The smoke thinned, slowly.

  And with it,

  the surge of emotion that had carried us moments ago

  faded as well.

  Even so,

  we didn’t move.

  I was still holding his hand.

  And he wasn’t letting go of mine.

  Between us

  lay the body of the man who had protected us for seventeen years.

  A man who carried a secret alone.

  Who endured blows and silence and suspicion

  without ever choosing betrayal.

  A man who, until the very end,

  looked straight into my eyes.

  Now, there was nothing left but

  a body.

  His eyes were half-open.

  On his face—

  a peace so still

  it hurt to look at.

  I reached out.

  I meant to close his eyelids.

  But…

  I couldn’t.

  Not because I feared him.

  But because accepting it

  was too painful.

  Beside me, Ren lowered his head.

  Deeper,

  until his forehead nearly touched the ground.

  His shoulders trembled.

  I didn’t know if it was anger,

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  or sorrow,

  or both.

  Then I heard his voice—

  a thin thread,

  fractured from within.

  「…grandpa…」

  It wasn’t a scream.

  It wasn’t a sob.

  It was a word breaking apart.

  I said nothing.

  I didn’t comfort him.

  I didn’t speak empty lines.

  I didn’t try to soften what couldn’t be softened.

  I just held his hand tighter.

  And with my other hand,

  touched his back gently.

  Then,

  with a whisper that barely reached the air,

  I said:

  「Sera.」

  My name.

  The moment it left my lips,

  I felt foolish.

  Introducing myself…

  here?

  now?

  But the truth was—

  we had never exchanged names.

  Not once.

  I didn’t know what else to say.

  Or if there was anything.

  But at least—

  this much—

  I wanted him to have:

  the certainty that I was here.

  That he wasn’t alone.

  He lifted his face.

  There were traces of tears,

  but no new ones falling.

  I said nothing more.

  Just my name.

  Because it was all I had to give him.

  The only thing I could do

  to keep him from being alone in that moment.

  The air still quivered—

  faintly.

  Not because of magic.

  But because of what we had unleashed.

  What we had lost.

  And what, without meaning to,

  we had begun.

  That reverberation lingered.

  There was no turning back.

  Not anymore.