Samael followed Elizabeth to a funeral home.
It was a long walk.
Too long.
Neither of them had a driver's license.
And Samael simply refused to use public transportation.
So they walked.
For hours.
In silence.
But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence.
It was steady.
Present.
The kind of companionship that didn't require words.
When they finally arrived at the funeral home, Elizabeth let out a subtle sigh.
"This place should sell headstones. After that, we just need the land… and shovels."
She seemed more tired from the walk than from the idea of digging graves.
She made a mental note:
Get a driver's license. Urgently.
As she prepared to enter the store, Samael grabbed her arm.
Elizabeth slowly turned her head.
Her look clearly said:
What are you doing?
"I… I'll go," he said, swallowing hard.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.
In recent days, she had complained that he was becoming too dependent.
And he knew it was true.
He had grown comfortable.
Hidden.
Delegated.
He had promised himself he would handle his own problems, step by step.
But he had been running away again.
Leaning on her.
"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked.
Samael practically went mute around strangers.
Anything social usually fell to her.
"I am."
He took a deep breath.
And went in alone.
The door opened with a small metallic chime.
The interior was quiet.
A few coffins on display.
Polished wood.
A faint smell of varnish.
At the back, a counter.
Behind it, a clerk with a bored expression.
The moment the man's eyes met Samael's—
All his conviction evaporated.
There's still time to turn back.
His stomach tightened.
Why did I decide to do this again?
He walked to the counter.
Firm steps.
Stoic face.
Head slightly lowered.
Inside?
Absolute chaos.
Liz, save me… he pleaded mentally.
But he kept walking.
The internal drama was his defense mechanism.
If he turned everything into a theatrical play inside his own head, it became bearable.
Finally, he reached the counter.
What felt like minutes had only been seconds.
"Good morning. How may I help you?" the clerk asked with automatic professionalism.
Samael opened his mouth.
No sound came out.
He tried again.
"Excuse me… I…"
His voice almost failed.
He discreetly clenched his fist.
"I would like five headstones."
Each word was forced out.
The clerk nodded without any reaction.
"Of course. Would you also like to purchase a funeral plan? We have excellent coffins. Would you like to take a look?"
"No. Just the headstones, please."
His voice came out low.
Contained.
He almost glanced at the door, expecting Elizabeth to appear dramatically.
But she didn't.
"Very well. Please provide the address. The headstones will be delivered within three days."
"Seven Plum Street."
"The total comes to seventeen hundred credits."
Samael took out his communicator.
Tapped it against the payment device.
Transfer complete.
The soft confirmation sound echoed in the room.
"Anything else?" the clerk asked.
"Nothing. Thank you."
He turned immediately.
Left as quickly as he could without looking like he was fleeing.
The moment he crossed the door, he pulled in air as if he had survived a battle.
Elizabeth was leaning against the wall outside.
Watching.
"Well?"
Samael held his posture for two seconds.
Then muttered:
"I survived."
"Congratulations," Elizabeth said.
She didn't need to ask how it had gone.
The cold sweat on his forehead said enough.
So did his still uneven breathing.
There were two more places to go.
And she would make him go again.
Not out of cruelty.
Not out of convenience.
Yes, she complained about his dependence — but it wasn't just because she was tired of handling everything.
The problem was something else.
One day, he might be alone.
In a strange place.
Without her.
And if that happened…
He would need to survive.
Elizabeth wasn't a babysitter.
She was a partner.
And partners don't carry each other on their backs — they walk side by side.
"We still need shovels," she commented casually.
Samael's gaze faltered for a second.
Then he nodded.
And went again.
That day was far from over.
Buying the shovels was… worse.
Not because it was difficult.
But because he was already emotionally exhausted.
The second social interaction came like a second battle on the same day — when the first one hadn't even healed.
Even so, he went.
Spoke.
Paid.
Left.
Without fainting.
A victory.
Small.
But real.
At the plot of land near his room in Bastion, Elizabeth took the lead with the bureaucracy. Documents, permits, registrations — things that made Samael's eyes go blank within seconds.
He didn't argue.
He wasn't ready for that kind of battle yet.
But he was learning to choose the ones he could face.
The sun slowly set.
And the day that had already seemed too long… continued.
That night, in the Dream Realm.
Samael was in his female form.
The air there was different.
Denser.
Quieter.
More honest.
He and Elizabeth dug a small plot of land near his house.
The soil was softer than it should have been.
Or maybe it was just an impression.
Five holes.
Five headstones resting beside them.
The sound of shovels cutting through the ground echoed rhythmically.
Dragged.
Almost solemn.
Some passersby slowed their steps.
Looked.
Two beautiful girls digging graves in the middle of the Dream Realm was not exactly a common sight.
But no one approached.
There was something in the atmosphere that kept the curious away.
Maybe it was Elizabeth's silent expression.
Or perhaps it was the empty look in Samael's eyes as he dug.
There were no tears.
No speeches.
Only earth being moved.
Each shovel driven into the ground felt heavier than the last.
Not because of the physical effort.
But because of the meaning.
"Tired?" Elizabeth asked after a while.
Samael paused for a second.
Looked at the hole in front of him.
"Yes."
She watched him for a few moments.
Then resumed digging.
The sky of the Dream Realm seemed darker that night.
Or maybe it was just the feeling of closure.
That day had been long.
Cruelly long.
And yet…
Samael hadn't run.
He hadn't hidden behind her.
Not completely.
The earth finally covered the last grave.
Silence reigned again.
And, for the first time that day—
Samael felt something other than anxiety.
It wasn't relief.
It wasn't peace.
It was… weight.
But a weight he had chosen to carry.
And that made all the difference.
Finally… the headstones stood upright.
Five simple silhouettes behind the small room.
Nothing ornate.
Nothing grand.
Just stone.
And names.
To anyone else, it would be nothing more than a small improvised cemetery.
No ceremony.
No flowers.
No audience.
No importance.
But to Samael…
It was different.
He stood before them for long seconds.
The light wind of the Dream Realm crossed the lake ahead and brushed against the newly placed stones.
Something warm spread inside him.
A gentle heat.
Almost shy.
Warming cracks he hadn't even known were still open.
It didn't make sense.
The bodies were elsewhere.
The souls had already been taken to the Shadow Realm.
This changed nothing.
It brought no one back.
Corrected no mistakes.
Erased no failures.
And yet…
He felt as if he were being watched.
Not with judgment.
But with recognition.
As if those invisible presences whispered a silent thank you.
The exhaustion of that day — physical, emotional, social — began to dissolve.
It didn't disappear.
But it lost its crushing weight.
It was like facing a Nightmare Creature.
Barely surviving.
And, upon absorbing its soul core, realizing that all that pain… had value.
Even if it was only emotional.
Even if no one else understood.
The small cemetery felt welcoming.
Strangely welcoming.
Perhaps morbid.
Perhaps unsettling.
Five headstones aligned before a vast lake in Bastion were not exactly a comforting sight.
But to him, they were.
Because there was something there that the Dream Realm rarely offered:
Closure.
He knew that place would grow.
The thought didn't scare him.
Didn't sadden him.
It was simply an inevitable truth.
The life they led did not allow for peaceful endings.
So if new names appeared…
He would build headstones.
One by one.
He would work.
Dig.
Carry.
He would turn that soil into a refuge.
His small personal cemetery before the great lake of Bastion.
A place where memories would not be devoured by oblivion.
Samael stepped forward.
His fingers brushed the cold stone of the nearest headstone.
"Thank you."
The words came out low.
Honest.
Each of them had been important.
In different ways.
With different weights.
Some almost insignificant.
Others… crushing.
But all had left marks.
Scars.
Lessons.
Shadows.
And he would make sure to remember them.
Not out of guilt.
Not out of obligation.
But because remembering was the only way to prevent the world from erasing them completely.
The wind blew once more.
The waters of the lake rippled softly.
And, for the first time since that cycle had begun—
Samael did not feel empty.