Late at night.
The mansion’s hallways were hushed and still. The lights had been extinguished, leaving only the faint, ghostly whisper of the wind to break the silence. Through the shadows, a single girl moved without a sound.
It was Yuka.
There was no hesitation in her step, her pace steady and deliberate. She had only one destination in mind.
She stopped before his door. She didn’t bother to knock; she simply opened it with practiced silence.
Inside the room, Luka lay asleep. His breathing was rhythmic, his expression peaceful—the face of someone blissfully unaware of the world's weight.
Yuka remained motionless for a long time, simply watching him.
"..."
She took a single step closer, moving to the side of the bed where she always stood. She slowly reached out, her fingertips brushing against Luka’s cheek.
"...You're alive," she murmured softly.
It was an obvious truth, yet she felt the need to confirm it.
"...Truly," she whispered, her fingers pressing slightly firmer against his skin. "I am so... truly glad."
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the edge of the bed as she looked down. Her shoulders trembled ever so slightly.
"..."
The memories returned to her. The moment they fell from the tower. The sensation of him grabbing her arm. The fleeting instant she realized she might die.
Even so, there had been no hesitation.
"...If it is what Lord Luka desires," she whispered under her breath, "I am willing to fall anywhere with you."
She raised her head. Her eyes held their usual vacant, inorganic stare, yet deep within those amethyst depths, something thick and murky was swirling.
"However," she said, her fingertips slowly tracing a path toward his throat. She held them at a distance where she was barely touching him. "...Next time, I will process the threat before you can ever put yourself in danger."
Her voice was flat, seemingly devoid of emotion. But in truth, her heart had completely diverged from the path of reason.
"I must eliminate every danger. Before they can even touch Lord Luka. This person... this person alone must never be defiled."
A quiet, chilling killing intent radiated from her. It had already far exceeded the bounds of mere protection.
"..."
Yuka looked down at her own hand. With this hand, she had incinerated Dia, leaving nothing but ash.
"..."
Slowly, she placed that hand over Luka’s.
"...Even if I am defiled," she breathed, "will you still keep me by your side?"
There was no reply, but Yuka nodded as if he had spoken.
"Yes."
She convinced herself of the answer. She knew Luka better than anyone, and that knowledge gave her a distorted sense of confidence. She gently squeezed his hand.
"...I won't let go of you anymore," she said, this time with absolute clarity. "Never again. Never."
She sat back in the chair, refusing to break the connection. She brought his hand to her cheek, cradling it there.
"I love you, Lord Luka."
She intended to stay there all night. Without so much as closing her eyes, she simply watched over him—her pure, undefiled master.
In a guest room within the Gladio mansion, moonlight filtered through the window.
Elysia stood by the glass, peering through a gap in the curtains. She stared toward the horizon where the clock tower had once stood. Now, there was nothing but an empty skyline.
"..."
She exhaled a quiet breath. When she pressed a hand to her chest, she found her heart was still racing.
"...Pathetic," she whispered.
In that moment at the tower, when Luka had leapt into the void, her mind had simply stopped.
"...My judgment was too slow."
If she had been faster, if she had been better, she might have found a more optimal solution. She might have been able to stop him.
"...I was saved by him again."
She tightened her grip on her skirts, her knuckles turning white. She felt a wave of frustration, but beneath that...
"...I was terrified," she confessed.
The words surprised even her, but she couldn't deny them.
"The thought of losing Luka-kun..."
In reality, even if they had fallen, someone of Elysia’s or Yuka’s caliber could have navigated the situation. But Luka was different. When it came to him, her usual composure vanished.
"...Like that."
She closed her eyes. She remembered the warmth she felt in the split second they were falling, and she hated the certain emotion that warmth stirred within her.
"..."
She slowly opened her eyes, her gaze now harboring a cold, sharp light.
"...I have to pull myself together," she murmured.
This emotion shouldn't exist. It was dangerous.
"Even though Luka-kun is so weak and fragile..."
She felt a surge of resolve, yet something else was overflowing from within her—something dark and sweet.
"It’s Luka-kun’s fault for protecting me."
No matter how many times she told him not to be reckless, he never listened. And yet, the fact that her beloved would risk his life for her sake felt so... incredibly pleasant.
"Even though I don't want him to be in danger..."
'Elysia!'
She didn't recognize this version of herself. It was almost laughable.
"If Luka-kun feels he has to protect me because I lack strength, then I must compensate for it. Otherwise, he'll do something reckless again..."
She wanted to crush the part of herself that thought his recklessness was okay as long as it was for her. She turned her gaze back to the window. The Royal Capital at night had not yet fully recovered from the chaos.
"...I've decided to protect him."
She clenched her fist with newfound intensity.
"Luka-kun belongs to me, so I will..."
She paused and let out a soft sigh. Then, her expression softened ever so slightly.
"...But, I really do want to be hugged like that again."
It was a voice she would never allow anyone else to hear. She sat down in the chair, her mind already wandering to the next day.
"...I'll go to see you again tomorrow."
Having survived the battlefield, the release of tension allowed a strange, melting obsession to dye her soul. A faint smile played on her lips as she whispered to the empty room.
"I’ve gone a bit crazy, haven't I, Luka-kun?"
A quiet, dissolving emotion overflowed within her.
On that same night, their respective emotions and resolutions took root. Different forms of a suffocating "weight" began to pile up in the silence. No one yet realized just how far those feelings would lead them.