AT 09:03 THE FOLLOWING DAY, the same infuriating nonsense sprawled through the static on the car radio.

"THESE SEPARATE DEATHS OF TWO YOUTHS HAVE SHAKEN THE PUBLIC AS OF LATE. THE OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM THE POLICE DEPARTMENT CONCLUDES THAT THE VICTIMS' DEATHS WERE CAUSED BY A TRAUMATIC BLOW TO THE BACKS OF THEIR HEADS. WHILE A QUESTION OF 'WHY' STILL LINGERS IN THE PEOPLE'S MINDS, AS FAR AS THE POLICE ARE CONCERNED, THE CASE IS CLOSED."

Ray clutched the steering wheel tightly. "I can't believe they can just brush off Thoma and Monica's deaths like that."

We were always keeping track of the investigation, no one more so than Ray, as if he was expecting something good to come of it. But each time, we were left more heartbroken than the last.

"We'll never forget," I whispered, looking at the bouquet in my hands—chrysanthemums seemed befitting and lilies had always been a favourite of mine. "The world may forget, but we'll always remember them."

We climbed out of the car that had once belonged to Thoma and the air smelled strangely of summer rain, yet, the breeze carried a chill, a reminder that we remained in midwinter. Ray arrived at my side and I handed him the flowers. As we made our way onto the grass, the cold nipped at the skin beneath my socks even though they were pulled up to my knees. I tried to ignore it. Besides, no weather could keep us away.

"Hey, it's been a while." Ray set the bouquet down gently upon Thoma's grave. "Ziya's here, too."

The plaque was modest and the first time I saw it, I thought it was almost too simple for Thoma, but in time, I came to appreciate it.

"Hey, Thoma." The breeze blew gently, caressing my cheeks. It feels like you're here. I liked to believe that he was somehow.

Ray didn't say anything for a while, but I knew, in his heart, he was praying. His shoulders twitched and I reached for him, wrapping my hands around his waist.

"Ray..." I pressed my cheek against his back, tightening my hold on him.

"Heh. Don't worry. I'm fine." I rubbed my face against his back and he scoffed. "Stop that. That tickles, you know."

I could hear the smile in his voice so I let go. When he finally faced me, Ray was shining in the sunset, eyes wet with the tears he couldn't brush away.

Thoma, can you hear me? I promise you, once again...

Ray set his hand down on my head, gently ruffling my hair. "Thanks, Ziya. Let's go home."

I'll take care of Ray. No matter what lies ahead, I will never leave his side.

"Okay."

Because I love him.

Before we left, I observed the grave one last time. I could almost feel Thoma waving back at me. The thought brought tears to my eyes, but when one fell upon my cheek, I made sure Ray could not see it. He didn't need to.

I'm so sorry, Thoma. I wish you were still here.

From the cemetery, Ray was to drive me home, as had been the custom every other Sunday since the funeral. Licht had been in the hospital at the time, but the rest of us had attended by the grace of Thoma's parents and despite how painful the circumstances, we were thankful they allowed us to stay.

I remembered how tightly Ray had clutched my hand in an effort to compose himself—it had started to go numb, but I couldn't pull away. Subaru had tried his best to maintain that fortified expression of his, but...

We all cried.

The ceremony had been beautiful. We learned more about Thoma, like how he used to ride motorbikes with his dad on weekends and how his mom would help him sew the holes in his clothes after a bad fall. Or that despite his carefree demeanour, he was an A-student and put extra care into everything he did. He was really passionate about science. Most of all, he liked making people smile. But we already knew that.

These visits always made me wonder about Monica's funeral, too; we had been so caught up in trying to figure out the nightmare world that we couldn't be there for her burial. Did she have a lot of family and friends there? What words did they have for her before they laid her to rest?

"Ziya?" Ray's voice snapped me back to the present.

We had parked outside the apartment.

"Right, I should go." He's been waiting for me to leave the car. How long was I daydreaming for?

However, when I reached for the door, Ray took my wrist. His grip was strong but careful as it shifted slightly lower so that we almost held hands.

"Ray?" My heart was pounding.

"Sorry, I just..." he trailed off, retracting his hand. "I just wanted to ask where you went just now, in your head."

"Oh." I blushed, wanting to take his hand back, but something stopped me. "I was thinking about Monica, how we couldn't be at her funeral. But I guess, we would have been like intruders, wouldn't we? We don't know her family or her friends, and considering that she wasn't buried at the same cemetery Thoma was, I know that it's not as easy to visit her grave. I just... I feel bad about it sometimes. I even wonder how her boyfriend is coping with it all."

Anna and I had looked at his social media again the other day. Nothing new had been posted since Monica's passing, but when you scrolled through his feed, at least every second picture was one of them together. They looked so happy, like that us-against-the-world kind of duo.

Ray leisurely set his gaze on me and for a moment I didn't think I could speak, but one of us had to. "A-Anyway, um, how are you? It's been a while since I really asked, and—well, I guess I should still ask."

"I'm fine, Ziya..." His hand came to my cheek and settled there, his fingertips remarkably warm upon my skin. "Thank you for asking, and for coming with me today."

"O-Of course. Thoma meant a lot to me, too. And you know I'm always going to be here for you, Ray, so don't sound so surprised," I giggled, hoping to bring some cheer to the mood, but Ray's serious expression told me that he would be holding onto the sincerity of my words.

His hand didn't move; I was kept there by his touch as well as his gaze, which no longer restricted itself to my eyes but roamed all over my face. It made me nervous, but... I didn't want him to stop looking at me. I sensed his thumb tenderly brush over my cheek before meeting my bottom lip, settling there like that was its sleeping place.

"Ray..." Suddenly, I was intensely aware of how my mouth curled around his name. It was something like a kiss.

With a hard gulp, Ray took his attention away from my lips and turned it to my cheek. He moved closer, slowly, and planted a kiss there instead.

"That's where my scar should have been," I said quietly.

Ray eased back, a knowing look in his eyes. "Do you still feel it?"

"Sometimes."

As it turned out, our battle scars stayed in the nightmare realm, but there were remnants, tingles under the skin. It was a scary reminder of what we had been through, but I was grateful for it, too. I considered it a mark of bravery, or something.

"Well," smiled Ray, ruffling my hair up a little, "you're the bravest person I know, Ziya."

At this point, my cheeks felt like they were on fire. I thought about that moment we shared when he could not find the bandages to tend to my scar.

"I'm not a kid, you know," I mimicked him and took his hand off my head, holding it in front of me.

"Ah..." Seemingly embarrassed, Ray turned to look away. "I know you're not a kid. That's not why I—" he stopped himself. "You should go before Licht gets worried."

Feeling a sudden shift in his mood, I released his hand and it immediately took to the steering wheel. I wanted to ask him what he had been about to say, but once again, something within me resisted.

"Okay. See you..."

I stepped out of the car, heavy with disappointment. Maybe I was not so brave after all. If I was, I would have been honest with Ray about how I felt.

"Ziya?"

I peeped through the window. "Yes?"

"We'll go to Monica's grave next time, okay?"

He tried a smile and I smiled back, though mine wasn't much stronger.

"Thanks, Ray." Did I say something wrong?

The car pulled off into the street as I made my way up to the apartment. What was all that? It's not fair; he says he can read me so easily, but lately, I'm struggling to figure him out. Is he upset with me? Frustrated, I fumbled with my set of keys for a second before unlocking the door. Maybe I'm just overthinking it.

Licht appeared from the direction of the kitchen with oven mitts at the ends of his extended arms. "You're home!"

I shut the door smiled and hugged him warmly, suddenly feeling better.

"I've barely been gone for an hour. But I see that's more than enough time for you to get up to no good!" I teased, nodding towards the floral print oven mitts.

"Haha. I'm baking the tilopia we bought."

I hung my handbag on the coat rack, removed my shoes, and followed Licht back into the kitchen.

"Tilapia?"

"Yes, right! Um, would you mind helping me?" he asked. There was little he could do to hide the blush in his cheeks.

"Sure, I'd love to!"

"Good!" he sighed in relief. "If this goes well, I want to make it again next weekend and invite Ray and Subaru over to try it."

Licht... I smiled up at him, overjoyed by his kind-hearted gesture. "I think that's a perfect idea!"

It saddened me that he hadn't joined us at the cemetery. He'd say that because of his initial absences, it didn't feel right for him to start coming along now, that he felt he was encroaching on our time, but I believed it was because he still felt guilty about Thoma and Monica's passing. Meanwhile, Subaru had been studying for exams so Ray and I tried not to trouble him too much about it.

It felt like forever since the four of us had been in the same room. Returning to reality was nothing short of a miracle, but sometimes, night would come and I would hope to see everyone again. However, it was only me. As horrific as the nightmare world had been, the best part was that we had been together. Even when I dreamed about them, it could never be as real as the nightmares. It was somewhat ironic; peaceful sleep was hardly peaceful anymore. Was I going crazy?

On the bright side, I had Licht. To watch him experience the world again had easily become my new favourite thing. Whatever I couldn't teach him myself, he would make a point of learning on his own. Cooking, for example, was one of his newfound fortes.

"That looks right, doesn't it?" Licht held the oven door open and scrutinised the dish intently.

Scents of garlic butter, lemon, and basil engulfed the room. At first, I thought the divine smells were the reason Licht was tearing up, but when he flinched, I realised that it was more like he'd been standing too close to the oven and the steam had wafted into his eyes.

"Licht!" I gasped sympathetically before rushing to fetch his facecloth from the bathroom.

After running the cloth under cool water, I promptly returned. While Licht had managed to take the tray out and set it atop the stove without disaster, his eyes had scarcely recovered.

"Here."

I dabbed the cloth on his eyelids, one at a time.

"Thanks, Z. See, this is why I need your help," he chuckled lightly. "I'm okay, though."

"Let me see." I removed the cloth and he carefully opened his eyes for assessment. "Hm. Yup, you'll survive!"

"Good to know," Licht spoke lowly, but we were close enough that I could hear him.

A moment passed and he hadn't moved away. When I tried to take the first step, I reared into the counter, having misjudged the distance, and Licht followed me like it was nothing. He placed his hands on the countertop, trapping me between his arms, and I accidentally dropped the facecloth onto the floor. I motioned to pick it up, but I couldn't, not like this. I couldn't move without bumping into him.

"Hey, Ziya?"

"Y-Yeah?" I gulped. I could feel his breath on the tip of my nose. What is he doing?

Licht blushed, taking his time before talking again. "I know that the real reason you asked to be friends isn't because you're afraid of moving too fast. And it's really okay because I know that you care for me in your own way. I know it because you're here with me and you fought so hard to help break me from my coma. Every day, I think about how much you cried when I finally came to. I think about my promise to never leave your side."

His eyes were pinched shut as he forced a smile. I watched his lashes closely, lured by the sense that he was holding back tears. I was afraid to know where this was going.

"So, I hope that you still feel the same. It may be selfish to ask, but I really want to remain as we are now, even though you're in love with someone else."

However relieved I felt by his words, they hit like an arrow through my chest.

"Licht... I'm so sorry. I should've been upfront about my feelings, but I didn't want to hurt you. I want to always be there for you, Subaru, and Ray. You're each important to me." I bowed my head as a tear dripped off my cheek. "If you'll forgive me, then I'd like to stay how we are, too."

Licht chuckled, a sparse sound filled with delight and aching. "I should be asking you for forgiveness."

"What, why? You've done nothing wrong."

He sighed, "Well, I may have lost thirteen years between my childhood and now, but you didn't. You grew up and became your own person without me. It's unrealistic to expect you to feel the way you did when we were kids, I couldn't ask you to love me in that way. Especially when those feelings were suppressed for so long."

Though it pained me to admit it, I immediately understood what he meant. With my regained memories, my feelings for Licht were stronger than ever, but I had developed new feelings for Ray and Subaru as well. What we'd gone through and the bonds we'd created were irreplaceable and invaluable. Because of this, I was not the girl Licht had fallen for all those years ago; I wasn't even the same girl I had been two months ago. But Licht was as he had always been, kind and trusting and willing to put himself in harm's way for the well-being of others. How could I not love an angel?

"Licht..."

I brought myself up onto my tiptoes, a risky move that pushed me even closer to him until our bodies pressed together, but I didn't back down. With one hand on his shoulder and one on his other cheek, I steadied myself and kissed the cheek I could reach. His skin was hot against my lips, as his blush had not yet dispersed. I lingered there for a second longer before flattening my feet, now only a hair's breadth away as Licht's hand had come to rest on my waist.

I will always love you, Licht. I wanted to say the words aloud, but before I knew it, he was kissing me. Why did I not fight it? Instead, I relished it. He tasted mildly of the pancakes and strawberries from breakfast.

"Sorry, it's been a while since we did that. I couldn't help myself."

Right, we haven't kissed since he got his memories back. "I-It's okay." I never realised how much I missed it... What does that say about me?

Licht took a generous step back. "I hope you're as hungry as I am."

"Always!" I felt madly hot all of a sudden but tried not to think about it and fetched the dinner plates instead. "It looks wonderful, Licht. Thank you."

Later that evening, when we had cleared our plates and had our baths, Licht brought out Silas's journal. He seemed even more apprehensive about it than he had the night before, so I touched the tops of his hands reassuringly before taking the book from him. We got as comfortable as we could on the couch while I turned to the last page we had visited.

"With the possibility of government funding, we'll finally be able to proceed with the experiment. It couldn't come sooner. We had a new arrival today. Her name is Monica..." I froze, yet my body was stifling with dread. I looked at Licht. "Should I go on?"

"I'm ready when you are. But if you want to stop..." He took my hand, sensing what I was feeling. My heart was on a rampage.

"No. We agreed to do this together." With my hand in his, I decided to be brave. "Her name is Monica."

Having accepted Monica's memories ourselves, we knew most of what came next. That didn't mean it was any easier to swallow.

"Monica's mother dropped her off in person. I can never decide which is worse: coming across an abandoned child and having to face the one abandoning them. She did very little to explain why she couldn't take care of her daughter, only that it was too hard. She was crying so horribly—it was impossible to keep up with what she was saying, let alone get a word in myself. And then, she left just like that. Monica must think she's still coming back. She keeps saying that her mother brought her here for a sleepover and that's why she has her suitcase and her dolls...

"It's been two days now since Monica's arrival. We've been doing our best to keep tabs on her, Licht included, but she's speaking less and less as the days go on. It's as though she's coming to understand her circumstances."

I paused for a moment when a tear fell upon the page. I hadn't even realised I was crying. I wiped my cheek and sucked in a breath before I read on.

"She doesn't like calling me Father either, says I'm a brute and that her dad was a loving man who brought her clothes and toys from all over the world. Despite my many attempts to approach her with more kindness, she shies away and continues to play with her dolls. They appear to be an escape for her. She sleeps—and plays with her dolls—and eats—and plays with her dolls. But it's good that she's eating. Last night, at dinner, I caught her saying that Mommy never let her eat as much as she does here."

"That's right. Her father passed away and her mother took it so hard that she stopped paying attention to Monica's health as well as her own." Licht bit his lip. "I remember how frail Monica was when she came to Bluebells."

"She'd been neglected. Her mother starved her." I know this, and yet it still hurts so much. "It's no wonder she couldn't accept it on her own. I doubt I could have."

"Hey, Ziya, I think we've read enough for one night."

"Mm, you're probably right."

Looking down at the page, it seemed like we had made no progress at all, but Licht and I consistently reminded each other not to push ourselves too far. I closed the book and let it sit on my lap as the words I had read replayed in my mind.

Saying goodnight with half-hearted smiles, we then dragged ourselves back to our separate rooms. I hardly expected to sleep well after that, but when I closed my eyes that night, I went someplace else. When my eyes reopened, I sensed I was no longer in my and Licht's apartment. However, the bed I was in... felt like it belonged to me, perhaps in another lifetime.

I got up and walked out into the hallway. Hallway? Is this..? Wall sconces lit my path. It's all so large. I looked at my hands to confirm my prediction; I was my childhood self. My subconscious, like a second personality, was screaming in absolute fear that I was somehow back in the nightmare world alone while my body continued to walk, fearing only the dense halls of Bluebells at night and the distance to the bathroom.

On my way back, I came across a door left slightly ajar. That's the playroom. My younger self stepped closer and peeped through the gap. There, sitting on the rug in the centre of the room, were little Monica and Thoma.

Hah, so she finally got him to play dollies. My younger self smiled as they played quietly, trying not to draw any attention, but the longer I watched, the more I experienced this obscure feeling building within me. Why didn't Monica invite me to play, too?

My sweet expression morphed into a jealous scowl and my gaze zeroed in on their toys when I suddenly noticed the odd appearance of the doll in Monica's hand. I nudged the door open gently, allowing the light from the passage to pour into the room and over the doll. I went ice cold as the realisation hit me that it wasn't a porcelain lady in a frilly dress. No...

It can't be.

"Monica, Thoma, get back!" My throat felt sanded as I shouted out. Monica and Thoma's beady eyes focussed on me, followed by every eye on the monster's shrunken body. "Get away from it, now! Why are you here? We defeated you!"

The creature writhed violently in Monica's hand until she let it go, and then it opened its jaws and sunk its teeth into one of the other dolls. I shrieked again when I recognised that doll as Monica—not the little girl in front of me, but the young woman I'd met in the nightmare world. My legs wouldn't move, I could only scream in sheer horror as the beast continued to devour her, growing larger with every bite. When I looked at Monica's younger self, she seemed to be frozen, too, with a wide grin plastered on her face.

Shortly after, she began to disintegrate before me, crumbling like a centuries-old statue—a porcelain doll. It was as though the more the monster ate, the less human Little Monica became.

When the creature had finished its course and nothing remained of either girl, it turned towards another doll that was unmistakably Thoma. I was screaming still, but I could no longer hear myself over those nauseating cries.

"HUNGRYYYY! MUST... K-KILL!!!"

I looked at Thoma through a veil of tears, but the young boy sat idly to meet his fate. The monster's jaws unhinged.