Agung walked over to the counter, gathering the empty bowl and the remaining utensils. He wiped down the section of the counter where Mami had stood, his movements slow and reflective. The comforting, fleeting warmth of her gratitude still lingered in the air, a phantom pressure against his chest.
He directed his thoughts toward the invisible, listening Djin.
"You know," Agung murmured, his voice heavy with the residual sadness of the encounter. "I... I tried my best not to cry upon seeing her. That girl's fate is horrifying. Her entire existence is a cosmic joke, a brutal paradox. She is the definition of a sacrificial lamb."
The Chef vs. The Djin
The Djin's mental presence bristled, responding with its usual cold, detached amusement.
"Emotions, mortal. They are so inconvenient. That pity is merely static, chef. It achieves nothing. You are meant to observe and facilitate, not weep over the mechanics of another dimension's entropy."
Agung set the bowl down with a sharp clink that echoed the sudden spike of his own resolve. He drew a deep breath, grounding himself in the reality of his own core beliefs—the very things that made him a functional counselor and not just a server.
"I can't," Agung thought, sending the message back with quiet steel. "If I discard my feeling, I'll lose my core. I'll become as detached as you are. Then I can't feed them, and I can't help them. I'll just be another cold entity in their painful lives."
He paused, stacking the dishes. He focused his mind on the only true, horrifying solution to the Magical Girl dilemma, the one that lay beyond the reach of the girls themselves.
"The only way to truly end their suffering—the constant threat of despair and Witchdom—is by killing that damned fox, Kyubey."
"But the girls can't do that, can they? Their very power is tied to him. He is the source of their magic and their damnation. It's the perfect trap. A brilliant, horrific system designed to harvest energy without fail."
Agung shook his head, looking at the silent spot where Mami had stood. "Even Madoka's sacrifice... becoming a concept, absorbing the despair... it didn't really change everything, did it? It just changed the form of the Witch. The despair still exists, the threat still looms. Mami still turns to a monster if she falters. The price remains eternal."
He had analyzed the source material; he knew the fundamental flaw of the system remained. His work, his food, his counsel—it was just a temporary bandage on a cosmic wound.
"Indeed," the Djin conceded, a rare hint of interest in its tone. "A tragedy of exquisite design. Your pitiful efforts are only prolonging the inevitable. A fascinating, drawn-out piece of drama."
Agung ignored the condescension. He finished cleaning the last of Mami's crumbs and reset the table. The night was still young, and the multiverse was vast. He waited for the next chime, the next crack in reality that would bring him another weary soul.
Service Tally: 2.