"You talked to her?" Ren asked.
"I did…" Eva responded, closing the door behind her.
He waited for her to say more, but she didn't.
She crossed the room and sat beside him, her knees folding under her.
"Those children in the fields...She said they were happy."
"Because they don't know..." He stared at the floor for a while before speaking again. "If they ever remembered what came before this world, they wouldn't be smiling like that."
Eva lowered her head, her fingers brushing the wooden floorboards.
Ren leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. The faint laughter of children outside bled through the walls, light and soft. He remembered back in the real world, he'd sometimes hear other youthful patients outside his window, playing with each other in the nearby garden.
'They're the same...huh? Making the most out of a cursed life.'
He opened his eyes again.
"You want to stay," He asked, stating as if he already knew.
"Would that be so bad?"
Ren's mouth opened, then closed. He didn't have a good answer.
Part of him wanted to say yes.
That it would be weak to stop now, that they were supposed to find the others—the overseers, the truth behind The Mother and this world. But another part of him wondered what would really happen if they just stopped. How easily his thoughts change when Eva is with him.
Eva's voice broke his thought. "You're thinking about leaving alone again, aren't you?"
"What makes you say that?"
She gave a small smile—not teasing, but sad.
"I can feel when you're desperate."
Ren looked down at his hands.
'She knows…'
He was thinking about leaving.
The idea had been there since the moment they arrived in this quiet village.
He could move on alone. It would be safer that way.
She wouldn't have to see what came next. The horrors that would wait beyond this land.
'If she were to stay here…She'll be fine. She'll forget the horrors eventually.' Ren began to rethink his thought process. 'She'll smile like the children do. And I…I will carry their burden.'
He swallowed hard.
'I'd rather she forget me than die again, no matter how much it hurts.'
The thought lingered like poison. He hated how selfish it would be to keep her by his side, only for his own sake. He hated how selfish it sounded. But the fear of losing her stayed there.
He'd already failed the one he loved before.
'Mom...if I go alone, at least she will find peace. That's enough, right?'
Even in this strange world, she made him feel human, even after only such little time spent together. She gave Ren meaning. And the thought of walking without her again felt like he was stepping into an endless grave. Alone.
"Ren, if you're thinking of leaving me here…don't."
"I-I'm not,"
His voice didn't sound convincing, not even to himself.
Eva gave a small huff. "You are…"
"You saw what's out there…" Ren said, lowering his voice, "If there are others even worse than The Mother waiting out there...I'm not risking you getting caught up in it again..."
"I know you don't, but you think I want to sit here, knowing you're out there suffering alone?
Her hands curled in her lap.
"I don't know how much of me is even left, Ren. But what's left wants to go with you."
He pressed his palms against his face, elbows digging into his knees.
'Why…why can't I just let you go?'
Ren dragged his hands down over his face.
"Why won't you just leave me to suffer alone," He whispered.
He stayed like that for a while, palms hiding the exhaustion etched into his eyes.
Eva reached out. Her hand rested on his shoulder—light.
"You saved me. Don't forget that." She whispered. "You pulled me out of The Mother's hold when I didn't even remember who I was. You have given me a second chance to exist." Eva continued, her thumb brushing against the fabric of his tattered cloak. "I understand you want to protect me. I thank you for that. But that doesn't mean pushing me away when you're unsure."
Ren slowly lowered his hands, eyes red, the faintest trace of moisture along his lashes.
Her voice stayed soft.
"Whatever waits beyond this place...I want to face it with you."
The weight in his chest started to break apart, piece by piece. Ren's hands finally fell from his face completely. The tears came, slow and reluctant. He tried to keep his composure. But it was too late. Eva stayed close, her hand never leaving his shoulder. Ren felt her warmth seeping into him, grounding him in this moment—proof that she was still here with him. He let his head fall forward, his forehead brushing against her shoulder.
"I thought I was done feeling things like this…After all I've been through."
Eva smiled. "It's okay to cry...It shows you're still in there."
The sound of the children laughing outside carried through the thin wooden walls again.
And suddenly, Ren was somewhere else.
In his mind, the cabin faded away to a new home. It was smaller, warmer—from another time.
He saw his mother again.
He was just a little boy, tucked in his bed, teary eyed from a cruel nightmare.
His mother knelt beside him, her voice as gentle as the night air.
"Ren…" She whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "It's okay to cry, you know."
He'd shaken his head, too stubborn even then.
Her hand cupped his cheek, warm and steady. "It's okay to need someone, Ren. Even superheroes need help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak. Be the superhero, darling."
He remembered how her fingers trembled a little when she said it. The memory cracked open something deep inside him. When Ren blinked, the world shifted back to the broken cabin.
Eva's hand was still resting on his shoulder, her touch the same as his mother's.
"Thank you, Eva…"
Eva gave a gentle smile. "We'll find them...together."
He looked up at her.
"We will." She hesitated. "Just…not yet."
Ren exhaled, something heavy leaving him with it. "Not yet."
One of the children's voices called out through the window.
"Hey! You two! Come play with us!"
Eva's expression brightened, faint amusement tugging at her lips.
"I think that's our invitation."
Ren shook his head, almost smiling. "You go. I'll watch."
She was already standing, brushing the dust from her clothes, and held out her hand.
"Come on, Ren. Just for a little while."
He took her hand, and stepped into the mist.
The children ran through the misty field, unbothered by the strange stillness. Ren stood among them, unsure at first. One of the younger boys threw him a ball of woven straw—it hit his chest before he could react. The boy laughed.
"You're supposed to throw it back!"
Eva giggled beside him, and after a second, Ren did.
The boy barely caught it and stumbled backward, laughing boastingly. Another child darted in to snatch the ball away, and soon they were all chasing each other for it. A girl tugged at Eva's sleeve and pointed toward Ren.
"He's not running!"
Eva smirked. "You heard her."
Ren raised his hands in dismissal. "I'm good right here."
But Eva was already running toward him. She caught his wrist and pulled. He stumbled forward, startled, nearly tripping over his own feet as she laughed harder. The children erupted into joy and cheers, circling them both, urging him to join their game. And hesitantly, Ren began to move with them. Eva was beside him the whole time, her laughter blending with theirs.
It didn't matter that the sky never changed its palette, or that the mist swallowed the horizon whole. For a moment, it all felt…normal. It all felt...human. And that's when Ren laughed.
"Guess we can stay a little longer,"
Eva nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Just a little more."