[Yuzuki P.O.V]
"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked.
His voice was calm and composed, as if he genuinely cared. There was no rush in his steps, no strain in his breathing as he carried me on his back.
I pressed my cheek against the black leather of his coat. It was warm.
Comfortingly so.
Why… isn't he wet? I wondered in genuine curiosity, even as rain continued to pour around us. The thought barely registered before I tightened my arms around his neck, my fingers clenching instinctively afraid that if I loosened my grip, I would fall.
"…It still hurts," I whispered.
After all the beatings, every movement sent pain lacing through my body.
The doctor hummed softly in acknowledgment.
he spoke. "You took more than you should have."
My eyes fluttered as I peeked at the street from the corner of my vision.
We weren't heading home.
The buildings passing by were unfamiliar.
A knot formed in my chest.
Where are we going…?
No—
Where is he taking me?
The questions piled up in my mind, heavy and frightening.
I wanted to ask.
After all, my safety was at risk.
It felt… wrong to ask.
Not because I was afraid
but because, for some unknown reason, I trusted this man.
This doctor had helped me without asking anything in return.
"Do you know the story of Gilgamesh, child?"
His sudden question pulled me from my thoughts. For a moment, I forgot my fear, forgot the rain, forgot to wonder where he was taking me.
"…No," I answered honestly.
The only Gilgamesh I knew was from games, not from actual ancient texts.
I shifted slightly on his back. "Never heard of the guy," I admitted.
A soft chuckle escaped him.
"Well, that's expected," he said. "And also a wonderful opportunity… for me."
"An opportunity?" I asked, puzzled.
"An opportunity to tell you the myth myself," he said, his voice carrying a strange weight, almost like reverence.
"Gilgamesh," he began, "was a king a god among men. He was a cruel ruler, a man who took what he wanted with no care for anyone."
I listened quietly, my cheek still pressed against his coat.
"But for all his power, all his wealth, all his knowledge," he continued, "he feared one thing above all else."
"Can you guess what he was afraid of?" he asked.
"Death?" I answered, my words lacking any confidence.
His shoulders lifted slightly, almost approvingly.
"Yes. Death."
His tone shifted, as if he were trying to remember something that should remain in the past.
"Death a concept that every being faces at the end of their time. It doesn't discriminate."
I pressed closer against his back, listening to every word he spoke with interested.
"He realized that no matter how strong, how wise, how wealthy a man could be, death comes for all," he said. "Even a great king as himself."
"So he chose to accept it… and die, leaving a legacy behind."
"The end," he said, leaving us both in silence as he continued to walk.
I wanted to ask him why he had told me this story. I wondered, my fingers tightening instinctively.
I still had no idea where he was taking me. And yet… I didn't feel the same fear I had a moment ago.
Was it because of the story he told me?
I didn't know..
"wh-"
"Do you like the end?" he spoke, cutting off my voice.
did I like it I thought before replaying
"No."
"And why don't you like it?" he asked.
A strange feeling twisted in my chest, telling me that if I didn't answer this question properly, my life might cease to exist.
"…Because in the end, he died.
"So you don't like it because he died?" he pressed.
"Yes."
"Hm. An amusing answer," he said, just as we came to a stop in front of a black building. It loomed over us, massive and imposing, as if it had been built with the help of dwarves—its entrance far too large, far too heavy to feel human.
"Honesty," the doctor continued, his voice flat, emotionless, carrying nothing but cold fact, "You answer honestly, little one."
"But honesty is not good," he went on. "It is never rewarded." He spoke as if he himself had once been wounded by someone else's honesty.
I barely had time to process his words before the gates began to open.
My breath caught.
Two figures stood beyond them—tall, broad, dressed in full Armor. No skin was exposed except for their heads which were green in colour. In their hands, they carried white spears that gleamed faintly in the dim light.
Orcs.
My mind snapped back to reality in shock.
Panic surged through me, and I tried to pull away from the doctor's back, my grip loosening as fear finally took hold.
"No, no, no," he said, his voice calm, almost soothing to my mind.
But my heart didn't follow.
It raced wildly, pounding against my ribs, because I knew—something was wrong. Deeply wrong. And if I didn't escape now…
I didn't want to think about what would happen.
I twisted harder, panic lending strength to my aching body. Pain flared, but fear drowned it out. My fingers clawed at his coat as I tried to pull away, to put distance between us and that black building, between me and those armored figures.
"Please," I breathed, the word tearing itself from my throat. "Let me go—"
His grip tightened.
Not rough.
Not gentle either.
Just firm enough to tell me I wasn't going anywhere.
"Well," he said calmly, still carrying me as if I weighed nothing, "does a cat let a mouse go?"
I struggled harder, desperation burning through my limbs.
"Does a lion let a deer escape?"
I twisted sharply and tried to bite his neck.
He didn't even flinch.
No hiss of pain. No reaction at all.
"Does a hunter let go of his prey?" he continued, his voice steady, almost thoughtful.
I fought and fought, but it was useless.
Step by step, he carried me forward.
We crossed the threshold of the black building.
The doors behind us slammed shut.
The sound echoed—final, absolute.
And in that moment, as darkness swallowed us whole, I understood.
I hadn't just entered a building.
I had entered hell.