Chapter 297
BRUISED (2)
There were a few seconds of silence before the man finally replied, a tired smile tugging weakly at his lips.
"He was… at the Hold."
Her eyes widened instantly, the meaning behind those words settling heavily in her chest even before he continued.
"With Regina…"
The woman seemed to freeze, her breath catching as she stared at him in disbelief.
Slowly, she lifted a hand and placed it against his chest, pressing herself closer to him as if to comfort him. Her fingers curled into the fabric beneath them, holding on.
"What a world we live in…" she whispered. "A world so full of suffering… of pain… madness… and death."
Her voice was barely more than air, yet it carried the weight of countless unspoken memories.
They both fell into silence after that, sinking into thoughts of a past they could never return to—faces, moments, laughter, and loss blending together in a quiet ache that neither of them tried to chase away.
What returned instead was a delicate peace.
The man shifted slightly, turning his head toward the tall window beside them. Beyond the glass, one of the moons hung quietly in the night sky, its pale glow watching the world below with distant indifference. He stared at it for a long while, unmoving, as if hoping it might offer answers it never would.
And so they remained there together, bruised in ways far deeper than skin, held by silence beneath the watching moon.
Seeing that the events here had drawn to a close, the moons slowly withdrew their attention, their pale gazes drifting elsewhere. Their focus settled upon a small car as it rolled into a parking space and came to a gentle stop, its engine humming faintly before falling silent.
Moonlight spilled downward once more, intertwining with the artificial glow of streetlamps and distant windows as a lone figure stepped out of the vehicle. The cool night air brushed against them as they straightened, moving with visible fatigue, each movement unhurried and heavy.
Diamond earrings caught the moonlight, glinting softly with every slight shift of their head, reflecting brief flashes of silver brilliance against the shadows. Despite their beauty, the figure seemed worn, shoulders slouched and steps slow as they made their way down the road.
They passed by others still awake beneath the sleeping sky—distant silhouettes, quiet lives continuing on without pause. Footsteps echoed faintly against the pavement, blending into night as the figure continued forward, carrying exhaustion beneath the watchful, indifferent glow of the moons above.
The figure suddenly stopped in front of a building, glancing up at the words etched above the entrance—Dorm 9.
They stood there for a long moment, unmoving, as if countless years had passed since they had last returned. The quiet hum of the night pressed in around them.
With a small shake of the head, as though snapping themselves out of it, they stepped forward and entered through the silent lounge.
The interior was dim, the lights softened for the late hour. Their footsteps echoed faintly as they made their way up the stairs.
Reaching the top, they turned into the hallway and walked down its length until they stopped in front of a door marked with the number 13.
They lifted their phone, pressing it against the scanner. A soft beep followed, and they pushed the door open.
Inside, another figure sat at the kitchen table, frozen mid-bite with a sandwich clutched in their hands. The room fell into an awkward silence as their eyes met. One of them looked as though they had been caught red-handed, chewing slowly, unsure of what to say.
The one who had just entered simply shook his head. He crossed the room without a word, went to his bed, and pulled together a towel along with the few things he needed for a shower. Standing upright again, he looked every bit as tired as he felt, ready to wash the night from his body.
"You are back," the other finally said, managing to swallow down the mouthful of sandwich.
"Barely," was the response he gave as he made his way toward the bathroom, pausing just before stepping inside.
He turned back to the other and said, "Actually… could you make me one of those too? I haven't eaten all day."
"Oh… oh right. Sure."
"Thanks."
…
Fifteen minutes later, fresh out of the shower, the two of them sat at the same table, eating in mostly silence.
The figure with the earrings suddenly spoke, breaking it. "Oh, by the way, thanks for bringing my phone and KASSARA along with you. It was really helpful…"
"KASSARA?" the other asked, tilting their head slightly, mismatched eyes filled with confusion.
"Oh… it's my mech."
"You named your gun…" they said, a small smile tugging at their lips.
"Is that not normal…?"
The other let out a short huff of air through their nose. They took another bite of their sandwich, chewing slowly as they studied him over the table. "I don't know," they said after swallowing. "I just never thought you'd be the type to name a gun."
"What does that ev—"
Before they could finish, the door suddenly burst open and another figure barged in, a massive grin plastered across their face.
Both of them turned toward the new arrival, who strutted inside like they owned the place, chest out and posture exaggerated, as if they were the king of the jungle returning victorious.
"Why are you so late?" the one with mismatched eyes asked.
The newcomer didn't answer immediately. Instead, they stepped forward and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, leaning in slightly with a smug, superior look as their lips curled into a smirk.
"Shouldn't little kids be sleeping right now?" they said brightly. "The night is for adults such as myself."
Both of their mouths twitched.
"What exactly are you even talking about?" one of them asked flatly.
With a dramatic flick of their hair, the newcomer straightened and said proudly, "Tonight, I stalked through the jungle in search of my first truly fulfilling meal. I managed to convince them—using my dazzling skills—to a battle of the ages. And my, was it a tough and pleasurable battle. But I fought valiantly, shedding myself of my past immaturity and leaping into the arms of adulthood, I—"
Understanding dawned.
The one with the earrings immediately brushed the hand off their shoulder, recoiling slightly.
"Ew."
"It is not disgusting," they replied, their tone was lofty, "but I suppose you wouldn't understand, still blinded by your immaturity." As they spoke, the hand that had been brushed away ran through their hair.
"I'm going to bed," the one with the earrings announced flatly, already moving away as fast as dignity allowed.
The proud one turned toward the remaining figure, only for them to immediately respond with a cold, unamused expression. "Get your hands off me, dude."
…
Some time later, all three were back in their beds. The one in the middle, still wearing that insufferable smirk, spoke into the darkness. "Goodnight, children!"
He was ignored.
As sleep finally claimed them, the moons peeking through the window slowly withdrew, turning their distant gaze away to watch over the countless others resting beneath the same night sky.