The name lingered in the air like a curse. Missy’s expression darkened as she began to explain. “Yaldabaoth thrives on vanity, hubris, and chaos. After all, all humans were created in his own image. That is what caused the horrors of the waking world. It deceives, promising salvation or power, but only seeks to spread suffering. You weren’t punishing sinners, Yuki. You were feeding its hunger.”

Yuki’s mind raced. The visions, the voices, the righteous fury that had driven him—all lies.

“How do you know all this?” he demanded.

Missy gestured to a stack of tattered notebooks on the table. “You wrote about it. During your manic episodes, when reality was slipping. It was the last of your wits’ final attempt to warn you.”

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Yuki’s breath caught. He had written frantically during those long nights, his mind a chaotic storm. Could his fractured psyche have been trying to guide him to the truth?

“But why you?” he asked, his voice trembling. “Why are you here? You—”

“I died,” Missy interrupted, her tone even. “You couldn’t save me. And now, I’m just a projection of your guilt. A manifestation of your mind trying to keep you grounded. You think I’m still alive, but you’re fully aware and in complete denial to this day.”

Yuki stared at her, his heart twisting. The pain of her loss, the regret that had haunted him, now merged with the overwhelming weight of his recent crimes.

“No,” he whispered. “You’re real. You’re here.”

Missy reached out, placing a cold hand over his. “I’m here because you need me to be. But I’m not the girl you once knew. I’m a reminder of what you’ve lost—and what you still have left to fight for.”