Inside the hovel's dimly lit living room, Haela sat with the young men who had confronted Adolph earlier. An unnerving silence enveloped the group—one that was thick and suffocating. The vigor that once sparkled in their eyes had dimmed, replaced by a haunting shadow of fear. Joy had fled, leaving behind a cold, palpable dread. Their heads hung low, their thoughts trapped in the harrowing memory of their recent encounter with Adolph. Each replayed the chilling moment repeatedly in their minds.

"You sure? It's a talking head?" Haela finally shattered the oppressive silence with a question directed at Charon.

"Like I said Haela... Not a head—a helmet. A talking helmet with no head inside. Just... stay here, I—it's too risky. It could be something cursed and Sir Mycen trusted me to not let you go near it."

"But Grandpa is there right now alone. Is he going to be fine?" Charon couldn't utter a word of reply to assure Haela of her grandpa's well-being. He couldn't, for he was also unsure.

"Right... As I thought I should go and accompany them there," said Runick, rising abruptly from his chair. Just as he was about to stride towards the door, Charon reached out and stopped him in his tracks. “Stop, Runick. We were told to stay here—"

"There's no use for me to worry about being cursed anymore, Charon. You should just take care of Haela here."

"No, Runick. You should still—" Charon reached out to grasp Runick's shoulder, but Runick swiftly swatted his hand away.

"I—already touched it, Charon." Their glares locked in a tense standoff. Runick's eyes brimmed with pain, his consciousness burdened by the weight of guilt for causing everything that had happened. Charon's gaze, in contrast, was filled with fear and deep concern for the safety of those around him.

"You touched it, yes. I also touched it. We all touched it," List mumbled at one side—his hands tightly clasped against each other. "Let Sir Mycen talk to that thing. I'm afraid you'll just antagonize it more and endanger us all here."

List's words were calm yet frightened. Runick felt it tore right through his pride. He just wanted to help fix the problem he started, but List would probably be right.

"Urgh..." Someone cried a weak groan—the sound came from the dining area.

"That was Austin..." Runick gasped before leaving Charon standing at the front door. List followed close behind as they hurried to the dining table where Austin lay. As they checked on him, they found him still asleep, his face showed a peaceful recovery. It seemed whatever discomfort he had experienced was nothing but a minor concern. The two exchanged relieved glances, finding nothing amiss in his condition.

After confirming Austin's condition, the two remained there to monitor him. Charon went back and sat near Haela. "Is Nolan still checking on his sister?" he asked.

"Yes. I didn't see him get out of your room yet, so maybe he's still in there with Lena."

"I see..."

Charon's gaze shifted to Haela, noticing her hands resting on her lap. Worried sick, visibly trembling despite her efforts to conceal it. Concerned, Charon was compelled to break the heavy silence enveloping them. He needed to. With a gentle yet determined tone, he spoke with an intent on alleviating whatever burden weighed upon Haela’s mind.

"Adolph... They didn't resist when we pushed them down earlier. They also listened to our demands and were open to sharing their side of the story..." Haela glanced at Charon as he spoke, her teary eyes betrayed her wavering spirit. Charon, upon catching a good glimpse of the worry etched across the lady's face, continued to voice his thoughts.

"What I'm trying to say... is that Adolph didn't even try to hurt us when they could and they were also willing to talk. Sir Mycen is a good judge of character—that he does. He's also the strongest person I've ever known. That is why, whatever decision he makes in the barn, I believe it'll be for the best of us. For all of us. So please... be at ease, okay?"

"Mhmm... I'm alright. It's just like you've said. Yes—It’ll be alright," Haela let out a long, deep sigh. A release that seemed to alleviate her doubts and soothe her troubled mind. Charon felt a wave of relief wash over him as he witnessed her mood lift ever so slightly.

The atmosphere around them descended into complete silence once more, each person waiting patiently. Anticipation. They awaited a decision, one that hung in the balance of Mycen's judgment. It would come after a discussion unfolding in the barn—a one-on-one conversation between Mycen and Adolph.

...

Behind the hovel stood a humble barn, its dirt floor scattered with straw. Despite its simplicity, the rectangular room boasted ample space, filled with various implements for daily chores: stacks of firewood, a pen decorated with a wood board with the name 'Regal' written on it, fishing gear, and gardening tools. But right now, none of these things mattered, as the focus of attention lay squarely on the crucial conversation unfolding in the center of it all.

Adolph's masked helmet lay atop a tree stump on the ground. The stump's surface was marked with cuts, both shallow and deep. This was no ordinary stump; it served as Mycen's chopping block, used daily for splitting firewood.

Arms crossed, Mycen stood before Adolph. Silent. His brows knitted in utmost seriousness; his mouth set in a firm line as he listened intently to Adolph's tale. A long story. The narrative of Adolph's past, the life he had once before crossing into their world.

"That's everything you need to know about my past before I came to this world," concluded Adolph in his story.

"I'm sorry. It must be tough."

"I find that remark irritating once. Now, I don't care anymore."

With a demeanor unwavering and inquiries thorough and fair—Mycen remained impartial as he continued to interrogate Adolph. "So you're saying that you committed suicide in your world, but somehow you revived as... an armor, like that, inside that camp?"

"I don't think revive would be the best word to describe it. I simply exist, yes... like how I was back in my old world."

Mycen began to form a picture of Adolph's situation, yet he maintained his neutrality. Despite gaining some insight, there were still a dozen unanswered questions lingering in his mind.

"Then... Isn't it better for us to decline your request? You had been given another chance to live again, so why would you do something that you know will only result in your death?" A sensible question came from Mycen.

"I'm... already through with living," rejected Adolph—his monotonous, raspy voice far dejected from life.

"You don't know that. There are endless things to experience in life, waiting for you if you just... stay alive."

"Am I... even alive to begin with?"

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"Yes, boy. The fact that you wished for your death to that god meant that you still consider yourself to be alive. Even now!"

"But... I've already said, I merely exist. I already gathered my courage to end it once... bringing me back to this "thing", to this existence, just wasted that effort. I'm angry with fate for messing me up like this but, now I don't care anymore. Maybe I just... want to rest. Yet even seeking my rest feels like a burdensome task now, even though it was just stolen from me."

Despite the sadness of the situation, Mycen was determined not to give up on convincing Adolph to abandon his suicidal mindset. He stubbornly aimed to release the burden of overflowing negativity weighing on Adolph's shoulders. He searched for a reason, a logic that could challenge Adolph's tragic view of life. For a moment he thought of anything—of something. Finally, summoning his courage, he opened his mouth and dared to ask Adolph.

"Why did you kill the thug earlier then?"

Adolph fell silent for a moment. His lack of response hung heavily in the air for a few tense seconds.

"Why ask me that?"

"Because you said that you wanted to die, didn't you, Adolph? The thug, in a way, was just helping you, isn't it?"

"Yes. He wanted to kill me. He tried to kill me. But, he wasn't able to kill me. I... didn't die—I wasn't able to. That fact... troubled me the most."

"Troubled? Because you couldn't die?"

"Yes. In a sense, you were right about me being cursed back then, Mycen. A curse of being... undying. Immortal."

"Immortal... Many governors would be jealous of that 'curse' of yours, Adolph."

"Then It would be great if I could give it to them, and then..."

"Then, what?"

"Then I can finally reclaim my stolen peace."

Mycen knew that the peace Adolph was talking about was the one that goes for eternity. His expression twisted in confusion, torn between feeling sympathetic or concerned for Adolph's predicament. "I've never known of someone so... eager to die like you."

"Well, I hope it stays that way," answered Adolph. Mycen chuckled at Adolph's remark, but the amusement quickly faded, replaced by a serious expression once more.

"Then... the fact that you've learned you couldn't die was the sole reason you killed the thug?"

"Hmm... Let me ask you a question first, Mycen." Adolph interjected. Mycen was taken aback, yet intrigued by what Adolph had to ask.

"Ask away."

"Do you have any more ideas on how I could die?"

Mycen paused, taking a moment to ponder on various ideas. “I could think of a few things... Like burning your head to ashes, or pounding it flat with a hammer... Maybe melting you on some acidic solutions might even work..."

"Amazing suggestions... Mind if we try?"

"Don't worry. That's what I plan to do at the start if you prove yourself to be dangerous to us."

"Sounds perfect then!"

Mycen released a long sigh. "I swear talking to a suicidal maniac like you is bad—real, real bad for my heart."

"Well... But what if those things won't work?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if, and I wish this isn't the case, my body wouldn't really die. It wouldn't burn, or melt. It wouldn't break, nor disappear. What will you do to deal with me?"

This question made Mycen halt again for a moment—his wits couldn't apprehend what Adolph was trying to point out with this.

"I guess, I'll restrain you first—like how we did right now," finally answered Mycen

"Exactly. That's what I'm so troubled about."

"What do you mean? Wait, why—how did that answer my question about you killing the thug?"

"Hear me out. I may not be able to die, but I could still be restrained. My body might be immortal, but I am not invincible. You... getting my point now?" Adolph explained earnestly.

Mycen wiggled his ever-confused head. "Please, go on..."

"What I'm saying is that I'd rather die than be captured or restrained, like this! If those thugs somehow manage to restrain me, who knows what they would do after? Maybe they'll bury me deep into the ground, or throw me into the sea. Then what? Leave me there for all eternity? Hell no! I'd rather die than forever be trapped in this... state."

"Goodness. You're one insane bastard, really."

"I'm just thinking of every possibility. After all, it'd be really bad if that happened." Absurdity—that's all Mycen could feel whenever he heard of Adolph's relentless pursuit of death.

"Then, should I assume that it was self-defense... Nothing like a fallout between you and those thugs?"

"It wasn't self-defense. I was not protecting this... life. Like I said, it's just too troublesome to be captured. You could say I was just... ensuring my death. Also, what fallout? I'm not even acquainted with them in the first place."

"Then why do you have the drug?"

"I took one of it when I knew of its existence—thought I could die with it but... I can't even consume it at this point. It's all yours, Mycen."

"Ensuring your death... Yeah, sure, Adolph. Keep telling yourself that."

"I do intend to make it also happen."

Satisfied, almost. Mycen was relieved, realizing that Adolph wasn't entirely a threat, but rather, just a lonely being with suicidal issues. It seemed to him that their conversation was nearing its conclusion.

"Right... So, you killed the thug because you're afraid of being captured then."

"Well, I could also give you one more reason."

"And that is?"

"I killed him because you or your other men couldn't do it at that time. The situation was dire, and someone of yours was also wounded."

"Oh, well. Thank you for that, but why would you suddenly care of those around you?"

Adolph took a long pause before responding to Mycen. "It doesn't hurt to do something good before I die, you know? Besides, their life is different from mine."

Mycen smiled upon hearing Adolph's response. "You worry for the life of others when you want to forfeit your own?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Mhmm... you're full of contradictions. One day, I hope you realize it... and change for the better."

"I'll be long gone before I could reach that day. Besides, I think you had the wrong idea of why I said that reason."

Intrigued once more, Mycen pondered what deeper meaning Adolph might have intended. "What is it then?" he asked.

"I'm telling you that I could give you a hand in preventing such mishaps from happening again in the future."

"And... that's by becoming our benefactor?"

"I'll help you get what you want, and I'll get what I want. Everybody's happy at the end."

Interested, Mycen wanted to hear what offer Adolph will give to them. "Exactly what help do you intend to give us?"

"Things. Useful things. Give me three days to do some planning and the materials that I've brought with me. In return, I'll give you things that'll prove useful to your work and endeavors."

"I see... Alright. Can you start tomorrow?"

"Works fine by me... Wait—does this mean we have an agreement?"

Mycen stared a penetrating gaze on Adolph before finally speaking. “We'll transfer you to your workplace by then. I'll be looking forward three days from now... benefactor." After saying his farewell piece, he promptly left Adolph's head in the barn—alone.

"Oh great!... But could you get me out of here?... Mycen?... Hello?"

Adolph tried to call out several more times, but Mycen didn't answer him. A hint of regret pricked at Adolph as he recalled pouring his heart out to the old man. After realizing what Mycen had done, Adolph let out a deep sigh. Resigned to his solitude, he muttered to himself, "Guess I'll be alone tonight again..."

.

.

.

"As I thought, I don't like this."