Emil did not clearly recall what happened after Ilya disappeared.

Maybe someone had came to rescue them. Maybe the gate had ran out of time and kicked them out. Maybe the trio waiting outside had retrieved them. Maybe Ira had regained her strength first and dragged them out.

His mind was too much of a blur for any of this to matter to him. Ultimately, he had returned to the inn.

Ilya had disappeared, but the mark that he left on the young pair would last forever.

The Primrose Musician.

An unfathomable existence had crossed their paths.

Emil laid in the bed that he did not remember returning to, staring up the ceiling with a vacant expression. His mind was gradually beginning to return to him and an oppressive gloom weighed down on the atmosphere of the room. The temperature had dropped, become cold and clammy.

Tired thoughts flowed through the boy’s mind.

All of the strength I believed I had means nothing. Ilya spared me and Ira due to unknown reasons, but if he hadn’t, that would have been the last of me.

Probably… it’s best if I go back to Teacher before the year is up. The Primrose Musician let me go for a reason. I must’ve caught his eye. Is it because of the unique quality of my body? I’m sure someone that powerful would have noticed. My best option is to go back and inform Teacher. He’ll understand. I can’t move around freely. The Night Sage would be able to protect me.

He didn’t know how strong Ilya was, but he was sure that the man was on the same level as the Night Sage. Emil had never seen his teacher’s true strength, but he had seen similar traces of orange anima on Ilya. He couldn’t see the entire anima circuit because it was dangerous, but that much had been reflected in his eyes.

Ilya, the Primrose Musician, was not someone Emil could handle. Without any protection, he would be killed immediately. The Night Sage would keep him safe, though. Then he’d just go to that academy and…

But, even though he knew this, Emil did not want to go.

Was it due to his own pride?

He couldn’t quite explain his reluctance, even to himself. Maybe it was because he felt embarrassed. Emil was only fourteen and was rather confident in himself. In his mind, living on his own for this year would have been easy. Any trouble that he would have gone through would have been miniscule and he’d always have a way out.

Subconsciously, he hadn’t been taking it seriously.

To go back to the Night Sage after being faced with reality would be… His ego didn’t want him to allow him to do so.

Emil closed his eyes, pressing his hands tightly against his ears.

That damned music.

It wouldn’t stop playing in his head. The scene of the mercenaries being murdered played on repeat. It was like he was still tethered to that chair.

He bit down on his lips, beads of blood forming.

I was arrogant. I was really too arrogant.

Hot tears flowed down Emil’s face, dripping down the sides and wetting the pillow underneath him. He couldn’t stop them and sat there sobbing, his body shaking from the lingering fear.

I almost died. I seriously almost died. It’s a miracle that I made it out of there. From that monster’s reach…

His breathing was uneven and he kept hiccuping, struggling to force air into his lungs.

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Fool.

“Dammit.”

A loud knock sounded from the door. It disturbed his thoughts, causing him to jump upright in the bed and furiously wipe his face clean. He tried to get his wild breathing under control and forced himself to calm down. One second, two seconds...

Ira’s voice filtered in, “Emil? Are you in there?”

“What is it?”

“Can I talk to you?”

He hesitated. Honestly speaking, he didn’t want to deal with anyone at the moment. But, considering the circumstances, he stood up and made his way to the door.

“Yes,” he answered as he pulled open the door.

Ira stood there, looking somber. “Have you been crying?” She noted the redness of Emil’s eyes and the remaining dampness on his skin.

He didn’t respond.

The young girl shrugged, not judging him. Her expression remained even. “I’m going to be leaving.”

Emil was not surprised to hear her words. He did not want to stay in this city either.

“I thought we could spend more time together, but…” She inhaled sharply, her eyes darkening.

“I get it,” he responded, seeing that she had lost her words.

Ira nodded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to give up.” Her hands tightened into fists. “I’m going to become stronger. I won’t allow myself to stay this weak--and I’m not going back into my mother’s coddling embrace.” Determination strengthened her gaze as she looked directly into Emil’s eyes.

His hands shook. Why was it that, unlike him, she didn’t seem to be deterred? No, if anything, it was like she had been given even more motivation. The previous shock was completely gone from her essence.

She refused to waver.

How? How could she bounce back so quickly? He didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense. Why was he the one still sitting here completely lost?

Ira slammed her fist against her chest and proclaimed, “I’m going to be the one to kill that phony musician. I’ll let you get one good punch in, too, friend.”

“Ira,” Emil started, unable to find words. “You--”

She finally smirked, breaking the stoic expression on her face. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon enough. Our destinations are the same so our paths will cross.”

He wanted to contest her words and tell her that they did not have the same destination.

He was not like her.

He couldn’t look at things that simply.

The Primrose Musician was far out of their league. She needed to just give up. Why court death? Why not go back to where it was safe? Didn’t she get that they weren’t out of danger? What if Ilya changed his mind and came back for them? Or sent someone after them? Why wasn’t she thinking of any of this? It wasn’t safe for them to be alone, let alone dream about fighting him, so why…?

Why did she say those things?

Ira stood tall. Her back was straight and shoulders pulled back, feet firmly planted on the ground. Her red eyes were shining with resolve. It wasn’t just a wish. She was being serious.

Kill the Primrose Musician? What type of psycho is she?

Was she an idiot? An absolute moron? It was okay to give up. It was okay to just accept things for what they were. Why did she want to go against fate? She was so insignificant and yet, and yet… where did that confidence come from?

Emil didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand it. Logically, none of what she said made sense. Who knew how long it would take her to reach the point to fight against him? Who knew if she’d even be able to break through into the immortal realm? And, what was to say that the Primrose Musician wouldn’t grow even more powerful during that time? And what about all the other dangers that lurked in the world?

It didn’t make one iota of sense.

But… somehow… he wanted to...

Something within him stirred.

It broke through the dull resignation inside of him like a crack of thunder. The dreary song that had been playing in his mind fell to pieces, becoming silent within the instant.

This was courage.

Fate? Destiny? I was supposed to die years ago. No, I shouldn’t even be standing here anymore. What did Mother sacrifice herself for? What did Father toil for? For me to give up? No. That’s not right. There aren’t answers. It doesn’t need to make sense. I don’t need to be rational.

I’ll just forge my own path.

What had the strength to move the world? To shift fate? Who could determine their own future?

He grinned back Ira, his cheeks in pain from how wide his smirk was.

I’ll just become absolute.

Absolute in every aspect.

“I’ll see you later.”

This made her laugh boisterously and Ira threw up a peace sign, the bright white of her teeth blinding. “Yeah, I’ll see you later, Emil.”

Mountains didn’t bow to the wind.