Xue turned his back to Alissa and Seraphina, his expression unreadable as he walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?" Alissa asked, her voice laced with frustration and concern.
He paused, his hand resting on the doorframe, but didn't look back. "Somewhere," he said quietly, "where I can find a little comfort."
Alissa took a step forward, but Seraphina stopped her, shaking her head. Both watched as Xue opened the door and stepped out, his figure slowly disappearing into the dim corridor.
All they could see was his back—a sad silhouette etched with the weight of countless tragedies. A back that carried the burden of their losses, of his decisions, and the silent misery he refused to share with anyone.
The door closed softly behind him, leaving the room heavy with an unspoken grief. Alissa's wings drooped as she let out a shaky breath. "He's drowning, and he won't let us help him."
Seraphina's voice was barely above a whisper. "He's trying to protect us. But he doesn't realize how much it hurts to see him like this."
Silence filled the room as the two stood there, staring at the door, hoping against hope that he might come back. But deep down, they knew this was something Xue had to face on his own.
And as his steps faded into the distance, so did their chance to reach him—for now.
Xue was to tired from what had happened and wanted to forget for it for a while. He went to a place which was built by Elysia and used to visit it together with her.
As the orphanage came into view, a modest building surrounded by the sound of children's laughter. Xue paused for a moment at the gate, watching the little ones play in the yard. The innocence of their smiles clashed violently with the heaviness in his heart.
"Brother Xue! Brother Xueee!"
The children spotted him and ran toward him, their joy piercing the grim solitude he carried. Their small hands tugged at his cloak, their faces lit with unbridled happiness.
"Brother Xue, you came back! Did you bring us stories? Did you bring Elysia too?"
He tried to smile, for their sake. But no matter how much he tried to force it, his lips wouldn't curve the way they used to. Instead, he crouched down and ruffled the hair of the nearest child, his voice soft. "I missed all of you. How have you been?"
The children eagerly chattered about their adventures—climbing trees, painting walls, playing heroes. Xue nodded along, his heart momentarily lifted by their enthusiasm.
Then a small girl, barely five, tugged at his sleeve, her wide eyes staring up at him. "Brother Xue, where's Sister Elysia?"
Xue froze. The question hit him like a blade, sharp and unyielding. For a moment, he couldn't breathe. It felt as if something clenched his heart, and his throat tightened as he struggled to find the words.
"She..." He swallowed hard, his voice barely audible. "She's resting. In a faraway land. Far from burden, far from pain."
The girl tilted her head. "When will she be back?"
Xue's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms as he forced himself to maintain a gentle expression. His voice wavered, but he managed a light smile. "I don't know. Maybe someday."
As the words left his lips, a single tear escaped, trailing down his face. He quickly turned his head, but before the children could notice, the sky opened up, rain pouring down in thick, heavy sheets.
"Rain!" the children cried, running back toward the safety of the orphanage.
Xue stood there, unmoving, letting the rain soak him to the bone. His tear blended with the raindrops, invisible to the world. He had come here seeking solace, hoping the laughter of the children would lighten his burden.
But all he found was the crushing realization of how much he had lost.
Without another word, he turned and walked away. The rain drowned out the sound of his footsteps, but in his heart, the echoes of the children's voices—especially that one question—lingered.
As he walked toward his empty home, his head bowed under the downpour, he carried with him the weight of a grief that no amount of rain could ever wash away.