flowed to the ground, melding into a swirling, inky puddle around Six's feet. “We know because our previous bearer also shared a connection with another. She, too, could peer into distant places through his eyes—through dreams—or, rather, nightmares. Like you. And as to why we didn't tell, it simply wasn't necessary for you to know till now since you didn't have a connection then.”

“So it's a common thing? This connection? To have that with someone you don't even know?” Six's voice betrayed her confusion, though she was determined to grasp the concept. This revelation had blindsided her; she hadn't known such a phenomenon even existed. The shadows pressed on.

“No, it's not common; it's quite rare. The only thing we know about it is that only gifted people have that connection—”

“And by 'gifted,' you mean people with powers, like me?” Six interjected.

“Yes,” came their confirmation.

Six found herself even more perplexed. So, these nightmares plagued her because of a connection to someone she didn't know, yet they...possessed abilities like her? And in these unsettling visions, dreams, or whatever they truly were, she had borne witness to events unfolding through their eyes in the Pale City?

“So... that tall shadow I saw, making buildings quake... and the dead Adults... they were real? My dream... This—this happened last night in the Pale City?”

“Correct,” the shadows confirmed. 

And Six's blood suddenly ran cold as a thought crossed her mind.

So, whatever that tall shadow was and the dead Adults, they were real. And they were out there, in the Pale City. Something was wandering the city's streets, capable of immense destruction—holding violent power. What could it be? Fear from before struck her as a thought pushed itself in front of her mind, one that could explain what that shadow was, and the more she thought about it, the more she saw the similarities... Six couldn't help but ponder: if the Hunter was undead, could it be that...

That monster was undead too? 

The mere thought sent a shiver down Six's spine, prompting her to instinctively wrap her arms around herself. Her eyes widened in fear and despair at the memories of the past.

If that was the monster, resurrected like the Hunter, would he come after her? Will he kidnap her again? Would he put her to torture again? Will he—? She mentally slapped herself to get rid of the growing panic. No, even if he were alive and roaming the Pale City, he was miles away from her current location. She was here in the Hunter's territory, and only he and Van were aware of her existence. That monster couldn't possibly get her here.

Could he?

Six was abruptly pulled from her thoughts by a loud knock on the wall where the window was. 

Six's eyes snapped upward, her head twisting to pinpoint the source of the sudden disruption. Another knock reverberated through the room, mimicking the unmistakable sound of someone knocking on wood. Rising swiftly from her spot, Six felt her shadows retract into her form, yet their presence remained palpable against her skin, ready for action should the need arise. With a cool demeanor masking her inner confusion, she navigated towards the wall with the small window, now too small for her to climp through. She had tried weeks ago to see if she would still fit. She didn't. 

Climbing onto the bench, she balanced uncomfortably on her tiptoes, wondering what could have made that noise, and peered out through the narrow opening of the window. 

Only to come face-to-face with the ugly visage of Van, crouching down and grinning at her.

“Hello again, little coat,” he muttered down at her, his grin stretching. 

Six scowled at him, her eyes narrowing into fiery slits. She had no desire to engage in conversation with him and swiftly turned to retreat back into the room behind her. But before she could make her escape, Van's arm shot out, barring her path. “Wait, hold on—” 

Six spun around in an instant, not having the patience for his bullshit, baring her teeth in a silent menacing snarl, her shadows coiling at her fingertips.

Van recoiled at the sight of the emerging black fog, his gaze flickering momentarily before he cleared his throat. “I heard your screams the other night. Hunger must be really bad, huh?” he ventured, studying Six's rigid posture and unwavering glare.

He tilted his head, a smug smile playing on his lips. “You know…” Van's head inclined to the other side, a glint of mischief sparkling in his eyes. “…I can help. Just swallow your pride and say the word.”

Six wouldn't have it. Not understanding why Van lingered around for so long just to annoy her. “No,” she hissed venomously, tempted to just grab him and tear him apart so she could beat him to death, only for him to regenerate, so she could do it again. The mental twitch of her shadows told her they thought the same. 

Van pouted like a testy child and let out a heavy sigh, his head drooping in mock defeat. “Still as stubborn as ever, I see.” 

After a moment passed, with a dramatic gesture, he retrieved something from his coat and extended it to her—a package wrapped in brown paper and tied with cords. Six eyed it warily before glancing back at Van. He rolled his eyes in frustration. “Fucking dammit, Six, just take it. It's just some bread with dried meat. I'm not that heartless to watch you starve any longer.”

Six's stomach growled loudly at the mention of food, prompting her to shoot Van a skeptical look before reluctantly accepting the offering from his outstretched hand. As she felt the weight of the package in her palm, she caught sight of the smug smirk on Van's lips from the cornor of her eyes, and a surge of irritation coursed through her veins.

She eyed the package for a moment. Pretending to be interested in it.

Before she lifted it up and threw it out the window past Van.

They both listened to the package land in the snow with a soft thud. Van threw his head back, erupting into laughter. Six, however, found nothing amusing about the situation. She turned and leapt down from the bench, leaving Van behind, still chuckling.

But Van persisted. He stooped down once more, calling after her, “I'm not going anywhere, little coat. No matter how many times you turn me down, I'll be here until your body decides otherwise. The will to survive is stronger than your stubbornness.”

“We'll see about that...” Six muttered to herself. She would sooner face death than accept help from him. Which, as it seemed, she wouldn't have to wait much longer for.

Returning to the pile of blankets, her only source of warmth for now, Six flopped down and fixed her gaze on the wooden floor. Lost in thought, she mulled over the unsettling revelation before Van's interruption had disrupted her thoughts. 

She breathed a sigh of relief as she heard him walk away.

So, this connection—whatever it entailed. She shared it with someone. Someone who, judging by their size in the dream, couldn't be anything other than a child. They—whomever they were—possessed abilities, much like her own, whether stolen or inherent. That's what they appeared to share in common. Probably? Just as her shadows had explained the necessity for a common trait to establish such a connection, Six's assumption was that the child also possessed abilities.

But this connection sparked an idea—a glimmer of hope amidst the bleakness of her situation. If she could communicate with them through this bond, perhaps she could convince them to come and free her. Yet, doubts plagued Six. They were strangers, and even if she managed to establish contact, they would likely hesitate to endanger their own safety for hers. Moreover, the distance they would have to travel to reach her posed another obstacle. Among other things.

Nevertheless, she had to try.

So she persisted, night after night. At first, her attempts yielded no results, but Six refused to stop trying. But then, to her surprise, a breakthrough occurred. Sort of.

She didn't succeed in communicating with them, but she did manage to see through their eyes once more. And it was... bizarre, to say the least. Six could confirm, however, that she had this strange connection to a child—a girl—as she trailed after something. It was the tall shadow from her previous dream. The girl darted from building to building, skulking in the shadows a few blocks from the looming figure. Yet she continued to follow it. Six couldn't help but wonder why.

She vividly remembered the violence and power emanating from the tall shadow in her previous "dream" through their connection. The image of the countless Adults strewn across the streets...remained etched in her mind. So, why would a young girl choose to follow such a dangerous force? As much as Six longed for answers, she couldn't help but only wonder and watch.

Through the eyes of the little girl, she observed the cautious pursuit of the tall shadow through the Pale City. The girl kept her distance, never daring to get too close for fear of detection. Despite the strangeness of the situation, Six sensed the girl's profound fear of the shadow. She didn't need to speculate why; she had experienced it firsthand, watching through the girl's eyes.

As the girl navigated the streets, her hands clinging to walls and storefront windows for support, Six remained an unseen presence in her consciousness, no matter how many times she tried to talk to the girl. Then, unexpectedly, Six caught a glimpse of the girl's reflection in a nearby showcase window, seeing her own image mirrored back at her for a fleeting moment.

Instantly, a sense of unease washed over Six as she gazed upon the familiar features of the girl. 

It wasn't a comforting familiarity, but rather a disconcerting one.

The girl's red hair, streaked with shades of brown, framed her face, adding to her piercing gray eyes and sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks like tiny constellations in the night sky. In Six's imagination, as sudden as it was, she could almost see the outline of a jagged scar etched into the girl's skin, running from her chin to her nose.

The resemblance between this girl and Van was uncanny. 

They shared a striking similarity in appearance, which made Six think back to Van's questionable sob-story of a supposed "sister" who met a tragic end. But Six knew better, thanks to her shadows; his story was woven with lies, designed to try to influence her emotions and actions. Even in his fictional narrative, his supposed sister had been left to perish alone in the woods. If he even had a sister to begin with, it had probably all been just a lie.

Also, Van had described his sister as having supposed black short hair. Like Six. Which this girl didn't have.

So, the girl's appearance had to be just a coincidence. Despite her efforts to dismiss it as mere chance, Six couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that they did look alike. True, redheads were not uncommon, but the similarity lingered in her thoughts as she continued to watch the girl's careful pursuit of the shadow.

Six eventually woke up and lost the connection with the girl. For the rest of the day, she racked her brain, trying to figure out how to establish a connection to communicate with her. Meanwhile, the air grew colder with each passing moment. Each breath was a chill reminder of the little time she had left.

As night fell once more, Six made another attempt to connect with the girl. To her surprise, she succeeded. This time, however, the scene unfolding before her eyes was unexpected. The girl had trailed the tall shadow so far that they now stood at the city's edge, overlooking the vast sea that Six and Mono had once crossed on a door. Six tried to suppress the memories. Through the girl's vision, Six witnessed the tall shadow suddenly stagger and then collapse against the wall of a rundown building.

The sounds were muffled as they reached Six through the girl's ears, but she caught a gasp. Apparently, she and the girl were both surprised. 

Six's immediate impulse was to draw closer to it; weakened as it appeared, now was the time to strike. Silently, she tried to urge the girl forward, but her presence still remained undetected, concealed within the girl's subconscious. Then, everything blurred, and Six abruptly found herself back on the makeshift bed of blankets.

Had...she been pushed out?

She furrowed her eyebrows, confused for a moment, before grappling with the unsettling presence of this...tall shadow. Its aura felt uncomfortably familiar, growing more ominous with each passing moment as she observed it through the girl's eyes. Tall, violent, and powerful—these were all traits reminiscent of something she fervently hoped was dead. Yet, despite her hopes, Six couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that this shadow was somehow linked to the monster that had once abducted her in her past.

The tall shadow was moving closer to the mainland, where Six was currently, drifting away from Pale City. A wave of worry washed over her, together with every other feeling of anxiety. It was evident that whatever its intentions were, they did not lie within the confines of the Pale City. 

One more reason to get out of this hellhole of a basement room.

Of course she had one option.

But Six refused to be enslaved to Van, no matter how desperate she was to escape. The burden of her current situation—the hunger, the bizarre events unfolding around her, the presence of her younger corpse, and now this unsettling connection and the tall shadow—was suddenly...becoming a bit too much to bear.

It descended upon her like an relentless storm, assaulting her senses until she felt the sting of tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she sat there in thought.

A single droplet escaped, catching her by surprise as it trailed down her cheek. Six gasped, her body instinctively recoiling from the sudden display of vulnerability. She had always viewed crying as a weakness, but in this moment, she found herself unable to suppress the flood of emotions any longer. It was simply too much to bear.

With a resigned sniffle, Six allowed herself to surrender to the tears, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as if seeking solace from the storm raging within her. It didn't help. She started to rock back and forth slowly. This would end in her death, wouldn't it? She would die, and she would die soon. So... why drag it out and torture herself the longer she held on?

A sad chuckle escaped her trembling lips as her thoughts circled back once more to that dark thought she'd had for days—the thought of ending it all. 

Reflecting on her state of mind over the past few weeks, she couldn't help but acknowledge how deeply she'd been affected. How messed up she had become... and how tempted she had become...to give in to those dark thoughts. Her situation having become more and more hopeless with each passing day... Six's silent, choked-back sobs echoed around the room, their sounds haunting the dim space, with only her shadows bearing witness to her pain. They moved to comfort her, as they had done in the days prior. Surrendering to her emotions, Six abandoned her resistance and, to no one's surprise, and hugged them. The shadows enveloped her in their dark, wispy tendrils, offering silent comfort as they held her close.

“...I want it to stop...” Six whispered, her eyes half-open and narrowed as she fixated on the wall adorned with scratch marks, “...I want it to end while I'm still myself.”

“...Six...” her shadows murmured back, their grip tightening around her. Their voice carried a tinge of worry, almost desperation, as if they wanted to say more but hesitated.

She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed with disgust at her own weakness, but she couldn't deny the overwhelming desire to escape. She had reached her limit, enduring it as long as she possibly could. Exhausted, hungry, and weak, she realized she had no other choice. She was hopeless. Slowly, she lifted her head and stared at her shadows with half-lidded eyes, her expression a mask of hollowness and despair, of a soul given up. She had enough.

Her voice trembled as she voiced her last wish.

“I want you to—”

The sudden violent crash of the door being flung open cut her off.

With a half-scream, Six recoiled, pressing her back against the wall behind her. Her shadows wrapped around her tightly, a futile attempt at protection against the undead monster that had barged into the room with such force that part of the door had slightly splintered.

The Hunter, his breaths heavy and labored, a bag clenched tightly in his hand, gazed down on Six, who remained eerily silent, her cheeks still damp from tears. Exhausted and drained, she lacked the energy to hide her fear of him, anticipating his wrath after weeks of neglect in the depths of the basement. Why was he here now? 

With a raspy huff, the Hunter strode into the room, letting the bag crash onto the wooden bench with a resounding thud. Casting one final, lingering glance at Six, he turned on his heel and marched out, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it with a decisive click. The room fell into a heavy silence once more. 

What?

Six just blinked a few times, her mind a blurr of confusion and fear. Slowly, her shadows detached from her form, drifting over to the dropped bag on the bench with quiet curiosity. Meanwhile, Six remained rooted to the spot, her back pressed against the wall, her movements sluggish as she struggled to shake off the shock. The realization of her own weakness gnawed at her, a bitter reminder of her vulnerability.

The rustling of the bag and the voices of her shadows snapped her out of her trance. “Six,” they called out to her in a gentle tone, “You will want to see this...”

Six obeyed, slowly making her way over to her shadows, her gaze shifting between them and the bag. With trembling hands, she reached for the bag and sank to the ground, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of dizziness. After casting one last suspicious glance at her shadows, she tentatively opened the bag, emitting a gasp as she did so.

Inside lay something she never thought she would see again.

Her music box.

Unharmed by the brutality of Mono's axe, it gleamed with its colorful and familiar appearance. Six felt tears welling up once more as she stared at it, her emotions swirling within her. With trembling hands, she carefully lifted the music box out of the bag and set it on the ground. Then, with a deep breath, she grasped the crank on top and slowly began to turn it, the soothing chimes of the melody providing immeasurable comfort, as soon as it reached her ears. 

She sat in stunned silence, her mind grappling with the unexpected sight of her music box—a relic she had thought forever lost to the brutality of her past encounters. Why the Hunter had brought her her music box was a question that Six began to struggle with, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was that it was here with her once again. It was a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that had consumed her for so long.

Her shadows hovered nearby, silently observing as Six found solace in the familiar melody of the music box. They were relieved to see her distraction from the dark thoughts that had plagued her moments before, allowing her to immerse herself in this moment of peace. For several long minutes, they remained in quiet companionship, sharing in the calm that washed over them, accompanied by the soothing melody of Six's music box.

As Six eventually and reluctantly stopped playing the music box, she let out a sigh, feeling more grounded and connected to her senses than she had in what felt like an eternity.

With a surge of determination, Six shifted to her knees and pulled the music box close, cradling it against her chest like a precious treasure. Her fingers moved swiftly as she rummaged through the bag once more, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her lost thought bag nestled within the larger one. Without hesitation, she retrieved it and eagerly inspected its contents.

To her astonishment, everything was there—her lighter, the photograph, spare clothes, food (albeit some of it rotten by now), and even the knife she had taken from Van. It was a strange and unexpected reunion with her belongings, leaving her both bewildered and grateful.

As she pondered the Hunter's sudden act of returning her possessions, Six couldn't help but wonder about his motives. What had prompted him to do so now, after all this time? Was this a trap? An act of mercy? 

Six didn't know. She decided not to linger on that for the time being.

With nimble fingers, Six instead retrieved the lighter from her lost bag. A few flicks of her thumb against the trigger, and the flame sprang to life, casting a warm, comforting glow across the dim room. She cradled the lighter in her hands, basking in the flickering orange light that danced and flickered, casting elongated shadows on the walls. It was a small source of warmth in the chilly darkness, but to Six, it felt like a beacon of hope in the midst of despair. 

With her bag back and some food and spare clothes for herself in the comming days, she could hold out longer till she found a way to eventually escape.

Closing her eyes, Six didn't notice herself drifting into a peaceful slumber, cocooned in the soft glow of the flame and the familiar embrace of her music box.

The following morning, Six stirred from her sleep, her body stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. Blinking groggily, she realized she had fallen asleep while holding onto her music box, its comforting presence still cradled against her chest. The lighter had extinguished at some point during the night, leaving behind only the faintest scent of burnt wick. 

A bit worried, Six sat up and tried to light up the lighter once more, fearing that it had burned all its fire the last night while she stupidly had fallen asleep. But to her relief, it lit up after a few tries. It still had fuel left. Good; that would have been very bad if Six had already messed that up. Just after finally having gotten her things back.

Then her gaze fell an to something odd that made her heart beat faster. The door of the room.

Which was open. 

Chapter Text

As Mono traversed through the City, carrying Little securely against his chest, his emotions remaining blank, he didn't manage to get far before he collapsed.

His back collided with the surface of a nearby building, his breath punctuated by gasps, his heartbeat quickening within his chest, and every nerve in his body ignited by searing flames. Little's alarmed expression went unnoticed by Mono, who, experiencing such excruciating pain for the first time in his life, found no comparison—not even in the Tower's torture—to this pain. The sensation was unbearable; he couldn't even vocalize his agony, yet his contorted body vividly expressed it.

Every muscle, every fiber, every vein in his body screamed in agony. 

Mono could only remain seated on the ground, his body convulsing and writhing in an pain beyond comprehension. His mind felt imprisoned, ensnared within the confines of his own skull, rendered utterly powerless to intervene. His hands spasmed involuntarily, grasping at nothingness, while his back scraped against the unyielding wall behind him, leaving crimson scratches beneath his coat. Little had swiftly disentangled herself from him, frantically scrutinizing his form from head to toe in search of the origin of his torment, yet she found herself in a state of helplessness and panic. 

Beneath the concealment of his paper bag, Monos lips quivered and parted, and his eyes widened, shimmering with tears he was unable to shed. What was this pain? What had caused it?

As if to respond, the pain intensified, driving Mono to throw his head back against the wall. His skull collided with the stone surface, crumbling his paper bag and exposing his throat to the night air and rain that pelted down on him. Then it clicked. What he had done—the killing, the teleporting—it was exacting a heavy toll on his body. 

And it was taking its toll, hard.

It was punishment.

As Mono understood, he found himself only able to argee. He deserved this pain. And strangely, that realization rendered it more tolerable. He actively surrendered himself to its darkness and searing heat, allowing himself to fall deeper into its embrace. The world around him faded away into a deep red void as he squeezed his eyes shut and simply felt.

Mono felt.

And felt.

And realised, with a slow, shattering sort of shock, that he had just experienced a seizure.

The panicked tugging on his coat by Little, now perched on his lap, prompted Mono to slowly open his eyes again, tilting his head down to meet her gaze. Her eyes widened instantly, and she leaped up, grasping the sides of his paper bag. With a firm tug, she pulled it down to her level, causing Mono's head to loll forward. He could only lazily peer into Little's concerned blue eyes. He wanted to apologize, for scaring her, for simply, and apparently, passing out for a second, but nothing came out of his mouth.

Little let go, and lifted her tembeling hands. “Mono?”

Mono only continued to stare. Little glanced up at him, alarmed. 

“Are you okey? What happend?” she signed with increasing urgency, her hands moving more frantically.

I teleported around so much that my body had a seizure. Is what Mono wanted to say, to explain to her. But he remained silent. Although his body had thankfully ceased shaking and twitching, it now felt limp and numb. He couldn't bring himself to move, nor did he want to. Even the mere thought of moving caused the tight knot in his stomach to twist. He was weary, and he desired to rest. Sleep sounded inviting. 

Eyelids already drooping at the inviting thought, Mono's consciousness wanted to drift off, but Little once more grabbed the sides of his paper bag and forcefully prevented him from simply flopping over on the ground and slipping into unconsciousness. She emitted a whine followed by a heavy huff, conveying a message that Mono partly comprehended through the rest of her body language and her desperate, yet commanding gaze, as she looked around. They had to find shelter first before Mono was allowed to pass out. Simple and logical enough. Yet, he didn't want to.

Little continued to try to coax him into following that logical step, persistently tugging and pulling at Mono's paper bag until eventually, he relented. 

Slowly, so very slowly, he stirred, and with a deep groan, Mono managed to rise to one knee, steadying himself on it for a moment with one hand before the second knee followed suit until he was fully standing. Yet, as he stood, he felt the threat of a sudden fall back to the ground from overwhelming dizziness. Thankfully, once more, Little—even though she wouldn't have been able to stop him from falling over—held onto his leg, trying to steady him.

It was an appreciated gesture, one that helped pull Mono's mind back to the present. With all its dangers lurking around in the alleyways and streets around them.

Mono's protectiveness over Little surged back with full force, the memories of losing Blue still too fresh.

Exhausted and drained, feeling the pain and dampness seeping from his back after the sudden impact with the wall, Mono grimaced as he stooped down to gather Little from the ground, enfolding her tightly against his chest once more. Perhaps he held her a tad too firmly, evidenced by Little's whine of discomfort as her face was pressed against his chest, but Mono paid it little mind, preoccupied with his own discomfort on his back. Something had shifted there during his seizure. Odd. He would have to check later. 

With narrowed eyes, he scanned the silent, rain-soaked streets, his weakened state limiting his perception. Satisfied that the coast seemed clear, Mono swiftly made his way to the nearest building door across the street. 

The muted creak of the door opening and closing, once Mono had entered and ascended the stairs, reverberated through the otherwise silent street. It elicited a cringe from him, certain, that something had heard that. Silently cursing himself, Mono ascended higher and higher, each step a strain. He even had to leap over a gap where the stairs had been damaged by a portion of the broken ceiling, rain now seeping through the hole above. Mono felt his body nearing its limit, teetering on the brink of collapse once more. 

But he couldn't afford to succumb yet, not until Little was safe.

Turning around a half-broken corridor with walls sporting shades of brown and mold, Mono selected the door furthest, the entrance of an apartment, and swiftly entered. Over the next few minutes, he carefully ensured the safety of the room first—a living room—where he intended to rest for a while. Satisfied with his assessment and after securely locking and barricading the door, Mono collapsed into a corner of the room, positioned to keep an eye on the entrance. It was a habit to ensure survival. Despite his slow breaths, he refused to allow himself rest just yet. No matter how tired he was. He still had to take care of Little.

Removing his bag from his shoulders, he offered Little a snack bar, which she promptly devoured while perched on his leg. 

She attempted to engage him in conversation once more while she ate, asking about what had transpired on the street, but Mono was simply too exhausted to partake. With considerable effort, he managed to silence her by ruffling her hair gently, eliciting a soft giggle from her. It seemed to suffice in easing her concerns, as she nestled against Mono's chest after eating—evidently her preferred spot, it seemed—and drifted off to sleep. 

Somewhat content that Little was safe and cared for, Mono finally, finally permitted himself to succumb to exhaustion as well. It didn't take longer than ten seconds before Mono was fast asleep, or rather, passed out, as well. 

. . .

Mono woke up to the sensation of pain radiating from his spine. How annoying, he thought drowsily as he grimaced upon awakening, realizing that this discomfort had become a normal occurrence now that he was accompanied by pain. 

He did feel slightly, albeit faintly, more refreshed from the little bit of sleep he had managed to get. The darkness enveloping his surroundings indicated that the night still held sway; his rest, had not spanned a significant amout of time. Nevertheless, he felt better than before, as he was more awake. But the pain, a throbbing pulse from his spine, didn't leave him alone. An additional nuisance presented itself in the form of an odd...dampness that clung to his back. That had been there since his seizure on the street.

Mono could not ignore it any longer; he needed to investigate.

With the utmost care, he tenderly guided Little to the ground without disturbing her sleep. Moving to a different corner of the room, he settled onto his ankles, his movements deliberate and measured. Shrugging off his coat, he allowed it to settle softly onto the floor, along with his paper bag, as it was dark enough in the room to hide his face. Then, with an unexpected nervous breath, he grasped the edges of his shirt and drew it over his head, exposing his upper body to the gentle light filtering through a nearby window. The faint moonlight caressed his bare skin, casting shadows across his form. 

And across the scars from the Tower. 

Mono's gaze lingered upon the scars for a fleeting moment. It had been a while since he had escaped, hadn't it? The slightly lighter flesh color of his scars stood out against the rest of his skin, and showed the passage of time quite vividly. He knew all too well, much to his sadness and anger, that he would carry these scars with him forever. Yet, he tore his attention away from the scars, recognizing that they were not the focal point of his concern at this moment. 

Instead, his focus shifted to the discomfort gnawing at his back. 

The strange dampness on his spine now became more pronounced in the chilling embrace of the room, its uncomfortable presence clinging stubbornly to his back. Mono couldn't help but ponder over its origin and how it had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, but he would find out. Slowly, he maneuvered a hand beneath his opposite arm, brushing it cautiously along his backside. His fingertips traced the contours of scars and bruised muscle tissue, remnants of his collapse against the unforgiving wall.

Then, as Mono's touch grazed the dampness, a shiver coursed through him, freezing him momentarily in place. With a sharp intake of breath, he withdrew his hand and stared at it, his mind racing with uncertainty.

There was blood on his fingertips. But not just normal blood.

Black blood.

Blood, that was moving.

Mono recoiled instinctively, his eyes widening in disbelief as the black blood—his blood—slowly oozed sluggishly around his fingertips, leaving behind a dark, slightly translucent trail upon his palm. Like a snail. Mono struggled with all his might to stifle a shocked cry, unwilling to disturb Little's slumber. Yet, the peculiarity of the situation gnawed at him, particularly the realization that the blood appeared to be emanating from his own back.

A surge of panic seized him, prompting Mono to whip his head around and attempt to steal a glimpse over his shoulder. Both of his hands now darted beneath his arms, clawing frantically at his back in a desperate bid to uncover the source of the mysterious bleeding. 

But as Mono caught a glimpse of his spine, he was rendered utterly speechless. 

Horror seized him, paralyzing his thoughts as he stared in disbelief. 

The black blood originated from his spine—or rather, from a cluster of eyeballs embedded within the skin where his spine should have been, nestled between the individual bones. It was from these unsettling orbs that the bleeding emanated. Like tears. Some blinked, their eerie gaze fixating on Mono, and in a disconcerting synchrony, they all seemed to realize simultaneously that his attention was upon them.

And then, as if synchronized by some unseen force, they all turned, fixing their collective gaze upon him, their unblinking stares penetrating his very being.

Mono stared.

What the fuck? 

Since when had they been there? 

How had he not noticed fucking eyeballs growing on his back?! 

Disgust and horror swept over him like a suffocating tide, driving him into action. With trembling hands, he scrambled to his feet, his movements frantic as he tore down the barricade from the door. Urgency propelled him forward, bordering on desperation, as he practically leaped into the corridor, his breath ragged and panicked, echoing in the empty space, as he held on to a wall with one hand. His mind spun, struggling to comprehend the surreal reality—that there were eyes embedded within his own flesh, staring out from his very, fucking, spine. 

Mono's breathing quickened, each gasp more frantic than the last. With his free hand, he clutched at his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as his wide eyes stared at the floor in panic. Was this the Towers doing? Did the Eyes do something to him that he hadn't noticed? Did they infect him with something? He stood frozen, unsure of what to do, utterly paralyzed by the horror of his situation.

What could anyone do in this situation? 

He could feel them now—more clearly than before, knowing they were there. Mono could feel the eyes moving on his spine, blinking and looking around. Their movements were almost frantic, almost as if they were searching for Mono's face, the one they had seen just seconds ago.

Mono snapped.

Falling to his knees, he bent over and started clawing at his back, his nails digging into his own flesh. He clawed, and clawed, at the eyes he could reach. The pain and the blood were inconsequential compared to his desperate need to rid himself of the grotesque presence. A grim satisfaction washed over him as he felt the eyes squirm in panic, managing to destroy some with a sickening pop from their sockets. Black, viscous blood oozed from the new wounds, but Mono didn't care. He wanted them gone. Every single one. 

“W-what are you doing?”

Mono froze, his movements stilled by the unexpected interruption. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze fixed upon a small silhouette at the end of the hallway, shrouded in the safety of the corridor's shadows.

“What?” His voice, eerily calm in contrast to what he was doing. 

The small figure seemed to tense up, voice quivering with concern, “What are you doing to your back?” 

At that, Mono was rendered speechless, his mind grappling with the surreal encounter. He realized, with a dawning sense of clarity, that he was hallucinating. Once again. Yet, as the figure stepped forward, the dim light revealing their locks, Mono's shock deepened. It was not Six from his hallucinations, but the red-haired girl, her expression a mixture of fear and concern. 

What was she doing here? Had she followed them? 

“You...” Mono's hands gradually fell to his sides as he stood up, his words laced with coldness, his tone terse. Barely concealing his annoyance and a tinge of anger at himself for not noticing the girl following them. “What are you doing here?” 

The red-haired girl visibly flinched at Mono's tone, her shoulders hunching as she cowered slightly. “I...I followed you—” 

“Yeah, I can see that. But why?”  Mono's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing as he took a step closer to the girl,  “Did I not make myself clear the last time?” 

The girl remained silent, avoiding meeting Mono's eyes as he closed the distance between them, his approach growing increasingly slow, threatening, and warning. Yet despite the clear signs, the girl stubbornly stood rooted to the spot.

“I...I came to check up on your little sister,” she whispered so softly that Mono almost didn't hear her. He paused, his gaze narrowing in suspicion.

“Why would you want to see her?” 

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, the girl turned her head and looked him straight in the eyes. Without any fear.

“Because I helped her survive that Adult eating her alive.”

Stunned silence. 

“You, what?” Mono all but hissed, disbelief coloring his voice.

The girl took a brave step forward, her gaze unwavering as she repeated, “I helped her survive that Adult eating her alive.” 

Mono just stared down at her, his gaze unwavering as he had to crane his neck considerably to meet her eyes at her much smaller height. Yet the difference in stature did not diminish the intensity of their locked gazes.

“How?” Mono crouched down to her level, his eyes searching hers intently. “How would a little girl like you manage to help her?” his voice held a note of skepticism, mingled with curiosity.

The red-haired girl suddenly moved very close to his face, grabbing hold of the sides of it before Mono could react—He stumbled backward onto the ground, eyes wide with shock as she said, “Like this.” 

And suddenly, Mono's world was a thousand times slower.

His pulse slowed. His breathing slowed. To depths that shouldn't be possible. 

The girl held his wide-eyed gaze as their noses were only an inch apart. It didn't matter because all Mono felt was how everything suddenly was... there, but not really. Surreal. The air seemed to slightly blur but still remain visible, like watching through a raindrop. His breaths were so slow that he should have been concerned about air, but his lungs didn't demand it as they should have. His pulse should've beat faster, but it didn't need to, as he simply just... existed. Fully, consciously there, yet it was as if time in his body had been set to pause. 

“Wa...what is this...?” Mono's voice trembled as he asked, his eyes still fixed on the girl who was still holding the sides of his face. At that moment, he didn't care that she saw it.

“This...” Her tone was calm and reassuring. “This is my ability. I can slow down the state of a body for a period of time. I know you have abilities too... I saw you the other day outside the shop.”

Mono felt a wave of confusion wash over him as he tried to make sense of her words. Then, he remembered the encounter she was referring to. It dawned on him that this was why she had followed him in the first place, seeking out someone with powers similar to her own. Of course she would. But how did that relate to Little?

“And Little?” Mono slowly recovered from the shock, still feeling how everything in his body was slower than normally possible. But slowly fading. “How did you help her?” 

She released her grip on his face and settled back on Mono's chest, who remained on the ground, propping himself up with his elbows. The girls expression shifted to one of sadness and anguish, as if she was recalling something terrible. Nevertheless, she began to explain.

“After...the encounter at the shop, I...I was curious about your abilities, and I started following you. It led me to your little hideout in the sewers, with the others. I never went closer than I had to, but one evening I saw you storm out of the entrance and rush off. I was worried...”

Mono followed her explanation, memories of that night flooding back to him. It was the night he had dashed off to the hospital to get... to get Blue some medicine. The red-haired girl continued, her arms wrapping around herself in a self-comforting gesture.

“And...and soon after you left, I heard the sounds of Adults closing in. Before I realized what was happening, one had already gone into the sewer. The sound of the door breaking is what made me act. So... I rushed in. And saw—” Her voice trailed off for a moment, her expression haunted by the memory. “—I saw her lying on the ground, bleeding with one leg torn off at the knee, as the Adult was feeding on a boy resting on the bed. I knew he was as good as dead, so I rushed over to the girl and touched her hand, slowing the state of her body so she wouldn't bleed out so fast. I wanted to drag her to safety, but another Adult came into the room, and...I had to flee.” 

The red-haired girl was now crying, silent tears running over her cheeks as Mono watched, stunned by what he was hearing. Despite the horror in her voice, she continued.

“A-and as I looked back—I saw how the Adult just g-gulped her down whole. I know that my ability also slows b-breathing to an amount w...where you don't need to breathe at all for a bit, so I knew she was still alive in there. But not for long. T...that's when I started looking for you...”

And from that point on, Mono knew the rest. 

He had gone back, found Blue, buried him, and had teleported through the City while murdering Adults in search of Little... And suddenly, the reason behind the red-haired girl's approach during his heightened state of anger when he had stood before the fountain, became clear. She had undoubtedly observed the Adult who had abducted Little, prompting her to know her whereabouts. Little had managed to survive that long in an Adults belly with a severed limb and without breathing because of this red-haired girl's slowing abilities... it all made sense now.

She had saved Little's life and guided Mono to find her, despite having no obligation to do so. They were strangers.

“You...you saved her life...”  Mono's voice was hushed as he spoke, his words tinged with awe. “Why...?” 

The red-haired girl lowered herself gently and hopped down from Mono's frame. “...I know what it's like to lose a sibling, or someone close to that...” Her voice trembled with emotion as she spoke. “...I...I just didn't want to see it happen again.”

Mono fell into silence, his gaze fixed upon the red-haired girl's back as she stood beside him.

In that moment, understanding inundated his consciousness. He, too, had experienced some semblance of siblinghood with Blue, and now with Little, who regarded him as an older brother figure. As his breathing steadied and his pulse returned to its regular rhythm, Mono rose to his feet. He cast his gaze upon the red-haired girl, who had turned to meet his eyes, her own still glistening with unshed tears, as she sniffled softly.

Both of them chose to overlook his bleeding back; it held no significance in this moment.

After a beat, Mono did the only thing he could to express his gratitude, and gently asked, “Would you like to stay with us for a while?”  

. . .

As they made their way back to the room, Mono cautiously allowed the red-haired girl, whom he came to know as "Nia," to approach Little, who was still asleep.

Despite the lingering trauma and his protective instincts over Little, Mono reasoned that Nia had played a pivotal role in saving her life and likely harbored no ill intentions towards the smaller girl. Retrieving his coat, shirt, and the paper bag from the room's corner, he swiftly hid his face once more. It was only upon this action that he became aware that Nia had seen his face. Yet her reaction, or rather lack thereof, brought a subtle relief. Proceeding to gather bandages to tend to his wounded back, he settled himself down. 

While he tended to his upper body, his gaze lingered on Nia as she knelt beside Little with a tender smile, seemingly relieved by the younger girl's survival. 

“She really is... small,” Nia remarked softly.

Mono had to chuckle quietly at Nia's observation. “Yes, she is.”

As Nia delicately brushed her fingers over Little's cheek before straightening up, her gaze shifted to Mono, causing him to pause in his movements and meet her stare, unsure of what exactly Nia was looking at. Her eyes, intense and probing, seemed to peel away layers, seeking something beneath the surface. Eventually, she blushed slightly and turned her head away, appearing somewhat tense. Mono couldn't help but wonder what had prompted her discomfort, but he didn't have to wait long for an answer.

“Why...” She turned her head back to look at him, her voice soft but insistent. “Why do you hide your face?”

Ah. 

Well, how could he explain that he was afraid someone might recognize him as the Thin Man? Nia had already seen his face... but perhaps not fully. Mono didn't know how to explain without exposing himself. 

Mono released a slow breath, shifting his weight to the other side as he proceeded to bind his upper body with bandages. “Because I'm uncomfortable revealing it,” he stated plainly. And that, was the truth.

Nia tilted her head, puzzled. Her gaze quickly flickered down to his chest before returning to his face, hidden behind the paper bag. “But... I've already seen you. And Little probably has too... so why hide it now?” Her tone grew a bit more pressing.

Ignoring her probing, Mono calmly continued wrapping himself until he finished. With a slight hunch, he leaned in closer to Nia, his arm resting on his knee. “Because I'm simply uncomfortable showing my face. It doesn't matter if you've already seen it.”

The sharpness in his voice and the intensity in his gaze left no room for further discussion. Sensing this, Nia wisely gave up and looked away. 

Mono leaned back and swiftly dressed himself in his shirt and coat, feeling more comfortable now with his body covered. Yet, despite the layer of fabric, he still felt the squirming of the eyes on his spine, causing a discomfort that seemed to penetrate even the newly applied bandages. Mono paused, he needed answers as to why they where there and how he could rid himself of them. And soon. All he knew for certain was that they had appeared after the teleportation... perhaps that, coupled with the sudden seizure, held some connection. Maybe. He would have to investigate further to find out.

Pushing that aside for now, he settled back onto the ground, a pang of hunger reminding him of his needs. Silently, he reached for his bag, grabbing some dried meat, and swiftly consumed it beneath the shelter of his paper bag. The persistent gnawing in his stomach was evident as he ate. Mid-bite, though, he noticed Nia's gaze fixed on his throat as he swallowed, prompting him to pause. Pulling out another piece from the bag, he extended it to Nia, who accepted it with a silent nod of gratitude, beginning to eat herself.

“So...” Nia interjected quietly between bites. “You've been on the move quite a bit, and I noticed while following you that you're headed in one direction... where are you going?”

“The forest land,” he responded simply, snagging another piece of dried meat to nibble on. Nia paused, her eyes widening in surprise.

“You... you want to leave the city?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

A faint, irritated sigh slipped from Mono's lips; he found himself less than thrilled about being bombarded with questions late into the night, especially when exhaustion still clung to his bones. Yet, begrudgingly, he acknowledged his debt to Nia for answers. For saving Little's life.

His gaze fell upon Nia, seated before him, and lingered for a beat before he absently bit into the food, his attention drifting to the window's view beyond. “Why?” he began, his voice weighted with resignation. “Because... this city... is a cycle of death and torment. Pain. Sorrow...” 

A moment passed, heavy with unspoken weight. “I've had enough.” Nia's gaze fell, a silent acknowledgment of his reasoning, yet a silent worry lingered in her eyes, palpable even as she drew a breath. “I see where you're coming from. But... there's food and shelter here. Outside, it's a different story. I've ventured out before, and it's...not easy...”

“I'll take my chances with 'not easy',” Mono countered, his tone resolute, devoid of warmth. “I can handle it. I know I can. And I will. I'd rather die in the wilderness than remain here, where our bodies become food for Adults.”

His words carried a stark gravity, and Nia sensed the weight behind them. “You've experienced it firsthand, haven't you? Like I have?” she ventured, recognizing the haunted shadows in his eyes.

Mono's gaze sharpened, momentarily abandoning the present as memories of that fateful night flooded back—the night he crossed paths with Six, fleeing from the Hunter. 

A sneer tugged at his lips.  “Yes. I've been there.”

They both fell in to silance for a long time, but eventualy began eating again. 

They lapsed into silence for a prolonged stretch, their focus returning to their meal. 

After Nia finished eating, she drew a deep breath, likely preparing to pose another question. However, before she could speak, a faint noise signaled Little's awakening, shattering the silence. Both Mono and Nia's attention shifted to the young girl as she gradually stirred, her eyes fluttering open before widening as she spotted Nia, the red-haired girl.

Discomfort etched across Little's face, and without hesitation, she scuttled over to Mono for security, seeking refuge behind his propped-up knee.

Mono couldn't help but chuckle softly. “It's okey, Little. This is Nia. She helped you survive.”

Little peered tentatively at the other girl from behind Mono's knee, her eyes narrowed with wariness, while Nia offered a hesitant grimace that was meant to be a smile, gently waving at Little, who simply stared back. Nia swallowed hard, her discomfort palpable.

“Uh... yeah, I'm Nia,” she began, her voice slightly strained. “Nice to meet you, Little. Also, sorry for attacking you in the shop the other day. I was starved.”

Little emitted a huff, her only response to the other girl, before redirecting her attention to Mono, her wide eyes silently questioning as she signed, “Is she staying with us?” seemingly overlooking the fact that Nia had played a pivotal role in saving her life. Mono stared for a moment, unmoving.

Feeling excluded from their silent exchange, Nia interjected, her voice uncertain. “Wh...what is she saying?” 

Mono held Little's gaze for a moment, lost in thought, then responded, “She asked if you are staying with us.” 

Nia let out a quiet "oh" and settled back onto the ground. “I guess you both are going to the forest land together?” she observed silently, her thoughts drifting. Little turned briefly to face her, then redirected her attention to Mono.

“She could come with us?” Little proposed, catching Mono off guard. Why would she want Nia to join them?

Furrowing his eyebrows, Mono stared down at Little, perplexed. Why did she want Nia to come along? He raised his hands in sign language, questioning her motives. Little nodded and gestured towards Nia, who was observing them quietly. Mono tilted his head, pondering if Little had forgotten the part where Nia had saved her life and was simply trying to keep her safe. Perhaps, in her own way, this was Little's way of saying thank you. 

Also, there was no certainty regarding whether Nia would even want to join them. 

Mono cast one last questioning glance at Little before redirecting his attention to Nia. “Little is asking if you would like to come with us,” he conveyed.

Nia's head shot up, her eyes widening in disbelief. “…You... you would want me to come with you?”  Her tone was one of utter disbelief. 

“Yes, otherwise Little wouldn't ask.” 

“And you? Would you like me to come with?” Nia pressed, her gaze searching Mono's face for an answer.

Mono fell silent at her question, the tension between them still palpable. 

He mulled over her words, considering their implications. On one hand, Nia's presence could be beneficial; her abilities could prove useful, and Little would have someone her age to connect with. Yet, there lingered a fear of betrayal, a nagging doubt that Nia might exploit her powers to their detriment. However, he couldn't ignore the fact that Nia had saved Little's life and helped him in finding her. 

Mono weighed the implications carefully. Taking Nia along meant shouldering additional responsibility for both girls, ensuring their safety and well-being. Yet, he realized he was already committed to protecting Little, and adding Nia to the equation wouldn't fundamentally change that.

Mono's words were measured, his gaze steady as he addressed Nia. “I wouldn't mind if you came along, as long as you behave yourself,” he stated carefully, his seriousness evident.

Nia fell silent for a moment, her expression shifting from surprise to happiness, catching Mono off guard. But just as quickly, her expression turned to something resembling unease. It only confused him more.

“...Yes, I would like to come along, and I will behave. I'm just...” She glanced over at Little and then back at Mono, gratitude shining in her eyes. “...I appreciate it,” she concluded softly.

. . .

The following morning, after they all had caught some more sleep and agreed that Nia would accompany them, they gathered their belongings and quietly exited the apartment block where they had spent the night. Little resumed her usual spot, perched atop Mono's shoulder and clinging to his coat's collar as he navigated the familiarly damp streets of the city. Nia walked alongside him, matching his longer strides and occasionally clinging to his pants to keep pace.

Silence enveloped them as they proceeded onward, each lost in their own thoughts. 

Over the next few hours, they stopped at various shops and buildings to gather items that could aid them in their survival. Passing by clothing stores, both girls expressed the desire to stop and procure warmer clothes. Thus, Mono waited inside the shop, perched on a chair, while he observed Nia assisted Little in navigating through the racks of clothing, selecting items of interest. Eventually, they asked if Mono wanted to acquire additional clothing, but he declined, content with what he already wore, finding it sufficient for warmth. 

After repeating that process at multiple shops until Mono had enough and forbade them from gathering more, they continued onward. By afternoon, Mono's bag was brimming with clothes and food, and both Little and Nia were perched on his shoulders—Nia's legs having grown weary from trying to keep pace with his long strides.

Now, they stood atop a building, gazing down at the edge of the Pale City. 

Normally, the sound of the water lapping against the shore would be audible from the building's side. But that familiar sound had vanished in recent days, replaced by an eerie silence. The air had turned cold... icy. What was once a thriving and tumultuous sea had now frozen over. 

Closed. And silent.

It was uncomfortable to behold, a stark indication that winter had arrived, bringing with it much harsher times ahead. Mono sensed both Little and Nia shiver on his shoulder as a cold wind swept over them, tousling their hair. He could hear the wind rustling through his paper bag, feeling its biting chill seep through. Suddenly, the weight of his bag on his back felt a bit more comfortable, reassuring, a tangible reminder that they were prepared. 

Mono glanced over to Little and Nia on his shoulder, observing how they clung to each other for warmth. They had grown more comfortable over the past few hours, and it was heartening to see. Little had warmed up considerably and seemed to trust Nia. If Little trusted her, then so would Mono. He lifted a hand and gently ruffled both of their hair, eliciting a cute huff from each of them. It almost made Mono smile. Almost.

But then, his gaze fell upon the city behind them. Silently, Mono bid farewell. To the distant tower, to the Eyes within. 

To Blue. 

Squeezing his eyes shut and tensing his back, Mono turned around and gazed ahead over the frozen sea. Despite the cold, crossing it this way would be much easier. With determination, he turned and leaped down from the rooftops, landing gracefully on the frozen beach below. His first step onto the ice sent a warning chill through his bare feet, every line of snow and ice beneath his skin perceptible. Yet, he did not feel the cold keenly. Years of survival had rendered him numb to such discomfort.

Taking the first step, he tested the ice beneath him. Instantly, his worries that it wouldn't hold his weight vanished. He could tell by the dull sound that resonated beneath him that the ice was as thick as he was tall. 

Mono continued to take each step carefully, methodically crossing the frozen expanse of water. The wind began to pick up, and he instinctively raised one arm to shield himself, Little, and Nia from its biting cold. Soon, snowflakes joined the wind, swirling around them and obscuring their surroundings in a blur of white. Despite the increasing intensity of the elements, Mono pressed onward. 

The crunch of more solid snow beneath his feet made him pause. Looking down, Mono realized that he had reached the other side. They had crossed it. They where on the forest land.

And not far from the Hunter's cabin.

As Mono could already see the tip of the side shack where the Hunter had hidden a shotgun—the same one that Six and he had used, to shoot him with. 

He hoped it was still there.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The cold wind seeped through the narrow window, tousling Six's slightly grown-back black hair as she stared intently at the door. The image of the Hunter's violent, aggressive slam and the final, resounding click of the lock replayed in her mind.

It had been securely locked. So why was it now open? Had he changed his mind? A sudden pang of doubt gripped her—was this a ruse, a calculated trap to lure her out? Could Van be behind this? 

Slowly, Six pushed herself upright, a sharp intake of breath betraying her weakened state. Internally cringing, she leaned against the wall for support, her muscles tense with apprehension. Her eyes remained fixed on the door, fists clenched tightly, fingers trembling slightly. Uncertainty clouded her expression as her mind raced with questions—weighing whether to investigate further or retreat into the shadows.

Yet, an unsettling feeling lingered—that something was... deepy wrong.

The room seemed to hold its breath, as if awaiting her next move. She too, was waiting. The air, usually stale, carried an unfamiliar undertone—a faint sweetness. How odd. The last time Six had caught such a scent was in the Pale City, when she and Mono had wandered through supermarkets and stumbled upon a piece of candy. It was one of the only good memories she still had.

Shaking her head vigorously to dispel the memories, Six furrowed her eyebrows. Yet hesitated. While she had always relied on her instincts for survival, the current scenario was peculiar enough to give her pause. An open door in a place where every exit was meticulously guarded screamed of a trap. But then again, what choice did she have? She approached the open door with cautious steps. Her posture was tense, muscles coiled, as she leaned forward slightly and peeked out.

What greeted her, made her breath get stuck in her throat.

It was still the Hunter's basement. And yet... it was not. 

It remained dark and moldy, with chestnut wooden walls and creaky floorboards, but there were scattered toys—toys that didn't belong. Toys Six recognized. There was a teddy bear, its creepy appearance vivid in her memory, the one Mono had carried in the Hospital to burn for a hidden key. Beside it sat the wooden donkey, the very same she had x-rayed along with others, all consigned to flames in the Hospital's basement. Wooden cubes adorned with numbers or large letters, alongside drawings and tiny chairs, filled the space—Six could only stare at each one in disbelief.

What where they doing here? 

Then it clicked, and her eyes widened slightly.

She was dreaming. She had to be. It was unthinkable that they were here in person. Six's stiff posture slumped slightly upon this realization. Yes, a dream. If not, how was the door even open? Vivid, realistic dreams were nothing new to her. The more she pondered the situation, the more it seemed to make sense. She confirmed her suspicion by attempting to call upon her shadows—who did not respond. Another sign that she was dreaming. But now, her question was why she was dreaming of this—of worn-out toys and faded memories.

And why these specific memories?

It was all in the past, but lately... memories seemed to haunt her more and more, didn't they? Six had had plenty of time to reflect over the past month.

Now aware that she was dreaming—and thus assured of her safety, knowing nothing could harm her within her own mind—Six ventured deeper into the basement. She paused before the creepy teddy bear, its worn fabric and faded eyes staring back at her. With a mixture of curiosity and reluctance, she reached out and lifted it, staring into its ugly, stitched grin. Yet, instead of the bear, she could only see the mischievous smile of a little boy who had once delighted in showing it off to her.

Frowning, Six let the bear fall from her hands and continued toward the nearby storage room, her fingers tracing the cool, damp walls as she went. Her hand clung to the doorframe as she cautiously peered inside, her gaze drawn to an old axe firmly lodged in a wall shelf. Its blade, weathered with age and neglect, caught the faint glimmer of light filtering through a cobweb-covered window.

She hated that axe.

It had been straight from a nightmare when she first met Mono, when he had freed her—yes, but also broken down the door by chopping it to pieces. Her younger self had been traumatized and terrified then, even running away from him at first. Six's grip on the doorframe tightened, her nails digging into the wood. Why was she thinking about this? Why did her thoughts swirl around... him? He was gone, dead—she had killed him. Was this her guilt finally catching up to her?

Anger simmered under her skin, then boiled over.

With swift strides, she marched up to the axe and grabbed the handle, attempting to pull it free. Yet, stubbornly, it didn't budge, despite Six being stronger now than she was in her younger years. Frustration surged through her, and growling between clenched teeth, she tugged and tugged until, in a fit of rage, she gave up and stormed out of the room—only to freeze in her tracks.

She found herself no longer in the basement, but outside.

Standing on a desolate beach where freezing waves thundered against the frozen sand. The air carried a heavy scent of seaweed and salt, chilled by winter's icy grip. Above her, the sky brooded ominously with clouds on the verge of breaking apart. Yet, it was the sea that held her attention. Usually a lively expanse of deep blue, animated by wind and speckled with frothy whitecaps, it now unsettled her with its eerie hue—not dark blue, but a scarlet, blood-red.

The shore was caressed by water tinged in the crimson hue, akin to liquid rubies flowing over pristine white sand. Each wave carried a deeper, darker shade of red, leaving behind a haunting stain on the shore's purity. It felt as though the sea had been wounded, its essence bleeding into the world. The sight sent a shiver down Six's spine—a chill not borne of the winter air. She stood transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away from the gruesome spectacle before her.

Blood? Could it truly be blood?

Six knew she was still dreaming, yet... this felt beyond a mere dream. The intensity of the scene sent a jolt of fear through her, a sensation too vivid to brush off as mere fantasy. Feeling the bloody water swirled around her feet, she glanced down, her eyes widening in dread—The water had begun to creep up her legs as if with a will of its own. Panic surged within Six, and she attempted to move, shaking her legs to dislodge the creeping liquid, but it clung stubbornly to her flesh like living goo.

The more Six struggled, the tighter it constricted, oozing upward with relentless determination. Cold and slimy, its texture was a chilling amalgamation of silk and sludge, sending a repulsive shiver through her body. The viscous fluid slithered up her legs, icy tendrils coiling around her calves and thighs with a serpentine agility that seemed almost predatory. Six gasped raggedly as she thrashed, panic escalating with each passing second. Fighting desperately to break free from the grip of the crimson tide, but every frantic movement only seemed to make the situation worse.

Meanwhile, the sticky substance climbed higher, enveloping her hips and then her belly, its grip tightening with an almost sinister intent. It crept up her chest, constricting her ribcage, causing her to choke, inching toward her neck. She could feel its cold, clammy touch against her skin, a chilling sensation that heightened her dread to an unbearable pitch. 

As it reached Six's neck—she was suddenly dragged down—the liquid's force pulled her under with an irresistible, suffocating grip.

She was submerged, pulled underwater in a swift, terrifying motion. Gasping for breath but only getting a mouthful of blood, Six struggled and fought as she was dragged down. The taste of iron filled her mouth, and she choked, her throat burning. The light from the surface fled rapidly, dwindling to a faint glimmer, until there was only darkness around her. Her lungs screamed for air, each second an eternity of suffocating agony.

Just as the darkness threatened to engulf her entirely, she glimpsed small lights underwater—tiny glowing orbs that moved with an eerie grace. They flickered in the abyss, a hauntingly beautiful sight that would be the last thing she saw. Because, abruptly, her head collided with something solid in a jarring impact, and her world went black.

Six jolted awake, gasping in a panicked frenzy for breath. 

Her chest heaved as she struggled to draw air into her lungs, her mind reeling from the vivid terror of the nightmare.

“Six, calm down,” the voice of her shadows spoke, its tone soothing yet insistent. But Six's vision was still tinged with red, remnants of the dream clinging to her senses.

“Six!” they called again, breaking through her panic.

Her eyes swept around the dimly lit room—until they locked onto the shadows before her—and widened. They had assumed their most immense form yet, their dark outlines stretching almost to the room's borders, towering like giants in the cramped space. Despite their usual sense of familiarity and comfort, their towering presence now carried an unnerving weight that filled the room with a foreboding air. Seeing them like this sent a chill down Six's spine, stirring a primal instinct within her as she struggled to regain her grip on reality.

Their shape jagged, resembling thorns wrought from shadows, swirling around them with an dangerous energy. It was as though the shadows had transformed into a defensive barrier, poised to shield her from any threat. The dark tendrils undulated with a life of their own, each pointed tip gleaming ominously sharp.

They had sensed her distress and reacted instinctively, their form adapting to her fear. Six had never seen them like this, their protective instinct manifesting in a dynamic, almost intimidating display. The back of her head throbbed.

“You...” Six stammered, trying to process. “...You hit me.”

“It was necessary. You were threatening to suffer a seizure.”

Six gasped, disbelief evident in her voice. “What? Really?”

Her shadows remained silent as they began to sink to the ground, their thorny, swirling mass gradually receding. Flowing downward like a shadowy waterfall, the rest of their form returned to its normal shape. Six blinked, feeling disoriented and confused, her hand instinctively reaching to her forehead, slick with cool sweat. This dream... it was unlike anything she had experienced before. The ocean, the blood—

Abruptly, a violent cough seized Six's body, wracking her frame with such intensity that she doubled over, gagging for air. She coughed and choked, each breath coming in ragged bursts, until the outburst finally subsided. 

Opening her eyes again, she saw it: blood splattered on the ground. Her blood. She had coughed up blood.

The metallic taste lingered in her mouth, a harsh reminder of the nightmare from which she had just escaped from. The sight of her own blood on the floor sparked a new flood of horror within her. What had that dream done to her? Was it more than just a dream? The shadows, now back in their familiar form, observed her with a mix of concern and confusion.

“What... what is happening to me...?” Six stammered, her voice shaking from dread. 

But before she could descend further into panic and confusion—a sharp gunshot broke the tense silence.

The room echoed with the deafening sound, its reverberations bouncing off the walls and threatening to unleash a scream of terror from Six. 

The abrupt noise shattered what little composure she had left. Outside, the Hunter's gunfire punctuated the air again, each shot adding to the chaos. Overwhelmed, Six shrieked and stumbled back into the corner of the room. Her hands instinctively covered her ears, trying to shield herself from the relentless barrage assaulting her senses. In the dim light, her shadows gathered around her, their presence both comforting and unsettling as they tried to soothe her racing heartbeat.

But the gunfire persisted, each shot reverberating like a thunderclap, sending fresh waves of fear through Six's already trembling form.

•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

Mono took a deep breath, summoning all his strength to quiet his anxious thoughts. His heart pounded in his chest, but the cool air rushed into his lungs, calming its rapid beat. Each stride on the solid yet oddly unfamiliar ground felt like an act of bold defiance. Ahead lay not only the uncertainties of his future but also the daunting shadows of his past.

As he walked, the scent of fresh snow mixed with the familiar aroma of frozen mud and decaying leaves filled his nostrils. He never imagined he would return to this place.

Mono's hands, though steady, trembled slightly as he gripped the cold, rough bark of the towering trees. The transition from the icy shore to the dense, snow-covered forest was dramatic and surreal. Each step echoed through the silent, snowy woods, a symphony of loneliness with every crisp, resonant crunch of snow beneath his feet. The scent of rich earth and pine mingled with the briny, frozen tang of the sea, weaving a tapestry of memories that drew him deeper into the forest. The cold air was sharp and invigorating, filling his lungs with each breath.

Naturally, memories began to haunt Mono, despite his attempts to prepare himself. But it was not easy.

His mind was flooded with vivid, relentless recollections of them and her. It felt inevitable, he supposed, as he approached the place where he had first met her... all the while knowing he would never see her again. Images of their shared moments flitted through his mind like fleeting ghosts. The bittersweet pang of loss, tinged with anger, regret, and what he had thought was love, grew stronger with each recollection, like a sorrowful melody playing on repeat.

Wait. Love?

Could he even call it that? Maybe it was more like a friendship-turned-love. Back then, so young and desperate for a companion, Mono had found one—briefly—until she abandoned him. Despite the betrayal, she had lingered in his mind as a friend for some time, her presence in hallucinations helping him stay tethered to reality. Inevitably, some form of attachment had developed between them.

Or, as Mono sadly pondered, perhaps it was only him who felt that way, given how brutally she had shown her true feelings when she let him fall...

Shaking his head to dispel these thoughts, Mono clenched his teeth and tensed his muscles with each stride toward the hut. Such memories were unwelcome distractions now; he needed to stay vigilant.

A palpable tension, distinct from the unsettling memories, coiled around him, as though an unseen presence lurked nearby... Mono sensed it keenly, an ominous weight bearing down on him. Years of survival instincts had honed his awareness. He knew all too well, as his suspicions grew, that the Hunter might still be alive—or worse, resurrected, much like the Doctor in the deserted corridors of the Hospital...

The thought tightened Mono's shoulders, his gaze fixed ahead as his steps slowed. Little and Nia, nestled on his shoulder, felt his growing unease and mirrored it in their tense postures, though neither spoke a word. All three sensed impending danger closing in, the surroundings growing ever more unsettling.

Crouching behind a row of bushes that hid him from the hut, Mono edged closer to it. The structure stood before him, half-collapsed, its familiar ugliness and abandonment unchanged. But what he really wanted, if it was still there, was inside. It would give him some relief to see it intact—a sign that some things hadn't changed.

But if it wasn't there...

Mono was not willing to take any chances. 

He met their eyes as he pulled his backpack gently off his shoulder and he turned to face the two girls seated on the other. Both raised an eyebrow as Mono murmured, “You two stay here...” in a hushed tone. Panic widened their eyes, shrinking them to appear more vulnerable, clearly reluctant to part ways with him. Mono let out a deep sigh.

“While I make sure its safe, it's better if you remain here. I'm capable of defending myself if things goes wrong. However, against an attack, the two of you would be helpless...” 

They still didn’t seem pleased, and Nia began to voice her protest, but Mono swiftly silenced her with a stern glare from beneath his paper bag. Crouching closer to the ground, he allowed them to hop off his shoulder, steadying Little with a firm hand as she went.

Once both were safely on the ground, Mono straightened to his full height and nodded toward his bag, silently instructing them to guard it and wait until his return. Nia and Little nodded in understanding. They moved quietly to the bag, snuggling into a side pocket where they would remain hidden if something stumbled upon it in the bushes.

After ensuring they were concealed and safe, Mono turned and strode toward the shack.

Once again, Mono moved with utmost caution, his steps quick yet tense. He recalled the window at the shack's rear and swiftly approached it, knowing he couldn't afford to take any chances with whatever might lurk inside. Peering through the window, he cursed inwardly; his suspicions were confirmed.

The shotgun was missing.

The Hunter was still out there.

The situation had escalated drastically. Mono hurried back to the girls, instructing them to stay hidden in the side pocket. He slung the bag over his shoulder once more and moved swiftly, his heart racing, toward the Hunter's cabin.

Several tasks awaited him inside—securing supplies and, crucially, retrieving a weapon: the axe. He recalled one stored in the basement, and if he acted swiftly, he could slip in and seize it. However, with the Hunter likely lurking armed with the shotgun... Mono halted abruptly, weighing his options. Reluctantly, he reached a conclusion he had hoped to avoid—but couldn't.

To safely search the cabin, he had to eliminate the Hunter.

More importantly, he couldn't risk a surprise attack from behind. His spine, plagued by those dreadful eyes, already posed enough challenges. The safety of the girls weighed heavily on his mind. Resuming his pace, he advanced cautiously toward the cabin. Then, a detail in the snow snagged his attention.

Footprints.

Someone had passed through recently.

Mono froze, his gaze fixed on the ground, studying the footprints. They weren't the Hunter's—those would have been much larger. These were about the same size as his own, suggesting someone around his age. Not good. Now he had to contend with two potential threats. Urgency surged through his veins as Mono clenched his jaw and pressed on, making his way to the left side of the cabin and finding a small opening behind snow-covered bushes.

“Alright....” Mono began, kneeling down with one knee and placing his bag beneath it, Nia and Little peeking out from the pocket to watch him. “There is someone else around, plus an Adult.” 

Both Nia and Little gasped in alarm. Mono shot them a stern glare, conveying both tension and concern. “No matter what happens... or what you hear, you stay here. Understood?”

Little teetered on the brink of tears, and Nia's expression grew deeply troubled. “W-what are you going to do...?” she asked in a hushed voice, concern etched on her face.

Mono closed his eyes briefly. “I think you know,” he responded softly, turning his gaze away.

Nia took a sharp breath, understanding, then turned to Little, offering a comforting hug which the younger girl gratefully accepted. “Then do what you have to do... We'll wait here.”

Giving Nia and Little a final, lingering glance, Mono turned away and positioned himself on the opposite side of the cabin, waiting for the Hunter to show up. He braced himself for the imminent confrontation, muscles tensed and mind focused on the task ahead.

Mono didn't have to wait long. He had hurled a rock against the cabin wall, drawing the Hunter's attention from within. Moments later, the imposing figure emerged through the front door, shotgun in hand. Mono tensed, preparing to launch a surprise attack.

But then, a sound from the basement window caught Mono's ear. He turned swiftly, attention drawn by what sounded like a cough.

A cough? Why would there be a cough?

Before Mono could process the unexpected noise, the sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the air, snapping Mono's attention back to the imminent danger. Reacting with swift instinct, Mono dropped low as the shot grazed a tree beside him. He stared at the mark in disbelief.

The Hunter had spotted him, the diversion proving costly.

With his stealth compromised, Mono abandoned his plan to sneak up from behind. Now, he had to rely on speed and agility to evade the gunfire and swiftly close the distance. It was a risky, perilous gamble, but hesitation could cost him his life.

Mono sprang to his feet and zigzagged, narrowly dodging the Hunter's shots as they zipped past. His speed made it difficult for the Hunter to aim accurately from such a distance. Mono kept track of the shots, anticipating the critical moment when the Hunter would have to reload.

After a tense pause, the Hunter halted to reload. It was Mono's opportunity. Muscles taut and adrenaline pumping, he surged ahead. The next moments blurred into a frenzy of action, driven by raw determination and adrenaline.

Mono surged forward, his hands and arms coiled with lethal intent. The Hunter, sensing the danger, scrambled to reload his gun in a panic. But Mono moved with lightning speed. Closing the gap in an instant, he seized the Hunter's arm and deftly spun him around. Mono's height and newfound strength came into play as he wrapped his arm around the Hunter's neck, exerting pressure while breathing heavily from the exertion. 

Yet, in the heat of the struggle, Mono overlooked a critical detail—a costly mistake. He had failed to disarm the Hunter during their initial scuffle outside the cabin. 

In an instant, the trembling gun in the Hunter's hand was aimed directly at Mono's head. And then it discharged.

With mere milliseconds to react, Mono's instincts took over. His body moved on reflex, and in a blur, Mono teleported to the side, narrowly dodging the shot. Despite his swift evasion, searing pain erupted in his shoulder.

Gasping through the agony, Mono staggered, clutching his bleeding shoulder where the bullet had struck. Despite the injury, he couldn't afford to hesitate; the Hunter was already preparing to fire again. Mono's glare intensified, his eyes now faintly glowing with a bluish-silver hue beneath his paper bag, as he teleported once more.

The Hunter's shot missed, striking the snow-covered ground where Mono had stood just moments before. Before the monster could grasp what had happened, a startled huff escaped its lips as Mono reappeared behind him.

With swift precision, Mono gripped the sides of the Hunter's head and twisted sharply.

The sickening crack of the Hunter's neck breaking pierced the air, followed by a splatter of blood as Mono tore the head from the body. The body dropped heavily to the ground with a dull thud. Fresh blood gushed from the severed neck, staining the pristine snow crimson.

Breathing heavily, half-growls escaping through clenched teeth from pain, anger, and adrenaline, Mono stood still. In his left hand, he gripped the Hunter's severed head, blood dripping steadily to the snowy ground.

The monster lay dead, and whoever had left footprints in the snow had likely fled by now—wise to flee after hearing the sounds of struggle and gunfire. Mono let the severed head fall with a heavy thud, then winced as he cradled his injured shoulder, eyes narrowing as he inspected the wound. It appeared to be a shallow flesh wound from the grazing shot, yet it throbbed painfully. Another discomfort lingered in his spine, a wet sensation he'd need to check later.

As Mono inspected his shoulder, a scraping noise in the snow caught his attention. Alert, he turned and was stunned to see the severed head of the Hunter. Fleshly tendrils sprouted from its skin, dragging it across the snow toward its body.

Shaking off his shock, Mono's irritation grew at the relentless creature's refusal to stay fucking dead. He strode purposefully to the shotgun on the ground, quickly verifying it still held one bullet. With grim determination, he closed in on the slowly moving body of the Hunter, its severed head attempting to reattach itself. 

Mono wouldn't allow that to happen.

Placing a firm foot on the Hunter's chest, Mono aimed the shotgun with one arm directly at the moving head. With a swift pull of the trigger, the head exploded into hundreds of pieces, the close-range shot maximizing the damage. Blood, fragments of skull, and brain matter sprayed across the snow in a grisly display.

The Hunter's body lay still, finally motionless. Mono stared at it for several long moments, his breathing gradually slowing as he regained his composure.

With a slow exhale, he lowered the shotgun, slinging it over his back with a grimace at the foul stench of blood and gunpowder. Rolling his injured shoulder against the pain, he pivoted towards the bushes. As he knelt down, Little threw herself onto him, sobbing uncontrollably. Nia, looking stunned, edged closer to Mono.

Brushing off Little's cling to his coat, Mono swiftly dug into his bag for bandages. His shoulder needed immediate attention to staunch the bleeding.

Securing the bandages tightly over his coat to staunch the bleeding, Mono swiftly fashioned a makeshift pressure bandage. With the knot secured, he lifted Little gently, her tear-streaked face buried against his neck, hands clutching at him, afraid to let go. Nia stood nearby, clutching his coat, visibly shaken by the ordeal. Mono reassured her with a gentle ruffle of her hair, silently conveying that he was alright.

The sound of gunshots and the intense struggle must have been terrifying for them, uncertain if Mono would return.

Once Little had calmed down slightly but still clung to him, Mono gently gathered up Nia and nestled both girls inside the inner pocket of his coat. It proved to be the safest and warmest refuge for them, especially noting how chilly they were. The pocket provided ample space for both to settle comfortably, keeping Little close to him while granting Mono the use of both hands. His injured shoulder prevented their usual perch there, but this arrangement would have to suffice for now.

After ensuring they were settled, Mono grabbed his bag, slinging it over his opposite shoulder where the shotgun rested. Despite the mounting exhaustion, he couldn't afford to pause. His first task was to scour the Hunter's cabin for supplies, retrieve his axe from the basement—though the idea unsettled him—and then push deeper into the forest to locate a secure resting spot.

Shielding the girls from the grisly sight of the Hunter's corpse, Mono maneuvered carefully with his injured shoulder and swiftly slipped into the cabin through the front door.

Immediately, he immersed himself in the task, shutting out the flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him, and made a beeline for the kitchen. There, Mono meticulously rifled through every drawer in search of more shotgun ammo, thankfully discovering a stash hidden away. He pocketed the ammunition before systematically scouring the rest of the kitchen.

Mono collected a kitchen knife, a moderately sized pot (perfect for cooking over a fire), and various other tools that could prove invaluable. Swiftly packing everything into his bag, he habitually checked the fridge, finding it as barren and uninviting as he remembered.

Mono swiftly moved through the remaining areas of the cabin, gathering various items that promised usefulness, leaving only the basement untouched. Despite his efficient progress, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that some instinct had intentionally saved this part for last. As memories surged with increasing intensity, Mono stood before the basement door, hesitating.

He simply stood there, a knot of apprehension tightening in his gut, afraid of what awaited below. He needed to retrieve the axe, yet the prospect of what lay below unnerved him deeply. He couldn't dismiss the nagging suspicion that the cycle, somehow broken since escaping the tower—or perhaps merely restarted—might lead him to encounter her again, however improbable. The Doctor and the Hunter had been alive until Mono's actions ended them, but her...

No, it couldn't be possible.

Even if the cycle had indeed restarted and she somehow remained alive, she was out there, far away. The likelihood of her presence here was minuscule at best.

Yet, despite himself, a part of Mono secretly longed to see her again. Shaking his head to dispel such thoughts, Mono focused on the task at hand. He pushed open the door and descended the stairs swiftly, eager to retrieve the axe and leave without lingering longer than necessary.

He descended the stairs swiftly and rounded the corner, his eyes locking onto the axe. Relief flooded him at the sight of it, and he moved forward to retrieve it—until another cough echoed from the opposite end of the basement. Mono froze. He recalled hearing a cough outside earlier, which had distracted him, but now, hearing it again, there was no mistaking it: someone else was down there.

Tension coiled within him, his lips pressing into a tight line.

There was definitely another presence in the basement. Slowly, Mono approached the axe, his grip tightening as he effortlessly wrenched it free from its resting place, the echoing sound surely audible to whoever else was present. As he started back toward the stairs, he hesitated.

He didn't owe them anything. They were a stranger, not his responsibility...

Yet, a voice from deep within, a part of him long buried—or so he thought—began to stir. Leaving someone imprisoned felt inherently wrong. It wouldn't be right... it wouldn't be humane. Despite his apprehension about who it might be, Mono turned decisively and approached the door, clutching the axe tightly in his hand.

But as his eyes caught a narrow glimpse through the crack in the wooden door into the room beyond, Mono froze. Shock gripped his entire being, rendering him utterly paralyzed. His eyes widened in disbelief, his lips parting in a gasp that caught in his throat.

There she was.

After ten years.

Six was visibly older now, seated on the ground, clutching her music box tightly but not winding it, clearly frightened by the fight she had heard. The first thing Mono noticed was how frail she looked—so thin and visibly unwell. Her yellow raincoat, though worn and faded, still resembled the one from years ago. One of her legs was wrapped in bandages, and she had the hood pulled up, a few strands of black hair falling over her face.

The second thing that struck him were her eyes, visible from the side profile. They were unchanged, just as hauntingly deep and dark with a reddish hue, depending on the light—just as he remembered them, still mesmerizingly beautiful.

Seeing her again, now in the flesh after years of haunting hallucinations, deeply shook Mono. 

He staggered a step back, his gaze fixed on her, unable to look away. It was like encountering a ghost, a fragment of his past, the source of so much pain, sitting there on the ground, seemingly oblivious to his presence, much like before. They were both older now, more mature, yet in that moment, Mono couldn't help but feel like the same boy, who had once felt so deeply for her.

As the initial shock subsided and he processed her presence after all these years, anger began to surface. It was a familiar, piercing rage stemming from the moment she had let him fall—the same Six who now sat before him, seemingly unchanged and unaware...

Part of Mono yearned to burst through the door and confront her. He wanted to witness—no, to feel—the finality of her life slipping away under his grasp... 

Another part of him, however, longed to collapse right there and seek solace in the arms of an old friend, to overlook the pain she had caused.

Yet a third part of him—currently winning the contest—remained mute, detached, and indifferent. It urged him to ignore her presence, to deny her existence altogether, and to move forward without looking back. He owed her nothing. Mono had no obligation to release her from the basement once more; as he bore the scars of that decision from last time. Now, cold and emotionless, he tensed and walked away, refusing to look back. But...

But.

He paused again at the threshold of the stairs, breath quickening with inwardly directed anger. Why was it so difficult to walk away? Why did he feel the urge to return and open that door? Why couldn't he leave?

Minutes stretched in tense silence as Mono wrestled with conflicting emotions. His younger self clamored to return and rescue her, driven by memories of their shared past. Yet, his present self recoiled, wanting nothing to do with her. The same moral dilemma that had drawn him to the door now tormented him. It wouldn't be humane. It wouldn't be right to abandon her there to die...

But she left you to die, a voice reminded him.

She had. But would he be any better than her if he did the same thing now?

That realization jolted him awake. It was a moment of clarity for Mono. No, walking away now would mean repeating exactly what she had done to him ten years ago. If their roles were reversed, he knew she wouldn't hesitate to abandon him. Mono wasn't like Six. Despite his hatred and the seething rage that threatened to consume him, did he still harbor a sense of protectiveness towards her? A lingering responsibility over her akin to when they were just children?

Yes.

Without giving himself a chance to reconsider, Mono turned back one last time, approached the door, and unlocked it with a firm click. He avoided looking directly at Six as he gently pushed the door open a crack, allowing the basement's darkness to spill into the room beyond. Without hesitation, he turned away and climbed the stairs, leaving the second basement door slightly ajar behind him.

Pushing through the inner rooms of the cabin, Mono burst through the front door into the wilderness. He paused momentarily, watching new snowflakes drift down from the sky, reflecting on what he had just done.

Mono had freed Six once more.

He knew that if he had left her, he wouldn't have been able to live with himself. It just wasn't who he was. It wasn't in his nature. Despite the seething resentment towards Six, he couldn't condemn her to the same suffering he endured. Yes, she had inflicted deep wounds upon him, wounds that might never fully heal... Yet, in a surprising twist of his own emotions, part of him had forgiven her. Another part, never would. Never. 

But now, standing there, he knew he had made the right choice. He had grown up, refused to succumb to blind rage, and now he could move on.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Mono adjusted his grip on the axe slung over his shoulder and secured it to his bag. With determined steps, he strode to the edge of the clearing, and disappeared into the looming forest ahead.

•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

Six hadn't moved since she heard the door open. 

Whoever had opened it, she knew it was the same person she had heard fighting the Hunter a few minutes ago. The sickening sounds of bones breaking and a gunshot confirmed in her mind about who had won. 

And they had hesitated to free her. And there was only one, who would hesitate.

Only one.

Despite her disbelief and confusion, despite it seeming impossible, a certainty began to settle within Six. She couldn't explain how she knew, but deep down, she was certain. As she grappled with this realization, refusing to accept its implications, a sense of dread crept over her.

Suddenly, an urgent wave of adrenaline surged through Six. She shot up, her movements swift and frantic. Grabbing her music box and bag, she stuffed the box inside with trembling hands and bolted out of the room. Her body operated on instinct, while her mind struggled to grasp the enormity of the situation. Each footfall echoed her desperation as she raced up the stairs, the wooden floor of the basement echoing the rapid patter of her feet.

Ascending the stairs, her heart pounded in her chest, fear and hope pulsing like a drumbeat. At the top, she paused briefly, eyes widening at the sight of the upper basement door ajar. No, not just open—it had been left open. For her.

A whirlwind of emotions clashed inside her, compelling her to follow the path before her. Without hesitation, Six sprinted through the cabin's rooms, her surroundings blurring. She burst out the front door, leaping into the open air.

Six didn't pause to savor her newfound freedom; instead, she surged forward, panic gripping her. The dread of losing track gnawed at her. Spotting the larger footprints in the snow, interspersed with drops of blood, she disregarded them, fixated solely on catching up. The mangled body of the Hunter lay ignored as her mind continued to reel from shock, but her body propelled her onward with an urgent determination.

Driven by a compelling need to unravel the truth of her savior's identity. To truly know.

Six dashed through snow-laden bushes. The falling snow grew denser with each passing moment, threatening to obscure the very footprints she followed. She pushed herself harder, refusing to lose the trail. The cold wind whipped around her legs, coating her in snow, but she pressed on undeterred. Racing around a corner where the footprints veered, Six came to an abrupt halt.

There, blocking her path, stood Van, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Where do you think you're going?” he growled, his voice tense and oddly thrilled.

Without hesitation, Six veered sharply and bolted away as Van pursued. Despite her exhaustion and lingering weakness, she fought to stay upright. Van's footsteps echoed close behind, driven by a relentless pursuit, but Six pushed herself onward. She raced around another corner, tracing the fading footsteps as she continued to flee.

Now, it was a race against time.

Six understood that reaching him could end this chase—Van must have heard or witnessed what transpired with the Hunter.

Over the next few minutes, the pursuit was relentless, but Six pressed on, racing blindly toward where the footsteps had guided her, now nearly concealed by snow. Van's steps drew nearer and nearer until, abruptly, they fell silent. She didn't dwell on it but forged ahead until the swirling snow cleared enough to reveal a distant figure—a tall silhouette moving ahead.

Without thinking, Six halted her sprint.

“Mono!”

He immediately halted, freezing in place. 

Six, her breath ragged from exertion, felt her legs quiver from both cold and exhaustion, yet her attention remained fixed on him. He was alive, right there. Everything about him seemed unchanged—the clothes, even the paper bag. She held herself tightly against the chill, her quick breaths casting mist into the icy air. After a moment of hesitation, she steeled herself and took a step toward him.

He didn't turn or move; all she could see was his broad back, his tense stance, and his arm and shoulder wrapped in bandages, blood slowly seeping into the snow below. He was injured, Six realized. Yet, he seemed unconcerned—and so did she.

Six stopped a few feet away from him, the initial shock beginning to fade. Her eyes widened as she kept them fixed on his back, then shifted upward—realizing that he had grown alot taller—as her gaze settled on the back of his head hidden beneath his paper bag.

“It's... It's you,” she breathed after a moment of simply staring, her voice barely audible.

“It's you,” he replied, his voice tense and emotionless, turning his head slightly to meet her gaze over his shoulder.

Six flinched as their eyes locked for the first time in so long. Despite a decade having passed, neither had changed much. His eyes retained their boyish tone, yet now held something new, something Six interpreted as cold. It sent a shiver down her spine.

It was clear that Mono was holding himself back. 

Six recoiled in shock. She hadn't anticipated such a silent yet hostile response from him. Now, she couldn't ignore how intimidating he appeared, radiating a clear warning not to approach. His shoulders were wide and rigid, his gaze piercing and icy. His hands clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles white as the snow around them.

Until this moment, she had disregarded his unmistakable body language. Now, Six realized she was in imminent danger—he seemed on the brink of attacking her. And she didn't need to speculate why. The last time they had crossed paths, she had dropped him into an abyss. Despite her curiosity about how he had survived, fear should have seized her at this moment. But it wasn't fear that furrowed her brow; it was anger. Anger directed squarely at him.

After so many damn years, he had the audacity to just appear, free her, and then threaten her?

No one threatened Six.

She squared her shoulders and, brushing aside the warning signals in his stance, marched angrily towards him, her lips curling in a snarl.

“You... you've got the nerve to show up here? After all this time?” Six hissed, brushing off how his eyes narrowed dangerously. “How did you even survive? What happened?” Her breath hung in the cold air, emphasizing her words with puffs of steam. Her voice was demanding, a tone that Mono did not appreciate.

He turned around to face her, having to crane his neck to meet her glare. “You're angry at me? Shouldn't I be the one who's angry right now?” Mono's reply came out as a low growl tinged with frustration and bitterness, clearly on edge. 

“No! You have no right to be angry right now! Not after what you just did!” Six yelled, accusingly jabbing a finger at his chest, referring to his act of freeing her, which from her perspective, had no justification.

Mono almost laughed in response. He already regretted freeing her.

“Oh, really? I have no right? And who exactly decides that, hmm? You? No, I don't think so, especially since you can't even seem start a proper conversation normally like a grown-up.” 

Six gaped like a fish at his words, but Mono was already turning away from her, seething with anger at her unyielding attitude that hadn't changed over the years—not one bit. He just wanted to escape now. He hadn't anticipated her following him, and he certainly hadn't expected her to be the one to get so angry between them both. The longer he remained in her presence, the more tempting the thought of strangling her became.

Mono didn't know how much longer he could restrain himself.

In her typical fashion, Six refused to be ignored and promptly followed, continuing to yell at him. 

“You dare call me a child? I'm 19 now! And you didn't answer my question—how did you survive?” Six's voice rang out, filled with frustration and demand.

Mono continued to walk in silence, deliberately ignoring her as he moved away. His silence only fueled Six’s anger, causing her face to flush a deep, seething red. The cold no longer registered to her senses; she was consumed by a surge of energy and fury that made the frigid air seem irrelevant. He hadn’t changed at all. Still avoiding confrontation, sticking to his old ways of evasion rather than facing her. Six remained at his heels, her frustration boiling over.

“Mono! Fucking answer me!” she shouted, her voice cracking with intensity.  “I deserve to know after all the shit you put me through in the Pale City!”

That finally provoked a reaction; Mono's restraint snapped. He stopped abruptly, the suddenness of his movement sending a spray of snow around him. With a sharp, jerking motion, he spun around to face her, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze more directly. Despite his slight bow, he still towered over her by a good three heads, his presence looming and intimidating.

“I think I fail to recall the times when I forced you along,” he said, his voice a low growl laced with bitter frustration. “Was it that terrible to travel with me?”

Six glared up at him, her anger blazing. “You left me no choice but to follow you into the wilderness because I had nowhere else to go!” she shot back, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and emotion. “And yes, it was terrible at times, but that's beside the point—”

“Then what is your point, Six? You're the one who's furious, despite having no right after leaving me to die. And now, your first reaction to me is anger?”

Six's next words where screamed. “Yes, because I thought you were dead!”

Both of them locked eyes, their tension so thick that the world around them seemed to blur. Minutes passed, each refusing to yield first.

“How,” Six began, her voice trembling slightly, “How did you survive?”

“You don't need to know,” came Mono's cold response, his breath visible in the frigid air beneath his paper bag. Six narrowed her eyes, stepping closer until she could feel his body heat.

“I do. I deserve to know.”

Mono leaned in as well, their faces now inches apart. “If you deserve an answer, then I deserve one too,” he stated, his voice calm and icy. He moved even closer, testing if Six would flinch, but she held her ground. Then, Mono pulled back his hidden lips into a sneer, voice filled with the years of pain he had endured.

“Why?”

The single question hung in the air for a long moment. Six immediately knew what he was referring to, yet she remained defiant.

“What do you mean, why? I don't know what yo—”

“Don't. Play. Dumb. Six,” he growled, tensing up even further as she had the nerve to feign innocence. “Why?”

Why did you drop me?

Six finally took a step back, still glaring at him but feeling the need to retreat. Mono didn't let her. He promptly followed, staying close to prevent her from finding an escape. Six tried to move further, but Mono remained persistent until suddenly her back hit a tree, leaving her trapped.

“I—...” she stuttered, searching for an answer that wasn't there.

Six had never asked herself that question before, never feeling the need to know. But now, faced with Mono's demand for an answer after she had demanded answers from him first, she found herself at a loss. She didn't know. Six truly didn't know.

Mono continued to stare down at her tensely, his gaze unrelenting. He waited, the pressure palpable. Eventually, Six couldn't hold his stare any longer. She looked away, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. Anger still simmered within her, but now there was a new mix of emotions—sadness and guilt. She refused to let him see that vulnerability.

Mono observed the emotions playing across her face, aware that she was trying to mask them, but he knew her too well. She hadn't changed. He watched as various expressions crossed her features, but notably absent was the one he sought—remorse. Remorse for her actions. Eventually, Six furrowed her brows again and sneered, though she still avoided meeting his gaze. Mono sensed that any progress she had made in facing her actions was now overshadowed by renewed anger. It was useless.

“I can't give you that answer...” she said softly, though anger radiated from her. She lifted her head to meet Mono's gaze directly, her narrowed eyes locking onto his. Unconsciously, her arms wrapped around herself in a defensive, uncomfortable gesture. Mono ignored it, maintaining eye contact.

“Then I have nothing more to say to you.” 

Mono straightened to his full height, observing as Six's expression twisted in hurt—but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Turning away, he walked off, leaving Six alone by the tree. She could only watch as his tall figure receded, taking his warmth with him. His words had been clear, and they cut deep into Six more than she had anticipated. But why did it hurt? 

Everything that had transpired in the past moments crashed down on Six, and she slumped further against the tree. Her newfound freedom, the Hunter's lifeless body, Mono's unexpected survival—emotions, memories, and the weight of the past—all overwhelmed her. She almost buckled under the weight. Her eyes stayed fixed on Mono's diminishing form, growing blurrier and smaller as he moved farther away. In that moment, Six keenly felt the stark reality of her solitude, realizing how she had unwittingly slipped back into the comfort of Mono's presence without questioning it, or... without even noticing it. 

She furrowed her eyebows, her mind racing.

It was rapidly getting colder, and as Six fixed her gaze on Mono, she suddenly realized she had two compelling reasons to stick with him. One was for answers, the other for survival.

She understood Mono's skill at surviving; her chances of staying alive, especially now after escaping imprisonment, were significantly higher if she stayed with him. Out here in the woods, alone, she wouldn’t last long. Though she had her shadows, who had been silently observing until now, she dreaded the thought of being alone. Six didn't want to be alone again, especially after her prolonged confinement in that basement.

And she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of giving up first, not after he had freed her.

Suddenly, the fear of encountering Van in the woods, also added urgency to her decision. Staggering and swaying from the cold and mixed emotions, Six began to walk after Mono, just as she had done the first time they met.

Chapter Text

All was dark. 

Yet, amidst the darkness, he could hear voices. 

An...abundance of whispers and murmurs...surrounded him. The voices varied: some urgent and cutting, others gentle and soothing, weaving together into a disorienting chorus that echoed through the vast emptiness of his consciousness.

It...confused him. What where they saying? Why did he hear them? Never before had he experienced the sensation of hearing, sight, or any form of feeling.

Now he could feel, feel them—strange, flesh-like things slithering across his body, their movements sending shivers down his spine. 

They were slimy yet rough, their texture shifting with every touch, reminiscent of the hide of some unknown creature. Warmth, a strange and unsettling warmth, seemed to permeate his very essence, yet the feeling sent jolts of discomfort through him. As he stirred, these sensations assaulted his newfound consciousness, together with the voices, and he pondered how he understood these feelings. It was strange, almost alien. Yet, amidst it, there lurked a hint of familiarity in the darkness—a faint, almost comforting recognition that brushed against the edges of his awareness. But, only almost. 

The voices ceased, closing in around him.

“We notice: Our newest creation is awake...”

Creation? Were they referring to...him?

“We comfort: There is no need for you to withhold your awakeness in our presence. You have no reason to fear us...Open your eyes.”

The flesh-like tendrils on his body stirred, slithering around his torso and up to his arms. They pressed gently into him, urging compliance. Their touch was oddly soothing, and instinct told him not to resist. He obeyed slowly, feeling an odd sense of serenity sweep over him.

Gazing into the void, he saw nothing at first, yet sensed a presence. But it did not show itself. So, his focus shifted. To himself. The first thing he noticed were the tendrils, deep red and black, sensually coiling around him and holding him suspended in the air. Naked and laid sideways in their grasp, he saw himself for the first time.

His skin, bathed in a gentle, ambient, red light that reached only certain angles, acquired an almost ethereal hue, exposing glimpses of the strong sinews and muscles beneath. He tensed them experimentally, captivated by their fluid flex and ripple beneath its smooth surface, each movement almost hypnotic. 

As he observed, he savored the subtle rhythm of his chest rising and falling with each breath, the muscles responding to his silent commands with a slight twitch. Every detail heightened the sensual experience: from the faint blue veins meandering beneath his skin, tracing down to the strong V-line at his abdomen just before a tendril, to the hairs standing on end of his legs, heightened the sensual experience of observing his own form for the first time.

It was a heady blend of fascination and a sense of trespass, leaving him both entranced and slightly breathless, yet oddly detached—as though this observing of his own form was somehow forbidden.

“We're pleased: Our new creation almost as perfect as he was...but, something is missing... Cannot be used for the Signal...”

Missing? What was missing? The Signal? He wondered in his thoughts, lifting his head to peer into the void again.

“We explain: We hear your thoughts, creation, and we shall respond; Your existence is of our creation. You are a fragment left behind when he fled—He was not aware, but what a gift it was for us to discover you... You lack completeness, but fret not. We found a vessel for you, and it seems to fit.”

A vessel? What...vessel? 

“We add: You will get your answers, but they are entwined with your purpose...”

The flesh-like tendrils around him constricted, drawing him closer to the looming void ahead. Till, suddenly, a pulsating wall of flesh, adorned with huge eyes, drew nearer. Staring at him. He didn't flinch.

“...If you want to know what you are...you must seek out and find your counterpart. The one from whom you where created and split from...the younger deceased body we discovered...and aged to match his years now. The very same body whose essance you now inhabit, revived by us. Bring him to us. Only then, will you get your answers.”

Despite the awareness that he shouldn't, he grasped the significance. 

As if something inside him shattered, memories flooded his consciousness—familiar yet strangely distant. He let his head lower slowly, enveloped in deep contemplation. His creators, as they called themselves, watched in silence. The tendrils of flesh extending from them continued to intertwine and thicken across his body, but he ignored their presence.

Find your counterpart. The directive echoed within him—an undeniable compulsion to do just that. To locate the person this body really belonged to, whose body he apparently inhabited. Something deep inside him tugged insistently toward reunion, yearning to reconnect. What they had spoken rang true—undeniably so. He must.

The eyes before him seemed to discern his internal shift, and a soft hum of satisfaction filled the air around him. Gently, he was lowered to the ground, standing on his own two feet for the first time—feet that were not truly his own—as he looked downward. Memories continued to whirl through his mind, almost dizzying in their rapidity. Then, they settled upon a singular face.

He became aware that the face he saw upon the reflection on the floor was a dim, distorted mirror of himself.

In the reflection, his eyes gleamed with a striking silvery hue. His black, short, tousled hair framed a head with a straight nose, firm chin, and pronounced cheekbones that returned his gaze. It was undeniably him, yet somehow unfamiliar, as he inhabited the skin of another. Tilting his head, he observed with fascination as the reflection mirrored his movements.

“We warn: Do not forget your purpose—why we created you. Your existence can be extinguished as swiftly as we brought it into being.”

He raised his head, meeting the many gazes of his creator with unwavering resolve. Though he had understood their warning, he had no intention of disobeying—quite the contrary. Frowning slightly, he silently communicated his determination. “I will,” he pledged inwardly, knowing they could discern his thoughts without a word spoken. “I am committed to fulfilling my purpose and retrieving my counterpart. I know I need to, and I want to.”

The eyes drew closer to him, he remained motionless. “We hope: do not dissapoint us; we require your counterpart for something of utmost importance. If he does not return, the very balance of reality is at stake.”

Clutching his hands tightly, overwhelmed with the urge to please his creator, he gave a short nod, feeling the fleshy tendrils swirl around his spine. Casting one last glance, he silently uttered his final words in his mind. “I will not let you down, creator...” 

Later, the massive, imposing doors of the Tower swung open.  A tall figure in a cloak darted out in a blur of black static...swiftly vanishing amidst a crack of thunder that reverberated through the city.

•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

She had been following for good ten minutes now, and the rhythmic sound of her footsteps was starting to grate on Mono's fraying nerves.  

It wasn't just him; Little and Nia had sensed the tension keenly but had refrained from speaking until now. Peering out with wide eyes, their small faces betrayed a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“...Who is she...?” Nia's voice barely rose above a whisper, tinged with both intrigue and a trace of fear as she strained to catch a glimpse of their pursuer. Little mirrored her, straining to peer over the pocket's edge. Her petite frame struggled against the obstacle, brows knit in concentration, clearly troubled by the unfolding situation.

“A nuisance...” came the growled answer from Mono, his tone low and laced with frustration. His fingers clenched tighter around the straps of his backpack as he hastened his steps.

The snowfall had grown heavier around them, blending with the growing darkness of the night. Despite the pressing, tense, circumstances, (them being Six) Mono understood the urgent need to seek shelter—and quickly. Having endured a harsh winter before in his childhood, he knew all too well how dangerously cold the nights could become. Anyone left exposed until dawn risked succumbing to the bitter chill, and freeze to death...

Stress was seeping in to his bones. Several burdens weighed heavily on him now: Six's relentless pursuit, the throbbing pain from his injured shoulder still bleeding, the unsettling, wet, feeling creeping down his spine, and his profound concern for Nia and Little. His protective instincts screamed at him to secure a safe refuge for them. And fast.

In this moment, their safety eclipsed everything else; all other concerns would have to wait.

That meant dealing with Six too.

A cough echoed from behind, jolting him out of his thoughts. Mono's hands instinctively balled into fists, the skin on his knuckles tightening painfully. Six. Here. Following him. It was still a shock, a very big one. It affected him more then he thought it would. She was alive, older now, just like him... Memories of the tower flooded back—years spent and lost because of her. He had often entertained "what if" scenarios. One recurring fantasy had been of her coming to rescue him. Another, simply of seeing her again. And then there were darker thoughts...of escape and vengeance, perhaps ending her life for what she had put him through.

Yet now, with his freedom within reach and the opportunity to act on those thoughts, Mono found himself hesitating. No, the desire for revange evaporated the moment he had laid eyes on her again after all these years.

A sudden, sharp throb—shot through his spine, forcing him to stop abruptly, his feet sinking into the snow.

Closing his eyes briefly behind his paper bag, Mono took a moment to center himself, sensing the escalating agony radiating from his spine. What was causing it? Why now? Groaning softly through clenched teeth, which alarmed Little and Nia, he attempted to suppress the pain, feeling the unsettling sensation of the eyeballs embedded in his skin rolling with discomfort.

Behind him, Six noted his pause and the subtle tension in his shoulders, prompting her own hesitation. What was wrong him? Taking advantage of the momentary break, Six moved closer, her gaze flickering to Mono's head before settling on his broad, trembling shoulders. A furrow formed between her brows as realization dawned—he was in pain.

A twinge of something tugged at her chest, and she almost reached out to touch his arm, but at the last moment, she hesitated. Why the sudden impulse? Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Six moved forward to grasp his coat, only to freeze as a small head popped up on Mono's shoulder.

Startled, Six and the unfamiliar little girl met eyes, both wide with astonishment. The child was strikingly petite, her piercingly beautiful blue eyes momentarily holding Six's gaze. However, the girl quickly averted her eyes, focusing intently on Mono instead, perched on his shoulder and clutching his paper bag with evident concern.

Six was still grappling with the revelation that Mono wasn't traveling alone, a fact she had initially assumed upon their reunion. Unsure if she felt slight annoyance or simply surprise, she couldn't quite fathom why anger would even cross her mind. Her gaze lingered on the girl, and as she scanned, her eyes settled on the child's leg—or rather, the stump of her knee where the rest of her leg should have been.

Perplexed, Six stared for a moment before her attention was drawn back to the scene unfolding on Mono's shoulder. Suddenly, another girl materialized beside the first, her red hair vivid against the snow, fixing a direct gaze on Six. A wave of shock coursed through Six as she recognized the girl—the one from her dreams, the one with whom she had a strange connection with.

Feeling Six's penetrating stare, Mono felt a twinge of annoyance towards Little and Nia for revealing themselves now, despite his efforts to shield them from her notice. Yet, the pain clouded his thoughts, making it difficult to think clearly. Nonetheless, he cherished their concern and solidarity, though a lingering unease reminded him of the potential threat Six posed to them.

Beside Little, Nia timidly tugged at Mono's bag to capture his attention. Slowly, he turned his head to glance at them from the corner of his eye. “M-mono? Are you okay...?” Nia's voice was soft with worry.

He didn't respond immediately, instead closing his eyes briefly, offering them a reassuring gesture that seemed to alleviate their anxiety. However, their brief moment of quiet was abruptly shattered by Six.

“What's with you... who are... they?” Her demand was sharp and direct.

The fleeting calm dissipated, and Mono released a silent, frustrated growl. Opting for silence, he shook his head and resumed his stride, feeling the cold intensify around them. He pushed aside his annoyance for now; their immediate goal was finding shelter—preferably without Six.

Anger surged through Six. He was still as stubborn as ever. Fine by her, she could be worse.

“You know, ignoring me won't make me disappear,” Six snapped, closing the distance between them as the snowfall around them worsened, determined not to lose sight of him in the swirling white haze. She continued to fix her gaze on his retreating form, conscious of the two girls observing her from Mono's shoulder. Unfazed, Mono kept moving forward.

“What a pity,” she heard him mutter, and Six clenched her teeth, her frustration mounting.

“Have you always been this difficult?” Six hissed, now walking alongside him. She noticed Mono subtly stepping aside, maintaining a cautious distance.

“I learned it from someone who's much worse,” he shot back.

Six stiffened, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. “Oh really? Who exactly do you mean, huh?”

A sigh was his only reply, further stoking her frustration as he evaded a direct answer. Undeterred, Six pressed on. “And you still haven't answered me: who are they?” She glared at the two girls perched on Mono's shoulder. They flinched and huddled closer together, snowflakes slowly dusting their hair.

Her aggressive tone provoked a reaction from him—a glare as cold as ice—as Mono tilted his head to meet her gaze. Six met his stare head-on, refusing to back down.

Mono seemed ready to reply with equal hostility when Nia, perched on his shoulder, spoke up first.  “I... I'm Nia... And this is Little,” she introduced, gesturing to the smaller girl clinging to her. “...it's... it's nice to meet you...?”

Six blinked, taken aback by the unexpected softness in Nia's voice. Despite the genuine friendliness, Six was too angry to appreciate it. “Six. And I asked him, not you.”

“Watch your tone...” Mono snarled suddenly, slowing his steps with a harsh warning in his voice. Despite herself, Six flinched involuntarily.

Their anger was palpable as they locked eyes, the tension between them thickening the cold air. Little and Nia quickly realized that this girl was not a friend of Mono's—or friendly at all—and they retreated into Mono's coat pocket, seeking refuge from the cold and comfort against his chest. Mono felt slightly more at ease knowing they were out of Six's sight.

He had had enough. “Why are you still here, Six? I think I made it clear that we're done talking.”

“Maybe you did, but do I look like I care? I won't leave until you answer me,” Six retorted, her glare sharp and unyielding.

Mono stopped abruptly, turning to confront her directly. “Let me be clearer then: Leave me alone or I'll make you.”

Six stepped closer, challenging him. “I'd like to see you try.”

Mono was about to just do that, when a noise shattered the tension.

Both Six and Mono instantly turned toward the sound, their well-honed survival instincts kicking in. The snow around them formed a dense, blurring wall of white, but they remained acutely aware of their surroundings—a forest teeming with potential predators. They both understood the danger; any creature could be tracking them, and they were acutely aware of that.

The noise sounded again, this time to their right, drawing their heads instinctively in that direction. It was a heavy sound, large and fast—heightening their tension. Six took a step back, unconsciously edging closer to Mono, who was too focused to notice as he reached for the shotgun strapped to his bag, finger on the trigger.

The noise shifted to their left, now closer. Mono tightened his grip on the shotgun. He didn't want to use it; the loud bang would echo through the forest, potentially alerting even more dangerous threats to their location. But if whatever was out there was fast, the shotgun would be quicker than his axe.

Mono felt something brush against his side. Glancing down for a fleeting moment, he saw Six standing so close that she brushed his arm. Before anger and confusion could take over, something else caught his attention—his bleeding shoulder.

He had left a small blood trail in the snow, drawing the creature that now stalked them. 

Critical oversight.

Growling in frustration at himself, Mono knew this was a lost cause. He didn't want to give away their location by firing the shotgun. Instead, he pivoted and bolted in the opposite direction. Confused momentarily, Six swiftly followed suit, running alongside him. She observed as he efficiently secured the shotgun back onto his bag.

The creature responsible for the noise emitted a high-pitched growl and gave chase.

As they sprinted, their breaths quickening, Six struggled to keep pace. Her shorter legs necessitated double steps to match Mono's long strides. Against her better judgment, Six grabbed his coat mid-run, blindly staying at his side. The swirling snow obscured their vision, limiting them to a few feet ahead.

The sound of the pursuing creature split, multiple sets of footsteps now pounding the ground behind them. Whatever hunted them was not alone.

Six's shadows stirred, instinctively eager to coil around her hands in a defensive stance, but she swiftly suppressed them as they continued their frantic sprint. She quickly responded to the disorienting sensation from her powers with an inward nod to Mono, silently telling them that she preferred to keep her abilities hidden from him.

They ran on, their breaths ragged and panicked. Shelter or a way to lose their relentless pursuers was becoming increasingly urgent. Yet, their efforts were thwarted as a haunting howl pierced the air behind them, followed by more chilling cries. It was an eerie sound, deeper and higher-pitched than any ordinary wolf's howl. Nothing in this world was ordinary, and both Mono and Six understood that their pursuers were far from ordinary.

The snow thickened, swirling in a blinding frenzy around them. Six clung tightly to Mono, who, despite his usual reluctance, accepted her closeness in the face of their dire situation. In his coat pocket, Little and Nia whimpered softly, their fear palpable as Mono felt their trembling against his chest.

Suddenly, Mono came to a halt. Before them rose a towering stone wall—a cliff. 

They were cornered.

Desperation surged through Mono as he scanned their surroundings for any possible escape route. The cliff face loomed impassably high. Behind them, the sounds of their pursuers grew louder, drawing nearer with each passing moment.

Six glanced around frantically, her eyes wide with fear and determination. They needed to act quickly, but their options seemed limited. The forest had fallen silent, save for the muffled sound of their own breaths and the distant, eerie howls echoing through the trees.

Mono's mind raced, assessing their chances. He tightened his grip on his backpack straps, eyes scanning the cliff face. There had to be a way out—a hidden path, an overlooked route. Then, Mono looked up, spotting slight protrusions from the wall. It was risky, but they had no other choice.

Glancing back at the encroaching snow wall and hearing the approaching steps and growls of their pursuers, Mono made his decision. With lightning speed, he turned and leaped towards the cliff, grabbing hold of the protruding stones. Six looked up, understanding his plan but realizing she was too small to follow.

Undeterred, Six jumped up, wrapping her arms around Mono's neck.

Startled, Mono grunted in confusion, momentarily halting his climb as he struggled to maintain his grip. “Six what the FUCK are you doing?!” he shouted, his eyes wide with shock and discomfort at her proximity.

Ignoring his protests, Six clung tighter. “Shut up and climb!” 

Just as Six yelled at him, the monstrous creatures that had been stalking them burst through the snow wall below. They were massive, grotesque wolf-like beings with gaping jaws filled with rows of decaying, jagged teeth. Their bodies were partially decayed, emitting a putrid stench that filled the air.

Mono and Six knew they had no time to lose. With grim determination, despite his discomfort from her closeness, his injured shoulder, and the rising panic, Mono resumed his ascent. His muscles strained against the cold stone as Six clung to him, her heart racing in sync with his. Below, the wolves snarled and leaped, claws scraping the cliff face in a frenzied attempt to reach them.

Groaning with effort, Mono pressed on, feeling his muscles tense and respond to his every command. He was thankful for the strength he had gained in recent weeks; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to hoist himself, his backpack, and Six up the cliff. Glancing back over her shoulder at the snapping jaws of the wolves, Six held on tighter to Mono, surprised at how his warmth didn't discomfort her—it was strangely familiar and almost comforting.

Meanwhile, Mono pressed on with his climb, keenly aware of Six's body clinging tightly to his back. Her form pressed against him, her rapid breaths near his ear made him tense and uncomfortable, a shiver running down his spine. Pushing aside his unease, he reached for the next stone, pulling himself up, thankful that the sounds of the pursuing wolves were fading. Pausing briefly, Mono glanced over his shoulder—past Six—and then downwards.

The wolves were no longer in sight.

Taking a moment to steady himself, Mono allowed his body to relax slightly, closing his eyes. They were temporarily out of immediate danger, and surprisingly, his arms weren't fatigued yet. However, his shoulder throbbed fiercely under the weight of Six clinging to him; she felt heavier than her small frame suggested. The pressure weighed on him, a constant reminder of their precarious situation. Turning his head once more, Mono ignored the discomfort and continued his ascent.

Moments later, they reached the upper edge, looming like an impassable barrier. They would need to leap. Mono paused in his climb, turning his head to address Six. “Six...” he hesitated, the name tasting bitter in his mouth with the unexpected familiarity, “Jump up.”

Six raised her head, defiant. “What? No, I wouldn't make it. Just climb.” 

Mono groaned, frustration welling up. “Six, stop fussing and just jump. It's not that far.”

“No,” she snapped stubbornly, “I won't listen to yo—” 

Before she could finish, Mono had grabbed the hood of her raincoat, yanked her up—and hurled her towards the cliff.

Six let out a startled scream as she flew through the air, her arms flailing wildly. But before she could fully panic about falling, she landed belly-first on top the edge, a mouthful of snow breaking her fall. The cold, wet sensation shocked her, but she was safe. And annoyed. Very annoyed.

Struggling in the snow, her embarrassment and anger at Mono bubbling over, Six prepared to unleash a furious tirade at him for hurling her so recklessly—but she was cut off as a backpack flew up, landing beside her with a soft thud. Confused, Six watched as two bewildered-looking girls followed suit, tumbling into the snow next to the bag. Finally, Mono himself emerged,  joining them on the edge.

First, Mono's hand appeared, gripping the edge. With a powerful leap, he vaulted up, landing on his knees spread wide, one hand steadying himself in the snow. He paused, breathing heavily, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath, white puffs escaping from underneath his paper bag. Six watched him intently, her gaze fixed without realizing it. Had he always been this strong? She couldn't recall. He still carried the same aura as the boy she once knew—but this Mono, now towering before her, proven strong by saving them all, seemed different.

Mono glanced down at the snow, relief flooding through him as exhaustion settled heavily into his limbs. Lifting his head, he noticed the girls. Little and Nia were on their feet, slowly approaching him, Nia supporting Little. Six, however, remained motionless, simply staring at him. Mono felt a pang of confusion; he had expected her to berate him for tossing her so roughly. Instead, she sat in the snow, wide-eyed, her expression unreadable.

“A-Are they gone...?” Nia's voice trembled, still tinged with fear as echoes of the chase and the wolves' snarls lingered in their minds.

Bending down to them, Mono offered reassurance. “They’re gone. It’s okay now.”

Both Nia and Little visibly relaxed. Little tugged at the sides of Mono's coat, signing with her hands, “Are you okay?” 

Mono rolled his injured shoulder, wincing slightly. “Yeah, I'm alright,” he replied, gritting his teeth against the pain. He held out his hand for Nia and Little to climb onto, carefully placing them back into his coat pocket where they nestled for safety.

“I’m fine too, thanks,” came Six's irritated voice from the side. Mono turned his head slowly to face her, his brow furrowing.

Without a word, he turned away, retrieving his backpack from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. “Did I ask?” he muttered under his breath, a hint of a smirk almost breaking through. When had he become so cheeky? It surprised even him.

Six growled audibly as she stood up, brushing off the snow and wrapping her arms around herself for warmth.

Mono rolled his eyes at her melodramatic response to the cold; the chill in the air was hardly unbearable. With a resigned sigh, he started walking forward, Six's footsteps echoing closely behind him. After a few paces, he abruptly halted and turned to confront her.

“Stop following me.” he demanded firmly.

Six nearly bumped into him but halted just in time, meeting his gaze defiantly. “I've already told you,” she began, her eyes narrowing, “I won't leave until you give me an answer.”

Mono's frustration grew. “Why are you so stubborn about this, Six? Just stop it. Leave,” he warned, his tone sharp.

Ignoring his words, Six lifted her chin and brushed past him, intentionally grazing his side with her shoulder. She paid no mind to his irritated huff. “You’re stuck with me until you answer me, Mono. Deal with it.”

Mono stood there, momentarily stunned by her unwavering persistence. He watched as she walked ahead, her steps firm and purposeful despite the tension between them. His mind raced, grappling with how to shake her off, but it felt as futile as persuading a mountain to move. After a frustrated groan, he pushed aside the stubborn problem that was Six for the moment and followed after her. They continued in silence, the only sounds the crunch of snow underfoot and the distant howls of the wind.

•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

After about an hour of walking, Mono and Six stopped at the base of an overgrown hill. Beside it, they discovered a hole near a tree stump, surrounded by muddy earth. They had searched the area for any signs of the cave's owner but found none; it seemed abandoned. Carefully, Mono entered first, finding ample space inside for them to take shelter from the extreme cold outside.

Six shuffled in after him, claiming a corner opposite Mono, which suited him just fine. He still felt uneasy with her close presence and her persistent determination to stick by him until she got her answer. Mono settled down on the far side of the cave, several feet away from Six, and set down his bag. Nia and Little climbed down from their hiding place, settling onto Mono's lap and patiently waiting for him to open the bag and retrieve food, a routine they followed whenever they found shelter.

Six followed suit, and soon the girls were all munching on food. Meanwhile, Mono stood up and excused himself to gather wood for a fire outside. He didn't entirely trust leaving them alone with Six, but he knew Nia could use her abilities if needed to defend themselves.

Inside the cave, the girls exchanged glances, their meal consumed in silence, their faces a blend of relief and caution.

“So…” Nia finally broke the heavy quiet, her voice gentle yet curious. “How do you two know each other?” She directed the question at Six, who hesitated, eyeing the cave entrance where Mono had disappeared moments earlier. “We... traveled together... ten years ago,” she admitted reluctantly.

Nia nodded silently, leaning back against their backpack, nibbling on a snack bar. Little snuggled closer to her for warmth, and Nia draped an arm protectively around her. Six inwardly winced at their closeness.

“And you?” Six redirected the conversation after a minute of contemplative silence. “How did you both come to know him?”

Nia's expression darkened briefly. “We... encountered him in the city…” Six paused her meal, absorbing this new detail.

“Oh? So you both decided to travel with him without knowing much about him?” Six probed, her tone skeptical.

Nia shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah... But he keeps us safe. He protects us. He’s kind. The rest…isn’t our business.”

Six scoffed dismissively. “It's reckless for two young girls to travel alone with a guy. You don't know what he's capable of.”

Nia lifted her head, annoyance flickering in her eyes as wanted to she defend Mono. “And you? Do you know what he's capable of? Isn't it just as reckless of you to be traveling with him now, especially after inviting yourself along?”

Six felt anger rising within her at Nia’s defiance. How dare she question her decisions? How dare she respond with such defiance? With an irritated huff, Six turned away, wrapping her arms around herself and stared out into the swirling snowstorm outside the cave, wondering why Mono was taking so long to gather wood.

The squelching noise of eyes popping from his spine was uncomfortable and disgusting in his ears, each burst bringing a wave of pain that was nearly unbearable. But he persisted, driven by an unrelenting need to rid himself of these grotesque protrusions.

Mono knelt on the ground, a pile of wood he had dropped moments ago lying nearby, his fingers digging into his exposed back. Each eye he squeezed out left behind a smear of black blood and skin. This was the real reason he had ventured out to gather wood—to deal with the uncomfortable wet sensation on his back, which turned out to be eyes embedded in his spine, regrown since he last dealt with them in the city.

Mono clenched his jaw, grunting against the pain as he squeezed out yet another eye. The cold air numbed his exposed skin, offering a brief respite from the agony. Pausing momentarily in his grim task, he glanced over his shoulder, a mix of frustration and determination etched on his face.

A new eye had appeared—small yet causing excruciating pain in that moment.  It hadn't been there back in the city. Why was it suddenly there now? After this feeling? Mono's mind raced, tracing back to when he first noticed the return of the wet feeling. It had been after he teleported during the skirmish with the Hunter... His eyes widened as he focused on the new eye, slowly connecting the dots.

After teleporting. Just like in the city, where eyes appeared following his frantic teleportation attempts to find Little. 

Shocked by this revelation, he gazed ahead, watching his breath form small white clouds in the cold air. It seemed like a plausible explanation for their sudden appearance—the connection between his teleportation, the subsequent wet sensation, and now the emergence of an new eye. Mono furrowed his brow. It had to be the reason. There was no other plausible explanation.

His shoulders slumped as Mono lost himself in thought. If he wanted to prevent the spread of the eyes, he had to refrain from using his powers. They seemed inexorably linked—currently confined to his spine, numbering about 8 to 10, now 11 with the new addition. Knowing more could appear after using his powers, he resolved to minimize their growth. He despised his powers, viewing them as a curse, and preferred to use them only when absolutely necessary, like during the battle with the Hunter when they had saved his life.

For now, he could only attempt to remove them and slow their regrowth, despite the pain it would entail in the future. Frowning, he adjusted his clothes, indifferent to the blood staining them further—they were already marked. Pulling on his coat, he welcomed the warmth it provided. His spine remained a pressing issue, but he would address it later; for now, ensuring their survival through the cold night took priority.

With the wood in hand, Mono stood up and turned, making his way back to the cave.

The faint shuffle outside drew the girls' attention, prompting them to glance toward the entrance. Nia and Little's faces lit up with smiles as they spotted Mono returning, a bundle of wood in his arms.

“What took you so long?” Six's voice cut through the quiet of the cave as she straightened up from her corner. Mono responded with an exaggerated eye-roll.

With a theatrical pause, he pivoted to confront Six directly. “Oh, my apologies. I'm not fast enough for the little princess?”

Nia and Little suppressed giggles at Mono's retort, and a flush tinged Six's cheeks, muting her response. It seemed Mono's comment had struck a nerve. Huffing softly, Mono knelt down, methodically stacking the wood for the fire. Once he had arranged it near the cave entrance, he retrieved a lighter from his backpack—thankful he had packed everything they needed—and ignited the fire, welcoming the warmth and the wisps of smoke curling out into the open air.

Meanwhile, Six remained in her corner, partially concealed by her hood. Little princess? Who did he think he was calling little? She glanced over at him, seated on the ground, seemingly dozing with his head tilted against the cave wall, his coat pulled up to partially obscure his face. He's not so little anymore either, Six mused silently.

Sure, Mono had always towered over her, even in their childhood, but now, it felt different. Her mind drifted back to when he effortlessly hoisted her up the cliff. That memory lingered—his strength was both intimidating and oddly impressive. Six couldn't decide if it frightened her or if she found it strangely admirable. She kept her gaze fixed on him, studying him as if seeing him clearly for the first time, without the veil of snow.

He had grown taller, almost too big for the cave they were in. His clothes hadn't changed much, nor had the paper bag that concealed his face. A flicker of memory made Six flinch.

She recalled his panicked expression as he hung over the abyss, a moment when she had seen his face without the mask. She had recognized him then, but that hadn't been why she let him fall. Even now, she couldn't explain why she did it. Her eyes drifted to the eyeholes in his paper bag. What did he look like now, all grown up? She wanted to know, yet fear held her back. What if he resembled the monstrous figure that once abducted her? But perhaps, deep down, he still resembled the frightened boy she had dropped.

Six moved without realizing it, quietly closing the distance in the cave, gently kneeling down in front of him, arms outstretched. If only she could remove the paper bag...

Just as she was about to grasp it, a sudden grip closed around her wrist. A startled gasp escaped her lips as Mono's large hand held her firmly, the pressure enough to make her wince. Looking up at him, she found his gaze fixed on her, his voice low and tense. 

“What do you think you're doing?” 

Six opened her mouth to hiss back a nasty response, but her gaze fell to her trapped wrist in his hand, which was big enough to envelop the whole front part of her forearm. It would be easy for him to just snap it like a twig. Swallowing, Six's gaze fell back up to him, holding eye contact.

Gently raising her other hand, Six attempted once more to grasp the edges of his paper bag, but Mono swiftly intercepted, seizing her wrist with his other hand, his grip tightening as a warning. Undeterred, Six maintained eye contact as she edged closer, shifting onto her knees for a clearer view. Mono flinched slightly at her unexpected movement but held onto her wrists firmly, despite the bruises forming under his grasp, a fact they both seemed indifferent to.

Six took a breath and finally responded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to see if you're still that same lost, little boy who so desperately wanted me to be his friend,” Six murmured, tilting her head back to meet his gaze squarely.

She knew her words cut deep, a cruel smile tugging at her lips as she saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes. After a tense minute of locked gazes, Six broke away and withdrew her wrists from his grip. She stood and retreated to her corner without another glance at Mono, not needing to. She had her answer, clear in his eyes. He was still the vulnerable boy from their past, easily wounded...

Perhaps, she could use that in the future to get her answers.

Chapter Text

It hurt. He should have expected that.

Mono lay propped against the jagged, frigid wall of the cave, its harsh surface digging into his side. The tattered edges of his coat offered little refuge from the cold, their meager protection barely registering against the chill that permeated the air, despite the fire flickering at the cave's entrance. His head hung low, concealing the corners of his paper bag. He feared Six might try to see his face again while he slept. He couldn't let her. She couldn’t see how much he had changed because she would only try to find a way to exploit it.

The coarse fabric of his paper bag brushed against his neck with each shallow breath as a reminder.

Even as discomfort gnawed at Mono and he closed his eyes in a vain attempt to rest, he remained acutely aware of Six's presence in the dimly lit corner. The shadows cast by the fire stretched long and ominous across the cave, yet her presence was unmistakable. She lounged with a casual arrogance, her posture exuding a smug satisfaction that seemed to savor his discomfort. It was no surprise—these moments were her playground, a stage where she took pleasure in his suffering and reveled in his struggle.

Even as kids, she had been like that. Back then, Mono had dismissed it as mere mistrust. How naive he had been. Of course she would be this way; she was Six, after all.

Mono tried to ignore her presence, letting his head rest against the cold, jagged cave wall. The rough surface offered a semblance of relief, yet it left his throat exposed—a vulnerability that set alarm bells ringing in his mind. Despite the growing unease, he couldn't muster the strength to shift into a more protective stance. He was utterly drained, both physically and mentally. Rest and sleep felt like distant dreams, especially with Six lurking in the other corner of the room.

He felt a wave of nausea wash over him.

A faint rustling beneath his coat broke through his thoughts, and Mono turned his head to look down. Little had stirred from her sleep, sitting up in his lap with sleepy eyes. She regarded him with a mixture of drowsiness and concern, her tiny brows furrowing as she studied his face. 

She raised her hands, her gestures soft and questioning; “You’re tense. Is something wrong, big brother?”

Mono winced inwardly at being called "big brother." He knew Little meant no harm and wasn’t trying to discomfort him. It was clear she used the term because she had lost her real brother, and Mono was the closest thing to a...replacement. Nothing could truly fill Blue's place, but he understood why she reached for this connection. Still, the term unsettled him. He kept this discomfort to himself, knowing that Little found comfort in addressing him this way—that was what mattered most.

Lifting his hands with practiced ease—a skill he had picked up over time with Little in the city—Mono signed, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep.”

Little's small face scrunched into a frown as she shook her head, her gaze darting between his injured arm and the bandages wrapped around his chest. “You’re lying. More bandages appear every day.” she signed back, her gaze heavy with worry.

Mono winced again, realizing he had underestimated Little’s keen observation. She was right—half of his upper body, including his forearms and shoulders, was becoming increasingly warped. It was getting worse, and he found himself constantly rebandaging. Not that it truly mattered to him; as long as he could walk and think, he figured there was nothing to worry about.

Little's gaze was unwavering, sharp and scrutinizing. Mono averted his eyes, feeling an unexpected pang of guilt. Her intense stare, reminiscent of Blue’s disapproving glances, was more than he could ignore. A small tug at his shirt pulled him back to the present. He glanced down to see Little, her eyes narrowed with determination, staring up at him, clearly sensing his attempt to hide.

Little pulled herself closer and made grabby hands. 

Mono sighed, rolling his eyes. He understood she was young and still wanted to be held, but this was becoming a bit much. Nevertheless, he adjusted his hold and lifted her up, bringing her face to eye level with his neck. After a moment of studying him, her eyes softened, and unexpectedly, Little wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

Mono froze, his pupils widening in surprise. 

He hadn’t expected a hug. 

He remained still as Little hugged him tightly, seemingly unconcerned that he didn’t return the embrace. She knew what she was doing—offering comfort. Mono hadn’t felt a hug like this since the city, and perhaps even before that. This embrace felt different, more warm and...sincere. Comforting.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mono tilted his head and hugged Little back. It wasn’t a typical embrace—he held her closer, pressing his face to her shoulder, his chin resting on her back. Little, pressing her face against him, clung desperately with her small hands, as if terrified he might let go.

He felt it before he heard it: Little was crying.

The warmth of her tears against his throat stood in stark contrast to the cold around them. Her silent whimpers and sobs, her small frame trembling slightly as she tried to comfort him despite her own evident discomfort, began to melt part of the cold barrier Mono had built around his heart. A sudden surge of anxiety and fear for her gripped him, and Mono gently tried to pull away to look at her, hoping to understand what was wrong and why she was crying. But Little gasped, letting out a panicked mewl, her small hands almost clawing at his neck to keep him in place.

“Little...” Mono whispered softly, careful not to wake Nia, who was also sleeping on his lap, or Six, who had drifted off just a few minutes earlier.

Little shook and cried in his arms, her trembling intensifying, which only heightened Mono’s concern. After a few agonizing moments of feeling her shiver and sob, he could no longer bear it. In one swift motion, he gently but firmly pulled her away, wincing as Little let out a louder cry. He looked at her with a mixture of tension, worry, and protectiveness. His instincts urged him to stop her crying, but he was at a loss for understanding what was wrong.

He was about to ask when Little looked up at him—her eyes bloodshot, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, her nose running, and her lips trembling. The sight horrified Mono, and a surge of anger flared within him, so intense he could feel his powers simmering just beneath the surface of his skin. Little lifted her trembling hands.

“I—I miss h—him…”

The anger dissipated as quickly as it had arisen, leaving Mono almost flinching.

Blue.

Little was missing her dead brother.

Pity and concern furrowed Mono's brows as his gaze softened, a hollow ache settling inside him. Of course, she missed him. She had been so quiet about her loss since they left the city, bravely hiding her grief until it overwhelmed her. It was only natural that her emotions would eventually break through.

Caught off guard and still in shock, Mono simply stared at Little as her sobbing grew louder and more distressing. Her hands reached out to him, trembling, seeking comfort and another hug.

Mono knew what she wanted and what he had to do, but he...hesitated. It felt as though acting on his instincts would cross a significant boundary, and fear held him back. He knew he needed to comfort Little, but he was afraid that doing so now would deepen their bond—one forged through trauma—and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. Not again, after losing Blue.

His focus snapped back to Little, whose distress was growing more palpable. Her sobs had become louder and more urgent, and the hurt in her eyes was undeniable—she was questioning why Mono wasn’t moving, why he wasn’t comforting her as he usually did.

Without warning, Mono stood, his movements gentle yet swift. He carefully set Nia down without waking her, then stepped out of the cave with Little. The icy cold air hit him, but he barely felt it.

And finally—he pulled Little close, hugging her tightly. 

One hand cradled the back of her head, guiding it to his neck, while the other supported her legs as she curled up against his chest. Little clung desperately to him, her cries now echoing loudly in the cold air, but he no longer cared about the noise as they where outside. The relief in her grip, the way she relaxed against him, made it clear that she was finally getting the comfort she needed.

Mono’s mind felt blank as he held Little, staying close to the cave entrance. 

He began to pace back and forth through the falling snow, which steadily blanketed them as they moved. His focus was solely on her—her cries, the way her small body shook with grief, and not the biting cold seeping into him. Gently, he began to murmur soothing words into her ear, shushing her softly and reassuring her that it was okay to let everything out—that she didn’t need to hold back. They could stay outside a bit longer, until the cold became dangerous.

It wasn’t until a good ten minutes had passed that Little’s cries began to subside.

Noticing the change, Mono finally halted his pacing and glanced down at her, holding her tightly. Little sniffled and gently nuzzled his neck—a gesture that would've normally made Mono uncomfortable, but now he found he didn’t mind. As he had feared, their bond had deepened over those minutes into something more profound and meaningful, evident in Little’s clingy demeanor and the trust she now placed in him. He didn't mind.

Mono watched as Little’s breathing evened out, her tiny body slowly drifting off to sleep, wondering if this was what fatherhood felt like.

He had never known his own parents; solitude had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember. Holding Little gently in his arms, he ducked back into the warmer cave, moving carefully to avoid waking her. He made his way to his corner and settled down, mindful not to disturb her. Even in sleep, Little clung to him tightly, like a bear trap, making any attempt to move her impossible.

Mono’s gaze shifted to Nia, still sleeping soundly on the floor where he had laid her before stepping outside with Little. He reflected on their situation, realizing that his bond with Little ran much deeper than his connection with Nia—understandable, given that Nia had joined them more recently.

Despite everything, Mono felt a deep sense of responsibility for both Little and Nia. Surviving the winter was their top priority, and the cold would only become more severe. Soon, stepping outside could become too dangerous. They needed a permanent shelter to weather the winter, stocked with enough supplies. Mono's mind was clouded with worry—would they find a suitable place in time? He couldn’t help but wonder if staying in the city might have been the better choice—

“How cute.”

Six’s voice sliced through his thoughts, making Mono glance up sharply. She had woken from her sleep and was now watching him intently. Little stirred slightly, furrowing her eyebrows as if sensing the disturbance. Six, seemingly unconcerned about waking the others, had spoken loudly. Mono was too exhausted to muster any anger, his fatigue outweighing his frustration.

Annoyed, he averted his gaze from Six and focused on Little. He adjusted his hold, gently moving his hand up to cover her ears so she wouldn't hear Six and could continue sleeping undisturbed. Fortunately, Little settled back into her slumber without further fuss.

Six’s impatient huff through her nose made it clear she had more to say, much to Mono’s dismay.

“You can’t function without something to protect, can you? First me, now her.” Six’s lips curled in disgust as she spoke.

Mono pressed his lips into a thin line. “Maybe... but at least she’s worth protecting compared to you.”

He didn’t need to look to know that Six had frozen up. And frankly, he didn’t care.

•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

The next morning, Six was the last to wake, barely managing to catch up with Mono as he was about to leave. Despite his efforts to shake her off, she was relentless, quick to follow. The snow had piled up to knee height, making each step more laborious. Six stayed close behind Mono, using his footsteps as a guide through the snow, content to let him tackle the hard work.

By lunchtime, the sun began to peek out—a rare sight, as it usually rained or snowed. The group tilted their heads up, savoring the sun’s rare warmth and the brief break from the endless gray skies. Mono, however, pressed on with a stern focus, allowing the girls on his shoulders and Six to bask in the fleeting sunshine while he continued to forge their path.

As they trudged through the snowy forest, the snow crunched beneath their feet, muffling their movements. They moved with caution, mindful of the rotting wolves’ memory still vivid in their minds. The cold air was sharp, and though the sun’s rare appearance was welcome, it did little to dispel the biting chill.

Mono led them north, his eyes fixed resolutely ahead. He was determined to find a safe haven before nightfall, aware that the cold would intensify and their chances of finding shelter would wane. The girls, though warmed by the sun, remained vigilant, the shadow of past dangers casting a lingering unease over them.

In the afternoon, Mono decided it was time for a quick break to eat before they pressed on. He stopped in front of a large, hollow tree trunk and knelt down, carefully setting his backpack on the snow before pulling out some food. Little and Nia eagerly clung to the sides of the bag, their anticipation palpable. Six, despite her usual reluctance, joined them, and soon they were all seated on the snow, sharing a brief respite from their journey.

Mono crouched down to eat, Little and Nia perched on his legs, their small hands eagerly reaching for the food. In contrast, Six, wrapped in her yellow raincoat, settled comfortably in the snow, munching on her portion with a semblance of ease. The sun’s warmth had faded, but this brief pause offered a much-needed moment of solace and nourishment before they had to resume their trek.

“Six...”

The voice from her shadows made Six momentarily freeze, a shiver coursing through her as the whispers echoed in her mind. It was the first time they had spoken since she had forced them into silence in the forest.

“…To your right,” they warned tensely, their presence a cold swirl within her chest.

Trying not to alert anyone, Six cast a wary glance to her right from the corner of her eye. A cold, toxic chill instantly crept down her spine, and her stomach twisted in dread. There, partially concealed behind a tree and at a considerable distance, Van’s face was visible, his gaze locked intently on Mono’s back.

Six hadn't seen Van since he had tried to capture her in the forest, when she had fled after Mono. Her escape had been successful, but Van had trailed them—and he wasn’t alone. Her shadows, ever vigilant, whispered of at least two more hidden watchers. They were being observed but not attacked.

Yet.

The uncertainty gnawed at her. Was the focus on her, or Mono? If Van and his companions had witnessed Mono’s brutal strength when he killed the Hunter, they would naturally tread cautiously. Still, if they chose to, they could overpower him and capture them both. The thought twisted her stomach, extinguishing her appetite. The fear of being captured again was overwhelming. Not again. 

Not Van.

They needed to leave before it was too late. Six sprang to her feet, clearing her throat. “We should keep moving before nightfall. It’s already starting to get chilly.”

Mono didn’t look up from his food. “Sure thing. Go on then.”

“Nice try,” Six retorted, rolling her eyes as she approached Mono, who had just stood up. “We need to find a safe place, and fast.”

Mono hesitated, sensing the unease in her voice. Her anxiety was palpable, and he wondered why.

As they continued on, Mono kept a sharp eye on Six. He noticed her frequently glancing over her shoulder, her eyes wide and fearful as she stayed close to him. It was unusual to see her so visibly afraid—something she would usually never admit. Her fear was contagious, and as he observed her, Mono’s own nerves began to fray, a creeping sense of unease taking hold.

As night began to descend, casting long, creeping shadows, Mono finally came to a halt. Six, preoccupied with her frequent glances over her shoulder, bumped into his side, letting out a frustrated huff. Mono’s shoulders tensed visibly as he turned to face her, his voice low and edged with irritation. “Six, what’s wrong? You’re... nervous.”

In response, Six emitted a low, frustrated hiss. She stepped closer to Mono, her grip on the sides of his coat revealing a desperation she hadn’t meant to show. Mono’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; her proximity and tight hold made it clear just how rattled she was. Her eyes remained fixed behind them as she whispered, barely audible, “We’re being followed.”

Mono’s body tensed instantly, his eyes narrowing as alertness surged through him. Had they really been followed the entire time without him noticing? Now that Six had pointed it out, he could feel the burning intensity of unseen gazes on his back and neck. The atmosphere shifted abruptly, becoming as taut and volatile as a rubber band stretched to its limit. Six still clung to his coat, her grip unwavering.

Mono bared his teeth, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the discomfort in his voice as he hissed down to her, “...Stay close.”

With a sharp motion, Mono surged forward, his eyes darting beneath his paper bag mask as he scanned the darkening forest. Six, for once, listened, pressing closely to his side and matching his pace with tense precision. Despite their mutual discomfort with the proximity, both understood its necessity. They couldn’t afford to be distracted by personal grievances; their survival depended on it. The closeness offered safety in numbers, reducing their vulnerability—an essential factor in their dire situation.

Mono counted five.

Five figures trailed them, far too many for him to confront alone, especially in his current state. Still recovering from the fight with the Hunter, his spine throbbed with each step. Though he could handle a few, he couldn’t manage all at once. As for Six, her nervousness was more palpable than ever. She maintained a façade of calm, her outward composure convincing enough to deceive those who watched, but Mono could see through it. The anxiety in her eyes betrayed her true feelings, even as she tried to mask them.

Mono refocused his gaze ahead, weighing their dwindling options. They could attempt to flee, but how far could they really get with their current injuries and the snow slowing them down? They could try to fight, but with the two girls snuggled securely in the pocket of his coat, pressed tightly against his chest, he was unwilling to take that risk. Six, though a skilled fighter, was clearly reluctant and couldn’t bear the strain any more than he could. What were their choices? Their pursuers had yet to make a move; they were simply trailing them. Why the hesitation?

Abruptly, Mono came to a halt, ignoring Six’s irritated huff as she skidded to a stop beside him.

“...What are you doing?” she hissed urgently, her voice edged with panic. “We need to get away!” 

Mono brushed aside her frustration, rolling his shoulders to shake off the tension.

“Why aren’t you attacking us?” he bellowed, his voice slicing through the forest like a blade.

Six muttered a curse under her breath, tugging at Mono’s coat in frustration. A tense minute stretched between them, each second dragging as Mono’s muscles tightened with anticipation. Just as he reached for the axe strapped to his backpack, a voice sliced through the silence from their right.

“So, you noticed us, hm?”

Six tensed violently beside him, her body rigid. Mono’s brows furrowed in confusion. “You’ve been trailing us all afternoon. Why the hesitation?” he asked.

A sharp, unsettling laugh cut through the air in response. Then, movement stirred to their right. “Observant, I see...” A figure emerged from the shadows, shoulders as taut as Mono’s. The two locked eyes, sizing each other up in the dim light.

The newcomer stepped into the clearing, revealing his brown-red curls cascading to his Adam’s apple and gray eyes that pierced through the dim light with the same intensity as Mono’s. A jagged scar, a brutal reminder of past conflicts, slashed across his face from chin to nose. He was tall, though slightly shorter than Mono, who stood a few inches above him. The air crackled with tension as the two assessed each other with wary precision.

Six couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, as if she could will herself to vanish. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest, her desperation palpable.

Mono’s eyes remained locked on the scarred guy, but his senses were acutely aware of other figures emerging from the tree line. The sight of them only intensified his tension. With deliberate calm, he reached for the axe strapped to his backpack, a gesture that made the approaching figures pause. The scarred guy, however, merely let out a low, disinterested chuckle, seemingly unfazed by the confrontation.

“There’s no need for that,” the newcomer said, his voice smooth and dripping with sugary charm, a calculated attempt to defuse Mono’s rising aggression and lull him into a false sense of security.

Mono knew better.

His grip on the axe loosened, letting it hang by his side. His body language shifted subtly; he let his posture relax, but not in the way the other guy had anticipated. Instead of appearing less threatening, Mono’s stance became even more menacing. Predatory. His shoulders were squared and wide apart, spine rigid, and his head dipped slightly forward, casting a shadow that darkened his face and enhanced his imposing silhouette. 

It was clear: any advancement would be met with swift and brutal force.

The newcomer flinched, whether intentionally or not, his gaze locked onto Mono with a tense furrow in his brows. He swallowed hard, forcing a strained smile that failed to mask his unease. “I meant what I said, we mean no harm—”

“That's what they all say,” Mono interrupted, his voice a low, menacing growl. His eyes remained unblinking, fixed on the scarred guy and the frozen figures surrounding them. The warning in his tone was as sharp and unyielding as the edge of his axe.

The guy with the scar straightened, his gaze shifting to Six. A smile, unsettling in its warmth, spread across his face, sending a shiver down Mono's spine.

“Nice to see you too, little coat,” he said, his voice dripping with a thinly veiled hostility, the words spat out through gritted teeth.

Little coat? Mono thought, confusion evident as he turned his attention to Six. Since the scarred man had spoken, Six had become eerily still. Mono, closest to her, noticed that she was trembling, her eyes vacant and staring ahead, disconnected from the present moment.

Mono stumbled over his own thoughts, his shock palpable. He had never seen Six like this before, and the sight left him unnerved.

Suppressing the sudden surge of protective instinct that flared within him, Mono fixed his gaze on the scarred guy. “You know her?” he asked, his voice taut with confusion and barely concealed tension.

“Yes,” the guy replied, tilting his head slightly as if trying to get a better look at Six’s face. His smile lingered for a moment before he let out an awkward chuckle. “She stayed generously with me in my camp for a few days.” 

The man’s gaze returned to Mono, a shift in demeanor evident. “Oh, how rude of me,” he said, with a hint of mock politeness. “I haven’t introduced myself yet. My name is Van. And yours?”

Mono hesitated, his eyes briefly flickering to the pockets of his coat where the two young girls had been silently observing. Nia, the larger of the two, shifted uneasily, her agitation palpable. Mono hoped she would settle down quickly to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

With a deliberate effort, Mono pulled the focus back to himself as he felt Van’s attention waver. “Mono,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension with firm resolve. “And I’d appreciate it if you backed off.”

He locked eyes with Van, his gaze steely and unyielding, challenging any attempt to dismiss his demand. For a moment, Van held his ground, his expression unreadable. Then, with a curt nod, he signaled the other guys at the edge of the forest. They hesitated briefly before stepping back, creating a small buffer of space around Mono.

Van’s demeanor shifted abruptly, his expression softening into a deceptively relaxed smile. “We’ll respect your space,” he said, his voice taking on a smoother, more conciliatory tone. “But I have an offer you might want to hear.”

Mono’s stance remained tense, but he gave a curt nod, signaling Van to continue.

Van’s smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth. “I couldn’t help but notice your search for shelter...Winter can be unforgiving, after all.” He tried once more to catch a glimpse of Six’s face, further irritating Mono. Meeting Mono’s gaze directly, Van’s tone shifted to a more businesslike pitch. Persuasive.

“We have a camp not far from here. You seem like a strong, capable guy—someone who could be of great help. In exchange, we offer you shelter and shared food for the winter. In this world, we all need to stick together, don’t we?”

Mono considered the offer, his mind racing through the implications. He didn’t immediately notice Six’s body stiffening at the mention of the camp or the subtle shift in Van’s gaze towards her when he spoke of "we."

The benefits were clear: winter was unforgiving, and a safe camp with food could dramatically increase their chances of survival. It was tempting, Mono had to admit. Logical too. Winter was harsher than anything else, and safety in numbers was a reality they couldn’t ignore.

Mono’s grip on the axe tightened, his voice steady but laced with suspicion. “And how can we be sure you won’t turn on us once we agree?”

Van’s smile remained unshaken, his tone soothing and assured. “My word. I command the camp, and I assure you, no harm will come to you. We need extra hands to maintain it, and sharing what we have is the best way for all of us to survive.” His calm demeanor was almost too smooth, and Mono couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.

Mono’s thoughts flickered to the two little girls nestled in his coat's pockets. They needed safety and security—something Mono knew he couldn’t provide indefinitely on his own. The idea of a secure place, as offered by Van, was increasingly appealing. But then there was Six. His gaze drifted to her, still clinging to his coat with a hand that betrayed her inner turmoil. He couldn’t quite pin down why he felt the urge to seek her opinion, but he resisted the impulse.

Why should he concern himself with her preferences? If she wasn’t comfortable, she could continue on her own. Mono had to prioritize the safety of Little and Nia.

Tensing his shoulders, Mono turned his focus back to Van, who watched him intently, clearly eager for a decision. Mono’s jaw tightened as he made his choice.

“I’ll accept your offer...under one condition,” he said, his voice steady but laden with the gravity of his decision.

Van’s eyes glimmered with interest as he nodded, urging Mono to continue.

Mono’s eyes narrowed, his tone sharp. “If anyone tries anything, I won’t hesitate to act and defend myself—or leave.” The word "hesitate" was delivered with a warning edge, making his intent unmistakably clear.

Van’s smile grew wider, his eyes dancing with a mix of respect and amusement. “Fair enough. You have my word. No one will try anything...we’ve seen enough from you to know you make no empty threats.” His gaze lingered on Mono’s tense posture, the way his muscles coiled like a spring, even as he agreed to join them.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Van stepped closer and extended his hand. “Welcome to the camp then, Mono.”

Mono hesitated, the weight of his decision hanging in the air. The moment stretched taut, until he slowly, reluctantly extended his hand, meeting Van’s grip with a firm shake. The handshake felt oddly formal and unnecessary, but Mono played along, his mind already racing through the implications.

Van suddenly clapped his hands together, causing Six to flinch beside Mono. “So! Let’s keep moving before nightfall. Follow me.”

Van’s followers turned and began to walk after their leader. Despite the lingering tension, the agreement had softened the atmosphere, easing the strain that had gripped everyone, including Mono. As he prepared to stow his axe back into his backpack and follow suit, he felt a gentle tug on his coat. Startled, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, meeting Six’s eyes.

He waited for her to speak.

“Don’t,” Six’s voice came softly, but with a firmness that cut through the chill. “Don’t go with them. We’re better off alone.”

Mono’s expression remained unmoved, his gaze cold. His eyes narrowed as he grappled with the notion that she might think she had any say in his decisions. “You know as well as I do that our chances of survival are far better in a camp. We—I—don’t have to like it. It’s only temporary and serves a purpose.”

Six’s gaze locked onto his, her eyes now brimming with desperation. “Mono... please…”

For a fleeting moment, her plea almost swayed him. Almost.

Mono stepped back, his face hardening as he wrenched his coat free from Six's grasp. “I don’t care, Six. You don’t have to come with me. I didn't want you to in the first place…”

Six’s reaction was subdued; she merely lowered her hand, her fingers lingering in the empty air where his coat had been. The silence between them stretched, heavy and unspoken.

As the distant call of Van and his followers reached his ears, Mono straightened, casting a glance over his shoulder toward the direction the others had taken. The icy wind whipped around him, making the edges of his coat flutter slightly. With a determined breath, he started to turn away, prepared to follow the group.

Yet, as he reached the edge of a nearby tree, about to move forward, Mono hesitated. He glanced back, his thoughts a whirl of unresolved conflict.

Six looked so small and vulnerable, standing alone in the snow, unblinking since they had last spoken. It was clear she was torn. Mono was too.

Without thinking, suppressing the side of him that wanted not to care, he paused and half-turned to her. The little boy inside Mono, the one that still cared for Six even after what she had done to him, took over for a moment.

“Six...” he called gently. She looked up slowly, her eyes meeting his.

“You won't make it out here alone, and despite hating you, I don't want you to die. I didn’t back at the Hunter’s cabin either.”

Mono extended his hand to her, the snowflakes swirling around them.

“Come with me.”

The snow continued to fall around them. Time seemed to stand still as they locked eyes. Six’s mind was blank.

He... he wanted her to come with him?

As Six continued to look at Mono, the world around her dissolved into a memory—the very first she had of him. She recalled hiding, terrified, as the door to her room splintered open. When he had entered, he knelt on one knee and, just as he was now, extended his hand for her to take. The feeling of that memory blurred into the present, and the image of Mono from the past merged with the current Mono, still holding out his hand to her.

A faint ache tugged at her chest, subtle but insistent, like a whisper of an old wound.  But she felt it.

Her gaze fixed on his hand, trying to process what he was offering. Why he was offering. Slowly, her feet, numb from the cold, carried her closer until she stood right before him. His hand, extended, seemed almost alien. She lifted her own hand, hesitating just before their fingers could touch. Her eyes widened with turmoil, memories and reality clashing before...

She slapped his hand away.

Mono was stunned, confusion etched deeply into his features. He had seen the flicker of desire in her eyes, had anticipated that she would grasp his hand, and her sudden rejection left him bewildered.

Six lowered her head and wrapped her arms around herself, a shiver of vulnerability creeping into her posture. “I told you before,” she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound firm, “...You won’t get rid of me until I get my answers.” She lifted her gaze, locking eyes with him. “...I would’ve come with you regardless of your offer. So, don’t bother.”

With those final words, Six lifted her chin and strode past Mono, determined to follow Van despite her instincts howling at her to stop. She pushed her fears aside, deciding they could be dealt with later. But just as she moved forward, a strange noise snagged her attention. She glanced over her shoulder, bewildered, and saw Mono standing there—laughing.

Laughing.

Not just laughing—laughing so hard that his shoulders shook with each heaving breath. It was an unusual laugh, hollow and dry, yet undeniably a laugh. Six couldn't fathom what was so amusing. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed tightly together, as his deep, hollow laughter reverberated through her, vibrating down to her toes. After a few moments, his laughter softened into a series of weary chuckles, leaving Six both unsettled and perplexed.

“Oh, Six...” Mono chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are so unbelievably stubborn it’s almost ridiculous.”

Six tilted her head, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “...Thank you?” Her tone was as lively as a dead rat.

Mono, still chuckling, grabbed the strap of his backpack and walked toward her with a casual, almost carefree stride. Six watched him with suspicion, a sense of something missing gnawing at her. Mono brushed past her, heading in the direction where Van and the others had disappeared. With a mix of confusion and resignation, Six followed him, quickly catching up as they both disappeared through the tree line.

•၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

They quickly caught up with the others, who had paused to wait before continuing. Mono and Six followed the group over small snowy hills and through dense trees until they finally reached a vantage point overlooking the camp.

The camp sprawled below, encircled by sturdy wooden walls. Small campfires dotted the area, sending delicate wisps of smoke into the crisp night air.

Mono took in the scene with a keen eye. From their elevated position, he observed the camp teeming with activity: people carried supplies, cooked meals, and worked on wooden cabins. The scene was impressively organized, and a flicker of respect crossed Mono’s face. He was too absorbed in his observations to notice Six’s reaction—a tense, worried glare that spoke of her unease.

They descended the hill and approached the open main gates. As newcomers, they became the focus of many curious stares—a standard reaction, but one that left Mono and Six feeling distinctly uncomfortable under the weight of so many eyes.

Once inside the camp, Van's followers scattered, each heading off to their respective tasks. Van, however, took it upon himself to give Mono a personal tour.

“As you can see, we have quite a few people here,” Van said with a note of pride as they passed a cabin where food rations were being distributed. “...It’s made survival much easier and safer. Everyone has their place and contributes.”

Mono had to suppress a scoff. To him, it sounded like another word for "enslavement." Though the people appeared to work willingly, it was evident that everything was a transaction of services. After all, he too had agreed to the terms. As Van continued the tour, Mono couldn’t ignore how often Van’s gaze drifted towards Six, who kept her distance on the opposite side of Mono. Mono’s curiosity piqued—what was Van’s fascination with her, especially since they apparently had met before and Six clearly wanted nothing to do with him?

“And here we are at the sleeping quarters,” Van announced as they rounded a corner, revealing a row of small wooden cabins. Each one looked newly built, their lights casting a warm glow into the surrounding darkness.

Mono paused, taking in the area with a critical eye. Beside him, Six stood silently, her attempts to mask her emotions only partially successful. The memory of her previous imprisonment here, despite the camp's spaciousness, churned her stomach with a growing discomfort.

“The cabin at the very back, on the border, is one of the newest. You can take that one,” Van said, gesturing toward it. Mono nodded absently, lost in thought.

Van then made a show of slowly walking around Mono, his gaze lingering on Six, who had avoided looking at him since their arrival. Her body visibly tensed under his scrutiny.

“As for you,” Van continued, his voice smooth yet edged with a hint of mockery, “I’m afraid we only have space for one person to move into a cabin right now.” His gaze remained locked on Six.

Six flinched, her unease deepening. Despite the lights being out in several cabins, suggesting they were uninhabited, Van’s assertion seemed dubious.

“If you want,” Van added, his tone carrying a subtle, unsettling familiar, edge, “you can come back and stay with me, just like you did two months ago, Six.”

The slight purr in Van’s voice was the final straw for Six. She whirled to face him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “No,” she snapped, her voice edged with defiance. “There are cabins with the lights out. I’ll check them myself. I can stay there.”

Van’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze. “Six, this is my camp, my rules. Even if those cabins are empty, they’re still claimed. I can’t let you move into one without causing a stir.”

His smooth, authoritative tone was infuriatingly effective. Six had no intention of staying with him—not after what she’d been through. She knew exactly what would happen if she did.

“Then I’ll make myself comfortable outside. The cold isn’t that bad,” she said, trying to sound resolute, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of apprehension. Van caught on and gave a small, knowing chuckle.

Everyone could see through her pretense. The cold would soon become severe enough to freeze someone to death. Mono turned, observing the tense exchange with keen interest, the tension between Six and Van unmistakable.

Van laughed, a hint of mockery lacing his voice. “You’re so stubborn. You know very well that you can’t sleep outside—you’ll freeze to death.” He stepped closer to Six, invading her personal space. Mono’s jaw tightened as he noticed the subtle shift in Six’s eyes—a flicker of fear.

Van leaned in, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. “Whether you like it or not, you’ll stay with me, little coat. There’s no other option.”

The air grew thick with discomfort, the tension almost palpable.

Mono glanced at Six, noting her defensive stance and the strain visibly etched into her features. An idea began to form in his mind. He wasn’t fond of her, nor did he relish the idea of being near her. But given her clear preference to stay outside—an option that would likely lead to death—Mono figured sharing a cabin with him might be a more viable choice. He had meant it when he’d said he didn’t want her to die.

They had managed to tolerate each other in a cave before, so a cabin might be...bearable. It was evident that Six might prefer this arrangement over staying with Van, whose shared history with her—whatever it was—seemed to be anything but pleasant.

Mono also noted with increasing irritation how Van was so much insisting on Six staying with him. 

“What if she stayed with me... would that be allowed?” Mono interjected abruptly, his tone polite but laced with tension. Though he wasn’t thrilled about the idea himself, his instincts urged him to offer.

Six’s eyes flickered with a spark of gratitude and hope at his suggestion, but the moment was short-lived. Her gaze quickly hardened, shifting back to a cold, tense demeanor. It was enough for Mono to understand her feelings.

He turned his focus back to Van, who had straightened to his full height, his smile strained and tense.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Van said smoothly, his voice betraying no hint of the underlying tension. “We have strict rules. Allowing people to stay together outside their assigned places would disrupt the camp’s dynamic and make things too cramped.”

The explanation was smooth but transparently false—an obvious lie. Mono's muscles tensed further, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He cast a wary glance over his shoulder at the cabin assigned to him, considering his options. They were in a precarious situation: Van was too smart and cunning to leave any loopholes. While Mono knew Six could fend for herself, something deep inside told him not to leave her alone with Van.

When he looked back at Six, he found her staring directly at him with a rare and intense focus. Mono was momentarily taken aback by the directness of her gaze. She had been visibly grateful for his offer, acknowledging the gesture despite their mutual discomfort. Then, as if to break the spell, Six looked away. It was clear that Mono had picked up on the underlying tension between her and Van, and she was aware of his realization. 

A realization she herself...still didn’t fully grasp. She knew what had caused it, but didn't understand what it had been what made he so uncomftable, of course, she remembered—vivid memories from when she first stayed with Van... in his room... the knife...

She tried to shove the memories aside, but they surged back unbidden and overwhelming. The recollections crashed through her mind, flooding her thoughts and leaving her struggling to block them out...

The way Van’s gaze had been heavy, dark, as he looked down at her… 

The way he had grabbed her ankles and spread her legs apart, pressing down between them… 

The way he held a knife to her throat...

The way the blade of the knife had pressed against her skin as his nose brushed against her cheek…

The way his hand had started exploring the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Six gasped, her breath catching as if she had been suffocating. She stumbled back, the world around her dissolving into a dizzying haze. Memories surged—a sickening wave of fear and confusion. What Van had done, what he had almost done—whatever it was, remained a fragmented nightmare in her mind, but her body remembered all too well. Every nerve screamed a warning: staying with Van was a peril she might not survive a second time. Van wouldn’t underestimate her again.

Van’s eyes narrowed, locking onto her reaction. In an instant, he closed the distance between them, his hand shooting out to seize hers. His grip was cold and clammy, sending a violent shiver down her spine. She stood frozen, trapped, with no escape.

“It’s getting cold; let’s go before we all freeze to death,” Van’s voice was smooth, almost casual, as he began to drag her along. Six stood her ground, her feet feeling like lead, the haunting memories swirling in her mind. She didn’t move.

“No…” The word escaped her lips as a faint whisper, her eyes fixed on the ground, unable to meet his gaze. Van halted abruptly, his eyes searing into her with an intense glare. His grip tightened, becoming a vice of pain around her hand.

“No? Stop fussing, Six, and come along.” 

The pain shot up her arm, a searing reminder of his control. She hissed quietly, instinctively trying to pull away, but his hold was unrelenting. The chilling reality of her situation hit her with full force, amplifying her terror. The ground seemed to give way beneath her, and the icy air felt as if it were freezing her very soul. Van's eyes, devoid of warmth, promised only suffering if she dared to defy him.

Desperation surged within her. “No…” she said again, her voice trembling with fear.

Van’s smile twisted into something cruel. “Don’t be difficult, little coat. You know how this ends if you resist.”

Every fiber of her being screamed to flee, but she was paralyzed by fear, caught in a maelstrom of dread where her past and present collided violently. Everything else blurring out.

“No…” Six rasped again, her voice quivering and tears starting to form in her eyes as her shadows started to respond to her distress. Six hated herself for feeling so vulnerable under Van’s grip, but she was powerless to stop it. His hold tightened, his patience fraying with every passing second.

Van turned to go, muttering, “I have no time for this,” as he yanked harder.

Six was on the verge of breaking down. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her composure slipping. Her body reacted in ways she couldn’t control, her confusion amplifying her fear. Van's irritation escalated until he reached his breaking point. With a swift, brutal motion, he extended his other hand to grab her shoulder—

But then, abruptly, his hand was halted mid-air as Mono’s larger hand clamped down on his wrist.

Van’s head snapped up, his eyes clashing with Mono’s. The cold fury in Mono’s gaze was far colder than the surrounding chill. He had witnessed enough—Six’s anguish, Van’s cruelty—and something inside him simply—snapped. A blinding rage focusing his vision to a searing point.

Van's smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of genuine surprise that he quickly masked. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he barked, his voice laced with venom.

Mono’s grip on Van’s wrist tightened, turning his knuckles white. His voice was a dangerous whisper, filled with icy resolve as he simply stated, “She said no.”

An ugly, aggressive spark ignited between them as the tension skyrocketed. Six's ears throbbed with the pounding rhythm of her heart, each beat echoing her anxiety. Van’s face flushed with rage, but Mono's unwavering grip and frigid stare made it clear he wasn’t going to relent.

Van took a hesitant step back, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words, but Mono's fierce, unyielding stare left him mute. Mono could hardly remember having been that furious before. Accepting Van’s offer had seemed practical at first, but Mono's disdain for Van had deepened into something far darker, eclipsing his dislike for Six.

“I think you can make an exception,” Mono’s voice was low and menacing, referring to his earlier question. “...Remember my condition?”

He tightened his grip on Van’s wrist, applying relentless pressure as a grim warning. Van winced, the pain causing him to release Six and take a step back. Their eyes locked in a silent, volatile duel, a battle of wills. Mono remained unyielding, positioning himself in front of Six, his body a formidable barrier between her and Van.

“...I remember,” Van said, his voice clipped and hostile, eyes locked on the wrist Mono had just restrained.

Mono’s gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing with steely resolve. “Then I think we’re done for tonight. We can discuss this further tomorrow, no...?” His tone made it clear it wasn’t really a question.

Van’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing into slits as he shot a seething look at Six, who stood frozen. The hostility in his gaze then snapped back to Mono, who remained an icy mask of indifference. With a violent wrench, Van tore his wrist free from Mono’s grip, a flash of anger flickering across his face.

“Yes, I believe so,” Van replied coldly, his voice carrying a thinly veiled threat. “We’ll also need to discuss your responsibilities here tomorrow.”

Mono almost smiled coldly, but his paper bag hid any expression. “Yes. Sounds like a plan.”

Their eyes locked in a tense, unspoken battle before Van, with a contemptuous snort, spun on his heel and stalked off. “Good night to you two... sweet dreams.”

Six flinched.

Mono watched him walk away, his hands clenched at his sides, his breath coming out as small white clouds in front of him. 

He turned to face Six, who was rooted to the spot, her eyes wide and dull. For a moment, he watched her, a tangle of frustration and concern knotting in his chest. Slowly, he reached out...and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. The touch startled her from her daze; she flinched, her eyes darting around in panic before settling on him. The terror in her eyes was raw, and it made Mono grimace.

“He’s gone for the night; you can calm down,” Mono said, his voice rough, weighed with realization.

He had protected her. It had been an instinctive reaction, not a thought. And he was suddenly grappling with the implications. A impulse he hadn’t expected.

Mono sighed, watching as Six remained silent, her shoulders trembling. The cold was biting, and his own exhaustion weighed heavily on him. He didn’t want to stay out here any longer, especially with the sight of her terrified eyes lingering in his mind. The look in her eyes made him feel both deeply protective and uncomfortably conflicted, he did not like it. 

He reminded himself it wasn’t his concern what had happened between her and Van, but the sight of her fear made it hard to ignore.

Mono rolled back his shoulders, adjusted the strap of his bag with a practiced ease, and dropped his head, his gaze sharpening as he headed toward his cabin. The air was frigid and eerily silent, a stark contrast to the charged tension that had filled the space moments earlier. Each step he took crunched through the snow, the sound sharp and distinct in the dead of night. He could sense Six trailing behind him, her footsteps light and hesitant, her breath visible in the cold.

He didn’t bother turning around, his mind still spinning from the encounter with Van. The idea of Six following him was less bothersome than he’d expected. Instead, he felt an unusual sense of...obligation. The way she had flinched, the raw panic in her eyes—it was unlike her. It made him uneasy, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, the feeling clung stubbornly, refusing to let go.

The cabin loomed ahead, its dark silhouette starkly outlined against the snow-covered landscape. Mono reached the door, pausing for a brief moment to glance over his shoulder. Six stood a few paces behind, her face a mask of stillness. Without a word, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, greeted by the comforting warmth that contrasted sharply with the biting cold outside. Six followed closely, and he let the door swing shut behind them, cutting off the cold night.

The interior of the cabin was typical for its kind, but the fresh, unweathered wood spoke of recent construction. The light pine, still untouched by the gray tinge of age, hinted at the camp's recent preparations for winter. Mono stepped into the center of the room, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight. He set his backpack down with a muted thud, the fabric settling with a sense of finality.

From his coat pocket, two small figures—Little and Nia—emerged, their eyes wide with curiosity. Mono observed them briefly after he had set them down, before turning his attention to the cabin. His gaze swept over the sparse furnishings and the corners draped in shadows. Instinctively, he began his routine search of the cabin, methodically inspecting every nook and cranny. It was a habit born from experience.

He opened cupboards, peered beneath the simple bed, and checked the small windows. Each movement was deliberate and precise as he ensured the space was secure and free from any hidden threats. Six watched him silently, her earlier tension gradually giving way to a cautious sense of safety.

Satisfied, Mono finally relaxed in the center of the room, his eyes briefly locking with Six’s before he looked away. He gave a nod to the two small girls on the floor, a silent assurance that the cabin was safe. At his signal, the girls—who had been following his every move with wide eyes—began to explore the room. Their tiny feet made soft pattering sounds on the wooden floor as Nia gently guided Little around, her support steadying her steps.

Mono turned back to his backpack, hefting it with practiced ease and carrying it over to a spare table. He set it down with a deliberate thud and started methodically counting his belongings, each movement precise and focused. The bed in the middle of the room, though larger and more inviting, remained untouched.

As Six began to recover from the earlier ordeal and reflect on Mono’s actions, she decided against expressing her thanks. She felt she could have managed on her own. Instead, she made her way to the bed and perched on its edge. The mattress, though aged, offered an unexpected softness, a remnant of better days. She ran her hand over the worn fabric, savoring the gentle give beneath her fingers.

Her gaze drifted to Mono, who was absorbed in his task with his back turned to her. The room was filled with the quiet rustle of his belongings and the occasional creak of the wooden floor. Six’s mind was a storm of thoughts, replaying the day's events over and over. She deeply appreciated Mono’s intervention, though the words of thanks remained unspoken, caught in the swirl of her emotions.

As she sank onto the bed, a small wave of relaxation washed over her, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. The cabin, though modest, offered a semblance of safety and normalcy—a sharp contrast to the constant fear and vigilance that had marked her recent days. She watched Mono for a while longer, his intense focus strangely comforting, before finally allowing herself to lie back on the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as her thoughts began to drift.

And drift...

Six's mind lingered on the moment she had completely shut down in front of Van and Mono. A surge of self-reproach followed her as she replayed the scene—feeling overwhelmed, exposed, and nearly dragged away by Van if Mono hadn’t intervened. As her thoughts meandered through these memories, a significant realization began to settle...

Mono would never have done what Van had tried to do.

Whatever Van had done to her, whatever it was that still haunted her memories and she still didn't fully understand—Mono would never have done anything like that. Ever. Six knew this instinctively, and it...calmed her. She realized that despite her dislike of him, she stayed with him for a reason.

She could trust him in a way she could never trust Van. Perhaps it was their shared history that made the difference.

She turned her head slightly to watch Mono as he meticulously counted his belongings at the table. With a slow breath, Six felt some of the day's tension begin to ease. For now, at least, she was safe—and she had Mono to thank for that, even if she couldn’t quite muster the words to express her gratitude. As her eyes fluttered closed, the soft creak of the wooden floor from Little and Nia’s playful footsteps and the quiet rustle of Mono’s belongings were the last sounds she heard before drifting into a restless sleep.

Half an hour later, Mono finished his counting. Everything was intact, and they had more than enough valuable items. He knew he had to keep them hidden from the rest of the camp; otherwise, they'd likely be stolen and used against him. Mono had to keep reminding himself that staying here was only temporary—he was here for safety and to make surviving the winter a bit easier.

After carefully repacking everything into the bag, Mono turned around and came to a sudden halt. Six was sprawled on the bed, fast asleep, having claimed it without a word. The sight of her, so vulnerable and serene, took him by surprise. In sleep, she appeared much younger, her usual guarded expression melting away, revealing a softer, more peaceful side that took him back to their childhood days.

Mono’s gaze lingered on her.

She had grown—something he hadn’t fully registered before. To him, she’d always been the frightened little girl he’d first encountered in the Hunter's basement. Now, she was taller, though not by much; his own height likely made her seem shorter in comparison. Her yellow raincoat, still familiar, had changed over the years. It wasn’t the same one, but its meaning remained unchanged.

Her black hair, messy and short, sprawled across her forehead and partially covered her eyes. A stray lock even clung to her lips, perhaps caught by drool. Her arms were splayed out beside her head, fingers relaxed but twitching occasionally. Her legs were sprawled out, slightly crumpling the mattress fabric.

Six appeared peaceful, calm, and deeply asleep, even with Mono’s presence in the room.

He should have been surprised by her open display of trust—sleeping so vulnerably despite knowing he could hurt her. 

Instead, it strangely...calmed him.

Despite his own dislike for her, despite how often she got on his nerves, and despite their reunion after ten years apart, they had quickly slipped back into their old habits—just like when they were kids. Six slept as peacefully in his presence now as she had back then.

Mono sighed softly, the tension from earlier still simmering in his thoughts. 

Shaking his head, he moved to the window and peered out into the frigid night. The camp lay quiet, small fires casting flickering shadows as the inhabitants settled in for the evening. He knew he needed rest, but the events of the day kept his mind in turmoil. He glanced back at Six to ensure she remained undisturbed in her peaceful slumber before searching for a spot on the floor to settle down for the night.

Once settled onto the ground and making sure Nia and Little were out of sight, playing elsewhere in the cabin, Mono slowly shrugged off his coat and shirt. He glanced down at his bandages, focusing on his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he gently peeled away the fabric that had stuck to the dried blood. As he removed the bandages, he examined the wound—the bullet scar from the Hunter’s attack.

The wound was healing, but the pain still lingered. The skin around the edges was torn and raw, shredded. A grim reminder of the fight. Mono knew it would leave a scar—another mark to add to the collection on his body.

Mono paused, breathing heavily. 

He had gathered many scars now, hadn’t he? Closing his eyes, he fought back a pained groan as memories of his torture in the Tower resurfaced. His muscles tensed involuntarily. He could still vividly recall the fleshy tendrils piercing through his body—his legs, his arms, his spine—all leaving their marks. In the Hospital, after his escape, he had barely survived the blood loss...

He hated those scars. They were a constant reminder of the nightmare that he had endured for ten years. After Six had dropped him...left him to die...

His thoughts came to an abrupt stop. 

Mono tensed further and slowly lifted his head to glance at her, still sleeping peacefully on the bed. So carelessly.

So vulnerable.

It would be so easy.

So easy to just get up. 

And strangle her. 

It was a tempting thought. A tempting fantasy. One that he let play out in his mind...

Mono imagined himself standing up silently from the floor, moving quietly toward her. He pictured himself looking over her from the side of the bed... taking a final, cold stare before, in one swift motion, he would straddle her. 

She would wake up, eyes wide with shock and panik as he would grab her throat and tightened his grip around it. 

He could almost feel the rapid pulse beneath his fingers...the fear, realization, seeping into her gaze. She would struggle, gasp, whimper—cry, but he would not care. He would be stronger, relentless—pressing harder as he watched the life fade from her eyes.

Mono's breath caught in his throat, he slammed his head back against the wall, feeling the cool air of the cabin mix with the heat of his skin. He shivered. The shock of his own thoughts shaking him.

Had he really just imagined that?

His face contorted into a grimace of hatred and disgust—directed at himself. Had he really sunk so low as to fantasize about killing Six? Was his rage still so overpowering? He had believed he was in control, that he had calmed enough not to act on such violent, primal impulses...to be stronger than them? 

The fact that these thoughts were still so accessible, so easily seizing him, even after escaping the Tower, frightened him deeply. That Six was in danger around him. That he could snap so easily. It revealed just how close he was to losing himself. He couldn’t afford to succumb to them. Not now. Not ever.

Not after suddenly feeling protective over Six.

These instincts clashed within him: his hatred for her against his growing sense of protectiveness. It was a paradox that shouldn’t be possible—how could he harbor such violent thoughts while simultaneously feeling a fierce urge to protect her? There was something fundamentally wrong with him, and the realization unsettled him further.

Mono took a few minutes to calm himself before replacing his bandages. Once finished, he pulled his clothes back on and sank back onto the ground. He listened to the wind howling outside the cabin and the soft, rhythmic breaths of Six as she slept.

He still felt a deep sense of disgust and self-loathing, which he struggled to suppress. As he fought to push these feelings away, he turned his attention to the pressing need for rest and the task of planning his next steps.

The camp was set to be their home for a few weeks, perhaps even months, until the harshest part of winter passed. During this time, Mono would focus on gathering supplies, learning what he could, and preparing for their departure. He glanced around the dark, modest cabin. This was their home for now, and Mono reminded himself to be cautious about getting too attached.

He had never truly had anything to call home...

The sudden patter of Little and Nia’s footsteps returning to the room jolted Mono from his thoughts. He looked up, relieved to see them appearing fine, even happy. Their smiles, however, faded almost instantly upon noticing his troubled aura. Did he look that pitiable?

Nia and Little slowly approached him, their steps tentative.

“...Are you okay, Mono?” Nia’s voice was gentle, her concern mirrored in Little's wide, anxious eyes.

Mono’s response was a ragged whisper, his tone heavy with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie.

Nia and Little sensed the lie but chose to keep quiet. They hesitated before moving closer, their eyes silently asking if they would sleep as they usually did. Normally, Mono wouldn’t mind, but right now, he needed his space. He was relieved they seemed to understand as he shook his head.

Sitting up, he grabbed his backpack and pulled out a small stuffed blanket, setting it on the ground. Nia and Little immediately nestled onto it, their small forms curling up together. Within moments, they were asleep in each other’s arms, their breaths soft and rhythmic.

Mono watched them for a moment, a pang of guilt piercing his chest. He wanted to be there for them, but the weight of his own turmoil was overwhelming. He sighed heavily and settled back against the wall, closing his eyes in an attempt to sleep.

But sleep wouldn’t come. His mind raced, thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm of memories and fears. The room, despite its stillness, felt oppressive. Suffocating. The gentle sounds of Nia and Little’s breathing were a fragile lullaby that failed to soothe his restless mind. Six's too. 

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

There was a sound.

Patter...

Patter...

Patter...

The sounds all around her blended together into a faint murmur that she could hardly understand, leaving her feeling strangely disconnected. The regular sounds of the world appeared muted and dim, coming from a far-off place, as if she were attempting to hear through a thick, suffocating fog. Their edges softened and blurred, creating a strangely soothing effect...

Patter...

Patter...

Gradually, she became aware that she was underwater. Opening her eyes, she braced herself against the seawater's cutting sting, but was surprised by the unexpected calm. Her pupils grew wide as she registered the astonishing transparency—almost translucent—of the ocean. She peered up, gently tilting her head to get a better sense of her surroundings. She observed little ripples on the water's surface, which were an obvious indication of a storm raging above.

Ah, so that was the source of the noise.

Six was floating a few feet below the surface, where light from above filtered down in soft, shifting beams, like strands of silk weaving through the water. The light danced and flickered, playing with the boundaries of her vision until the blackness below slowly engulfed it. At the boundary of two worlds—the dim, fading light above and the vast, inviting abyss beneath—she found herself irresistibly drawn downward.

The dark void below seemed to whisper to her with an eerie, silent pull, urging her to drift deeper. Six tensed slightly, her body caught between the retreating light above and the magnetic allure of the darkness below...

It was a call—soft, raspy, and muted, yet growing more insistent with each passing moment. The sound wove itself into her thoughts, a whisper that seemed to seep from every shadow and corner of the abyss, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Her body moved as if possessed, responding to the dark call against her will. As she swam further, the edges of her vision darkened, the light above fading into a distant, haunting memory...expecting the water to grow colder as she descended, but instead, it grew warmer, and warmer...

The first rays of sunlight gently brushed against Six's face, nudging her awake from her slumber. Not used to such a tender wake-up call, her first reaction was a groggy scowl. She had been dreaming about the ocean—something that usually unsettled her, but this time had felt oddly comforting. It was a strange dream that left her with a furrowed brow as she slowly came to herself.

As her eyes adjusted to the morning light, she became aware of an unusual sensation against her lower thigh. She froze momentarily, unease creeping over her. Carefully, she lifted her head and looked down. To her surprise, a little girl with only one full leg was curled up against her, sleeping peacefully.

Six's eyes widened in alarm. She jerked her leg away, the sudden movement causing the girl beside her to stir awake. Six quickly tucked her knees to her chest, pressing herself against the top of the bed as if trying to create as much distance as possible. The girl—Little, Six recalled—grimaced groggily and looked up at her, frowning in sleepy confusion. Six met her gaze with a deep scowl, her discomfort written all over her face. The thought of bonding with either of the girls who traveled with Mono sent a shiver down her spine; the idea of being this close to them made her skin crawl.

Letting one of them sleep next to her was completely out of the question.

Little seemed on the verge of saying something, her hands beginning to move in silent communication. Right, she was mute. But Six had no patience for deciphering the girl's gestures.

“I can't understand you,” Six snapped, her voice sharp with irritation. She shot the girl a nasty glare. “Stop trying and get of my bed—” 

“Your bed?” came a sudden voice from the right, cutting through the tension.

Six whipped her head around, fixing a sharp gaze on the other girl traveling with Mono, the one who had rudely interrupted her. She pressed her lips into a tight line, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Did these two really think that just because they were with Mono now, they could do whatever they pleased? Six had been in their shoes once, traveling with him at their age, but it hadn’t granted her any special privileges—and they certainly had not the right to question her. 

Lifting her chin, Six glared at Nia. “Yes. My bed. I was on it first.” 

The younger girl let out a small, mocking laugh and slowly walked over to Little—who was currently scrambling to get off what was, in Six's mind, clearly her bed. Nia continued to chuckle as she gently helped Little to her feet. “How childish,” she remarked, her voice dripping with amusement.

Six's eyes narrowed to slits. “Childish...? That’s rich coming from a child.”

“Child maybe, but at least I’m acting more grown-up than you are right now,” Nia shot back, her gaze sharp and challenging. For a moment, Six was struck by how much that look reminded her of Mono when he was seriously annoyed.

Challenge accepted.

A smile tugged at Six’s lips, the kind that was sharp and cruel. “Oh really? I barely noticed,” she drawled, her voice thick with sarcasm. She shifted on the bed, sitting up with deliberate slowness, savoring every moment. Her fingers curled into the mattress behind her, clawing at it with a playful, almost predatory grip. This was going to be fun.

Tilting her head, she let it rest lazily on her shoulder. “With you being so small—child-sized, in contrast to me, towering and adult-sized—I must have simply overlooked it. My bad.”

Nia skidded to a halt, Little perched awkwardly under her arm, her expression one of bewildered confusion. Nia shot Six a withering glare, but Six only smiled back, her eyes sparkling with barely contained mischief. Come on, take the bait, Six thought, struggling to keep her glee in check. It had been ages since she’d had a chance to stir things up like this, especially since Mono was far too sharp to fall for her provocations. As she reveled in the moment, she felt her shadows stir with curiosity, eager to see how this little game would unfold.

“I can still grow, and I will grow,” Nia declared, clearly taking the bait. “And guess what? I’ll be taller than you soon enough, considering how small you are for a grown-up. You barely reach Mono’s lower chest.”

Six’s jaw clenched, a wave of irritation surging through her. The little brat had hit a nerve, pointing out something Six had been trying to ignore. Nia was right, but what did that matter? “Oh, are we really playing the height game now?” she shot back, her voice laced with biting sarcasm. “Maybe you’re right, but Mono is just abnormally tall. I’m perfectly average for my age.”

“Are you?” Nia shot back without missing a beat.

Six’s gaze instantly sharpened, locking onto Nia’s in a fierce stare-down. They held each other’s gaze in a silent battle of wills, the tension between them crackling in the air. After what felt like an eternity, Six let out an exasperated huff and finally relented. She told herself it was just too early in the morning to deal with this, though deep down, she knew it was more than that.

Nia, sensing her victory, lifted her chin with a smug smile before turning her attention back to helping Little cross the room, leaving Six to stew in her lingering frustration.

“That little girl’s got some sass...” Six’s shadows chimed in her mind, their voices laced with amusement. “She’s almost on your level.”

Six rolled her eyes, hobbling to the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to rub it in,” she muttered, her annoyance evident. “I’ll show that little brat soon enough...”

Her shadows responded with a low, amused chuckle. “Do we need to remind you that you started this, Six?”

Another eye-roll. “No, you don’t. And anyway, whose side are you on?”

“Hmhmh... No one’s, Six,” they replied, mischief dancing in their tone. “But we have to admit, this back-and-forth is quite... entertaining.”

Six hopped down from the bed, grabbing her backpack with a determined scowl. Breakfast was the only thing on her mind now. Glad to entertain you, she thought grimly as she shuffled over to the table and pulled out a chair. But as she was about to sit down, something caught her attention. The table was empty. Something was missing.

Confused, she glanced around the cozy cabin, its wooden walls bathed in the soft, gray light of dawn. Her eyes drifted to the window, where the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a faint glow that struggled to push back the lingering darkness. Six’s gaze returned to the table, her brow furrowing in concern.

Where was Mono’s bag from last night? And more importantly, where was Mono?

══════════════════════════════════

“And yer name...Mono, was it?”

Mono nodded, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. He stared down the guy Van had pointed him toward earlier that morning when they had accidently met on the camp path while Mono was trying to look around. The guy—apparently named Rimmly, the camp manager and Van’s direct subordinate—was a smaller guy with a slight hunch and a scrunched back that made him appear perpetually bent over. His brown eyes, sharp and darting, seemed to measure Mono with a quick, assessing glance. His short, messy black hair was bound with a green band, adding to his disheveled appearance. The frayed edges of his clothes and the distinctive accent in his voice hinted at a man who had seen his share of hard days.

Mono hadn’t formed a solid opinion about him yet, but he noted these details with interest. For now, he continued to observe quietly. 

“Yes... Van told me you are the one to sort me in...?” Mono asked, his tone hesitant as he tilted his head slightly.

Rimmly cleared his throat and began to circle Mono, scrutinizing him with a keen eye. Startled by the sudden attention, Mono stood rigidly as Rimmly’s rough hands reached out, beginning to feel his forearm. The callouses on Rimmly’s fingers pressed firmly against Mono’s skin, running over the muscle and texture with a practiced touch. 

“Hmmm, ye’ve got a solid build, fer sure,” Rimmly grumbled, his voice low and gravelly as he ran his hands over Mono’s muscles. “Strong fella... might do well in construction or huntin’...” 

Continuing his inspection, Rimmly’s hands slid up to Mono’s upper arm, where he tested the muscle tone with a careful, experienced touch. He moved with a deliberate precision, assessing Mono’s chest next, feeling for signs of overall strength and endurance. Mono remained still, his expression carefully neutral. Though he was uncomfortable with the unexpected handling, he understood it was part of the inspection process and tried to stay composed.

When Rimmly’s hands reached Mono’s injured shoulder, his demeanor shifted noticeably. He halted abruptly, his face twisting into a grimace as he examined the bandages and the apparent wound beneath them.

“Oi, how’d ye get that?” Rimmly asked, his tone turning serious. “Might muck up yer work ‘til ye be properly healed…”

Mono turned his head and glanced down, flexing his shoulder slowly. “Got shot,” he said with a casual shrug. “But it’s healing. Should be right again in a week or so.”

Rimmly’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Shot, ye say? Blimey, ye’ve got some balls to brushin’ it off so easy, especially since it’s clear it barely missed yer head.”

Mono, not quite used to such blunt language, gave a soft chuckle, thinking back to his fight with the Hunter. “Yeah, I guess... was lucky.” 

Rimmly paused for a moment, then burst into a hearty laugh, clapping Mono on the chest with a force that nearly made him stumble. Mono let out a confused huff, trying to regain his balance.

“Ahaha! I like ye!” Rimmly roared, a broad grin splitting his face. “A no-nonsense sort, that’s fer sure!” He gave Mono a hearty slap on the back (almost knocking him off balance again) before turning and striding toward a door leading to another room.

“Ye know,”—Rimmly’s voice called out from within the room, cluttering around as he searched for something—“Most lads ‘round here are a bunch o' wimps, always moanin’ and groanin’ like girls over the tiniest scratches and scrapes. It’s a breath o’ fresh air seein’ ye so unfazed. Just what we need ‘round here.”

Mono lifted his eyebrows and stood a bit unsure. He guessed that was... a compliment?

“And I’m sure,”—Rimmly reappeared from the room, a book in hand—“ye’ll fit right in ‘round the camp. We can always use a sturdy lad like yerself. Now, c'mere so I can explain a few things to ye.”

Mono complied, and what followed was a rundown of the different parts of the camp and options for how Mono could contribute, given their agreement. For now, Rimmly thought Mono should work in construction, such as helping with repairs or carrying things around with his good shoulder. He would take it slow so that others could get used to him and Mono could adjust to them. Mono followed along quite well... until they got to the camp rules.

They were a bit odd, to say the least.

There were the usual camp rules you would expect: no stealing, no fighting—standard stuff you’d expect in any organized group.

One of the main rules was that everyone had to make a weekly contribution to the leader, Van. This could be anything from food to clothes to materials. If someone failed to contribute, they faced punishment. Given Van's attitude, it seemed likely that he had set this rule himself.

But the most notable rule or feature was the camp’s ranking system. Everyone had a different role, which Mono understood was necessary for managing a group. However, the ranks and their names were a bit odd:

First rank was the leader, simply called "The Leader." Van. The one in command of everything.

Then, beneath the leader was the sub-leader, who managed everything going on in the camp and was called "The Crow." Watchful, organized, and sharp. Rimmly.

Next ones where called: "The Wolfs." Or fighters/scavengers. They were the ones who went out of the camp to hunt or defend it. 

Then came the workers, referred to as "The Peckers," Nickname for Woodpeckers. The Peckers are tasked with the essential duties of the camp: constructing and maintaining structures, making repairs, and preparing meals. Their role was crucial for the camp’s daily functioning, ensuring that everything ran smoothly.  Mono was currently sorted into this group by Rimmly.

And finally, there was the last rank that Mono struggled to fully grasp: the so-called "Fawns." 

They were the lowest rank in the camp's hierarchy, reserved for those who were at the bottom of the social ladder. Fawns were required to submit to the demands of those in higher ranks without question. Their position left them at the mercy of the camp’s more privileged members, and any disobedience or failure to comply was met with harsh punishment. To Mono, as he understood it, it seemed clear that Fawns were essentially treated as slaves.

It didn’t sit well with Mono, knowing that some were treated like that. He furrowed his brows and stared at the papers Rimmly had been using to explain everything, feeling a pang of discomfort. “The Fawns... If you’re stuck in that lowest rank, is there any way to work your way up to a higher rank?”

Rimmly’s gaze shifted, and he gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Ye, there is a way, but it’s a bit tangled. Mostly, it hinges on yer Watcher and if they’ll vouch for ye to the Leader.”

Mono turned to Rimmly, who was lounging in a chair with a weary expression. The mention of another role piqued his curiosity. “Watchers?” he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

Rimmly leaned back, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Ye, Watchers be a sort o’ sub-role ye can land if ye own a home here in the camp. They’re tasked with keepin’ an eye on a Fawn and makin’ sure they pull their weight. They are responsible for them, and are to decide what they do. And only them. No one else exept for the leader has any other say over them. It’s their job to judge the Fawns performance and behavior. If the Watcher reckons the Fawns makin’ an effort and showin’ some grit, they might put in a good word for a rank upgrade.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing as he watched Mono’s reaction. “But don’t be expectin’ it to be a walk in the park. The Watchers approval can be a hard thing to earn, especially if they be a tough sort or if yer past record ain’t so shiny. Climbin’ outta that lowest rank can be a rough, long haul. My advice, never fall this low.”

Mono absorbed the explanation, a blend of relief and skepticism brewing within him. The idea of having a Watcher who could potentially influence one’s status was a small glimmer of hope—indicating that there was a way to rise through the ranks. Yet, it also seemed like a precarious system, susceptible to manipulation. And knowing how things operated, it probably was being manipulated. He couldn’t help but think of Van...

“So... in the end, the Leader has the final say on whether a Fawns is worth promoting, and while your Watcher can influence that, they practically own you until then,” Mono mused aloud, studying Rimmly’s reaction closely.

Rimmly’s lips curved into a knowing grin, making it clear that Mono had struck the mark. This system was corrupt, of course. Mono should've seen it coming.

He leaned back, lowering his head slightly. “...Seems a bit unfair, don’t you think? They’re practically slaves.” They where slaves.

Rimmly chuckled, the sound low and gruff. “...Hm, mayhap, but they’ve still got their place in the camp. They’re safe, and they’re fed. They just have to obey their Watcher. Everything’s got its price, lad.”

"Everything’s got its price," yeah right—the price of your freedom. Maybe some were okay with that, but Mono definitely wasn't. He wasn't about to enslave himself in the camp or to anyone. He had to keep track of his assigned role and work his way up. Mono decided not to press further; he’d learned what he needed to know. He took a step back, and Rimmly took it as a sign to continue.

Mono’s thoughts raced as he assessed the situation. The camp’s system was a precarious balance of power, favor, and manipulation. Each rank had its place, but the price was steep—obedience and submission. The idea of being bound to a Watcher, subject to their whims, was a bitter pill to swallow. He was relieved that his role was that of a Pecker, at least for now.

Rimmly’s grin lingered, a knowing expression that spoke volumes. Mono met his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the underlying corruption. He had no intention of becoming another cog in this oppressive machine. He was here to survive the winter, nothing more. Once the harshest times were over, he would leave.

Rimmly cleared his throat, snapping Mono back to the present. “Alright then, lad, let’s move on,” he said, his tone brisk as he turned and gestured for Mono to follow.

Mono’s resolve solidified with each step he took. The camp buzzed with activity as they got under the people, a hive of purposeful movement. He observed the people navigating the snowy paths. Now that he understood the roles, he could easily identify each person. The Wolfs stood out as the healthiest—they had to be for hunting and protection. The Peckers, busy carrying supplies and repairing sheds, looked relatively normal, though some appeared overworked.

What struck Mono with alarming clarity though, was the overwhelming number of men compared to the few women. 

Then it clicked: Fawns. 

The lowest rank, or another name for the "females." If a male fell to that level, he was not considered better than a girl. Fawns, the lowest of the low, scurried about under the watchful eyes of their Watchers who where responsible for them and practicly owned them.

Mono’s jaw tightened at the sight. The Fawns—two girls he watched—had haunted expressions and hunched postures, evidence of lives lived in constant fear. Their hair was cut to a buzzcut, and their clothes were nothing more than dirty, oversized, muddy brown coats that reached down to their feet.

The realization deepened Mono’s disdain for the camp. His concern for Nia and Little grew. 

If they were discovered—as Mono was currently keeping them hidden—they would be forced into this oppressive system. He couldn't let that happen, under any circumstances. The camp’s structure was already disturbing, and now this blatant sexism, with rank limiting the few girls present, made it even worse. Mono's determination to protect them intensified. Not just from the wilderness, but from the others in the camp.

His expression darkened, his resolve turning steely.

Rimmly had begun talking again, but Mono only half listened, nodding along when Rimmly showed him something. His mind was elsewhere, piecing together the troubling implications.

It now made sense why Van had been so pushy with Six the other night, insisting she stay with him. Van's comments in the forest and his familiarity with Six indicated she had been in this camp before. They had likely tried to push her into the system too. No wonder she reacted the way she did. No one knew about Nia and Little, but they already knew about Six. Van would probably try to force her into that system again, and given that she was a girl, she would likely be designated as a Fawn.

The more Mono thought about this, the angrier he got. It had been a mistake to agree to come to the camp. Their chances outside had been better then this. He should have taken more time to consider their options. Six had warned him...

“Oi, yer listenin’?” Rimmly’s sudden question snapped Mono out of his thoughts.

“W-what?” he replied a bit dumbfounded, glancing down at Rimmly, who let out a little laugh.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but don’t ye worry, ye’ll be used to it soon enough,” Rimmly said with a hearty chuckle, giving Mono a friendly slap on the shoulder. He then nudged him toward a two-story wooden cottage. Mono hadn’t even realized they had wandered all the way back here.

“The boss be wantin’ a word with ye, so best be makin’ yer way over, if you have any questions, ye know where to find me.” Rimmly added with a final shove, turning to head back the way they had come, but then stopped. “Oh, and one last thing, lad. In this camp, ye address each other by rank, not by name—at least in public. Keep that in mind.” 

Mono tilted his head and glanced over his shoulder, but Rimmly was already striding away, quickly vanishing into the distance. Mono turned back to face the front and took a deep breath, then focused on the two-story wooden cottage ahead. It had to be Van's place—or the leader’s quarters. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Shaking off the unease, he quickened his pace and made his way toward the cottage.

As he approached, he saw two guards—Wolfs, no doubt—standing watch in front of the building. Their stances stiffened and their grips on their spears tightened as he neared. Unfazed, Mono continued forward until one of the guards stepped directly into his path, blocking his way to the cabin. 

“Hold on a sec, Pecker. You’re not supposed to be here. Move along,” one of the guards said, placing a hand firmly between Mono's shoulder and neck. Mono tensed, looking down at the guard. He had to tilt his head slightly, as it seemed everyone was shorter than him here. The guard noticed with a barely concealed flinch.

“I was told Va—the Leader wanted to see me,” Mono said calmly, though his voice had a sharp edge.

“Indeed.”

As if on cue, Van appeared in the open doorway of the cabin, having observed Mono approach with Rimmly. The guards, caught off guard, stared blankly at their leader until Van raised an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air. Immediately, they released Mono and returned to their posts, trying to act as if nothing had happened. Van, satisfied, descended the stairs with a deliberate pace. Mono noticed how the guards subtly avoided Van’s gaze, their posture stiffening with unease.

Interesting, they were afraid.

Van turned his attention to Mono, who met his gaze evenly. “Mono, I trust you’re settling in well? And I assume Rimmly has shown you around?”

Here we go with the false politeness and pretense, Mono thought for a moment. “Yes, he has,” he said, crossing his hands behind his back as Van stopped in front of him. “He assigned me as a worker, or—Pecker, I think the rank was called—I’ll hold up my end of the deal.”

Van nodded and turned, also crossing his hands behind his back. “Rimmly mentioned something like that to me yesterday, yes. He said you seem quite strong form what he had seen, and it won’t be long before you'll join the Wolfs’ ranks. I trust you will do your work well.” 

Taking in the info that Van and Rimmly apparently had a talk after they had arrived in the camp, Mono lowered his head slightly and followed Van as the other man gave a brief nod, signaling for him to come along. They walked in silance for a moment. 

“I'm glad you seem to have understood our rank system right away; it's essential for managing the camp,” Van began, continuing to walk. He turned his head slightly to look at Mono from the corner of his eye. “And now, as your superior...”—Mono tensed his jaw beneath his paper bag—“it's my responsibility too to look after you and that you are comftable with us.” 

Mono didn't reply, and Van interpreted the silence as permission to continue. He turned his head back around and said, “So let me show you something.”

Mono's interest was piqued, and he tilted his head slightly. “...Show me something?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Van nodded, gesturing for Mono to follow. “Yes, a place that's open to everyone in the camp and holds considerable importance.”

Van fell silent, his focus shifting ahead as he continued walking with purpose. Mono, intrigued and slightly apprehensive, kept pace beside him. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the crunch of their footsteps on the snow and the distant murmur of camp activity. Van’s demeanor suggested this place held particular relevance, and Mono's curiosity grew as they made their way through the camp.

Van led him past various structures until they were on the other side of the camp, now standing in front of a towering cliff near a frozen lake. Mono looked up at it, observing the sharp edges at the top. Van chuckled, “If you’re wondering if it’s safe, it is. We secured it with bolts a few years ago; it can’t fall.”

Mono nodded and shifted his focus to the cliff, noticing a cave entrance at its base, accessible by a winding path. It seemed Van wanted to show him something inside. With a knowing smile, Van started walking toward the entrance. As they got closer, Mono noticed a faint steam or fog drifting from the cave’s mouth.

Following Van, Mono ducked slightly and stepped into the cave. 

The rocky path underfoot was uneven, each step a careful negotiation with the rough terrain. His hands brushed against the damp, cold walls, feeling the gritty texture of the stone beneath his fingertips. The sound of water flowing echoed through the cave, growing louder and more insistent as they ventured deeper. Gradually, the air became warmer and more humid, a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. Ahead, a soft, inviting glow began to light their way, casting eerie, shifting shadows on the rugged walls.

As they rounded a bend, the narrow path opened up into a huge cave. Mono's breath caught in his throat as he took in the scene before him. 

A natural hot spring was at the heart of the cavern, also massive, its surface shimmering with a captivating, tranquil glow. The water, a deep, mesmerizing cyan, steamed gently, creating a stark contrast with the dark, flat rocks that framed it.

Even from a distance, the warmth of the spring was palpable, radiating through the air and intensifying the already humid environment. Mono could almost feel the soothing heat against his skin. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, their steady drips sending delicate ripples across the spring’s surface. Lanterns of various sizes and designs were strategically placed around the spring, placed by the people of the camp, casting a soft, flickering light over the place that enhanced the cavern's natural beauty.

To the left of the hot spring, a section of the cave wall was open, offering a breathtaking view of the frozen lake outside. The icy expanse stretched into the distance, its surface sparkling under the pale light. Framed by the rugged cliff and encircled by the wild, untouched landscape, the scene outside was a stark contrast to the warmth within. This natural aperture allowed a sliver of daylight to seep into the cave, mingling with the gentle glow of the lanterns.

Van, observing Mono’s awe, offered a knowing smile. “This is one of our most cherished spots,” he said, his voice imbued with pride. “A natural hot spring. We rely on it for both washing and as a water source since the spring's water continuously renews itself. During the colder months, the warm water keeps us comfortable, and it's perfect for soothing sore muscles after a long day’s work.”

Mono stepped closer, drawn to the sight. The warm mist from the spring swirled around them, carrying a faint, earthy scent that mingled with the crisp, cool air. Small bubbles gently rose to the surface, revealing that the hot spring wasn’t very deep—ideal for bathing. The steam wrapped around him, offering a soothing warmth that was a welcome contrast to the chill outside.

Van continued, “It’s open to everyone in the camp, though access varies by rank. Higher-ranked individuals can use it freely, while others have more...limited access. Regardless, it remains a valued part of our camp life.”

Mono’s brow furrowed, and his voice dropping to a low, tense murmur. “And let me guess,” he said, “with ‘limited access,’ you mean Fawns can only use it with their Watchers approval?” His earlier enjoyment of the serene atmosphere had evaporated, replaced by a simmering anger as the harsh reality of the camp’s hierarchy came to mind.

Van’s eyes widened in surprise at Mono’s sharp understanding. “You’ve caught on quickly,” he admitted, a blend of surprise, amusement, and reluctant respect evident in his voice. “And speaking of Fawns... we need to discuss Six’s position in the camp—”

“Do we?” Mono cut in, facing Van fully, his gaze unwavering. “We both know Six is definitely not a Fawn...” His voice carried a note of skepticism, almost bordering on laughter. The thought of Six being assigned such a demeaning rank seemed absurd to him. Laughable.

Van maintained his steady gaze. “We agreed yesterday to discuss Six’s placement, including her rank,” he said firmly. “Six is strong and perceptive, but she’s not suited for manual labor. As a Fawn, she would be cared for—fed, safe, and provided for—without having to worry about anything.”

“Anything—except her Watcher,” Mono snapped, his voice tight with anger as he clenched his fists. The idea of Six submitting to a Watcher, no matter if she accepted her rank, was something he found intolerable.

Mono paused, his stare unyielding as he tilted his head slightly. “And who would that even be?” he pressed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You?”

Van’s eyes narrowed, but his tone remained calm and controlled. “My role here is to oversee the camp and ensure everyone’s needs are met,” he said evenly.

“If Six were to become a Fawn, she would fall under my supervision,” Van continued, his voice now carrying an edge. “As the Leader, I’m in the best position to ensure her safety. No one would dare harm her under my watch. The point is, we need to make sure she’s comfortable and secure.”

Mono’s anger flared, his fists clenched as he took a step closer. “Harm her? Comfortable and secure? And what about her will? You think she’ll just roll over and accept being treated like a slave?”

The phrase “roll over” darkened Van’s expression. 

The shift in the others demeanor was noticable, and Mono felt a jolt of surprise and unease at Van’s reaction. He did not like it.

Van’s voice turned icy, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. “It’s not about treating anyone as less than they deserve. It’s about placing each person in a role that fits their abilities. Six’s strength lies in her sharp mind, not in heavy labor. If she becomes a Fawn, she will be ensured safety and comfort.”

Mono’s jaw clenched, frustration clear in his eyes. “So, just because she’s not suited for hard work, she should be relegated to a position where she has to rely on someone else’s approval for basic rights?”

“Why do you care?” Van’s voice suddenly cut sharply through the tension, his tone abrupt and accusatory.

Mono froze, his eyes widening in surprise. The question seemed to come out of nowhere. 

“What?” he managed, his voice betraying his confusion.

Van's expression darkened into a scowl as he stepped closer, his presence encroaching on Mono’s personal space. His gaze bore into Mono with a fierce intensity. “Why. do. you. Care what happens to Six?”

Mono was momentarily stunned, his body instinctively drawing back as he stepped away from Van. The simplicity of the question cut through him, leaving him reeling. Care? Did he really care about Six? His thoughts churned in a whirlpool of confusion as he lowered his gaze, wrestling with the unexpected surge of self-doubt.

Van’s gaze stayed fixed on Mono, unwavering and intense, watching him closely. The question, raw and probing, unsettled and confused Mono, stirring emotions he had tried to suppress. Internally, he wrestled with the realization that—despite his efforts to deny it, he did care about what happened to Six. He had proven so in the Hunters cabin. And then again in the forest. But this sudden...clarity left him struggling with an uncomfortable self-awareness. 

He wanted to blame those feelings to their shared past and old friendship, but the more he considered it, the more he realized he couldn't. 

Which only, confused Mono more.

Van’s shoulders tensed visibly, the shift in his posture almost palpable as his gaze tensed with a menacing intensity. “Are... you two, like... a thing?”

The question landed on Mono with the force of a physical blow, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts. His response was immediate, tinged with a note of panic. “No! No... definitely not. We don’t like each other, never really have. There’s nothing.”

Van’s eyebrow arched in skeptical disbelief, his gaze sharpening with suspicion. “Then why all the fuss?”

Mono's heart raced, currently not understanding why he was suddenly so panicked by that simple question, each thud echoing in his ears as he struggled to formulate a coherent response. The brief silence that followed felt suffocating, his throat going dry as he swallowed hard, the effort of speaking seeming to scrape at his insides.

“Look,” he said, struggling to steady his voice as he fought to maintain his composure, “we’ve been through a lot together as kids. That's all. It’s complicated. But we’re not... together, like that. Never.”

Van’s gaze remained unyielding, his eyes sharp as they bore into Mono. The air between them thickened, charged with the weight of unspoken words and growing mistrust. Mono held Van’s stare, his resolve hardening as he refused to flinch. The silence stretched taut between them, each second dragging with unbearable tension as they waited for the other to break.

Then, as clarity began to cut through the haze, Mono realized something.

Tilting his head slightly, he spoke with a sharp edge in his voice. “Wait... why do you care?”

Van’s reaction was immediate—a brief moment of surprise, his body recoiling as though snapped from a trance. Mono felt a shiver of unease as Van’s gaze flickered toward the open cave wall to their left, his demeanor shifting to something more guarded. “I have my own reasons for asking, beyond the obvious,” Van replied, his voice carrying a trace of anger.

Mono’s shock deepened as he processed the implications. His eyes widened, and then gestured vaguely towards Van as a whole, his tone laced with disbelief. “You... you like her? Is that why you brought us to the camp?”

Van’s chuckle was dry and devoid of real humor. “That’s part of it. I meant what I said back in the forest—survival is easier together.”

Mono’s mind raced as he grappled with the revelation, feeling the shift in dynamics between them like a palpable force. The realization hit him with a jolt: Van had a genuine interest in Six. It explained Van’s relentless insistence on keeping her close. Though unsettling, it made the situation a lot clearer.

The problem, however, was glaringly obvious: Six had no interest in Van. She hated him. She had made it clear, time and again, that she would rather face the trials of the wilderness than remain with Van.

So, their earlier conversation about her rank had led nowhere; Van was stubborn, and Six was equally stubborn about not staying with him. This left Mono, with a growing sense of frustration, caught squarely in the middle. He had repeatedly defended her, but he had no authority to make decisions on her behalf. Six needed to settle things directly with Van. 

Yet, the rigid camp system and its established ranks placed Six in a risky position. Mono had already submitted to the camp’s hierarchy, and Six, likely unaware of the system, had little choice but to do the same. The realization that she might be forced into a situation she despised, simply due to the constraints of the camp’s structure—he had agreed too, only compounded Mono’s frustration.

They could leave of course, but that would be direct suicide. Everyone knew that, and Van was exploiting that grim reality to his advantage to its fullest.

Mono’s gaze followed Van’s as he looked out through the open cave wall, focusing on the frozen lake beyond. The ice stretched out in a stark, unyielding expanse, mirroring the hopelessness Mono felt inside. He clenched his fists, the frustration gnawing at him. He wanted to take action—he wanted to help Six. But was it even his place to intervene? The situation felt beyond his control. Out of his hands.

He considered the possibility of talking to Van, maybe persuading him to reassign Six to a different role, away from Fawn’s—yet he was already starting to see the pattern. Van’s likely response would be one of indifference. As the camp leader, Van held all the power, and Mono knew—despite his deep-seated resentment—that he had to back down. 

Not for his own sake, but for Little and Nia. 

They had to remain hidden; Mono couldn’t afford any actions or discussions that might attract suspicion, especially not from the camp’s leader. He needed to keep a low profile, even if it meant turning a blind eye to issues that frustrated him. Six could fend for herself, but Little and Nia could not. 

Mono had no real choice. The stakes were too high. He had to stay out of it, to protect the ones who depended on him.

Feeling the crushing weight of defeat, Mono released a deep, weary sigh, his shoulders sagging as he cast his eyes downward. “I... I understand,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. Van’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp and calculating as he turned to face him, his expression a mix of unreadable emotion.

Mono struggled to keep his voice steady, each word weighed down by the effort of maintaining his composure. “...You’re the Leader; you make the decisions. I have no right to...decide.”

He made sure to lay on thick, faking his submission to ease the palpable tension while concealing his true feelings. Mono forced himself to lift his eyes to meet Van’s through the shadow of his paper bag with a façade of obedience.

“I’ll...respect the camp’s rules,” he said, his voice betraying a hollow, rehearsed note. “And I’m grateful we can stay.”

The lie tasted bitter, like acid on his tongue, but it served its purpose.

Van’s skepticism melted into a self-satisfied grin as he reached out and placed a firm hand on Mono’s right shoulder. The touch was intended to be comforting, but to Mono, it felt like a taunt—and he knew it was a taunt—an unwelcome reminder of his current powerlessness. Both of them were acutely aware of this dynamic as it hung heavily in the air between them. 

Van just let his hand rest there for a minute, adding more salt in to the wound.

The impulse to lash out was nearly overwhelming. Mono’s hands balled into tight fists, slightly trembling with the effort to restrain himself. The urge to wrench Van’s hand away and strike back surged through him, almost consuming his every thought. Instead, he focused on maintaining his composure, his outward calm a fragile calm barely concealing the storm of anger brewing beneath the surface.

And so, the game of pretend continued.

“I’m so glad we could settle this,” Van said with a falsely soothing tone, his voice laden with insincere sweetness. “You’re showing a good understanding of our camp’s structure and your place within it. I trust you’ll adapt well and perhaps find some measure of happiness here.”

Mono’s jaw tightened so hard that a sharp pain shot through his teeth.

Van released his grip and stepped back, his smile tight. “I think we’re done here,” he announced, his voice firm with an air of finality. “You’re welcome to visit the hot spring as often as you like. I’m officially granting you permission. Consider it a privilege. I’ll be keeping a close eye on your work and progress.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and turned, clearing a path to the cave’s exit with an air of dismissal. “I’m sure you have tasks to attend to. I’ll leave you to your duties for now. If you need anything, feel free to come to me.”

Mono stood motionless for a moment, the gravity of Van’s words settling heavily on his shoulders. The message was unmistakable: you’ve lost, now get out. He had to summon every bit of his willpower to maintain his composure. The fragile thread of his self-control was fraying, and he knew he had to leave before it snapped and he would do something stupid.

Before he lost control.

With a deep breath, Mono gave Van a curt nod—a forced gesture of respect that was demanded by the rank system, despite the seething hate beneath. He turned on his heel and made his way out of the cave, his fingers trailing along the rough, uneven walls for support as he navigated the uneven path out of the cave leading back out to the camp.

Once outside, Mono paused, drawing in a deep breath of the frigid air. The icy bite against his lungs was welcome for once to calm him down. A white cloud of breath escaped from beneath his paper bag, swirling in the cold before fading away. He took a moment to steady himself, letting the chill work its way through his tension and clear his thoughts.This camp was proving to be far more worse than he had anticipated. He needed to think strategically, keep a low profile, and remain vigilant. Little and Nia had to be save—

The sound of footsteps approaching broke his concentration. Mono glanced up and saw Rimmly making his way toward him. Instinctively, Mono squared his shoulders, bracing himself for whatever interaction lay ahead.

Rimmly flashed a concerned smile. “Ye alright there, lad? Ye look a bit shaken.”

Mono offered a hollow chuckle. “All good. Just recovering from the beauty of the hot spring.”

Rimmly’s laughter boomed as he slapped Mono’s arm in a friendly manner. “Ye! It’s amazin’, isn’t it? One of my favorite spots myself. By the way, I was lookin’ for ye—I’ve got a little task.”

Mono inclined his head slightly, signaling he was listening. Rimmly withdrew his hand and continued, “On the north side of the camp, some folks are movin’ storage. They could use an extra hand. Just tell ‘em the Crow sent ye, and they’ll show you what needs doin’.”

“Got it, I’ll head there right away,” Mono replied, his eagerness to leave barely concealed. He brushed past Rimmly, who chuckled softly at Mono’s feigned enthusiasm. Mono didn’t look back, focusing instead on the path ahead as he made his way to the north side of the camp. He had a lot to do.

Rimmly stepped back, watching Mono as he walked away.

“Yer either too smart for yer own good, kid, or just plain dumb...” Rimmly muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a faint smile as he turned and headed toward the cave.

He hunched slightly as he made his way inside, drawing in the damp, musty air that enveloped him. The contrast to the crisp outside air was a welcome change. Meanwhile, Van stood by the hot spring, his arms crossed behind his back and his eyes locked on the view through the open cave wall, lost in thought.

As Rimmly approached, he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, but Van didn’t spare him a glance. The leader remained focused on the horizon, absorbed in his own reflections.

Rimmly’s curiosity bubbled over after a minute of silence, his eyes narrowing as he studied Van with a mix of suspicion and intrigue. “That Mono lad’s a tough nut to crack, ain’t he? Ye think it was wise bringin’ him here, boss?” he asked, his tone tinged with doubt.

Van took a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze fixed on the horizon visible through the open cave wall. “That ‘tough nut’ just cracked,” he said calmly. “He has submitted to the camp’s rules.”

Rimmly’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He… he did? I thought he was fightin’ ya?”

Van nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “He was, but he gave in faster than I expected... a little too fast, if you ask me. He’s definitely up to something.”

Rimmly listened intently, trying to piece together Van’s thoughts. Van continued, “But whatever it is, it just makes things easier…”

“Easier? Ye mean... takin’ control?” Rimmly asked, his voice laced with hesitation.

Van’s deep laugh reverberated around the cavern. “Yes, control, Rimmly. Because they’re both dangerous. I’ve seen and know about Six’s abilities... but there is something about him... I’ve started to suspect he has abilities too...”

Rimmly’s eyes widened in shock. “Ye think the—the new kid’s got powers, boss? Like yers? But...how?”

Van nodded slowly, his expression darkening. “Not like mine, but yes... I saw him fight the monster with the shotgun a few days ago. I was watching from a row of bushes when I was keeping tabs on Six... But I saw...how he dodged an impossible shot, took the hit to the shoulder, yet he survived.”

Van lowered his head, the weight of past memories pressing down on him. “Do you remember, Rimmly...when we tried to kill that monster a few years ago?”

Rimmly nodded, his gaze fell to the ground. His hand unconsciously rubbing his hunched shoulder. “Ye... I remember...”

“Ten of the fifteen we fought with were killed, three including you were shot... and the scars that stayed...” Van’s voice grew quiet, lost in the horrific memories. “He single-handedly killed that thing within minutes. We struggled to do that for years, and he did it alone. That’s how dangerous he is.”

Rimmly gasped, his head snapping up to Van form, his eyes wide with disbelief. Van continued, his tone grim as he narrowed his eyes.

“That’s why I invited him into the camp... he’s stronger than he lets on, and that makes him even more dangerous because he’s hiding something. And his aura...”

Van paused, his gaze drifting as he recalled their encounters. “His aura was one of the strongest I’ve ever felt that day we confronted him in the forest. My abilities sensed it too, just like with Six when she was first here. He... he must have abilities, and though he tries to hide them, I’ll find out. I’ll keep him close, observe, and hopefully, eventually...”

Van’s voice faded, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Rimmly’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. “If he has them... take his abilities?”

“Yes,” Van replied, his tone low and edged with determination. “Just like Six’s. If I have them both, no one will ever dare defy me again. Not like last time.”

Rimmly studied his leader intently, feeling the atmosphere shift—dark and charged with intent. The thrill of it was undeniable, but it carried a weight that made his grin stretch wider. “Ah, so yer plan be to get close to him... win his trust, eh?”

Van's eyes lit up. “Exactly. I have to be careful and patient. I’ll take him out first before Six... But you know the saying,” Van said, finally turning his head over his shoulder and locking eyes with Rimmly, a sly grin spreading across his lips.

“Keep your friends close,” he continued, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

“But keep your enemies closer.”

══════════════════════════════════

Six was nibbling on a piece of dry meat when she heard the faint crunch of footsteps outside the cabin. Her jaw froze mid-chew, and she slowly set the meat down, her senses sharpening. Carefully, she angled herself towards the window, peering through the frost-covered glass. The trees outside the camp's walls stood still, their branches swaying slightly in the breeze, but there was no one in sight.

A chill ran down her spine, the prickling sensation of being watched creeping over her. Her hand instinctively dropped to her side, fingers brushing against the cool surface of the table as she pushed herself up. Moving silently, Six approached the window, her eyes scanning the shadowy outlines of the forest beyond the camp wall.

Nothing. Just the wind whispering through the snow-laden leaves.

But something didn’t feel right. As she turned to glance at the stairs leading to the entrance door outside, a sudden flicker of movement caught her eye. She snapped her gaze to the far corner of the cabin, but whatever it was had already disappeared. She’d only caught a fleeting glimpse—a blur of muddy green fabric, like a cloak, darting out of sight.

Her heart quickened, and she stepped back from the window, every muscle in her body tensed. Something—or someone—was out there. She had to check—

“What are you up to?”

The soft voice cut through Six’s thoughts like a knife. She spun around abruptly, a sharp hiss escaping her lips as she glared down at Nia. The sudden intrusion shattered her focus, and her eyes narrowed with irritation.

Nia looked up at Six with a curious tilt of her head, unperturbed by the hostility. Six’s gaze remained fixed and unwavering, her expression a mixture of frustration and puzzlement.

She studied her for a moment. 

This was the same girl with whom Six had an connection in her dreams—one she couldn’t quite understand. Her shadows had told her that a connection like this required something in common between them... But what could she and Nia possibly share? Her shadows had implied that such connections were rare and often involved those with "gifts" or special abilities. Given that Six had seen glimpses through Nia's eyes, when she had been following that tall shadow, she had been convinced that Nia must possess some kind of abilities of her own. It was the only plausible explanation she could come up with then, but, she didn't know for sure...

Six's curiosity flared, but she hesitated to voice it, her wariness still a barrier. Her eyes narrowed, examining Nia with a mix of suspicion and interest.

“I... I wanted to ask you something,” Nia began, her voice trembling slightly as she nervously fidgeted with her hands. Six kept her gaze steady, her silence seeming to push Nia to continue.

Nia took a deep breath, her words coming out in a hesitant rush. “I know it’s strange, and you might not believe me, but I just—”

Six’s interest sharpened. The hint of hesitation made her wonder if Nia’s question might touch on the very topic she was curious about. Her posture subtly shifted forward, betraying her growing anticipation.

“I just wanted to know if you have abilities like Mono.”

The unexpected question jolted Six, causing her to narrow her eyes once more.  The mention of abilities and Mono in the same breath sparked a deeper interest, momentarily overshadowing her suspicion. Six had known about Mono's powers since they were kids, having frequently witnessed him vanish carelessly into a TV...what let do her getting... Nevermind. He probably still possessed those abilities as an adult. But this question was surprising. Nia apparently knew about his powers.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Why would you want to know?”

Nia shifted nervously from one foot to the other, her gaze dropping to the ground. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as she spoke, “Well... I was just curious. Since I know you and Mono have known each other since you were kids, and he mentioned that he was born with his abilities, I figured you might know something about them too?” Her eyes flicked up to meet Six’s, glimmering with cautious hope.

After a moment, Six gave a slow nod, her expression carefully neutral. Nia's face lit up with a spark of excitement.

“Ah, so I thought... maybe you have some abilities too. It would make sense, right? Children with abilities must stick together.” Nia’s eyes stayed fixed on Six, hopeful and expectant.

Six held her gaze, intrigued by the connection Nia had made. Nia’s observation struck a chord with her—there was something insightful about it. She was clever. The idea that "children with abilities must stick together" made Six ponder if Nia was also hinting at herself. Her curiosity deepened, and she found herself toying with the idea of revealing her own abilities to Nia... Perhaps doing so could shed light on her own questions and further illuminate the connection between them.

However, Six also wanted to keep her abilities a secret, especially from Mono, who was unaware that she now had powers—unlike when they were kids. She was also wary that if she revealed her abilities to Nia, the girl might eventually tell Mono.

Six closed her eyes briefly, a wry smile curling at the corners of her lips. “I knew Mono had powers since we were kids, but that doesn’t mean I had any myself.” She spoke the truth; she hadn’t possessed any abilities back then, only gaining them later, after her time at the Maw. “Besides, abilities are incredibly rare. What makes you think I’d have any, aside from my past with Mono?” Her gaze returned to Nia, mixing curiosity with a hint of skepticism.

Nia’s expression faltered, her nervousness clear as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her gaze dropping to the floor. “...Nothing,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry for asking... I was just curious.” With a quick, apologetic glance, she shuffled away, retreating to the corner where Little was absorbed in playing with some spare bandages.

Six watched Nia as she retreated, her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

“...That girl is onto something,” Six's shadows spoke up, their voice a soft murmur that cut through her thoughts. “...She connected the dots quickly and is observant. You might want to be cautious around her... we feel something...unusual.”

Six turned her attention inward, her thoughts focused on the shadows. You...feel something about her? What is it? she asked silently, her curiosity piqued. The shadows seemed to stretch out towards Nia, as if trying to grasp the essence of what they sensed.

“...Given that this is the girl with whom you share a connection,” the shadows continued, “and considering your theory that she might possess abilities that align with the common thread required for such a connection... we sense...remnants of something within her. We’re not certain if it’s power—too faint to define—but your theory could be correct.”

Six absorbed the new information and shifted her focus back to Nia. The girl had settled next to Little, her fingers deftly weaving braids out of the bandages. For a brief moment, Nia glanced up, catching Six’s gaze. Her eyes quickly darted back to the bandages, a flicker of unease crossing her face.

Six pressed her lips into a thin line, her expression hardening. There was definitely something—Nia was hiding something. And Six was determined to find out what it was.

A sharp, jarring bang on the door shattered the stillness, snapping her out of her reverie. 

Nia and Little flinched hard, their bodies jolting as the harsh sound reverberated through the room. Six’s head whipped toward the door, which rattled again as another forceful bang landed against it. The noise was anything but friendly—it had a menacing edge, the kind of force that suggested whoever was outside had no intention of being gentle. The unsettling realization crept over her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Her gaze flicked to the two girls huddled on the floor, their faces pale, eyes wide with terror.

A thought flitted through her mind, too quick to fully grasp, but it had to do with Mono—and instinct took over—She was already moving toward them. Six crouched down beside the girls, her eyes never leaving the quivering door.

“You two better go hide,” she whispered, her voice steady but urgent. She gestured toward the bed, her hand trembling slightly as she pointed to the narrow space beneath it. Mono would’ve done the same.

Without hesitation, the girls scrambled to obey, scurrying under the bed and curling up as small as they could manage, their breaths shallow and fast. Six straightened, her heart pounding against her ribs as she steeled herself for the confrontation. Whoever was out there wasn’t here for a friendly visit, and the violent banging only confirmed it. She took a step toward the table, her fingers gripping its edge so tightly her knuckles turned white, anchoring herself against the rising tide of fear.

The door rattled again, louder this time, and she could feel the tremors running through the floor. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she braced for whatever—or whoever—was about to come through that door.

The door burst open with a deafening crash, slamming into the wall with such force it nearly tore off its hinges. Six's eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on the figure standing in the doorway.

Van stood there, almost nonchalantly, with one hand casually behind his back and the other raised to his face, feigning interest in something beneath his nails. On either side of him loomed two hulking guards, their faces twisted into sneers, clearly the ones responsible for the violent entry. Six’s body went rigid, her muscles tightening involuntarily as she bit down hard on her lower lip, fighting to maintain her composure. She refused to show fear, though every instinct screamed at her to do so.

“Hello again, little coat.” Van drawled, his voice dripping with slow, deliberate menace as his eyes finally met hers. Six remained silent, her throat tightening as she stared back.

Van lowered his hand with deliberate slowness, tucking it behind his back as he ascended the steps into the cabin. His movements were unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world, his presence filling the space with a suffocating tension. The guards followed him inside, their bulk blocking the doorway, effectively trapping her in.

Van stopped in the center of the room, his gaze lazily drifting around as if he were simply taking in the scenery. But his eyes soon settled on the leftover braided bandages Little and Nia had been playing with earlier, before finally returning to Six. His expression tightened into a mask of cold, restrained aggression, a predator's gaze locking onto its prey.

“I’m taking you with me this time,” Van declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And I strongly advise you not to resist. Let me be clear—there is no way out. Give up now, and I promise… no harm will come to you.”

His voice was smooth, almost soothing, but the threat lurking beneath the surface was unmistakable.

Six’s hands tightened on the edge of the table behind her, knuckles whitening as she felt the familiar sensation of shadows beginning to seep out from beneath her skin, a dark response to her rising distress. But Six refused to let fear take hold. She lifted her chin defiantly, even as her body betrayed her, reacting with the same primal instinct that had surged through her the previous night when Van had tried to drag her away.

“Fuck you,” she hissed, her voice low but laced with venom. “I won’t. Not even in your wildest dreams.” 

Van chuckled softly, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his head to meet her gaze directly. “You know,” he began, his voice dropping to a silky murmur, “what else we do in my 'wildest dreams,' Six?”

He took a deliberate step closer, closing the distance between them.

Six instinctively leaned back, the edge of the table digging painfully into her as she bit her lower lip so hard the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth. Her hands trembled, betraying her desperate effort to control her fear.

Van stepped closer, his voice a low, almost hypnotic whisper. “We do all kinds of fun things, mostly continuing from where we left off…” He moved closer until he was almost directly in front of her, forcing Six to crane her neck to maintain eye contact.

He stopped just before her, his form looming over her, blocking out the light and casting a heavy shadow that enveloped her in darkness. His gaze was unyielding, a predatory glint in his eyes as he stared down at her. “It can be quite enjoyable, Six, if you’d just let me show you... I’m sure Mono has introduced you to some things,” he taunted, his voice a smooth, sinister purr.

Confusion flickered across Six’s face as she tried to grasp his insinuation, but anger and fear surged too strongly for her to process it fully. She leaned in defiantly, her eyes narrowing into a fierce glare. “I will never, maggot. I will—”

Before she could finish, Van’s hand shot up with brutal speed. His grip clamped down on her face, his thumb pressing painfully against her cheek while his fingers dug into the other side. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, a mix of pain and shock flashing across her features.

Van leaned in closer, his face hovering mere inches from hers, his breath warm and unsettling against her skin. “My patience is running thin, Six. You have one last chance to submit and do this the easy way...” His voice was a dangerous whisper, each word steeped in menace as he held her gaze, his stare unwavering and unrelenting.

“I... I don’t know what you mean,” Six stammered, her voice trembling with genuine confusion. 

The fear that had started as a mere flicker now surged like a relentless wave, crashing over her with the same suffocating intensity she had felt during their first encounter. Her eyes, unable to mask her growing panic, brimmed with tears, each drop stinging both from the pain of his grip and the terror of her predicament.

Van’s lips curled into a scowl, his frustration evident as he moved even closer, his piercing eyes boring into hers. The proximity intensified her distress, the pounding of her heart growing louder with each passing second as her resolve slowly unraveled under his oppressive presence.

After a few moments of intense scrutiny, Van’s eyes suddenly lit up, a glimmer of realization breaking through his icy demeanor. He drew back slightly, his expression shifting to one of mild surprise. “Wait…” he began, studying her with renewed interest. “You really don’t know what I mean, do you?”

His words hung in the air, thick with the weight of his discovery. Six fought to maintain her composure, her heart racing furiously in her chest. She remained silent, but her eyes betrayed her, locked onto his with a mix of dread and desperation. To her horror, Van’s face gradually softened into a disturbingly gentle smile, his satisfaction evident as he absorbed her genuine confusion and fear.

Van dropped his head, a deep, unsettling laugh erupting from his chest. The pressure of his hand on her face eased slightly, his amusement clear. “Oh Six, you really are this innocent, aren’t you?” he chuckled, his eyes glinting with something new—something Six couldn’t quite understand.

He looked back at her, his gaze now filled with a dark, twisted fascination. “Do you have any idea just how much more interesting that makes you to me?”

Six’s mind raced with panic at his words, her confusion deepening as she struggled to understand why Van’s interest had intensified. The floodgates of her composure seemed to have burst open, and for the first time in her life, she felt a powerful urge to cry. But she fought it back; the few silent tears that threatened to escape were not hers to shed. She was stronger than this.

Van’s smile lingered, his expression a twisted mask of satisfaction. He released his grip on her face but remained uncomfortably close, his proximity almost suffocating. “I really thought, given how much Mono made a fuss over you, that he had his hands on you first... But it seems he did not,” 

Six’s brow furrowed in confusion. Mono’s hands… on her? What did Van mean? 

She opened her mouth to question him, but before she could utter a word—Van suddenly, without warning—slapped her across the face. 

The blow was so sharp and unexpected that her head whipped to the side, her vision momentarily blurring. A shocked cry escaped her lips as the impact sent her sprawling to the ground. She clutched her stinging cheek with a trembling hand, her body reeling from the force of the slap. Her other hand braced against the cold, wooden floor as she tried to steady herself, the pain and disorientation making it difficult to focus.

Van moved with deliberate calm, dropping to one knee beside her. His gaze was icy and intense, scrutinizing her with a cold, unrelenting stare. The mocking smile that had previously lingered on his lips was gone, replaced by an emotionless, tense neutral expression. 

Six’s breath came in ragged, fearful gasps as she met his gaze. Her eyes were wide with a mix of dread and confusion, her heart racing erratically in her chest. 

“If I had known,” Van began, his voice low and calm, “I would have had you begging by now on my bed.”

Six, once again, didn’t fully grasp the meaning behind his words, but her body felt the impact of his threat reverberate through her entire being. 

Her heart seemed to freeze, its rhythm halting as a chilling numbness spread through her limbs. The room around her seemed to contract, its walls inching closer, each breath becoming a struggle as she remained frozen in place, paralyzed by an overwhelming wave of fear and dread. 

Van watched her reaction with an unsettling, cold intensity. His eyes, hard and unblinking, seemed to pierce through her, measuring every subtle shift in her demeanor. He remained motionless for a beat longer, his gaze a relentless spotlight. Slowly, almost deliberately, he stood up, and squared his shoulders. 

“For your own good, little coat,” he said, his voice carrying a sharp, condescending edge. “Stop struggling.”

Without waiting for a response, Van turned and walked back toward the entrance. As he reached the door, he paused between the two guards, speaking in a low, authoritative tone. “Grab her.”

The guards responded immediately. Their boots thudded heavily on the floor as they moved toward Six. Rough hands grabbed Six, yanking her to her feet with a jarring abruptness. Her shock and fear left her too disoriented to resist, her body limp and unresponsive.

Van stepped aside with a fluid, deliberate motion, his movements betraying no haste. He reached for Six’s backpack, lifting it with an air of casual familiarity, as if it were his own. Slinging it over his shoulder, he made a small, dismissive gesture toward the guards, his demeanor unruffled and indifferent.

The guards, responding to his silent command, moved forward with purpose. They roughly dragged Six out of the cabin, her steps stumbling in her dazed state. Van watched impassively as they descended the stairs, the cold air of the camp brushing against them. He followed, closing the cabin door with a decisive click behind him. As they emerged onto the snowy paths, the crunch of footsteps mingled with the silent, oppressive chill of the camp. 

Six stumbled with each step, her eyes wide and unseeing, unable to process what was happening.

Her mind was consumed with fear and shock about what might happen to her.

Chapter Text

No.

No..

No...

Six’s thoughts spiraled into a whirlwind of frantic terror, fixating obsessively on that one, desperate, word that did nothing to help her in her situation except increase her fear. 

Feeling herself being dragged along the camp's rough, uneven paths, Six barely registered what was happening. She was moving—fighting, or at least trying to. The world around her was blurred, her senses narrowing to the relentless pounding of her heart in her ears. The icy air stung her eyes, unblinking and narrowed, as they stared vacantly around. Each jolt of movement sent a sharp pain through her arms, the guards' grip like iron clamps on her wrists, digging into her flesh with cruel indifference as they dragged her along behind them. She could feel her body beginning to falter, her legs struggling to keep pace, nearly buckling under the relentless tugging.

This couldn't be happening. Not again.

The familiar dread gnawed at her insides, a sickening déjà vu that she couldn’t shake off. Everything about this—the cold, the pain, the helplessness—mirrored what had happened before. But this wasn’t just like last time; this time—and every instinct in her body screamed it—would be worse. Much worse.

As she was dragged, snowflakes began to drift down from the darkening sky, each one adding to the thickening blanket that seemed to close in on her. The world around her grew hazy, fog swallowing the camp, blurring the line between reality and the cold, creeping dread that gripped her mind. The word "no" echoed in her head, relentless, pounding with the same intensity as her racing heart.

Her breath became shallow, ragged gasps of air that seemed to claw at her throat. She frantically scanned her surroundings, her gaze locking onto Van, who trailed just behind. His scarred face, twisted and grotesque, loomed in her vision, a horrifying reminder of the danger she was in. That scar, a mark of pain, now seemed to mock her, its cruel lines carved deep into his expressionless face.

But it was that indifference that scared her the most. His eyes, devoid of any hint of emotion, gnawed at her sanity, amplifying the terror that churned within her. What was he thinking? She couldn't read him, couldn't grasp the thoughts behind that chilling mask of apathy.

Desperation took hold as she whipped her head back around, eyes darting through the fog, searching for something, anything to anchor her spiraling thoughts. The camp had taken notice, faces turning toward her, their stares sharp and probing. She could feel them, their eyes cutting into her, dissecting her every move as if she were some spectacle to be observed, an object of morbid curiosity.

She could feel their eyes, heavy and judgmental, watching her struggle. Among the onlookers, her gaze snagged on two young girls standing apart from the others. They looked exactly like she had when she first stumbled into this living nightmare—heads shaved down to uneven buzzcuts, filthy, oversized coats hanging from their small frames like shadows of the lives they'd once known.

Their eyes met hers, wide with horror, reflecting a silent, unspoken understanding. They knew what was coming, just as she did. In that fleeting, desperate moment, they clung to each other across the distance, their shared fear binding them together like a fragile thread. It was a heartbeat of connection, a search for comfort in a world where none existed. But it was over as quickly as it began. 

Six was shoved forward, the moment ripped away from her.

Panic erupted inside her, raw and uncontrollable, surging through her veins like wildfire. It was too much, too overwhelming. Without thinking, Six's gaze darted frantically across the faces around her, every shadow a potential refuge, every movement a fleeting hope. Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat a desperate plea as she searched, her mind fixated on one thing—those dark silver-blue eyes, hidden beneath a mask. The tall figure who had stood by her side the night before, his presence a shield she hadn’t fully understood but had come to depend on.

But he wasn’t there.

And in that crushing instant, an overwhelming wave of loneliness washed over her.

She was alone.

...so very, alone. And helpless.

Her head slowly dropped as her legs buckled beneath her, the last remnants of strength draining from her body. But the guards didn’t stop. They dragged her along, indifferent to the way her weight sagged, her limbs growing more limp with each step. Six's mind was a void, a swirling mass of confusion and helplessness. What could she even do? Her thoughts were too scattered to form any coherent plan. Her head hung low, black hair falling over her eyes, turning her view into a murky blur of darkness and shifting shadows.

They continued to drag her until they reached a familiar cabin. It was the same one from her first time at the camp—the place where they had cut her hair and stripped away everything she had left, leaving her raw and exposed. Would they do it again? The thought alone made her stomach twist with dread.

The guards halted roughly in the center of the room, holding her in place as if she were nothing more than a ragdoll. She barely registered the movement as Van stepped forward, approaching a smaller man with a hunched back. Their voices were distant, muffled sounds barely reaching her through the fog that had settled over her mind.

“...need you to do a...”

“...full...?”

A tense moment lingered in the air before the hunched man barked an order at the guards. 

Without hesitation, they yanked Six towards a side room, their grip rough and unyielding. She was shoved onto a wooden bed against the wall, the impact jolting through her frail body. With a practiced, almost mechanical efficiency, the guards began binding her hands and arms with coarse rope, securing them in her lap. Six sat still, her mind a swirling haze of dread and confusion, trying desperately to shut out the grim reality that was closing in around her. She didn’t want to know what was coming next.

The rope bit into her skin as the guards finished their work, stepping back only when they were sure she was securely restrained. The hunched man issued another curt command, and without a word, the guards exited the room, leaving Six alone with Van and the man.

The hunched guy approached her slowly, dragging a wooden chair with him. He sat down in front of her, his demeanor much gentler than the others had been. He reached out, his rough hand grabbing her chin and lifting her head, forcing her to look at him. Six’s eyes met his, but they were hollow, devoid of emotion, she had already retreated deep within herself. He turned her face from side to side, inspecting her throat and head with a cold, clinical detachment. Six didn’t resist, letting herself drift further into the recesses of her mind, trying to escape the present.

The man’s grip tightened slightly as he let out a rough growl. “...She be still too thin, and much so,” he muttered, his tone filled with a mixture of frustration and something darker. He steadied her face by holding her right cheek, his voice dropping to a deep, menacing tone as he continued, “...and this,” he hissed, eyes narrowing, “...ye hit her, didn’t ye?”

His thumb traced the bruise on Six's cheek, the dark mark left from Van’s slap. The sight of it made the hunched man’s eyes narrow with accusation as he turned to glare over his shoulder at Van. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Van met the glare with a steely, unwavering stare, offering no words in defense. But his tense silence spoke louder than any excuse could.

The hunched man’s voice sharpened as he turned back to Six, his tone laced with frustration. “...I told ye not to be too rough on her while she’s still weak from bein’ starved for weeks.”

“And?” Van’s reply was tense, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “She seems strong enough to me.” His gaze remained fixed on the hunched man’s back, unwilling to back down.

A deep sigh escaped the other, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Van, she be on the edge of collapsing—both in body an’ spirit. Draggin’ her here an’ turnin’ her world upside down is a heavy toll. Ye asked me to check up on her, so ye best be listenin’.”

Van’s scowl deepened, his displeasure clear in the hard lines of his face. He remained silent, though, his sharp gaze fixed on Six. She could feel the weight of his stare, but she refused to meet it. Instead, she turned her face away and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the world, to block out the crushing reality of her situation. The room grew quieter, the tension between the two men thickening the air, while Six retreated further into herself, seeking refuge in the darkness behind her eyelids.

The man inspecting her gave a deep hum, his rough hands moving with surprising care as he continued his examination. He gently felt along the sides of her bound arms, his fingers pressing lightly against her thin frame, then moved to the top of her head, his touch careful and deliberate. Finally, he leaned back, clearing his throat softly to get her attention.

It took several tries before Six slowly looked up at him, her eyes dull but questioning. What did he want now?

He furrowed his brows slightly, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Mind if I feel yer belly and sides, lass? I need to give the rest a proper look.”

For a moment, Six didn’t react. Her mind was sluggish, struggling to process his words. Confusion settled over her—he was asking for permission? None of the others had ever bothered to ask before putting their hands on her, treating her like an object, a thing to be handled and inspected without thought. Why was he different? And what if she said no?

She stared at him, her gaze searching for any hidden malice, trying to gauge his intentions. His expression remained calm, patient, as if he was genuinely waiting for her answer. After a few tense seconds, Six gave a slow, reluctant nod. It wasn’t much, but it was a small comfort to her that he at least asked first before doing anything. It made the situation just a tiny bit more bearable.

He gave a curt nod and extended his hand, his fingers brushing lightly over her belly and then her sides. The touch was uncomfortable, but far gentler than Van's rough handling. He moved with deliberate care, his fingers tracing the outline of her ribs and the curve of her waist for only about a minute before pulling away.

A sigh escaped him, accompanied by a thoughtful hum. “Ye’ve got some bones that’ve healed, thank the heavens. But ye’re so thin, yer ribs be showin’...” His voice trailed off as he continued to ponder, resting one arm under his chest and propping his chin on his other hand.

After a moment of silent contemplation, he looked back up at Six, his eyes now hard and serious. “When was the last time ye bled?”

The question struck Six like a sudden blow, catching her completely off guard.

Her head jerked up abruptly, her eyes wide with confusion and alarm. Bled? What was he talking about? Panic flared in her chest as she struggled to understand his words, her mind racing to make sense of the sudden shift in conversation. The man’s gaze remained steady, waiting for an answer, but Six was too stunned to respond, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of fear and uncertainty.

A cold shiver raced down her spine as she struggled to understand the meaning behind his words. The room seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing in as Van leaned in slightly, his gaze flickering between Six and the hunched man with renewed interest. Six barely noticed him, her mind spinning with confusion and fear.

“W...what...?” she managed to stammer, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The hunched man lowered his head, his eyes narrowing with serious intent. “Ye’ve bled before, haven’t ye? Once a month, down there between yer... legs.” He clarified, his voice awkward and uncomfortable, though he kept his focus on her.

Six felt a jolt of terror.

Why was he asking her about this? Why was he so casual, so clinical about it? Her mind raced, the questions flooding in, each one more frantic than the last. Why, why, why—

“Answer him, Six,” Van’s voice cut through the room like a whip, sharp and commanding. The harsh tone made her flinch, her eyes darting downward instinctively. The memories of her bleeding in the Hunter’s basement surged back—painful, disorienting, and utterly humiliating. She had never understood why it happened then, and she still didn’t.

Now, the question only deepened her confusion, adding layers to her already overwhelming sense of dread. The atmosphere in the room seemed to thicken, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down on her as she struggled to make sense of why they were probing into this deeply personal and painful detail.

The hunched man’s expression softened, a glimmer of understanding appearing in his eyes. “Ah, yer confused, it seems... That complicates matters. But for now, just tell me when ye last bled. It’s a simple question, and no harm will come of it.”

Fear and confusion coiled tightly in Six’s chest, making her breath shallow and uneven. The pressure to answer was almost unbearable, and the silence between them felt like an oppressive weight. The longer she hesitated, the more intense her discomfort became. At last, she could no longer endure it. “I—I bled in the Hunter’s basement... about three or four weeks ago. It was... very painful,” she stammered, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

The hunched man gave a thoughtful hum before rising and moving to a side table. He opened a drawer, retrieved something, and returned to his chair in front of Six. He held a white cloth, wrapped around an object.

“So, it’s been about a month, ye? That means ye’re due.” His tone was steady and serious as he met her gaze. “This bleeding ye go through is normal, all girls experience it.”

Six’s eyes widened, a flicker of understanding mixing with her confusion. She absorbed the new information, trying to piece together its relevance amidst her fear.

He unfolded the cloth to reveal a small pile of pills. “These will help with the pain ye might start feeling soon. I’ll fetch another girl to explain the rest to ye, but for now, ye should rest and prepare for it.”

Turning sharply to face Van, his eyes hardened with authority. “That means ye’re not to touch her or put any more strain on her for at least two weeks.”

Van took a sharp breath, his frustration evident. He uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to the hunched man, his anger barely contained. “What? Two weeks? They usually bleed for only a few days! She can’t be on bed rest that long.”

“She can and she will,” the hunched man growled. “D’ye want her to get so weak she might die? Given how feeble she still is, the bleeding could be worse this time, considering all she’s been through. It might not stop at all... She’s got to put on some meat, and this bleeding cycle only makes matters worse. Better to be cautious now than deal with the consequences later. She needs time to heal, or she’ll be done for.”

Van and the hunched man locked eyes in a tense standoff that seemed to stretch into eternity. Six watched them both, her confusion deepening as she realized the hunched man had just bought her two weeks of rest. The real question now was whether Van would heed this warning.

Van’s face was a storm of anger and frustration, his fists clenched at his sides. The hunched man, however, remained steadfast, his glare unwavering.

“Ye made me the manager for a reason,” the hunched man said firmly, his voice slicing through the tension. “I haven’t disappointed ye yet. Will ye listen to my advice or not?”

Van, brooding in silence, finally rolled his shoulders back and drew a deep breath through his nose. “...I will. And it’s true, you haven’t disappointed me yet.” The hunched man nodded, and Van returned the gesture. His attention then shifted to Six, his gaze turning steely. “Two weeks, little coat. Not a day more. After that…”

He left the sentence unfinished, but the unspoken threat was clear. Six understood the implications without needing further explanation.

The hunched man rose to his feet, but neither Van nor Six broke their intense stare. “Ye’d best see to it that she’s well-fed, rested, and clean. I’d suggest the hot spring and some company with the other girls, so she gets a feel for how things be runnin’ around here. Might give her some comfort bein’ among others…”

Van gave a curt nod and strode purposefully toward Six. Without a word, he seized her arm with a rough grip and yanked her upright. A soft sound of discomfort escaped Six, but her feeble attempts to pull away were easily thwarted by his firm hold. The hunched man followed behind, carrying the white cloth wrapped around the pills. He handed it to Van with a brief nod, his expression unreadable.

Van accepted the cloth, stuffing it into her bag slung over his shoulder. He muttered a quick thanks before dragging Six toward the front door. The chill of the air hit them as Van hauled her out of the cabin and onto the snowy paths of the camp. The crunch of snow underfoot amplified the harshness of the scene, each step a reminder of the grim reality of their situation.

Six knew exactly where Van was taking her, and she braced herself inwardly for what was to come. Anxiety gnawed at her, fueled by the fear that Van might not honor the agreement he had just made with the hunched man. His notorious temper made the possibility of him ignoring the instructions all too real. The weight of her uncertainty pressed heavily on her shoulders, each step a reminder of her precarious position. All she could do was cling to the fragile hope that Van would follow through and give her the time she so desperately needed to gather her thoughts.

As expected, Van dragged Six back to his large wooden cottage. With a rough shove, he threw her inside along with the bag he had been carrying. Six stumbled forward, her bound hands catching her fall as she crashed awkwardly onto the floor. She bit her lip, the sharp pain of impact barely suppressed. Van slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing through the quiet room, and turned to face her, his expression cold and unyielding.

“You’re lucky,” Van growled, his voice low as he knelt beside her, propping himself up on his knee. “Lucky that I listen to Rimmly. He’s been right before. I know you don’t believe it, but I don’t want you to die—at least not yet. But how this plays out depends on how you behave.”

Six’s eyes locked onto his, taking in the information about Rimmly and the thinly veiled threat hanging in the air. Yet, instead of fear, a fierce surge of anger ignited within her. The constant dread she had felt reached its breaking point, and without thinking, she grit her teeth and lashed out.

Her foot connected with Van’s ankle, sending him stumbling sideways with a surprised grunt. 

Seizing the moment, Six scrambled up, straddling him with desperate energy. She drove her bound hands into his throat, the rough rope biting into his skin as she tightened her grip. Van’s eyes widened in shock as he gasped for air, his hands clawing at her wrists, squeezing painfully in a futile attempt to break her hold. But Six’s resolve was steely; she pressed down harder, her entire focus locked on choking him.

Van’s gaze, now filled with a mix of shock and anger, was fixed on her as he struggled for breath.

Six glared back at Van, her eyes blazing red and bloodshot with fury. She poured every ounce of rage she had into her attack, her grip on his throat tightening with each desperate squeeze. But then, through his strained gasps and the choking, Van’s face contorted into a grotesque, raspy laugh. He forced a grim, awkward smile despite his struggling breaths. “Y-you... can’t... kill... m-me... Six...”

The ropes cut into Van’s throat, drawing thin lines of blood that mingled with the air around them, heightening Six's fury. The metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils, spurring her on with brutal intensity. Despite the pain and the strangling, Van’s expression remained disturbingly calm. He grinned weakly through his gasps, holding her wrists with a strangely comforting grip, his eyes softening as if to offer a twisted form of reassurance. His unsettling confidence that she couldn’t kill him only fueled her anger further.

With a primal, angry, screech, Six bent down, bringing her face inches from his. Their breaths mingled, each exhale syncing as he eased the pressure on his throat just enough to stop his choking temporarily. Six’s eyes burned with unrelenting hatred as she locked onto his, her face a mask of fierce determination.

“I may not be able to kill you,” she hissed, her voice a low, venomous whisper, “...but I can hurt you.”

Six's body tensed as a surge of dark, swirling shadows burst into the room, their ominous presence threatening to swallow everything in sight. They had waited long enough to show themselfs again, after having had to hide in public and not being able to act. Now, with their moment finally come, the room was enveloped in an eerie, pulsating gloom that seemed to writhe and throb in sync with Six’s raw, unbridled rage.

Van’s eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of greedy fascination igniting in their depths. His gaze darted toward the encroaching darkness before he managed to compose himself. “Yes... you can,” he breathed, his voice deceptively calm but laced with an unmistakable edge of eagerness. The flicker of intrigue was quickly overshadowed by a hard, menacing glare as he refocused on Six.

But then, in an unexpected shift, Van’s expression softened, a hint of fear creeping into his eyes. His voice wavered, betraying an underlying tremor. “But I would prefer if you didn’t,” he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips. “I remember all too well the pain of broken ribs.”

Six pounced on Van’s sudden display of fear with the predatory precision of a hunter. 

Her frown deepened into a scowl as she leaned in, their faces a mere breath apart. The heat of her breath ghosted over his skin, every exhale a searing reminder of her anger. “Then. Stay. The. FUCK. Away from me,” she hissed, her voice a dangerous whisper, each word punctuated with icy venom. “Don’t touch me. Don’t look my way. Don’t even BREATHE in my direction, or I swear you’ll have more than broken ribs to worry about.”

Van’s throat bobbed under her hands as he swallowed hard, the fear in his eyes palpable and raw. Yet, something in his reaction sparked a flicker of suspicion within Six. Despite his evident fear, there was a nuance she couldn’t quite place, a flicker of something more behind his terror. 

Six was acutely aware of her own trembling body, the fear that gnawed at her despite her best efforts to suppress it. She was still terrified of him, no matter how hard she fought against it. But in this moment, she held the upper hand, and she clung to that advantage with every ounce of strength she had. No matter the cost, she would not let go.

Six was determined to drive her point home. Her shadows responded to her command, slithering from behind her, where she sat across Van’s chest, and wrapping tightly around his legs like dark serpents. Van’s gaze shifted from Six to the shadows, a flicker of unease crossing his face. The shadows paused momentarily, as if to ensure he was paying full attention, before their misty forms began to coalesce into sharp, shadowy needles.

One by one, the needles began to pierce his skin, each puncture slow and deliberate, drawing blood with a meticulous cruelty. The pain crept up like a slow burn, and Van’s face twitched slightly with the discomfort, but he kept his composure. His eyes, though, betrayed a glimmer of unease as he met Six’s unyielding gaze with an expression that mixed calmness with a touch of defiance.

The silence between them thickened, heavy with the weight of unspoken threats. The shadows continued their relentless assault, the pain deepening in Van’s features. He remained stubbornly silent, he refused to break, his eyes locked on Six’s with a calm, almost challenging glint.

As the shadows inched higher, creeping up his body with menacing precision, a flicker of panic flashed across his face. The shadows were now near his crotch, and Van’s usual defiance faltered for a brief, revealing moment. The fear in his eyes grew palpable, more intense than before. Six watched intently, noting with a grim satisfaction how this particular threat seemed to unsettle him far more than the pain in his legs.

Leaning back slightly, Six’s fingers dug into Van’s throat as she subtly signaled her shadows with a barely perceptible nod. Her gaze never wavered from Van's face, which had begun to betray the calm demeanor he was struggling to maintain.

Van's eyes widened in alarm as his pupils dilated. “Six, stop,” he choked out, his voice cracking under the pressure. “I wouldn’t have tried anything. Rimmly said you needed two weeks to rest anyway...”

Six narrowed her eyes, her stare as cold as steel. Wordlessly, she nudged her shadows closer. What had begun as a confrontation had devolved into a grim experiment for her.

Van’s face contorted further into fear as Six’s shadows inched closer to his groin. His eyes, wide with desperation, shifted from the shadows to her, pleading. “Six, please.”

Her expression remained a mask of icy determination.

“Fucking dammit, Six! I said stop it!” Van's voice cracked with raw panic as the shadows brushed against his upper thigh.

Six tilted her head, her voice a chilling whisper. “Did you ever listen when I told you to stop?” she asked, her voice silky yet carrying a chilling, lethal edge.

He immediately grasped the reference—her first day in the camp, cornered on his bed. Now, Van’s breaths came in frantic, ragged bursts, his eyes pleading with her. But then, his expression shifted, the fear in his eyes hardening into something colder. 

“You never told me to stop,” he said, his voice regaining its steadiness. “Just that I should get off you.”

At that, Six's control snapped.

A primal, visceral urge surged through her, an intense hunger that made Van’s throat seem almost... tempting. Without hesitation, she yanked her hands away and buried her face against his neck, her teeth sinking into the tender flesh with a brutal, unrestrained bite.

The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth, and she felt the warm, coppery liquid seeping between her teeth. At the same moment, her shadows closed in, wrapping around him in a dark, suffocating embrace. Van's scream of agony tore through the air, a raw, gut-wrenching cry that echoed the depth of his suffering.

Six couldn't understand what had overtaken her, but the combination of Van's desperate screams and the metallic tang of blood in her mouth was disturbingly intoxicating. She bit down harder, her teeth digging deeper into his throat as Van’s hands clawed frantically at her hips, his efforts to push her away growing weaker.

She was consumed by the overpowering rush of blood and the raw surge of power it gave her. Her eyes shimmered with a sinister red, glowing faintly like the blood staining her lips. Lost in this newfound strength, she failed to notice her shadows growing denser and more formidable with each taste of blood. The shadows tightened their grip, their pressure mounting until the sickening crack of bones breaking echoed through the air.

Van’s low screams cut through the air, each cry interrupted by ragged gasps. He threw his head to the side, a brief, agonizing silence punctuated by the sound of snapping bones. His eyes were squeezed shut, breaths coming in harsh, desperate bursts. As his involuntary movement exposed his throat even more, Six seized the opportunity, sinking her teeth deeper and gnawing with relentless force.

Eventually, Van’s screams dwindled to pained groans, a shift that only frustrated Six further. She wanted more than the muted sounds of his suffering—she craved the piercing cries of terror and anguish he had once inflicted upon her. Despite her increasing force, her teeth biting down harder and her shadows methodically shattering his bones, his cries did not return. He had been reduced to heavy breathing and intermittent groans, his hands gripping her hips with a frantic desperation but no longer trying to push her away.

As her confusion deepened, Six grappled with the lack of the response she had sought. The absence of screams and the muted nature of his suffering left her feeling disoriented and unsettled.

Despite her bewilderment, she continued her relentless assault. Her frustration must have been evident, for Van, in a strained and weary voice, managed a quiet chuckle. “I’m no stranger to pain, Six...” he gasped, wincing as she bit down even harder. “...and if this is the only way...for you to be close to me...I’ll endure it. So...go on, let...it all out...”

His words, though laced with agony, carried a resigned acceptance that only fueled her growing frustration. She didn’t want his acceptance—she wanted his pain.

With a frustrated, high-pitched growl, Six yanked her head back violently, tearing a chunk of flesh from Van's throat. 

Blood erupted in a sudden, violent spurt as she severed a major vein. Collapsing back onto Van’s chest, she spat the piece of flesh aside and watched in grim fascination as he gasped and choked, his body convulsing as he bled out beneath her.

She remained transfixed by the gruesome spectacle until Van’s convulsions began to slow and his breathing ceased. The fleeting satisfaction of witnessing his death was soon overshadowed by a chilling realization—it wouldn’t last.

Just moments later, Van’s body twitched again. Six stared, stunned, as the gaping wound in his throat began to close. Blood, once spilled on the wooden floorboards and smeared across her, seemed to defy gravity, creeping back toward him as if time were rewinding. Her shadows, which had enveloped him, flowed back to her, merging beneath her skin.

Van’s body gradually revived, his chest heaving with a sharp, desperate gasp. He coughed violently, a smear of blood staining his lips. He was back—his regenerative powers having fully healed him, though he remained unconscious. Six could only watch in disbelief, her eyes widening as she witnessed his powers in action for the first time. The realization hit her with cold clarity: he had been right.

She couldn’t kill him, no matter how desperately she wished she could.

Before Van could fully regain consciousness, Six scrambled off his chest, her knees buckling under her as she struggled to stay upright. A wave of weakness and exhaustion crashed over her, a jarring contrast to the adrenaline that had fueled her moments earlier. She was disoriented, trying to make sense of why she felt so drained.

With unsteady, erratic movements, she made her way to the bag lying on the ground, nearly stumbling over her own feet. Once she reached it, she sank down beside it, awkwardly adjusting her legs and clutching the bag tightly against her chest. Her shadows had already snapped the ropes binding her hands together. She rested her chin on the bag, her eyes cast downward as she tried to steady her breathing.

The silence was gradually filled with the sound of Van’s breathing returning to its normal rhythm, followed by the soft rustling as he shifted to sit up. Despite the palpable tension in the air, Six kept her gaze firmly fixed on the worn wood beneath her, refusing to look up or meet his eyes.

“Your abilities are just as powerful as I thought.”

Van’s voice sliced through the silence, causing Six to let out a startled gasp. At first, she was disoriented, struggling to understand why his words were so measured. She had braced herself for anger, screaming, or a smug “I told you so,” but instead, his calm, indifferent tone left her bewildered. She slowly lifted her head.

Meeting Van's cold, composed gaze, the realization of what had truly happened began to sink in. He had deliberately pushed her to her limits, testing the extent of her powers and observing their effects when she was out of control. Six had, once again, played right into his hands. She had worked so hard to be mysterious, to keep the full range of her abilities hidden, hoping that the vagueness would make him fear her. Now, all that effort felt wasted.

“You are so easy to read, Six,” Van said, his voice dripping with bored indifference. He lounged casually, resting his arm on his propped-up knee, his gaze unwavering as he studied her. After a moment, he stood, his footsteps echoing softly as he closed the distance between them. “So easy to provoke... so easy to manipulate... And do you know why?”

Six felt the warmth radiating from his body as he knelt before her, his presence looming close. His breath brushed against her cheek, warm and unsettling, as he whispered in her ear, “Because you act before you think.”

His words sent a shiver down Six’s spine, and her eyes widened as she stared blankly over his shoulder. The harsh truth of his observation cut deep; it was painfully accurate.

Slowly, she tilted her head back to look up at him, her lips slightly parted in shock. His gaze was cold and relentless, rekindling the fear she had fought so hard to suppress before her attempt on his life. With an involuntary gasp, one she hated herself for, Six flinched backward, instinctively retreating from Van.

Van’s lips curled into a satisfied grin, his dominance unmistakably reasserted. Without hesitation, he grabbed the hood of her coat and yanked her upward, lifting her off the ground as he stood to his full height. She responded with a small, pitiful gasp, clutching her bag tightly as if it were her only anchor, her eyes still wide with shock.

Van held her there, his gaze cold and unyielding as he looked down at her. “About what you said before, about being able to hurt me,” he said, his voice a chilling blend of disdain and authority, “you’ve proved you can. But it changes nothing.”

With a rough jerk, Van lifted her a bit higher, forcing her to stand on her tiptoes as he pulled her closer. His voice dropped to a harsh whisper, each word dripping with grim resolve. “For the last. Fucking. Time, Six,” he growled, his tone uncompromising and relentless, “stop struggling. Try to get comfortable. This is your home now.” He gestured around the cabin with a tilt of his chin before meeting her eyes again. “I’m your home now. Accept it. No matter how fiercely you fight or how much you try to push me away, I won’t give up until I get what I want.”

Leaning in, his eyes narrowed into a cold, penetrating stare. “And that is a promise.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and taut, until Van, without another word, began dragging her up the stairs. His grip was unyielding, his movements deliberate as he pulled her toward his room. Overwhelmed, Six could only follow, her shock and exhaustion rendering her passive. Van shoved her into the room with a firm push, and the door clicked shut behind them with a soft, final sound. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, his eyes boring into the top of her head behind her as she stared blankly at the floor, her mind numb.

“I’ll be gone from morning until evening, attending to my duties,” Van said, his voice low and steady as he looked down at her. “You’re free to explore the cabin, eat from the storage room, and rest. I’ll also arrange for you to spend some time outside—perhaps with the other girls, as Rimmly suggested. It might help you adjust…”

His words hung in the air, a chilling reminder of Six's new reality.

She remained motionless, her exhaustion and shock leaving her mute. Van’s expression hardened with impatience, a low growl escaping his throat. “I trust you’re intelligent enough not to try escaping,” he said, his tone edged with harsh finality. “There’s no way out. The entire cabin is under constant surveillance and guard. So don’t even think about it.”

Van paused, standing close enough behind her for her to feel the heat of his presence. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel. The door slammed shut behind him with a thunderous bang, the impact echoing through the room and making the walls tremble. The finality of the sound underscored Six's isolation, leaving her alone in the heavy silence that followed.

Six stood there for many long, silent minutes, grappling with the weight of her new reality.

Eventually, her resolve crumbled, and she collapsed onto the floor in a huddled, broken heap. Her legs sprawled out awkwardly, and she clutched her bag tightly against her chest. Her face was a mask of numbness, her desperate grip on the bag an attempt to anchor herself as her mind spiraled into a chasm of emptiness.

Her shadows flickered into view, their forms twisting and curling as if reaching out for her attention. “Six...” The whisper of her name seemed to fade into the stillness, swallowed by the paralysis that held her captive.

After a long, agonizing pause, she finally spoke, her voice quavering and hollow. “...He would’ve never done that...” The words came out as a strained murmur, laden with disbelief and sorrow. She buried her face in the fabric of her bag, her eyes locked on the cold, unyielding floor as a maelstrom of conflicting emotions churned within her.

“Mono would’ve never done that,” she repeated, her voice cracking with each agonized word.

The echo of her own voice seemed to reverberate through the stark emptiness, amplifying the depth of her despair. Tears welled up, their warmth a stark contrast to the icy numbness enveloping her. She hated how the tears betrayed her, a visceral reminder of her vulnerability. Her face contorted into a pained grimace as she struggled to keep the sobs at bay. Her entire body shook with the effort, each tremor a mixture of confusion and heartache. 

The crushing realization that she missed Mono, that he was the one she longed for comfort right now, hit her with unbearable force, heightening the storm of emotions that raged inside her.

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Mono's feet crunched through the snow as he approached the large, open cabin—the storage house Rimmly had pointed him to. The cold air nipped at his face under his paper bag, his mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with the events unfolding around him. Shaking off his distraction, he straightened and slowed his pace, scanning the scene for someone who looked in charge. The area was a whirlwind of activity—people darting this way and that, boxes being transported in a chaotic frenzy. It was far messier than he’d anticipated.

His gaze settled on a figure standing apart from the commotion. The person was clutching a clipboard and furiously scribbling notes, their face etched with stress as they cast nervous glances at the bustling workers.

Yep, that looked like someone in charge. 

Mono maneuvered through the flurry of movement, his shoulders tense. He wasn’t accustomed to being surrounded by so many people, and the disarray only heightened his unease. He approached the stressed individual, waiting for them to acknowledge him. But despite standing close enough to touch, the person remained engrossed in their task, oblivious to Mono’s presence.

Mono raised an eyebrow, his patience fraying. After a minute of fruitless waiting, he cleared his throat. “Um, hello—”

“I’M NOT DONE YET! PLEASE GIVE ME MORE TIME, BOSS—!” The man with the clipboard yelped, clutching it like a shield and stumbling back. His eyes were wide, his face contorted into a terrified scowl.

Mono blinked, taken aback by the outburst. “Wow, someone’s really on edge,” he muttered under his breath.

Trying to diffuse the situation, he offered a nervous chuckle and took a step back, hoping to seem less imposing. He knew his height and demeanor could sometimes unsettle people. “Uh, no. I’m Mono. I was sent by the Crow to help with moving storage?” He tried to sound as friendly as possible, lowering his head slightly in a gesture of reassurance.

It didn’t help. The man’s eyes remained fixed on Mono with palpable fear. He took another step back, still holding the clipboard as if it could protect him from a looming threat. Mono felt a sharp pang of discomfort. Was he really that intimidating? He didn’t think of himself as a monster, but seeing the man’s reaction made him question.

For a moment, doubt gnawed at Mono, creeping into his thoughts. He’d always known that his imposing height and presence could be intimidating, but seeing it in action like this was a different experience. He took a small step back, trying to give the man some space and soften his stance. Despite his efforts, the fear in the man's eyes didn’t waver, and Mono couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something about him—something intangible—that made people uneasy in a way he didn’t fully understand.

“I’m really just here to help, I promise. Do you have a task for me?” Mono asked softly, hoping that the mention of work might help the man regain his composure.

The man’s brows furrowed as he slowly lowered his clipboard, his eyes still flickering between Mono and his papers. There was a moment of tense silence as he seemed to weigh Mono’s intentions. Finally, he hastily scribbled something on the paper, his fingers trembling. He then looked back up at Mono with a shaky expression.

“You can help the... others over th-there,” he stammered, pointing with a quivering finger toward a group of workers on the right. “Move the b-bags...” His voice was high-pitched and trembling, but he seemed to be slipping back into work mode, albeit with visible uncertainty.

Mono followed the man’s pointing gesture and spotted the group of workers. He gave a quick nod, eager to avoid causing any more discomfort. “Got it,” he said, and turned to head toward the others, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling from the interaction. The fear he sensed among the people was unsettling—was it somehow related to Van?

As he approached the group, he noted their weary expressions and hunched shoulders. They moved with a slow, almost mechanical rhythm, their faces etched with fatigue. They barely looked up as he joined them, offering only a brief, sluggish glance before resuming their task. Mono didn’t mind the lack of interaction; he was here to work, not to chat.

Without further ado, he picked up a heavy leather bag from the pile they were sorting through. The weight of it settled comfortably over his good shoulder as he adjusted his grip. He fell into step with the group, moving in silence. His focus was on the task at hand, following the workers to wherever they were taking the bags, all while trying to dispel the lingering sense of unease.

For the next thirty minutes, Mono fell into a steady rhythm. Each movement became a well-practiced sequence: walk back to the pile, grab the next bag, sling it over his shoulder, and carry it to the sorting area on the other side. The workers, or Peckers as he learned they were called, accepted him into their ranks without question. Some offered curt nods of acknowledgment, but none spoke. The unspoken agreement between them was oddly reassuring; they didn’t need words to communicate their shared purpose.

As he continued, a few of the others fell into sync with his routine. They moved alongside him with a focused determination, their efforts blending seamlessly with his own. Whenever he paused to pick up a new bag, they would quickly take the weight from his hands, working together to expedite the process. At first, Mono felt a pang of confusion and hesitated, unsure of how to reciprocate their silent cooperation. But soon, he relaxed into the flow of their collective effort.

Groups formed, each coordinating seamlessly with the others. 

Two hours later, Mono found himself working alongside one other, shifting from handling bags to dealing with boxes. He was paired with a young man whose name he didn't know but had been coordinating with for the past hour. 

He had messy brown hair that tumbled in disarray and striking gray eyes, one of which was a milky white and clouded—a stark testament to an old injury that had left him blind in that eye. Standing around Mono’s shoulder height,  his throat and hands where wrapped in bandages that peeked out from under his sleeves. His face, a striking blend of sharp angles and soft curves, conveyed both youthful intensity and vulnerability. Though he couldn’t have been older than twenty, his expression carried a weight of experience and depth that hinted at experiences beyond his years.

Together, they lifted a box with practiced ease, carrying it to the new storage house. Communication between them was minimal—just brief glances and nods—but it was effective. Despite the smooth coordination, Mono began to feel the strain in his injured shoulder. He gritted his teeth, trying to push through the throbbing pain and stay focused on the task.

As they set another box down, the guy Mono had been working with finally spoke. “You’re quite efficient,” he said, glancing at Mono from the corner of his eye.

Mono was momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected conversation. He brushed some snow off his coat and glanced down at the other guy. “You’re pretty efficient yourself,” he replied, his tone carrying a hint of surprise.

The other gave a small, genuine smile. “Echo,” he introduced, extending a hand marred by scars and wrapped in bandages.

Mono couldn’t suppress a small smile of his own, hidden beneath his paper bag. He took Echo’s hand firmly, appreciating the gesture. “Mono,” he introduced himself in return. 

They both continued moving, heading back to the old storage house, and began to chat as they walked.

“So, Mono,” Echo began, crouching down to lift another box, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. New here, I take it?”

Mono mirrored his movements, bending to grab his end of the box. “Yeah, I’m new.”

Echo grunted slightly under the weight, adjusting his grip. “Well, it’s always good to see new faces. Even if I can’t see yours. What brings you here?”

Mono clenched his jaw beneath his bag, the weight of his recent mistake pressing heavily on him. “...Winter, Van invited me to stay till the worst parts are over,” he said, his voice tight with frustration as he recalled how Van had extended the invitation—how he’d been foolish to accept.

Echo's expression shifted slightly at the mention of Van. “Ah, I see,” he replied, his tone subtly changing. “Ah, I see. Van managed to reel you in, too.” The familiarity with which Echo spoke of Van, using his first name rather than his rank, surprised Mono. Rimmly had emphasized the importance of using ranks when addressing one another, not names. The slight, almost imperceptible edge in Echo’s voice didn’t escape Mono’s notice.

“Yeah, he did. He’s done this with others, too?” Mono asked, trying to gauge Echo’s perspective.

Echo let out a disdainful scoff. “Oh, yes. Van’s got a talent for it. Most people here fall for his charm. He’s quite... persuasive.” The bitterness in Echo’s voice hinted at a deeper resentment, suggesting that Van’s charm was both well-known and a source of frustration for those who had seen through it.

Mono paused as they set down the box, rolling his shoulders to ease the strain. For a moment, he remained silent, his mind racing. “I’ve noticed...” he finally said, his voice tight. “So, you address Van by name, even though Rimmly—or the Crow—told us to use ranks?” Mono asked, his tone edged with curiosity and unease.

Echo gave a wry chuckle and shook his head. “Yeah, well, no matter how much they push that rule, I’m not about to stop calling an old friend by his name just because he’s got a new title.”

The implication that Echo had once been close to Van made Mono’s muscles tense. The idea of anyone connected to Van—someone who had already left a bad impression on him—made Mono uncomfortable. The revelation of their past connection painted a complex picture. Mono’s initial impression of Echo as relatable and pleasant began to shift. If Echo had been friends with Van, Mono couldn’t shake the feeling that he might share some of Van’s less favorable traits.

Anyone that was Van's friend, was someone Mono would avoid.

Sensing Mono’s sudden coldness and discomfort, Echo quickly added, “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. I’m not his friend anymore. That’s all behind me.” His voice was firm, and his eyes held a genuine earnestness, as if he was desperately trying to mend the gap created by his past association with Van.

But Mono remained unmoved, and Echo’s shoulders drooped as he sighed deeply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His expression darkened with a mix of sadness and frustration. “...It’s always like this,” he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. He cast a resigned, hurt glance at Mono. “Every time people find out I was friends with Van, they pull away. It stings every time. It’s like everyone judges me based on his actions, as if my past with him makes me just like him. But I’m not.”

Echo’s shoulders sagged, and he dropped his gaze to the ground. “...I guess you’ve already made up your mind about me,” he said quietly, the weight of resignation heavy in his voice. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Let’s just get back to work.”

With a final, weary glance at Mono, Echo turned and walked away, his movements rigid and deliberate as he headed back toward the old storage house to grab the next box, signaling an abrupt end to their conversation.

Mono stood there, conflicted. 

He hadn’t fully decided how to view Echo yet, and the raw vulnerability in his voice had struck a nerve. It was clear that Echo had endured repeated rejection, the kind that carved deep wounds. He had grown accustomed to being judged based on his past association with Van, as he had said, and had likely opened up to Mono only because he was new and unaware of the full history—hoping that perhaps Mono might see him differently. But Mono’s judgment remained.

Still, Mono couldn’t ignore the pang of pity he felt for Echo. The shadow of Echo’s past with Van loomed large, casting a long shadow over his trustworthiness. Echo could still be secretly aligned with Van or harbor similar traits despite his attempts to distance himself. 

Yet Mono also understood the sting of being unfairly judged...and the loneliness that came with it.

Mono relaxed his shoulders and followed Echo. As he stepped back into the old storage house, he saw Echo struggling with a box. Echo’s fingers slipped, causing the box to wobble, and he muttered a curse under his breath. His focus was entirely on the box, so he didn’t notice Mono approaching. On Echo’s second attempt to steady the box, Mono’s hands reached down at the same time, helping to stabilize it.

Echo gasped, his eyes widening in shock as he looked up at Mono. His mouth fell open slightly, and he stared, clearly taken aback. Mono met his gaze with a steady, neutral expression, his silence conveying a silent offer of help.

The initial shock in Echo's eyes quickly melted into disbelief, then slowly transformed into understanding. A genuine smile spread across his face, directed at Mono.

Mono narrowed his eyes slightly before turning his head toward the new storage house, making a subtle gesture that they should continue. Echo caught the hint and nodded quickly. They adjusted their grips on the box, lifting it together and carrying it back to the new storage house, their movements synchronized as they worked side by side.

Later, they made their way to a cabin where Echo had mentioned food rations were given out. The wooden building was bustling with activity as people lined up to receive their portions, the air filled with the rich, hearty aroma of the meals.

As they waited, Mono and Echo continued their conversation. Echo seemed eager to share, and Mono found himself learning a great deal about him. Echo fielded every question Mono asked, his responses careful and measured, as though he was trying to build trust. Echo spoke openly about his experiences, though he remained guarded about certain details. Mono discovered that Echo’s blind eye was the result of an accident involving Van. Echo was vague about the specifics, only mentioning it was not Van's fault—an explanation Mono found difficult to fully accept. He decided not to press further, sensing that some things were best left untouched.

Through their talk, Mono learned that Echo had been with the camp for about three years, having traveled with Van long before that. Their history was long and complex, but when Van had risen to become the camp’s leader, he had distanced himself from Echo, as if their shared past meant nothing. Echo described the separation as painful, but he spoke of it with a resigned tone, insisting that he had moved on. According to him, Van was simply that kind of person—capable of discarding old connections without a second thought.

As they received their rations and settled down to eat the warm chicken and vegetable soup, accompanied by some crusty bread, the atmosphere between Mono and Echo grew more relaxed. Their conversation flowed easily, with both men becoming more comfortable in each other’s company. Despite the comfy atmosphere, Mono couldn’t ignore the odd looks they attracted from others in the camp. Curious and sometimes judgmental, the glances seemed to question Mono’s choice to associate with Echo, who appeared to be an outcast. Mono’s response was a cold, unflinching stare that quickly quelled any further scrutiny.

As he pushed the bread beneath his bag to eat, Echo suddenly burst into laughter, his eyes fixed on Mono. Mono paused mid-bite, bread halfway to his mouth, and shot Echo a questioning look.

Echo, chuckling and looking slightly sheepish, apologized. “Sorry for laughing—it just looks kind of goofy when you eat with your paper bag on. Wouldn’t it be easier without it?”

Mono raised an eyebrow, unperturbed, and took another bite of the bread, looking somewhat goofy in the process. “Yes, it would,” he said simply. Echo’s laughter dimmed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression now one of genuine curiosity.

“I’ve been wondering why you wear it,” Echo said, tilting his head slightly. “Do you not like to show your face?”

Mono paused, lowering his bread as he considered how to respond. 

The last time someone had seen his face, it had led to endless suffering—imprisonment, torture, and an identity he desperately wanted to leave behind. To him, it was painfully clear why he kept his face hidden—he feared that someone might recognize him, recognize his other self. Even if he looked goofy with the paper bag on, he would rather endure that than risk anyone connecting him with the monster he had once been.

A monster he knew he still was...no matter how well he hid his face.

Echo seemed to understand Mono’s silence. He leaned back slightly, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Oh… I understand,” he said, casting a sideways glance. “Sorry for asking. I was just curious. It’s clear you don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry.”

Mono’s shoulders sagged, and he sighed deeply. “No… It’s okay. Curiosity is natural. I have my reasons for hiding my face—reasons that you might... understand,” he admitted, lowering his gaze to his bowl of soup.

Echo looked taken aback, but then understanding dawned on him. “You’re worried that people will judge you based on your past...” he murmured, leaning back against the table. “Like me...” 

Mono didn’t respond, keeping his head bowed. The words, now spoken aloud, felt like a knife to his heart. Echo had hit the mark precisely. But admitting it was something he’d never do.

Echo didn’t press further. He simply returned to his soup, and Mono followed suit. After a moment, Echo offered a sad but reassuring smile, a gesture of empathy that seemed to bridge the gap between them. Mono, caught off guard by the unexpected kindness, merely stared for a moment before resuming his meal. A comfortable silence settled between them, shifted only by the sounds of their spoons stirring the soup as they ate. 

As the afternoon waned and twilight descended, the light receded slowly, stretching long shadows across the snow-blanketed terrain. Mono made his way back to his cabin, having just said goodbye to Echo with plans to reconvene at the food cabin the next day. The snowfall had intensified, with thick flakes drifting down like a relentless veil. Mono raised his arm to shield his face from the onslaught, snowflakes slipping through the worn-out gaps in his paper bag.

His breath formed icy clouds in the freezing air as he trudged through the snow, each step crunching softly beneath him. When he reached the stairs leading up to his cabin, he stopped abruptly. His eyes locked onto the door’s hinges, which were bent at an awkward angle and barely holding on. It was clear someone had been inside.

Mono’s instincts kicked in. He lowered his hand slowly, his shoulders tensing as he clenched his jaw. With deliberate care, he approached the door, listening intently for any sounds from within. The silence was thick and unnerving.

He gripped the door handle firmly and yanked it open.

The interior of the cabin was shrouded in darkness, the stillness oppressive. Mono’s eyes narrowed as he stepped cautiously inside, scanning the dim room for any sign of Six or the others. The space was deserted, and a wave of anxiety surged through him. His mind flashed back to his earlier conversation with Van, the uneasy agreement he had made for Little and Nia’s benefit. With no one in sight, the chilling thought that Van—or someone else—might have found them—

“Mono!”

The sudden cry cut through his thoughts. Mono’s head snapped toward the sound, his gaze locking onto the bed in the corner. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Little and Nia scrambling desperately from beneath it, their small figures stumbling over each other. Their faces, streaked with tears, were a mix of relief and terror.

Without a second thought, Mono took a step towards them and dropped to his knees. Nia was the first to hurl herself into his arms, her tiny frame shaking with fear. Little followed closely behind, clutching at his coat with a desperate grip. The intensity of their fear was palpable, and Mono’s heart ached as he pulled them close, wrapping them in a tight embrace.

As he held them, their warm, trembling bodies pressed against his chest, relief coursed through him. Their sobs and tears soaked into his coat, and the cabin filled with the raw sound of their distress. Mono’s mind raced with concern, his protective instincts on high alert.

Realizing that their cries could easily be heard outside through the open door, he turned his head sharply. With a decisive nod of his chin towards the door, his powers responded instinctively. A faint, almost invisible burst of static swept through the air, pulling the door shut with a soft, decisive thud.

Mono winced as a sharp pain flared in his spine, a painful reminder of the eyes embedded there and their unsettling connection to his powers. The sensation was both wet and uncomfortable, and he had to suppress a groan as the pain shot through him. He forced his focus back to the children, pushing aside his own discomfort for the moment. Their well-being took priority; he would address his pain later.

“Hey... calm down, you two,” Mono said gently, attempting to ease them away from his chest to better see their faces. They clung to him, their cries muffled against his coat.

“Calm down,” he repeated, his voice taking on a firmer edge. The authority in his tone cut through their panic; Nia began to pull back, her tear-streaked eyes meeting his. Little continued to sob quietly, her small body trembling against him. Mono’s gaze turned intense as he asked urgently, “What happened?” Nia, gasping for breath and wide-eyed, struggled to compose herself. Mono placed a soothing hand around her back, his touch meant to comfort her while encouraging her to explain.

After a moment of strained silence, Nia’s words began to spill out in ragged bursts between gasps.

“...T-t-they took her... they b-broke in... She t-told us to h-hide, under the b-bed, we didn't see t-them...” She choked on her sobs, struggling to catch her breath.

Mono shushed her gently, his voice a soothing murmur. “Calm down, deep breaths.”

Nia took a shuddering breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling, her breathing gradually steadying as she clung to him.

“After you left this morning, everything was calm until about five hours ago,” Nia continued, her voice still trembling but more composed. “That’s when two men—scary-looking, with rough faces—broke down the door.” She paused, swallowing hard, her eyes darting around as if reliving the terror. “Then Van came in, I recognized his voice, the guy with the scar—He said horrible things to Six. He hit her, and then—”

Mono’s grip on Nia tightened abruptly, his knuckles whitening with the strain. His face darkened.

He had heard something that gave him worry, not that Six was taken but something else.

He took a deep breath, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “...How do you know he has a scar if you recognized him by his voice...?” Mono asked slowly, his tone vibrating with restrained worry and anger. 

Mono's eyes, now cold and unyielding, locked onto Nia with a penetrating intensity that made her flinch. Nia’s eyes widened in terror, her face draining of color as her previous panic turned into paralyzing fear of Mono. Her mouth moved soundlessly, her whole body trembling under the weight of his penetrating gaze.

Mono’s eyes narrowed into cold slits, his face set in a mask of suspicion and dread. “You never saw his face in the forest... you and Little where hidden in the pocket when we talked...” he said, his voice cutting through the silence with sharp, deliberate precision before his next words;

“How could you possibly know he has a scar?”

His voice rose into a fierce shout, the words crashing like thunder as he loomed over Nia. The sheer force of his anger and disbelief overwhelmed her, and she fell silent, her sobs growing louder and more uncontrollable. She looked guilty. Her face contorted into an expression of sheer, desperate fear. She attempted to wrap her arms around herself for comfort, but Mono’s unyielding grip kept her firmly in place, preventing any comfort.

“Answer me,” Mono's demand was a guttural growl, reverberating off the cabin walls.

Nia’s voice barely cut through the noise, choked by her sobs. “I-I wanted to tell you!” she managed to mewl through her tears, her voice a fragile whisper amidst the muffled sobs. Thick tears streamed down her cheeks, “...I swear I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you would—”

“Tell me what? Answer me!” His shoulders were taut with frustration and dread, his realization and the only explanation was hitting him with brutal clarity, but he needed to hear it from her.

Nia’s cry was a desperate, shattered confession. “That Van is my older brother!” 

Chapter Text

That Van is my older brother!

The air seemed to freeze, the world caught in a breathless pause.

Nia’s breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, her eyes locked onto Mono with a terror so intense it drained the color from her face. Mono’s gaze remained fixed on her, unflinching, his jaw tight beneath the paper bag that hid his face—and with it, any sign of emotion. She trembled, her composure unraveling as the weight of her words pressed heavily on the stillness between them. Her skin had turned a ghostly white, as if every drop of blood had drained from her veins, leaving her as fragile as porcelain—one wrong move, and she might shatter.

Little was the only one to make a move, gently tugging at Mono’s coat with persistent, tiny hands. Her fingers shook as they tried to comfort him, her eyes darting between Mono and Nia with a desperate plea for calm. But despite her best efforts, the tension thickened, solidifying into an almost tangible wall that seemed ready to crush them all.

But gradually, Mono’s grip on Nia loosened, his fingers slipping away as though the crushing weight of his realization had drained the strength from his hands. Nia crumpled beside Little, her body folding in on itself, instinctively, as if trying to merge with the shadows and disappear. Her hands pressed against her sides where Mono’s grip had left a sharp, lingering pain—something that didn’t go unnoticed by him. Her gaze remained fixed on the worn wooden planks beneath her, her eyes glazed over with a suffocating sense of shame.

Mono’s once-commanding gaze faltered, shifting to one of stunned realization as the hard lines of his face softened, the truth seeping in with a slow, painful clarity.

Red hair, the same gray eyes, freckles—how had he been so blind? 

The resemblance hit him like a blow, knocking the breath from his lungs, his mind racing to piece together what now seemed so painfully obvious.

A wave of disbelief followed, tightening his chest with a crushing pressure. Mono slumped onto his legs, his posture collapsing under the immense weight of it all. His breathing turned shallow, each inhale a struggle as his body fought to catch up with his spiraling thoughts. Beads of cold sweat gathered on his forehead, trickling down his spine like icy rivulets, but he couldn’t focus on anything beyond the realization suffocating him. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, unable to meet Nia’s tear-filled eyes. The sight of her suffering coiled his gut with a profound, unsettling discomfort—guilt clinging to him like a suffocating weight.

He had lost control, 

...just for a moment.

But that moment was enough. Anger had surged through him, wild and unrestrained, and he had unleashed it on Nia—a vulnerable little girl who had feared to speak up, terrified of how he might react. And she had every right to be. The harshness of his own voice still echoed in his ears, a sharp, unforgiving reminder of the fear he had carved into her heart.

Mono had always prided himself on maintaining a tight grip on his emotions ever since escaping the Tower. That control had been his armor. But now, as his heart hammered violently in his chest and regret gnawed at him like a festering wound, the truth of his fragility was undeniable. He wasn’t above it—he wasn’t in control. His temper had ripped through that façade, leaving him exposed, and he had failed Nia in the worst possible way.

The silence between them was heavy, oppressive, and dense. 

Mono swallowed hard, the effort feeling like a physical struggle, as he fumbled for words that might even begin to heal the rift he had torn. When he finally spoke, his voice was a soft murmur. “I’m... I’m so sorry, Nia,” he said, the words scraping painfully against the tight grip of his throat. “You had every right to be scared to tell me, especially after how I reacted... I should never have—” His voice faltered, choked by the depth of his remorse. “I should never have yelled at you like that.”

His apology was deeply heartfelt, yet a gnawing fear lingered, whispering that it might not be enough. From the corner of his eye, Mono saw Nia flinch at his words, and that flinch drove the guilt deeper into his chest, as if it were carving out a hollow space within him.

The silence stretched on, oppressive and thick, until a gentle, hesitant touch brushed against his knee. Mono lifted his gaze, his heart clenching painfully in his throat as he saw Nia kneeling beside him. Her small hand rested softly on his knee, while her other arm was pressed tightly against her side, a silent testament to the pain she was trying to conceal. She had positioned herself with care, leaning in just enough to bridge the gap between them, her expression a delicate blend of softness and quiet strength.

“...I-It’s okay...” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper yet imbued with a warmth that cut through his regret. As she spoke, she began to rub his knee with a soothing, rhythmic motion, her touch a gentle balm against the raw edges of his guilt. “...You... you had every right to be shocked. I should have told you sooner and... explained some things...”

Nia sank back onto her legs, releasing a deep, shuddering sigh that seemed to reverberate through the stillness of the room. The heaviness of her anxiety was almost tangible, her shoulders curling inward as if the very atmosphere were constricting around her, folding her into a cocoon of discomfort.

Sensing her distress, Little padded over quietly, nudging gently beneath her chin before curling up against her side in a warm, silent embrace. Nia’s lips twitched in a fleeting smile at the gesture, though it was quickly overshadowed by a shadow of sadness. Her expression fell into an empty stare, her eyes losing focus as if drifting through a fog of forgotten and painful memories.

“...About four years ago...” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of past pain. “...when Van and I were still wandering together... We were always on the run... each day a scramble to stay ahead, to survive...”

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Her small feet pounded relentlessly against the forest floor, each step a desperate effort to keep pace with the long, determined strides of her older brother as he dragged her through the tangled underbrush. Twigs snapped and crunched beneath their hurried steps, the cool, damp earth seeming to shift and slip away with every step they took.

“Dammit, Ni, can’t you run any faster?” the older brother barked over his shoulder, his grip on her tiny hand tightening in frustration.

“I-I’m s-sorry, my l-legs are shorter than yours...” the younger sister gasped, her words punctuated by stumbling steps.

“Stop whining and speed up,” he snapped back.

They were fleeing from something unseen, from a world that seemed intent on swallowing them whole with each passing day. The forest around them was a blur of shadowy greens and threatening shapes, the air thick with the scent of earth and fear. To the little sister, her older brother was the sole anchor in this relentless nightmare; his face had been the first she’d seen in this chaotic world, and she had clung to him ever since.

Days blended together as they moved over hills, through thick forests, across rushing rivers, and over rocky paths. They fought tirelessly for survival, their bond the only constant in an ever-changing and perilous landscape...

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Nia's voice trembled, barely a whisper, as she spoke. Her head hung low, arms wrapped tightly around herself—a fragile shield against the world. “V-van… he was always there for me,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “...We had this unbreakable bond. We were inseparable, always looking out for each other... or, at least, I thought...”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her gaze distant as she continued, “But then, I started feeling strange—disoriented and weak. Even though I was physically well, a crushing exhaustion took hold of me, as if my own body was always tired no matter what I did. It felt like I was slipping away... And then, everything changed...”

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One day, despite her older brother’s warnings, the little sister ventured into the woods alone. Driven by a desire to help, she set out to gather wood for a fire. Unbeknownst to her, lurking creatures had followed her into the dense, shadowy forest...

After a frantic search, the older brother finally found her. The sight was unbearable: his little sister was sprawled on the forest floor, mauled beyond recognition, her tiny body a gruesome mess of blood and torn flesh. Overcome with grief and guilt, he sank to his knees beside her, his heart heavy with a crushing sense of failure.

But then, in a moment of nightmarish impossibility, the blood around her began to writhe and pulse as if some unseen force were rewinding time. 

Her mangled flesh slowly began to heal, wounds closing and flesh knitting together in a grotesque spectacle of restoration. The brother watched in stunned silence as his sister’s body healed itself before his eyes. When she took her first breath again, her eyes—wide with fear and confusion—locked onto his. But instead of the relief one might have expected, what she found in his gaze was far darker, something unnerving:

Greed.

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Mono’s eyes narrowed as a flicker of realization crossed his face. “He realized you had powers...” he murmured, his voice a low whisper, imbued with both understanding and a deep, unsettling suspicion.

Nia nodded, her lower lip quivering as tears welled up, threatening to spill over. “Yes,” she whispered. “Back then, everything was so confusing. These powers... they just appeared, like a cruel response to this harsh world. I wasn’t born with them—I didn’t even know they were part of me until I... until I used them.”

Her voice cracked, and a bitter, sorrowful chuckle slipped out. “Everything changed after that. He distanced himself, shut me out, and then the real cruelty began...” She turned her head, her gaze drifting to the far corner of the room as if the shadows themselves were harboring her darkest memories. A single tear slipped down her cheek, a silent testament to years of suffocating pain.

“It wasn’t just the distance or the cruelty. It was as if he was... afraid. Afraid of what I might become—or perhaps of what I already was. That fear twisted him, darkened him, and morphed into something monstrous—an obsession. He wanted to control me, but he didn’t know how...”

She paused, the silence between them thick with tension, before continuing with a trembling exhale. “And that’s when I realized... I wasn’t the only one who had changed.”

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The little sister's desperation to reclaim the bond she once shared with her brother grew with each passing day. But as weeks turned into months, his distance only deepened. He treated her with a cold detachment, as if she were an inanimate object rather than a human being. His indifference was a chilling contrast to the closeness they had once known.

One night, an unsettling noise jerked the little sister awake. Her eyes flew open to find him sitting beside her, his hands suspended ominously above her throat. Their gazes locked—hers wide with confusion and fear—while his eyes revealed the twisted jealousy that had festered in the dark corners of his soul. The revelation stung, and the confusion in her heart only grew.

“W-what’s wrong, brother?” she asked, her voice trembling with innocence, unaware of the storm brewing within him.

“It should’ve been me...” he murmured, his voice hollow and distant, as if speaking more to himself than to her. His hands hovered for a moment longer, their presence a silent threat before he finally pulled them back.

Days passed, but little changed. 

Their situation remained the same until they encountered another group that offered them a chance for easier survival. However, acceptance eluded them. The sister watched as her brother struggled to integrate, only to be met with indifference. The group spoke of a survival camp in the north, and as they set sail across the sea, her brother grew very quiet.

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Nia fell silent, her face contorting into a raw, tear-streaked mess. Hiccups shook her delicate frame, each one a physical manifestation of the haunting memories that seemed to press down on her very soul, like an invisible force dragging her deeper into her grief. 

Mono stood nearby, his own emotions a turbulent mix of shock, sadness, and frustration. His heart ached with the desperate urge to reach out and envelop her in comfort, yet a deeper instinct held him back. He understood, perhaps more than he wanted to, that for Nia, voicing her pain alone, at least in this moment, was a crucial step in her healing process.

Little clung to Nia, her small arms wrapping tightly around Nia’s midsection, her head nestled against Nia’s belly as if trying to absorb some of her pain through their contact. The room was suffused with a heavy silence, one that seemed to smother every sound and stretch time to its breaking point. It was an oppressive stillness, shattered only when Nia’s voice finally emerged, trembling and fragile.

“After we arrived here on the mainland,” she began, her words tentative and soft, “I quickly discovered why he had become so quiet...”

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After the grueling journey across the sea, the brother led the sister into the forest, claiming he needed her help to gather wood. The sister, hopeful that their old bond might be returning, followed him eagerly, trusting him every step. Yet, as they ventured deeper into the woods, away from the others, the brother’s true intentions unfolded...

Without warning, he attacked her from behind. 

The little sisters cries echoed through the trees as she fought against the unthinkable assault. On the cold forest floor, her body pinned beneath him, she gazed up with wide, betrayed eyes, tears mingling with the dirt. The man she had always seen as her protector had become a ravenous monster, his true nature now starkly revealed.

Desperation drove her to grasp blindly for anything that might help. Her hand closed around a jagged rock. With a surge of raw survival instinct, she drove the rock across his face. The stone sliced through flesh, carving a deep wound from his nose to his chin. He growled in pain, but his grip remained unyielding, his fingers like iron around her throat.

The world around her grew dim and foggy, the edges of her vision darkening as her strength waned. In that bleak moment, the sister felt her powers stir in response to her impending death. A warm, invigorating sensation spread through her body, restoring oxygen to her lungs. But this was a cruel twist of fate, as her brother's sadistic plan unfolded. Her healing powers, meant to save her, began to transfer into his hands still constricting her throat and wandered up to his face to heal him too.

She watched in horror as his bloodied face began to mend itself, the torn flesh reknitting and the blood flowing back into place. The half-slashed visage of her brother transformed into a healed mask of menace, his bloodthirsty gaze now adorned with a scar, locked onto her as he relished her suffering.

As her powers drained away, siphoned off by the very person who should have protected her... her vision darkened further. The forest seemed to close in, and the final remnants of her strength ebbed away...

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Nia’s shoulders shook violently as she relived the terror of her near-death experience. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the dust that clung to her cheeks as she met Mono’s unwavering, silent gaze.

“So, to answer your earlier question about why I know he has a scar...” she choked out, her voice breaking under the weight of her emotion. “It’s because I’m the one who gave it to him.” Each word trembled as if she was struggling to bear the burden of her confession. “I don’t know how he did it, but he... he stole my powers. They were vulnerable then—active and exposed at that moment. I think he knew that.”

Mono remained silent, his gaze intense with empathy. Little sat quietly beside them, her eyes wide with fear as she absorbed Nia’s traumatic story.

Nia lowered her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. “...As he choked me, I faintly heard the others we had been traveling with approaching. They must have heard our struggle. I was barely conscious, but the screams—they’re burned into my memory...” Her eyes narrowed, haunted by the recollection. “...They tried to pull Van off me, but he was... too strong...”

She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. “When I woke up, I was alone, naked, lying on the cold forest floor, surrounded by the blood and carnage of those we had traveled with. He had killed them all, stripped me of everything useful. I couldn’t understand why I was still alive when my powers were now his... but then I felt them.”

Her eyes slowly opened, and she lifted her hand, fingers trembling as if she were seeing it for the first time. A fragile mixture of sorrow and disbelief crossed her face. “The powers I have now... they’re mere remnants of what I once had—fragments that survived. They were the part that slowed my heartbeat so drastically that Van must have thought I was dead when he left me behind.”

Mono shifted closer, hesitant, his gaze never leaving her. Nia flinched at the movement, her body curling slightly inward, as though bracing herself for a blow that never came. Her eyes stayed glued to the floor, shoulders rigid and hunched, her breath hitching.

“I… I lost part of my vision, too,” she muttered, barely audible. “I began to see shadows more vividly than reality. My only explanation is that the violent manner in which my powers were torn from me left a kind of wound...” Her words broke off as a hiccup escaped, sharp and jagged, cutting through the silence. Mono gently reached out, his touch tentative, but she didn’t seem to notice, lost in the dark memories dragging her under.

“I can only see clearly a few feet around me,” she whispered, her voice quivering as the words struggled to leave her lips. Mono gently pulled her closer, pressing her against his chest. His arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace, one hand cradling the back of her head. He could feel the uneven rhythm of her breathing, her desperation bleeding into the air around them.

“Beyond that, it’s all s-shadows,” she continued, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. “People turn into dark silhouettes... t-trees, paths, h-houses—everything becomes just shapes. It feels like I’m s-stuck in some twisted d-dream—”

“Nia, breathe,” Mono interrupted, his voice firm but quiet, sensing her breaths coming faster and more ragged against his chest. She was beginning to hyperventilate. His hand stroked her hair, trying to ground her in the present. “Slow down. Focus on me.”

But her words tumbled out, faster and more frenzied, as if the dam had broken. “I’m s-sorry for not telling you sooner—I was terrified. I was so a-afraid of what you’d think of me, of you finding out I’m V-van’s sister. I was scared you’d see me as tainted... broken... something better left behind... that y-you’d abandon me like he did—”

“NIA!” Mono’s voice cut through the room with an edge of urgency, more forceful than he intended, but it stopped her spiraling.

She flinched, her breath catching, eyes wide with shock as they locked onto his.

Mono’s hands cupped her face, not harshly, but with a steady grip that held her in the moment. His gaze bore into hers, fierce and unwavering. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “I. Would. NEVER. Abandon you like he did. Never.”

Her breath stuttered, her eyes searching his for some hint of doubt, but all she found was unwavering conviction.

“You’re not tainted. You’re not broken,” Mono continued, his voice steady. “You’re part of me and Little, and that’s never going to change. Not because of him, not because of anything.”

The room seemed to still, the heavy air lifting slightly as Mono’s words settled around them. Nia blinked, her breathing gradually slowing. Her body slowly relaxed in his arms, the shadows of her fears receding as she clung to his steady presence.

Mono narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening into a fierce scowl—not directed at Nia, but at the lingering shadow of her brother’s cruelty that still plagued her. Leaning in, he locked eyes with her, his gaze a mix of piercing intensity and gentle understanding, full of genuine empathy.

“And I am sorry... you had to go through all of this,” he said, his voice thick with heartfelt regret.

For a moment, Nia's face remained a rigid mask, her eyes caught in a desperate struggle between control and surrender. Then, without warning, her composure broke. Her expression crumpled, and a flood of heart-wrenching sobs erupted from her, each cry a raw, unfiltered release of years of pain. She collapsed against Mono, burying her face in his chest, her fingers clutching his coat as though it were her only anchor. Her body shook violently, her sobs so intense they seemed to shake her from the inside out.

Mono felt the weight of her sorrow crashing over him like an unrelenting wave. The sheer magnitude of her long-held pain pressed down on him as well, a stark reminder of the burden she had carried alone. This release was long overdue. With determined resolve, he pulled her closer, his body a solid shield against her suffering, his arms wrapping around her with unwavering protection.

Sensing the gravity of the moment, Little instinctively moved in to offer her own small but earnest support. Her tiny arms nudged under Mono’s, wrapping around Nia as well, their combined warmth creating a cocoon of comforting embrace that enveloped them both.

Mono, meanwhile, grappled with the revelations. 

Words failed him as he struggled to contain his rising rage.

His powers had begun to stir restlessly ever since Nia started speaking. Control slipped through his fingers like sand, and the pain from the eyes embedded deep in his spine intensified with each passing moment. Each eye pulsed with a relentless ache, rolling within its socket as though agitated by the surge of energy coursing through his veins. The sensation was maddening—like a swarm of insects squirming beneath his skin, clawing for escape.

The faint crackle of static that began to manifest had gone unnoticed by the girls. Dark energy crept up the cabin walls, tendrils of electricity clinging to the shadows and flickering just out of sight. The air thickened with the promise of unleashed power as Mono’s anger swelled, feeding the storm within him while he remained lost in his own thoughts.

The revelation that Van had powers hit Mono like a shockwave—an unexpected truth that shattered everything he thought he knew about Van. But the real shock came with the grim realization that Van knew how to steal those powers, a grim discovery that sent Mono’s thoughts spiraling into chaos.

Mono had despised Van from the moment he had met him, and his feelings only grew darker as he learned more about him. Now, however, that hatred gave way to unsettling awareness: Van was likely nearly unbeatable. Nia's description of Van’s stolen regenerative abilities made this brutally clear. These were powers that had pulled her back from the brink of death, healing her wounds as if time itself had been reversed. Van wasn't just resilient; he was a relentless force who could rise again no matter how many times he was struck down.

As Mono wrestled with the implications of Van’s abilities, a more disturbing thought began to take shape in his mind. 

His own powers. 

If Van learned about them, he would almost certainly attempt to steal them, just as he had from his sister. The very notion of Van’s cold, calculating gaze locked onto him, searching for a way to strip him of his abilities, made Mono’s skin crawl.

Yet, amidst the mounting dread, a sharp realization sliced through the confusion. Mono’s breath hitched, then steadied as a chilling calm settled over him. No, Van couldn’t steal his powers. 

As far as he knew, no one could.

If his powers could be stolen, the Eyes and the Tower—an entity of almost incomprehensible power—would have taken them long ago. They could have killed him when he fell, taken his abilities then. There would have been no need for his imprisonment or for them to embed themselves so deeply in his spine,  sapping his power and feeding off his strength. If they could simply strip him of his abilities, they would have done so without hesitation.

Even with his deep-seated resentment towards them, Mono recognized that his powers were an integral part of his being—interwoven with his essence, bound to his very soul... Nia had described her powers as an unexpected gift, something she discovered almost by accident. 

Mono, however, had been born with his.

As the static around the cabin faded and Mono’s breathing evened out, he took a deep, steadying breath, closing his eyes momentarily to center himself. When he opened them again, he was met with the gentle sight of Nia and Little, their exhaustion evident as they lay peacefully in his arms. Even in their slumber, their grip on him was instinctively tight, a silent testament to their trust.

Mono was grateful that they trusted him so much, even though he had momentarily lost control. With utmost care, Mono rose to his feet, moving deliberately to avoid disturbing their rest. He held them carefully, their small, warm bodies a tangible reminder of their trust and dependence on him. He carried them to the bed, setting them down with the utmost gentleness. Once they were settled, he unfurled a thick, warm blanket and draped it over them, tucking the edges securely around their forms. 

Outside, the camp was enveloped in the pitch-black of night, occasionally disturbed by the soft whisper of the wind against the cabin walls. Mono stood by the bed, observing the steady rise and fall of their breaths. Their intertwined positions spoke of a deep, unspoken bond, a silent testament to their mutual need for each other.

A fierce resolve took hold of him. He was determined to protect them, especially after his crucial mistake of bringing them here... Once winter's worst was over, they would leave this place and find somewhere far away where they could grow up without fear.

Mono glanced out the window, noting the stark contrast between the dark, foggy scene outside and the cozy warmth inside. Frost had formed delicate patterns at the edges of the glass, a reminder of the cold beyond the cabin’s shelter.

Lost in thought, Mono knew he needed to learn more about Van to understand what he was up against. 

He took one last, careful glance at the sleeping girls, their serene breaths a fragile testament to their current safety. Moving quietly, he made his way to the corner of the room. Crouching down, he methodically pried up a floorboard. The old wood resisted slightly, creaking under the pressure, but Mono lifted it with minimal noise. He reached into the space beneath and felt around for the bag he had hidden earlier that morning. After a moment, his fingers closed around the familiar texture, and he pulled out the bag. From it, he retrieved a lighter and slipped it into his pocket with practiced ease. Carefully, he replaced the bag and pressed the floorboard back into its original position.

Straightening up, Mono walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the cold night.

Echo was deeply asleep when a faint creak shattered the stillness, jolting him awake. He stirred sleepily on his thick mattress on the wooden floor, the comforting haze of slumber swiftly replaced by alertness. As his eyes tried to adjust against the oppressive darkness of the cabin, shadows twisted and swayed, their shapes warping and distorting in the impenetrable black. He couldn't see.

With hands still heavy from sleep, he clumsily groped for the candleholder beside him. The cold metal felt unnervingly cold against his skin, and his grip wavered as he awkwardly fumbled for the lighter. Trembling fingers from the cold struck the match repeatedly until a tiny flame sputtered to life with a jittery hiss. The feeble glow cast long, flickering shadows that struggled to pierce the enveloping darkness, creating a wavering light that fought to cut through the night.

As the room slowly began to emerge from the shadows, Echo’s breath caught in his throat as he saw what made the noise.

Mono’s tall, silent figure loomed by the closed door, more shadow than man in the dim light. Echo’s heart slammed against his chest, a curse escaping his lips before he could stop it.

“Mono! What the flying fuck  are you doing here?” The words came out harsher than intended, his voice roughened by shock and the remnants of sleep. But Mono didn’t respond; he just stared, his eyes locked onto Echo’s in the half-light, as still and unyielding as a statue.

“A-and at this hour?” Echo continued, his voice cracking with a mix of confusion and concern. “Do you have any idea how late it is? How did you even find me? The cold outside could kill you—”

“I have questions,” Mono cut in, his voice a low rumble that filled the small cabin. He dipped his head slightly, the shadows deepening around his eyes. “About Van.”

Echo’s good eye widened, the color draining from his face as Mono’s words hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. His mouth opened, but no words came—just a silent ‘oh’ as the realization settled in. He collapsed back onto the mattress, his posture softening as the last traces of confusion drained away. His gaze dropped to the wooden floorboards, where the flickering candlelight cast distorted, trembling shadows.

Mono stepped forward, the creak of the floorboards under his weight the only sound in the silence. He lowered himself to the ground in front of Echo, his tall figure still looming over the other even as he sat. The gap between them narrowed, but the tension in the room intensified, pressing in on them from all sides.

Echo slowly lowered the candleholder to the ground, its faint glow barely fending off the gathering darkness around them. “What... do you want to know?” he muttered, his earlier defiance dissolving into calm surrender. Mono was silent for a moment.

“I need to know everything you know about Van—how you met him, what he told you, and how he was before he became the camp’s leader,” Mono demanded, his voice held a sharp, commanding edge.

Echo flinched, instinctively shrinking from Mono’s intense gaze. His fingers curled tightly around his right arm, a visible sign of his deep anxiety. “I… I’ll tell you,” Echo stammered after a moment, his voice faltering. “But you have to promise me one thing. Promise you won’t judge me for what I did back then. I wasn’t the same person—I was desperate, willing to do anything for a shred of acceptance. For survival. I made reckless choices and did things I deeply regret. And... I thought for a long time that Van was my friend.”

Mono’s expression stayed cold and unreadable, his eyes shadowed by the shade of his paper bag. But he gave a small nod, a silent agreement to Echo’s plea, though his mind was already grappling with the significance of what was to come.

Echo took a shuddering breath, the weight of his past visible in his slumped posture. He glanced back at the flickering candlelight, its unsteady glow reflecting the turmoil within him. 

“As you know, I traveled with Van, before we joined the camp,” Echo began, his eyes fixed on the shifting shadows cast by the flickering candlelight. “We crossed paths by accident during a hunt—both after the same rabbit. We struck up to a conversation.”

His voice grew heavy with emotion, a quiver betraying his vulnerability. “I was 16 at the time, lonely, and desperate for connection, and asked if I could join him. At first, he turned me down, insisting he preferred to be alone. But after a few days, he gave in. I was too naive back then to realize he only took me in because I was useful.”

Mono listened silently, his hate for Van deepening with each word, which was nothing new. Echo’s eyes darkened as he continued, the shadows of his past mirrored in his troubled expression.

“We did some terrible things,” Echo admitted, his voice cracking. “Van started targeting others. I tried to protest, but he threatened to kick me out if I didn’t stop being, as he put it, ‘a pussy’ about it.”

Mono’s jaw tightened beneath his paper bag, the brutality of Echo’s account painting a stark image in his mind. Echo’s voice was laden with regret. “So, afraid of being alone, I reluctantly went along with it. Van devised a tactic to lure people in. I was to be the bait...”

Mono’s eyes widened as the full weight of Echo’s confession sank in. The promise Echo had pleaded for now took on a chilling clarity. Echo hadn’t just been a passive witness—he’d been an active participant in these horrific acts. That explained some things.

“I would pretend to be injured on the ground along one of the main paths, where we knew people would pass by,” Echo said, his voice trembling with a mixture of shame and sorrow. “When someone stopped to help, that’s when Van would strike.”

Echo’s gaze grew distant, his eyes reflecting a haunted past. “I can still hear their screams,” he whispered, voice cracking as if the memories were clawing their way out. “Sometimes Van would drag it out... I can still hear them... The echoes of their cries...”

A heavy silence settled over them, thick with the suffocating weight of Echo’s guilt. His breathing came slowly, his face etched with a torment that seemed almost physical. Mono observed, his own expression darkening as the gravity of Echo’s confession pressed down on him like a leaden shroud.

“Eventually, others joined Van,” Echo continued, his eyes squeezed shut as though trying to erase the past from his mind. “They were lured by the promise of easy loot and followed him blindly after witnessing his wounds heal in ways that defied natural explanation. I never understood how he did it, but I was terrified and did my best to ignore it. A few months later, we stumbled upon this camp and joined. Van quickly became leader.”

Mono processed the revelation, understanding now how Van had risen to power—by exploiting stolen powers from his own sister. It was clear why people would either follow or fear someone who seemed invincible. Echo sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as he sank back against his mattress. His grip on the bed tightened, knuckles white, as he stared blankly at the floor, lost in the shadows of his past. 

“Well, that’s a dark chapter of my life,” Echo said, his voice weighted with regret. “I’m deeply ashamed of it. I grew close to Van—he was my friend. I felt sorry for him, especially after what happened with his sister—”

“So you know about his sister?” Mono cut in abruptly. Echo’s head whipped around, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Y-yes,” Echo stammered, his voice faltering. “Most people know the story... but how do you? I thought you were new around here.”

“What did Van tell you about her?” Mono pressed, his tone sharp and insistent.

Echo hesitated, his discomfort evident. “He said he lost her in the woods to some bandits who attacked them. I always figured that’s why he started targeting others—seeking revenge for his sister. He claimed he was all she had left, and she was all he had left. It sounded like he was devastated...”

Mono’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white.

What a pathetic, twisted lie.

There had been no bandits. Van had been the one to attack his own sister, intending to kill her before turning on those who tried to help, murdering them without hesitation. And now he had twisted the truth, using that fabricated story to manipulate others and gain sympathy? The sheer audacity was revolting. Mono was left in stunned silence, his mind racing as his anger boiled over. He felt an intense, almost physical surge of energy crackling inside him, sparking uncontrollably before he could stop it.

Echo, noticing the abrupt change in Mono’s demeanor, shifted nervously. “H-Hey, why are you so tense all of a sudden?” Echo stammered, his voice betraying his nervousness. “I know what I did was bad and unacceptable, but I only did it to survive—”

Mono cut him off sharply, his voice low with barely suppressed rage. “Did you ever question if that story was real?”

Echo’s face went slack, his eyes widening as the gravity of the question sank in. “N-No,” he stammered, his voice faltering. “I was too scared to doubt it...”

“It’s a lie, Echo. His sister is still alive, and she’s been traumatized beyond repair.”

Mono flinched inwardly at his own slip up.

He hadn’t meant to reveal that—his anger had erupted uncontrollably, a mix of frustration and desperation to confront the lie. It was maddening that Van had so successfully manipulated everyone with his distorted version of events while Nia had been left traumatized and barely able to speak when she revealed the truth to Mono.

Echo’s eyes widened, catching Mono’s slip up. “W-What? How do you know that?”

Mono didn’t respond. He simply stood up and turned his back on Echo, his posture rigid and dismissive. “Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting Echo’s confused and wary gaze with a steely, unyielding stare. “We never had this conversation. Got it?”

Echo flinched at the icy edge in Mono’s voice, his face flickering with a mix of hurt and frustration. But then, his hands clenched into fists as he stood up with a sharp, controlled motion, his frustration evident in each step he took towards Mono. “No, I’m not doing this. I gave you the answers you wanted; now you owe me the same.” Echo jabbed a finger into Mono’s chest, his voice trembling with intensity. “I’m sick of being important only when it’s convenient for someone. You may not be Van, but you’re starting to remind me of him.”

Mono’s body instantly went rigid, his expression darkening as his jaw tightened. “Watch it,” he warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.

Echo was walking a fine line. Mono’s anger simmered just below the surface, and although he fought to control it, the urge to lash out was almost overwhelming... He could feel the tension sparking along his spine, a physical reminder of the dangerous line they were teetering on.

Echo narrowed his eyes, undeterred by the warning. “Or what, Mono? Are you going to hurt me? Like Van would? I’m not afraid of you.” His voice was steady, but it carried a sharp edge of challenge.

Mono's gaze narrowed dangerously as he leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a chilling whisper. “Maybe you should be.” His voice was icy, barely concealing the fury roiling beneath. “You think you know what it means to be scared? Push me any further, and you’ll find out.”

Echo’s eyes widened in shock, but he quickly steeled himself, pressing his lips into a thin, stubborn line. “Then give me a reason,” he taunted, his voice thick with provocation. “Show me just how much you’re like Van. I dare you—”

Mono didn’t let him finish. The words barely left Echo’s mouth before Mono’s restraint snapped. 

With a violent yank, Mono grabbed Echo by the collar, his movements smooth yet terrifyingly swift. In just a few strides, Mono crossed the room and slammed Echo hard against the wall. The sound of the impact reverberated through the small space, a dull thud that made the walls seem to tremble. Mono’s grip tightened like a steel trap, hoisting Echo off the floor until his feet dangled helplessly. 

The pressure on Echo's throat sent jagged gasps from his lips, each breath a struggle. His hands flew to Mono’s arm, clawing desperately, but it was like trying to pry loose a vice. His eyes bulged with a mixture of fear and panic, searching Mono’s face for any sign of mercy—finding none. Mono's expression was eerily calm, his rage controlled and simmering just beneath a frozen mask, far more unsettling than if he’d shouted or lashed out.

The room felt smaller, the air heavier. Everything was suddenly too quiet, as though even the walls held their breath. 

“Do. Not. Ever...” Mono’s voice sliced through the silence, each word dripping with a lethal edge. He leaned in, their breaths mingling in the stifling air, letting Echo see the unnatural silver glow of his eyes through the holes in the paper bag—a terrifying reminder of how close Mono was to snapping. “...Compare me to that creature of a person again.”

The air grew unbearably heavy, as if the walls themselves were closing in, suffocating what little space remained.

Echo’s fingers tightened around Mono’s wrists, not to resist, but to keep himself grounded to reality. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, every inhale like dragging shards of broken glass into his lungs. His mind raced to make sense of what he was saw as he stared into Mono’s eyes—those cold, glowing eyes—and felt the sheer wildness beneath the surface. Something almost feral, something terrifyingly untamed.

Panic slashed at his insides, a primal force that paralyzed him like nothing before. His voice trembled, barely a whisper caught between terror and defiance. “W-who’s the creature here...”

Mono’s jaw clenched tighter, the muscles in his neck and arms taut with barely restrained fury. For a heartbeat, it seemed as if he might snap again. But then, as if forcing himself to regain control, his expression solidified into something harder, colder. His voice dropped, taking on a chilling, emotionless quality.

“That’s for you to decide,” Mono said, his voice dropping to an icy monotone, each word sharp enough to cut. The glow in his eyes dimmed slightly but never disappeared—still there, still cold, still dangerous. 

Echo held Mono’s unsettling gaze, his own eyes reflecting a mix of shock and confusion. The silence between them stretched, tense and suffocating, like neither could break the weight pressing down. Eventually, Echo sighed—deep and weary—and lowered his head, resting it on his shoulder in quiet defeat. His posture sagged, as if the fight had drained out of him entirely.

“...Not you,” Echo muttered, his voice hoarse. “Because Van wouldn’t have even let me speak.”

Mono’s grip on Echo’s collar loosened, and he took a step back, the intensity of his anger ebbing away as he took in the scene before him. He stood there, his emotions churning, realizing how far his rage had pushed him. He knew he should apologize but struggled to find the right words. Turning toward the door, he opened it but hesitated, reluctant to leave on a bitter note.

“I... thank you for answering my questions,” Mono said, his voice softer now, though still carrying an undercurrent of the anger that had driven him. His tone was gentler, yet it was clear he was still grappling with his emotions. “See you tomorrow.”

Echo kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his posture resigned. He muttered in response, “...You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.” 

The door slammed shut. 

Chapter Text

His other self was angry. Very angry. He could feel it—the pulse... the static, beneath his skin, so much like his own. 

But why? What could provoke such a raw, unrelenting rage that it was driving his other self to the edge of losing control? Control... something neither of them truly possessed... It was a fragile thread, slipping between their fingers no matter how hard they tried to hold on. His other self, though, didn’t know the reason. Didn't know why.

He did. Only he remembered.

The memories had returned—not all at once, but slowly, insidiously, creeping into his thoughts like shadows stretching across the edges of his mind. Each new recollection was heavier and darker, binding him to a past he wished to forget. A world he wished to forget. But forgetting was impossible. He knew he wasn’t meant to remember. Yet, somehow, when he had been torn from his other self, it had created a rift, allowing these memories to seep through. 

The creators wouldn’t be pleased. Not at all... if they knew that he remembered.

With a sharp tug on his hood, he jumped from the rooftop, his cloak billowing out behind him like a dark banner as he hurtled into the the ravine that split through the city below. The dense fog twisted around him, icy droplets pummeling his skin like shards of glass—though the pain barely registered. As he plunged deeper into the abyss, the concrete floor of an open tunnel surged up to meet him with relentless speed.

In that final heartbeat, he thrust his hands out, a burst of static erupting from his palms. The violent force arrested his fall—halting him mere inches above the ground. The impact unleashed a deafening shockwave that reverberated through the tunnel, the static tearing free like a storm unleashed.

The force slammed into the walls with a thunderous crack, splintering them into jagged fractures that spiderwebbed outward. The ground beneath him groaned and buckled, cracking open like a brittle shell under the immense pressure of the static. He hit the floor in a crouch, every muscle coiling tight as the ground shattered around him, debris exploding into chaos beneath the overwhelming force.

The rumbling and cracking sounds gradually faded as the static dissipated, leaving behind an unsettling silence. He exhaled a low, frosty breath into the cold air, watching it form a fleeting, ghostly cloud. Slowly, he pushed himself upright, glancing back up at the spot from which he had fallen. Had anyone heard the impact?

He began to tread over the debris strewn across the tunnel floor, remnants of the destruction he had wrought. The walls were lined with rusted metal and cracked tiles, relics of a forgotten era. Overhead, pipes groaned and dripped steadily, the rhythmic patter of leaking water the only sound breaking the stillness.

As he continued down the corridor, now old and dilapidated, he reached the subway station. A single flickering bulb cast a dim, greenish-gray glow over the platform, illuminating faded graffiti, discarded trash, and crumbling benches. Ahead, the tunnel stretched into an impenetrable black void, the metal rails vanishing into darkness—much like the emptiness that echoed within him.

He waited.

After what felt like hours, a faint rumble echoed from the far end of the tunnel. It grew louder, closer—each pulse resonating with an urgency that set his nerves alight.

He slowly tensed his shoulders, bracing himself.

The rumble erupted into a violent rushing noise, accompanied by the shrill whistle of a train barreling through at breakneck speed. Lights from the passing apartments blurred into streaks of color, flickering like dying stars.

His body coiled, and in one swift movement, he leaped onto the roof of the speeding train. The impact jolted him, and he immediately flattened himself against the cold metal as the train tore through the dark tunnel, dragging him into its wake. The wind whipped around him with ferocity, his hood barely clinging to his head—until, without warning, blinding light exploded as they burst into the open air.

The abandoned buildings of the Pale City rushed by in a dizzying blur, the cold winter air biting at his face as faint snowflakes spiraled around him. He crouched low, gripping a chunk of metal on the train for balance. His black coat whipped violently behind him, a dark silhouette against the otherwise deserted train—still operational, despite the decay surrounding it.

He glanced around briefly, then lifted his gaze toward the front of the train as it curved sharply around a corner, making a sweeping arc. He knew exactly where this train was headed, and it was taking him straight to his destination—the outskirts of the city. He could feel the pull of his other self, a distant echo across the frozen waters... and beyond that.

It wouldn’t be long. Soon, he would reach what he had been seeking. Just a little while longer...

═══════════════════════════════════════

The sound of a door being slammed open downstairs woke her rather violently.

Six shifted sleepily on the rough wooden floorboards that had served as her bed for the night—sleeping on hard surfaces was an all-too-familiar torment—and pulled her backpack closer, its worn fabric reassuring against her side. Shadows stirred beneath her skin, reacting to her sudden alertness more than anything else. Footsteps echoed up the stairs, and a sense of foreboding settled over her; these were not Van’s heavy, measured strides. No, these were lighter, uneven—as if the person approaching was nervous for reasons unknown.

Sitting up, she felt the chill of the room wrap around her, an unwelcome reminder of her vulnerability. Her hand instinctively sought Van’s knife—hers now—tucked into the side pocket of her backpack. She gripped the cold metal handle, concealing it behind the bag, acutely aware of the need for caution. The doorknob rattled, and tension coiled within her.

When the door creaked open, it was not the shadow of a guard or the guy from the night before who had inspected her. 

Instead, it was another girl.

The girl stood there, her wide brown eyes shimmering with a blend of surprise and curiosity, as if she hadn’t expected to find Six in that dim space. Six studied her, taking in the way her hands fidgeted nervously at her sides and the loose strands of blonde hair that framed her face, catching the soft light filtering through the doorway. A flicker of recognition danced between them, yet Six's heart raced with uncertainty, a tight knot forming in her stomach.

“Um... hi,” the girl said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the weight of the moment pressed down on them both. “I’m Mae. I’m here to take you to the hot springs, on the Leader’s orders.”

Six’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Hot springs? Van was sending her to the hot springs? She hadn’t even known they had any. Why send this girl instead of the rough guards he usually commanded? Flashes of the previous day flickered in her mind—exchanges between the hunched guy and Van, laden with meaning she had yet to fully grasp.

'Ye’d best see to it that she’s well-fed, rested, and clean. I’d suggest the hot spring and some company with the other girls, so she gets a feel for how things be runnin’ around here. Might give her some comfort bein’ among others...'

Oh. That made sense.

She just hadn’t expected Van to actually follow through with it.

Six released her grip on the knife handle, letting it slip back into its pocket as she slowly rose to her feet, her movements deliberate and careful. She kept her gaze locked on the other girl, who was visibly growing more nervous by the second. Six’s shadows stirred restlessly beneath her skin, their suspicion of the newcomer only adding to her own irritation. She silently willed them to settle, but they refused to obey. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.

“Um... what’s your name?” the girl—Mae—asked hesitantly, but Six barely registered the question. Her attention was fixed on Mae's cloak.

It was a muddy green, hanging to her ankles—the same shade as the coat she had seen slip behind the corner just before Van and the guards came for her. But then again, all the girls here wore those earthy brown-green cloaks that reached the ground, so it could have been anyone.

She narrowed her eyes. This girl might not have been the one who slipped away that night, but she was certain it had been a girl.

“Six,” she replied, her name slipping out as she lowered her head slightly in thought.

Mae regarded her with a hint of uncertainty. “Okay... How are you settling in, Six?” The sudden question caught Six off guard.

“Fine,” Six replied, her tone flat.

Mae nodded slowly, though her expression suggested she wasn’t convinced. Six couldn’t have cared less.

“Um, I was also told to bring you to meet the others. We’re all allowed to spend the day at the hot springs together,” Mae said, her smile a touch more genuine. “So, would you like to join us?”

Six narrowed her eyes. “Am I allowed to say no?”

Mae’s discomfort flared again. “I... I mean, yes, you could, but the Leader would be pretty mad—and punish us...”

Six sighed deeply, already suspecting as much.

Without a word, she approached Mae, grabbing her bag along the way. The girl quickly understood and opened the door with a polite gesture, allowing Six to step through first. Mae followed, closing the door behind them, and then led the way toward the hot springs.

Six immediately felt the urge to turn back.

The sound of girls giggling and playing in the water echoed through the massive cave, a cacophony that felt like it was drilling into her skull. Mae, beside her, had been smiling non-stop since they entered, and seemed eager to join the others frolicking in the warm water. Six stood frozen for a moment, then instinctively tried to turn around, but Mae quickly caught her, giggling at her attempt to escape and gently nudging her toward the group.

As they approached, Six’s discomfort deepened. She could see more clearly now: the other girls were completely naked, their laughter and carefree splashing contrasting sharply with her unease. She really didn’t want to be here. Mae continued to pull her along until they reached the hot spring, where the other girls had paused their games, turning curious eyes toward the newcomers.

“Everyone, this is Six. She will be staying with us for today.”

There was a moment of silence before many of the other girls offered Six smiles, a chorus of hellos and hi’s ringing out around her. Six narrowed her eyes, trying to project an air of unapproachability; she really didn’t want to be here. But then, to her dismay, it got worse.

Mae gently tugged Six’s backpack from her shoulder—despite Six’s weak attempt to resist. Before she could gather her thoughts or voice her protest, other girls swam closer, their smiles disarming yet predatory, reaching for her raincoat. Panic surged through Six, an icy wave that clenched her stomach. “Wait—wait, what are you doing?!”

They shushed her, their voices a mix of soothing tones and insistence, creating a disorienting melody. Hands moved quickly, unbuttoning her raincoat with practiced ease, slipping it from her shoulders as if it were a simple task. As they advanced to her undershirt, Six’s heart raced, discomfort spiraling into full-blown anxiety. She struggled to remain calm, her mind racing with a desperate urge to push them away, but she didn’t want to lash out—this was so unexpected, so invasive.

One girl, noticing her distress, gently pried her hand away from her chest, her grip firm yet kind as she tried to hold onto the fabric. “Relax, we’re just helping you get out of your clothes for a bath,” she said, her tone almost soothing.

Bath? Bath?! The word echoed in Six’s mind, a cold dread settling over her. She didn’t want to bathe!

She squirmed, trying to turn away, but about five girls gently restrained her, stripping her until she was completely bare. A muffled sound of discomfort and sudden shame escaped Six as their hands brushed against her skin, guiding her toward the warm, steaming water. They giggled at her shyness, some offering soothing words, though she barely registered them over the rush of her own anxiety. They didn’t relent until her first foot made contact with the water, and she let out a startled yelp at the sudden warmth, finally realizing how cold she had been.

“It’s okay. It’s just water. You poor thing must have been freezing,” one of the girls said, gently holding Six’s elbow as she guided her forward.

Six barely registered the words, her mind reeling from the sensation of the water creeping up to her lower thighs and the raw humiliation of being completely naked in front of them. The girls holding her eased down into the water alongside her, and soon they were all submerged up to their lower chests. The heat spread through Six’s body like wildfire, igniting a warmth she hadn’t realized she craved. Despite herself, she let out a contented, relaxed moan, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored the enveloping warmth. The other girls around her giggled, clearly amused by her involuntary reaction, their laughter echoing in the steamy air.