At VOID's vast headquarters, there was a room monitored every second of every minute.
Noir lay motionless, her breathing faint, the restraint around her wrists emitting a cold, sterile glow.
Lysander sat down beside the bed. He brought a warm towel, gently reaching toward the restraint—then stopped. His hand trembled, as if holding something back.
His voice was low, hoarse, as though telling a story to someone lost in sleep.
"Do you know… since the day you left, nothing in my life has held any meaning anymore?"
"They turned me into a tool. Turned me into a beast hunting you down… but in my heart, I never once saw you as an enemy."
He leaned closer, his gaze tracing Noir's face—once calm and proud, now worn down by pain.
"I hoped that if I ever found you… at least you would remember my name. But you looked at me like a stranger. You forgot… and I never did."
For a moment, Lysander let out a bitter, self-mocking smile.
"Maybe that's the punishment meant for someone like me."
He stood up, carefully pulling the blanket back over Noir, afraid she might be cold. His shadow stretched long across the floor—heavy, lonely.
In the corner, a security camera blinked silently with a red light, recording everything.
—
"NOIR!! NOIR!!"
"Do you know… since the day you left, nothing has meant anything to me anymore?"
Noir frowned slightly. That voice felt both familiar and distant, like an invisible thread pulling her toward the darkness.
"Who… are you?" Noir called out.
The tall figure ahead didn't answer, only continued speaking.
"I never once saw you as my enemy… You can forget me, but I can't forget you."
"Noir… you have to trust me. You HAVE to trust me—"
Her heart suddenly tightened, as if something was struggling to break free from a sealed layer of memory.
She was about to ask more—
When another voice cut through, sharp and clear, pulling her out of the swirl.
"Noir! Don't let them suppress you!"
"Come to me."
Specter.
That voice was steady, powerful, yet laced with anxiety—as if calling to her from an unreachable distance.
She tried to move forward, but it felt like thousands of chains bound her legs. She couldn't move.
In the distance, a solid, unwavering figure stood with arms open. Specter was waiting.
Then a half-joking, half-irritated laugh broke in.
"Damn girl! How did you even get caught like this? Whatever—hang in there. We'll drag you back ourselves, got it?"
Orion.
Noisy, flippant—but every word carried a sincerity that almost made her want to smile.
"Why is it that—"
Orion walked slowly around her, keeping some distance.
"Hey, do you know how much food's been left untouched these days without you? Still not coming back? Huh?"
The sounds shattered, dissolving into distant echoes.
A warm female voice followed, gentle like a lullaby.
"Noir… you are not a product. You are yourself. Don't ever forget that."
Ari.
Soft, embracing—like a mother's arms. She smiled kindly at Noir.
Then came an aged yet unwavering voice.
"We won't abandon you. There will be a way."
Doctor Aurel.
Calm. Certain. Like an unshakable pillar.
Noir wanted to answer—but her lips were stiff, unable to form a sound.
Moments later, sobbing filled the space—young, broken sobs. Noir slowly turned.
Kaelith.
"WHY? WHY? You helped me… you're supposed to die—don't, you have to live—nooo…"
Kaelith clutched her head, breaking down.
Noir froze, unable to think.
Then, the first voice returned—low, aching—drowning out all the others.
Noir snapped around.
Before her, scenes played like fragments of another film.
A man standing before a board covered in maps, muttering under his breath, a scar crossing his face.
"I hoped that if I ever found you… you'd remember my name. But you looked at me like a stranger. Maybe this is the punishment I deserve."
Beside that—
"Noir, you want a bitter coffee, right? I'll make it for you."
Specter at the old coffee counter, focused as he brewed.
A blade suddenly flew past—Noir dodged it effortlessly.
"Yoo, two color, this knife's not sharp enough. Pick another one."
Orion frowned.
Then countless voices and moments surrounded her.
She saw someone who looked just like herself—effortlessly killing a group of people.
Then saw that same figure standing still, watching a mother holding her child amid ruins.
Noir shuddered.
Everything overlapped—near and far—like waves crashing inside her mind.
Lysander's gentle yet painful voice.
Specter's steady tone.
Orion's teasing warmth.
Ari's softness.
The doctor's resolve.
Screams. Crying.
All of it merged into a distorted, broken symphony, pulling Noir apart between two extremes.
Her head throbbed so violently she collapsed, clutching it.
Amid the chaos, Noir's own voice whispered from somewhere within.
"Who… are you…?"
She looked up and found herself standing in an endless, boundless space.
A single tear slid down her cheek, blending into her deep sleep.
So it turned out to be just a dream, a nightmare, an omen…
But those tears were real.
That fragile body, once strong, now so painfully weak.