"When I was little, I once cut my finger. It was just a small cut, just a little skin. I stood with my hand under the running tap for hours. It surprised me that that little bruise managed to continue bleeding for such a long time. I did keep pressing it, though. Perhaps because I didn't want the blood to stop. Still, I thought that it would, even if I did keep pressing it. And so I thought that when that happened, I'd turn the tap the other way and be free. But it never did stop."

"What do you mean?"

"With every little squeeze, my finger was smeared with blood. I thought that if the blood won't stop then maybe someone would come along and tell me to quit. That would give me an incentive to stop what I was doing. So I kept waiting. But no one came. And when it became apparent that I had no incentive to stop the blood, I began wondering if my heart would start beating faster, or if I'd have lost enough blood to make me dizzy. I kept waiting for it to happen. But it didn't. You know why I stopped in the end?"

"No."

"Out of boredom. But I was thankful that no one had come along, for if they did, they'd see that someone like me ought not to be left alone. So when I did get dizzy, I collapsed right then and there. And when I woke up, I was still there, on the ground. No one came along. The little cut on my finger had already closed up. And I thought, even if I were to press it, it probably wouldn't bleed the same again."

"Why?"

"The one thing I realized that day was that no one was coming along. I was on my own, no one was looking at me. That kind of made me feel relieved. Innately, I'm the kind of person that is best at hiding away. So I felt freedom for the first time then."

"First time? Weren't you born free?"

"You know, I don't have feeling in that finger anymore. Sometimes I wonder if it's because of that cut", she chuckled, "It couldn't be, right? But it's been a bother at times, I've wanted to cut it off many times and be done with it. But I guess I'm a coward at heart. I can't really get rid of things, after all."

It rang in my head. That incoherent conversation with Lady from way back when. I couldn't recall how it had started. I didn't remember how it ended either.

But the real question, why did it come back to me now? Even if I asked myself, I'm terrible at answering questions.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Who should I ask?

Everyone was dead.

I couldn't even see anymore. There was nothing but darkness everywhere I looked. I didn't know anything anymore.

But I did know I was there. Because I was the only thing there and I could see it. Everything else was darkness.

Which abyss had I fallen into?

Another question.

Another unanswerable question.

Where did it go so awfully wrong? What did I do to end up here?

I tried tracing it back. There was nothing but a wall.

A hollow. And a wall.

I knew it before too. I've always known that I'm missing something. Something that should be there but isn't.

I couldn't tell if I was sinking or flying. It was easy to move in that place because there was nothing holding me down. But for some reason, it hurt like hell.

There was no beginning or end to that place. So there was no point in moving around.

The darkness. It was so immense that if I closed my eyes, it felt lighter. So I floated into the endlessness of that void for who knows how long.

I see!

It suddenly dawned on me.

That story that I remembered. I understood now.

Lady gave up long ago.

Chopper was wrong. The Valkyries didn't exist for her sake, nor did she exist for theirs.

That mystery treasure might have been the reason Valhalla came into being. But the Valkyries existed even before Valhalla.

But to what end?

For once in my life, the answer was staring right in my face. It was right there in front of me, smiling.

"I see", I said, as I finally opened my eyes and returned its gaze.

"You're finally awake. Not looking away anymore?", it asked me.

"Looking away...no, I just didn't realize you were there."

"Liar!", it quickly answered.

This 'it' was a visage I'd seen millions of times. The same dark hair, shadowing pale blue eyes. The familiar burnt-bronze tunic, in a blue wrapping, much neater than I remembered. Those eyes had a brighter glimmer in them once. But it had since faded. Perhaps it had lost something. I simply hadn't acknowledged its existence. Or perhaps...I forgot.

"I'm not mad at you", it said, smiling again.

"Why, of course, you aren't", I was avoiding its eyes, "You are me, after all."

It chuckled, in my voice.

"Why do you think?", it tilted its head, perhaps trying to catch my eye.

"Why...?"

"Why is the question. You have the answers now, don't you?", it came a little closer.

I didn't say anything. I didn't like its existence. I hated its sound, its face, its eyes, the whole of it. But I couldn't run away. It was me, after all.

The answer was quite simple. Did I have an explanation? Not quite. But when all else was erased from existence, whatever remained had to be the answer. It was as simple as that.

There was no point in questioning that answer any further. What was, simply was. It just needed to be accepted.

"You are special."

I hate those words. But my entire life that now spanned before me, seemed to be screaming that in my face.

"Well, don't you have the answer?", it wrapped itself around me, putting its head next to mine, wrapping its hands around my neck.

"I do", I answered.

"Then...Seraph."

"Don't call me that."

It chuckled, tightening its grip.

"The answer?"

The pain intensified, manifold.

"I...am the answer."