Just as soon as they reached the third floor and the regressor opened the door, Ativan dashed ahead.
"Eh? EH! AHHH!"
The regressor scrambled with his keys as he twisted the lock open. His screams still loud, the door swung open and he shoved himself inside, but before the regressor could close the door, Ativan shoved his foot in between.
"W-w-w-what… What Who How Why!?!"
"Woah," Ativan scoffed.
"Ah.."
And then, the regressor stopped.
His eyes widened as he took a step back.
Ativan raised his brows in confusion. His gaze fixed on the regressor that had left his defense and was crawling back on the floor with his entire being trembling in fear.
What was this?
Why, all of a sudden?
"Y-y-y-you… d-don't come closer…"
Ativan opened the door and walked closer to the regressor. It was quite strange to see him acting like this all of a sudden.
The regressor's pale hands swept up the clutter of papers and books as he looked for something to defend himself with.
Something dawned in Ativan's mind.
This guy.
He had thought of it already. He knew how to deal with the regressor, it was to plan well in advance.
The regressor must have vehemently hidden his identity. Ativan had already thought of stabbing him in that case. He would come back anyway, so there was nothing wrong.
Nothing wrong at all.
Slowly, Ativan curved his eyes in a small smile and crouched in front of the regressor. His hand reached out toward his cheeks.
The regressor trembled and winced, but Ativan gently touched his face.
A soft, comforting voice came out.
"Do you believe me now? I told you, I know you are a regressor…"
"N-no… no…. You are…"
It was quite annoying that the regressor couldn't speak well. Something must have happened in the three months from now since the regressor in the novel was quite sturdy in his stance. Even if he was scared, he could pretend.
This one was just annoying.
But that was fine. Ativan needed him.
To know of all threats, to save him from all threats. Not once, not twice, the regressor could die over and over no matter how far back, and he could use that very regressor to save his life.
He could hold in his annoyance.
His voice nigh a whisper, Ativan continued.
"There's someone out there, who wants to kill you."
The regressor stiffened.
"You dislike it, right? The pain of death?"
How wouldn't he? Ativan couldn't forget the sensation of the truck smashing into his body.
How would anyone like such pain? Not knowing that it was just the first time the regressor had experienced death, Ativan's words ended up being much more impactful than he would have guessed.
"I'll make sure you never feel it again."
If he could keep him safe, then Ativan would gladly save the regressor in turn. He had to make the regressor rely on him.
"I'll keep you safe."
The regressor's trembling stopped as strength left his body.
Whether it was his wimpy personality or the achievements he should have raked in by pure luck, Ativan could bring it all around. In a different way from the novel. In a way that he would live.
Ativan could fix it all.
As long as he had the regressor in his palms, there was little to worry about in this world.
"Put your faith in me, regressor."
A streak of tears ran down the regressor's eyes, falling off his chin.
Ativan neatly wiped it off before it could touch the ground.
Annoying.
He was still annoying.
One more. Just one more push.
Slowly, Ativan raised his hands.
"Haah," a tired sigh left his lips.
His fingers underneath their black gloves quivered as he brought his hand close to the regressor's neck.
And gently wrapped it around him.
Like a spider building up its nest, covering every inch, every corner in its webs, Ativan's hands coiled around the regressor's neck.
And as if a butterfly had been caught.
The web trapped it within.
Ativan poured his strength into his hand, tightening his grip around the regressor's neck.
"Gah!" The regressor choked.
The spider neared its prey. Its jaws loomed over the butterfly's heart.
"Where… is your answer?"
"Y…yes… Gah… I'll do… it…"
"Do what?"
"Ah…"
The spider bit.
"I'll… trust you…"
And the butterfly's wings fell to the ground.
Ativan's grip loosened.
He raised his hand and stroked the regressor's long hair.
"Good job," he said as the regressor's silent tears continued pouring out.
In the small room with no other sounds, a black cat mewled.