Toki remained by the open window long after the others had fallen asleep.
Cold night air brushed against his face, slipping through his hair and collar, carrying with it the faint scent of snow and distant pine. Somewhere far away, an owl called softly. The world outside felt vast. Endless. Indifferent.
He leaned his forehead lightly against the wooden frame.
The moon hung high above the rooftops.
Perfect.
Untouchable.
He lifted his hand again without thinking.
Slowly.
As if he could reach it this time.
As if maybe—just maybe—if he stretched far enough, he could grab a piece of that distant light and keep it for himself.
Something to hold onto.
Something to remind him why he was still standing.
"…Stupid," he murmured.
His fingers closed around nothing.
Again.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips.
How many times had he done this lately?
Standing alone.
Staring at the sky.
Trying to find answers written among the stars.
None ever came.
He lowered his arm and rested his elbows on the windowsill.
Kandaki…
His thoughts drifted, uninvited.
The boy's clenched fists.
His stubborn voice.
His desperate belief that things could be fixed if you just tried hard enough.
Toki smiled faintly.
You're stronger than you think.
Stronger than me, maybe.
Footsteps approached behind him.
Soft.
Careful.
Almost hesitant.
He didn't turn.
He already knew.
"...You're worried about Kandaki, aren't you?"
Utsuki's voice was gentle, wrapped in sleepiness and concern.
Toki exhaled slowly.
"…That obvious?"
She stepped closer, stopping a few feet behind him.
"I've known you too long," she replied lightly. "You only get that quiet when something is eating you alive."
He tilted his head slightly.
"…I could say I'm worried about him," he admitted. "And it wouldn't be a lie."
He paused.
"But… I still wouldn't be telling you everything."
Utsuki leaned against the wall, crossing her arms.
"And the truth is?"
Toki hesitated.
His reflection in the glass stared back at him.
Tired.
Older than his years.
"…I don't doubt he'll manage," he said quietly.
"Kandaki always does."
His voice lowered.
"But I'm not sure… I will."
Silence followed.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
Utsuki blinked.
Then suddenly—
She laughed.
A small, soft giggle.
"You really are acting like a child."
Toki turned, startled.
"Hey," he protested. "That's rich coming from someone who sneaks into other people's rooms at night without knocking."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?" she said innocently. "You mean like someone who just inspected every single bedroom like a creep?"
He froze.
"…You saw that?"
"Hard not to," she smirked. "You were practically tiptoeing."
Toki rubbed the back of his neck.
"…Touché."
Utsuki stepped forward and pushed the window open wider.
Cold air rushed in.
Before he could react, she climbed out onto the roof.
"Utsuki!" Toki hissed. "Are you insane?! That's dangerous!"
She stood on the tiles effortlessly, moonlight painting her silhouette silver.
Then she turned,smiling.
"Then stop me."
He stared.
"…You're impossible."
Still, he climbed out after her.
Carefully.
Slowly.
Until he sat beside her on the roof, legs dangling slightly over the edge.
They were high enough that the world below felt distant.
Small.
Insignificant.
Utsuki rested her hands behind her and gazed at the sky.
"You know," she said casually, "I think all your problems started the day Smith slapped you."
Toki stiffened.
He wanted to laugh it off.
He wanted to deny it.
But…
He couldn't.
"…Maybe," he admitted quietly.
She glanced at him.
"Then why drag me up here just to insult me?" he muttered.
She smiled.
"I saw you staring at the moon," she replied. "I figured maybe from here, you'd have a better chance of grabbing it."
His face burned instantly.
"…You saw that?"
"Mm-hm."
He looked away.
"…Great."
She giggled softly.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'm used to you disappearing into your thoughts."
He studied her more closely then.
Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight.
Her thin robe fluttered gently in the wind.
Her bare feet rested on the cold tiles without complaint.
Her pink eyes reflected the stars.
She looked fragile.
And yet…
Unshakable.
"…You're going to catch a cold dressed like that," he said. "You just got over being sick."
"Thanks for worrying," she replied. "But I don't feel cold."
He hesitated.
Then, without thinking—
He pulled her closer.
Wrapped one arm around her.
Shielding her from the wind.
"…W-What are you doing?" she asked.
"…Warming you up," he muttered. "Obviously."
She didn't resist.
But she smirked.
"Oh? So you're a gentleman now?"
"…Shut up."
She leaned into him anyway.
They sat like that for a while.
Breathing in sync.
Listening to the wind.
Toki spoke again.
"…I already got advice tonight," he admitted.
"From the King"
She hummed.
"And?"
"I'm wondering," he said softly, "what advice you'd give me."
Utsuki thought.
For a long time.
"…I can't," she finally said.
He blinked.
"What?"
"I don't always know what to do either," she confessed. "Half the time, I'm just guessing."
She hugged her knees.
"But I know this," she continued. "You already have the answer."
"You always do."
"And even if you don't realize it now… you will."
She looked at him.
"I can't tell you what path to choose."
"But maybe…"
She smiled.
"I can make tonight easier."
Toki swallowed.
"…You already did," he admitted.
He hesitated.
"And… I'm sorry I haven't helped you much."
"With your influence. With the Royal Selection."
She stretched lazily.
"It's brutal," she admitted. "Most of them don't like me."
"Not surprising," she added dryly. "I look like the witch."
He frowned.
"That's stupid."
"It's reality."
He looked at her.
"Then why try?" he asked. "If you knew it might fail?"
She turned toward him fully.
"Because if I don't," she replied calmly, "what's the point?"
"If I lose, I can live knowing I tried."
"If I didn't participate…"
Her voice softened.
"I'd live with regret."
"I refuse to regret."
She looked at the sky.
"Maybe I won't change this kingdom."
"But maybe someone inspired by me will."
Toki snorted.
"…So cliché."
"Hey!" she protested. "I'm trying to be optimistic!"
He laughed quietly.
Utsuki continued.
"There are so many things I'd have missed if I hadn't tried."
She turned to him.
"If I hadn't asked you for help on our first day…"
"I wouldn't be here."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"That night… when you said people were blind for not seeing my beauty…"
"You made me want to be seen."
Toki froze.
He slowly reached out.
Let his fingers brush against hers.
"…I still don't see what's wrong with you," he said honestly.
Her face turned red.
She looked away.
"…Idiot."
After a while, she whispered:
"Tomorrow is the lunar eclipse.…"
"Maybe it means something good will happen."
"…I hope so."
They stayed there.
Watching the stars.
Minutes turned into hours.
At some point, her breathing changed.
Slower.
Deeper.
Toki noticed.
He looked down.
Utsuki was asleep.
Resting against him.
Peaceful.
His heart tightened.
Carefully, he lifted her up.
Climbed back through the window.
Laid her gently on his bed,adjusting the blanket.
"…I love you," he whispered.
"I love all of you."
"That's why…"
"I'll create a tomorrow where we can laugh."
He closed the door softly.
And turned.
There was one last thing to do.
Before morning came.
Toki returned to the library quietly.
The door barely made a sound as he pushed it open.
Warm candlelight still lingered in the air, though most of the flames had long since burned out. Only a few small embers glowed faintly, like tired stars refusing to disappear.
The room felt… different now.
Empty.
Yet not truly empty.
The cushions still lay scattered.
The chairs were still slightly turned.
A half-folded blanket rested where someone had once leaned.
For a strange moment, Toki could almost see them.
Hana curled against his side.
The triplets whispering.
Utsuki smiling softly.
Yuki pretending not to care.
Their laughter still echoed in his memory.
He closed his eyes briefly.
"…You were all here," he whispered.
And now…
Only silence remained.
He moved slowly through the room, picking up cushions, folding blankets, arranging everything back into place.
One by one.
Carefully.
As if restoring order could somehow preserve what had happened.
When he was done, he sat down in his usual chair.
The book still lay open on the small table.
Faust.
Its pages fluttered slightly in the draft.
He stared at it.
Just then—
The door creaked.
Toki looked up.
Leonard stepped inside.
His footsteps were calm.
Measured.
Unhurried.
He glanced around, then smirked faintly.
"Well, I'll be damned," Leonard said. "You've turned into quite the bookworm lately."
Toki sighed.
"I'm just cleaning up," he replied quietly.
Leonard walked toward his desk.
Opened one of the drawers.
Pulled out a bottle of whiskey.
Then two glasses.
Toki raised an eyebrow.
"…You keep alcohol in the library?"
Leonard shrugged.
"I usually come here to drink in peace," he said. "But your presence is always welcome."
He dragged a chair next to Toki and sat down.
Carefully, he poured.
The amber liquid shimmered in the candlelight.
Leonard lifted his glass.
"To a prosperous future."
Toki hesitated.
Then clinked his glass against it.
"…To tomorrow," he murmured.
He took a small sip.
The warmth burned down his throat.
He placed the glass back on the table.
"…I don't want to call you a liar," Toki said slowly, "but you don't look like the type who drinks alone in a library."
Leonard smiled slightly.
"…So you noticed."
He leaned back.
"I've never been good at setting the mood," he admitted. "But I had a feeling you'd come back."
Toki frowned.
"And why is that?"
Leonard looked at the closed book.
"…You didn't finish the story."
Toki stiffened.
"I couldn't," he replied. "The ending is too grotesque for children."
Leonard turned to him.
"Or maybe," he said quietly, "you didn't want to admit that you're heading toward the same conclusion."
Toki's jaw tightened.
"…What are you talking about?"
Leonard lifted his glass and looked at Toki through it.
"Faust has many endings," he explained. "Depending on the author."
"The version in our library isn't the one where he's torn apart by his pact with Mephistopheles."
"But it's still tragic."
He lowered the glass.
"You avoided it because you don't want to face what you already know."
Toki clenched his fist.
"You're overthinking something meaningless."
Leonard's eyes darkened slightly.
"Eclipses," he said calmly, "have always been seen as harbingers of disaster."
"Some prefer optimistic interpretations."
"But history isn't kind to dreamers."
Toki snapped.
"…Were you listening to my conversation with Utsuki?"
Leonard didn't deny it.
"In this mansion," he replied, "I have eyes and ears everywhere."
He leaned forward.
"You're scared of tomorrow."
"You've been avoiding it for days."
"You know something bad will happen."
"And you're trying to outrun fate."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Toki's voice rose.
"You're making huge assumptions for someone who never leaves his mansion."
Leonard raised a hand.
"Easy," he said. "I don't wish you harm."
"I want to help."
He sighed.
"We both want Utsuki to win."
"We both want to protect our family."
Toki laughed bitterly.
"When you say it like that, it's hard to believe you."
Leonard stood.
Walked slowly in front of him.
"Toki," he said firmly, "fate brought us together because we're alike."
"You don't have the right to give up."
"You don't have the right to fail."
"You don't have the right to die."
His voice hardened.
"Our goal is too important for those freedoms."
"All I can do is give you influence and knowledge."
"All you can do…"
"…is win and survive."
"No matter the cost."
Toki stood abruptly.
His chair scraped against the floor.
"You expect too much from me," he said sharply.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you."
"I'm not some indestructible hero."
"I'm tired."
"I'm scared."
"And I'm human."
He turned toward the door.
Leonard grabbed his arm.
"Wait."
Toki paused.
Leonard's grip loosened.
"I'll be here," Leonard said quietly.
"I'll be waiting."
Toki didn't answer.
He left.
The night greeted him.
Cold.
Silent.
Endless.
He slipped out of the mansion.
Past the gates.
Into the sleeping forest.
Snow crunched beneath his boots.
He didn't call Umma.
He wanted to walk.
He needed to think.
Ozvold would bring Kandaki in the morning.
This was something he had to do alone.
The sunrise would come in a few hours.
Might as well stay awake.
Might as well prepare....
He walked through narrow alleys.
Stone walls pressed close on both sides, as if the city itself were trying to swallow him whole.
Past closed shops, their wooden shutters cracked and peeling, old signs creaking softly in the wind.
Past abandoned carts, left behind in haste, their wheels half-buried in frozen mud.
Past broken fences, patched together so many times that no one remembered how they had first fallen apart.
The city looked fragile at night.
Like a glass sculpture balanced on the edge of a table.
Beautiful.
And one careless touch away from shattering.
Cold air brushed against his face.
It carried the scent of snow, smoke, and distant iron.
Sounds were rare.
A door slamming somewhere far away.
The faint bark of a stray dog.
The soft crunch of his boots against gravel.
Each step echoed louder than it should have.
As if the darkness were listening.
His thoughts spiraled.
I've done everything.
I trained them.
I pushed them beyond their limits.
I watched them fall.
I helped them stand again.
I protected them.
I put myself between them and danger.
Between them and death.
I prepared them.
For the exam.
For failure.
For loss.
For a future that might never come.
So why does it still feel like I'm failing?
Why does my chest feel so heavy?
Why does every breath hurt?
He slowed his pace.
His fingers curled unconsciously.
He could still feel phantom pain in his hands.
How many times had he sworn to protect them?
How many times had he told himself he would never let anyone else be taken away?
And yet…
He reached the training grounds.
A wide, open field surrounded by worn stone walls.
During the day, it was full of life.
Shouts.
Laughter.
The clash of wooden blades.
Footsteps running in every direction.
Now—
Empty.
Silent.
Dead.
No torches.
No voices.
No movement.
Only moonlight spilled across the ground, pale and cold, like a thin layer of frost.
He stepped onto the field.
His boots left shallow marks in the snow.
He walked to the center.
Stopped.
Stood alone beneath the sky.
And closed his eyes.
Faces appeared in his mind.
They all overlapped.
Blurred together.
A thousand expectations resting on his shoulders.
His fists trembled.
He clenched them.
Then relaxed them.
Then clenched them again.
"…I've done all I can," he whispered.
His voice sounded small in the empty field.
Almost swallowed by the night.
"I've given everything I had."
"My strength."
"My time."
"My fear."
"My life."
Silence answered him.
The wind passed through.
Unmoved.
"Now…"
He opened his eyes.
Moonlight reflected in them.
"…It's time to cut the root of evil."
"Before it blooms."