After retrieving all the documents from FUN and Underworld, the organization realized that the energy used by the heretic for his suicidal mission came from a strange black material, but the energy inside it had long since cooled down. That evening, the entire Frost Wisp organization celebrated their victory, having ended Underworld for the second time after the "Change The World" event. Free and VIII, upon returning, received a "free massage" from the Weavers. If it weren't for Shird explaining, Free might have died from the fury of those idiots. As for Thous, he explained that Free had always been a part of Frost Wisp, and somehow FUN had sent Free a message about a "Good Time," hoping that Free might betray the Outer Party and return to the underground world once again. Thous declared it was a good opportunity and asked Free to act as a double agent, though he didn't reveal his purpose.
During the feast, Mobius quickly collapsed due to her weak alcohol tolerance, despite arrogantly claiming to be a heavy drinker. Meanwhile, Neo, of course, was handling the singing duties at the party.
"Hey Free, where are Set, Shird, and Mao?"
"They went out to have a private party."
"Huh?"
At this moment, at a festival heavily influenced by the second most popular culture in the world, "Japan," Shird and Mao were both wearing Yukatas, because wearing one at this event would give them a 10% discount on all items.
"Munch ~"
"..."
Mao was emptying Shird's wallet to buy various foods, mesmerized by a chicken ball filled with melted cheese that seemed to melt in her mouth, making her unable to stop eating. As for Shird... who would be happy being drained of their money like this?
"... Are you satisfied yet...?"
At that moment, Shird felt like a boxer who had lost a match, his body weary and sore as he watched his money disappear into the mouth of that mischievous cat.
"Alright, alright ~"
Seeing Shird's pitiful state, Mao laughed, and they both left the festival. The night wasn't over yet, and they were now strolling around the outskirts of the city. Away from the bright streetlights in the center, it was dark here, but strangely warm and comforting.
"So, Shird, do you have anything to say?"
"Experiment subject E412, what do you think of your own existence?"
"...Back when I worked for SAD, Scar always kept an eye on me and supported me when I needed it, even when someone important to me died, he was the only one who came with me to their funeral."
"Do you have feelings for him?"
"You're using a cute word ~"
After that, Mao clenched her hands, trembling. Shird placed a hand on her shoulder, wanting to comfort her, but she seemed to be frightened and brushed him off.
"If 'having feelings' means I'm impressed by his actions, then yes. But if 'having feelings' means giving him my entire emotional response and moving towards love, then no."
"Why?"
"Because I was never in his eyes."
"What?"
"There's no one. The only thing that always exists in Scar's eyes is darkness. He's satisfied with the sins and deaths I cause simply because he's obsessed with the desire for death." "Obsessed with death, but too cowardly to do it himself. What a pathetic man." "...Do you think so, Shird?" "Death is a cycle, and the body is the vessel. He satisfies his desire by breaking other 'vessels,' but he won't break his own. He truly is a tragic man."
They both fell silent after those words. Mao bit her lip, trembling, almost about to cry. Shird stood by her side, but he couldn't do anything. After all, they were so different, weren't they?
"But anyway, it's all over now. Everything has been resolved, but… I haven't moved forward at all."
Mao stopped trembling and turned to face Shird, their gazes locking. Her eyes seemed to burn with the justice in her heart.
"When I interrogated the information, I found out that FUN had planned to kill me as soon as they captured me, and the only reason I had a chance to survive was because Scar helped me."
"Why are you bringing this up now?"
"You know the answer."
Mao approached Shird, gently lifting her hand to stroke his soft, warm cheek with an oddly tender expression. Perhaps the cat wasn't pretending anymore. Running away had only led to despair. No matter how harsh the truth might be, she had to face it.
"In this world, choosing someone to trust is never easy, so I have this gift for you, but you have to promise me that you'll never trust anyone easily."
Shird, with eyes as dark as nothingness, gently removed Mao's hand from his cheek.
"Don't worry, I've never trusted anyone before."
Perhaps this was the moment when the night truly ended. They let go of each other's hands and went their separate ways.
"Why are you bringing that up now?"
That question echoed in Mao's mind. She clutched her necklace and looked up at the stars. The dim lights of the outskirts still surrounded her, but she was the only one illuminated.
...Not because of me, but because of you... My life has always been full of suffering and darkness. Even though I've found a new light and made up my mind, I'm not sure I can keep it burning forever. But you, on the other hand, have friends who are always there for you, you've found your other half. So...
The dim lights flickered out in the night, leaving only the cat calmly sitting under the stars.
"If you think what's in front of you is not 'real,' then that is the truth."
A soft voice, like the sound of a stream, echoed in Mao's ears. Ha, why was she thinking about it now? Mao chuckled to herself.
...
And what about that figure? He walked slowly, heading towards the base. There was no way to describe his face now. Shird, were you panicking like the waves at the shore every morning, or were you calm like the stillness of a monk?
"Ah..."
Shird kept walking, slowly but steadily, even as he fell to the wet ground, even as the rose thorn cut his hand. He didn't stop. No, perhaps it wasn't that he wouldn't stop—it was that he couldn't.
"It can't be like this..."
He slammed his head into a utility pole. There was no one around. He wished someone would mock him, then they could all laugh. Someone would take a picture and post it on social media, saying that even a Weaver could be clumsy enough to crash into a pole. He wished for that, longed for it, but why was there no one here?
"..."
... Don't trust anyone too easily.
That phrase from the cat kept swirling in his mind. He even remembered that she had smiled when she said it. It was a truly serene smile, a smile of release. The "gun" was gone, only the "cat" remained. E412 was no more, just "Mao."
"What is so funny... what is so funny, you damn bitch!"
He punched the utility pole with all his might, and Shird noticed that people were starting to pay attention to the noise. It dawned on him that it was already late at night. He hurriedly moved back to the base, thinking how strange it was—at one point, he wanted attention, and now he was running away from it. Was he going crazy?
No... Everyone had been crazy for a long time.
"Ha... ha..."
He sighed with relief when he finally returned to his familiar room, drenched in sweat. He quickly glanced at his desk—drafts and documents, all processed, everything still as neat as it had been. Reflecting on it, he remembered how every morning, Yu used to play around in his room. Now, it was so empty. His heart felt like it was drifting between illusion and reality. What was he supposed to do to find peace?
Suddenly, he remembered the piece of paper Mao had given him. Shird hurriedly searched through his coat pocket and found the crumpled paper, which had been that way for some time. Whether he had done it or if it was the feline woman, perhaps everyone already knew.
"Dear Shird,"
That was the only readable line on the paper, followed by a jumble of illegible characters that even a history expert like Shird couldn't decipher. He put the paper back in the drawer, then sat absentmindedly in front of the mirror, staring at "himself."
"No compassion... no joy, no sorrow... nothing..."
Shird remained silent like that. His face began to change, although it wasn't real—it came from a place far deeper than the room he was in... much, much deeper. It completely transformed into blackness, no longer beautiful, no longer alive. The only remaining "form" was a pair of large white eyes, wide open, unable to close.
"Sorry, Mao... I can't love humans..."