I still remember that day, it was as clear as day. The day I met her in the library, with that cocky grin on her face. My little Seraphina.

I still remember the first time I hugged her, the day I welcomed her into my home. She was the only one with whom I could truly be myself. I could just let loose around her; she always had an interesting tale to tell.

---

Artorian: "You're disappointed in me, aren't you?"

Art: "A little. I didn't expect you to turn into this."

Artorian: [chuckles] "Heh, I never thought I'd end up spending time talking to myself."

Artoria: "This is truly bizarre—lost in our mind, with no knowledge of what's happening outside our head."

Art: [nods] "Couldn't have said it better myself. I do wonder why we're here."

---

The two stood before me—representations of my past, my present, and perhaps my future. Have I truly lost my mind? Yes, I have.

But could I do anything about it? Probably not. I mean, what else was supposed to happen? I've repeatedly restarted the checkpoint—ending my life over and over—and now I'm just… here. With myself. And I.

Is this truly how my story ends?

No.

No, most certainly not.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Art: [I looks back at Artorian] "You must leave. You know that, right?"

Artorian: "Yes, I know. I need to save her." [I pauses, my voice heavy with regret.] "The weight of guilt has wrapped itself around me so tightly."

Artoria: "Don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known this would happen." [I offers a soft smile.] "How about we have a little chat, hmm?"

Artorian: "A little chat, you say? What could there possibly be left to say that I haven't already thought a thousand times over?"

Artoria: "Plenty. If we're the same person, you already know the answer, but you need to hear it. Out loud."

Art: "She's right. Even if it's just us, a little honesty never hurt anyone. Now, let's start simple: why her?"

I sighed, feeling their gazes bore into me. It wasn't judgment; it was something worse—understanding.

Artorian: "She reminded me of… hope. She walked into that library with that ridiculous grin, so carefree. I thought she was just another reckless soul who'd get swallowed by the world. But then she spoke to me. Do you remember her first words?"

Art: "Of course. 'Oh, how conspicuously elusive I failed to be, my dear,?'"

Artoria: [chuckling softly] "And you tried yo shush her away—by a lifetime of regrets."

Artorian: "Yet she stayed. She stayed, and I didn't even realize I needed her until much later."

Art: "And when she told you her story? That was the moment, wasn't it?"

I nodded, the memory vivid, as if it had happened yesterday. Seraphina had shared pieces of herself—pieces she had tried to keep hidden from the world. And in doing so, she had unknowingly filled the void inside me.

Artoria: "She saw something in you. Something worth saving, even when you couldn't see it yourself."

Art: "But now here we are. And she's the one who needs saving."

Silence settled over us. It was thick, suffocating. The weight of my guilt pressed harder.

Artorian: "I failed her."

Artoria: "No, you didn't. She's still out there, isn't she?"

Art: "She is. But not for long if we don't act. The question is: do we see her as a responsibility? A debt to repay? Or…"

They let the question linger, unfinished. I knew the answer, but admitting it aloud felt like a betrayal of everything I had tried to suppress.

Artorian: [voice breaking] "She's my daughter. Not by blood, but… she is. She's the only thing that ever made me feel human again."

Art: "And that's why we can't give up. Not now."

Artoria: [softly] "She called you her family too, you know. That night by the fire… Do you remember what she said?"

Artorian: "I remember every word. She said, 'You're the only home I've ever known. You don't have to say it back, but… I hope you feel the same.'"

My chest tightened at the memory. I had stayed silent that night, too afraid to acknowledge the truth.

Art: "Well? Do you feel the same?"

Tears pricked at my eyes as I finally let the words escape.

Artorian: "Yes. Yes, I do."

Artoria: "Then what are you waiting for? She's still out there, waiting for her father to bring her home."

Art: [smiling faintly] "And this time, we won't let her down."

I straightened my back, the weight of guilt still present but now accompanied by something else: resolve.

Artorian: "You're right. She's my daughter. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect her."

As I turned to leave, I felt the echoes of my past and future selves fade. They weren't separate from me—they were me. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I wasn't at war with myself.

Seraphina, my little Seraphina, was waiting. And I would not fail her again.