The sinking sun cast its fading light across a vast, familiar field, its warmth dimming as the door creaked softly open and they stepped inside. Hana guided Jurgen to a seat without hesitation, her movements careful, almost fragile, as though the slightest misstep might cause him to break, and he lowered himself with visible effort, his body stiff, every motion deliberate as he tried to avoid placing further strain upon himself.
Without speaking, she reached for the hem of his shirt and eased it over his head, her gaze deliberately averted, a faint flush rising to her cheeks, though it went entirely unnoticed, Jurgen's mind had already drifted far from the present, lost somewhere beyond the room.
She dipped a cloth into a basin of warm water she had hastily prepared and wrung it gently, droplets falling in slow, rhythmic taps as she moved behind him and rested her hand lightly against his back, steadying him before she began. Her touch was precise, careful, each motion measured as she cleaned the dried blood from his chest, the cloth gliding across bruised and torn flesh with quiet restraint.
His breath hitched despite himself, a low, involuntary sound escaping as the warmth brushed against a more sensitive tear, not enough to overwhelm but sharp enough to remind him of the damage beneath.
"Is this okay?" Hana's voice came softly, barely rising above a whisper, her hand pausing mid-motion as it hovered just above his skin. "Jurgen?"
He did not respond at first. He remained still, his thoughts consuming him entirely, the flickering candlelight casting faint shadows across his unmoving form as his shoulders rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths.
"…Yeah."
The word came after a pause, distant and hollow, as though pulled reluctantly from somewhere far away. He shifted slightly, pressing a hand against the bed to straighten his posture for her, the movement carried a quiet strain that did not go unnoticed. Hana nodded faintly and resumed, her focus returning to the task, the cloth moving carefully across his chest as she wiped away the last traces of dried blood.
Silence settled between them, deep and unbroken, filled only by the faint drip of water and the soft brush of fabric, while outside the wind whispered faintly against the windows.
Time stretched within that quiet, minutes passing with a weight that made them feel far longer, until at last she began wrapping the bandage around his torso, layering it carefully across his chest, her hands steady yet cautious, doing all she could to avoid causing him pain.
It was not enough.
Jurgen winced.
"Sorry," she murmured at once, loosening the wrap slightly to ease the pressure, her fingers adjusting with renewed care, but he shook his head faintly, dismissing it with quiet resolve.
"…It's fine."
Her movements slowed further, more deliberate now, as she secured the bandage with gentle precision, the silence deepening once more, punctuated only by his uneven breathing and the faint rustle of cloth. After a moment, he pushed himself to his feet, he hadn't really steadied him self before his hand flew to his mouth.A violent cough followed, tearing through him, sudden and unrestrained, dark blood spilling between his fingers as it slipped through and struck the floor in heavy drops.
"Jurgen!"
Hana's voice broke sharply, all composure gone as she moved in front of him, her face draining of color, her eyes wide with alarm.
"Jurgen! Are you okay?"
He shook his head weakly, struggling to steady himself, but another cough seized him, forcing his body back against the wall as he searched for support. Hana pressed a trembling hand against his chest, her fingers unsteady as fear took hold.
"You're scaring me… stop holding back. Talk to me!"
His eyes met hers, dark, steady, unyielding, and yet beneath that stubborn exterior, exhaustion lingered, faint but undeniable.
"…I'm fine," he rasped.
The blood staining his hand said otherwise.
Hana said nothing in response. She only tightened her hold, anchoring him in place, refusing to let him move as though sheer will alone could keep him from collapsing.
Jurgen's gaze dropped slowly to his trembling hand, the dark red staining his palm a quiet, undeniable truth. Whether it stemmed from earlier or something far deeper, he already knew the answer.
…It's finally begun.
"Pack my bags, Hana."
The words came low, strained, yet certain. Her reaction was immediate, her grip tightening as her head shook sharply in refusal.
"I know… I know you're going for the Trials," she whispered, her voice breaking as tears gathered in her eyes. "You can't. I won't let you."
His gaze shifted away instead, settling on the faint light spilling across the room, yet he could still feel it, her resolve, pressing against him, refusing to yield.
I have to… there's no other path.
The thought came steady, carrying both pity and resolve beneath his otherwise cold composure. Slowly, he straightened despite the pain, drawing in a breath that did little to steady him, though the warmth of her hands grounded him, if only briefly.
"I have to do this," he said quietly, the words firm despite their softness. "No one can stop it now."
Her lips trembled as her grip tightened further, as though she could hold him together by force alone, keep him from stepping into whatever awaited him.
"It's tomorrow…" he continued, lowering himself back down as his strength faltered, her support immediate as she guided him. "I have to participate… and win. No matter what."
His fingers curled faintly, the weight of his resolve pressing into the space between them.
Yes… i need power.
Power beyond anything.
Hana bit down on her lip, her composure breaking as tears spilled freely down her face.
"Then I'm coming with you, Jurgen!" she cried, her voice trembling yet unwavering.
"Stop shutting me out… I want to help you!"
He looked at her then, truly looked, at the tears that refused to stop, at the stubborn determination that remained in her eyes despite them, and for a moment, he said nothing.
Then slowly, he leaned back, his strength giving way as his body sank onto the bed, the worn mattress dipping beneath him. His breathing turned ragged, uneven, his gaze drifting upward to the ceiling, distant, as though already far removed from the room itself.
Only Hana's quiet sobs filled the space, fragile against the stillness.
"If I stay weak… I lose everything."
The words came at last, low and heavy. His hand curled into a fist, knuckles paling as it trembled, not from pain alone but from something deeper, something unresolved, while his other hand rose to cover his eyes as memories of his own helplessness surfaced unbidden.
"So I'll become strong enough…"
The pause that followed carried weight, settling heavily between them.
"…that nothing can take anything from me again."
When his hand lowered, whatever softness had lingered was gone, replaced by something colder, sharper, unyielding.
"I'll change everything."
Hours passed in silence. By the time the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, the world outside had already begun to stir, morning already fully arrived.
Jurgen stood outside with a bag slung over his shoulder, calm and motionless beneath the pale light of dawn. Hana stirred awake slowly, her vision still weighed down by exhaustion as she rubbed at her eyes, the dryness beneath them evidence that yesterday's tears had long since run out. Her gaze drifted instinctively toward the bed which was now empty.
"Jurgen!" she called out at once, panic snapping her fully awake as she scrambled to her feet. She rushed to the window, leaning out sharply, and there he was below, standing alone in the open. The morning breeze moved through his hair, but he did not move with it; he remained still, distant, as if already severed from everything behind him. Her heartbeat spiked as she bolted downstairs, footsteps uneven, breath breaking apart in her chest.
"Jurgen… please don't leave… please don't leave me." Her voice cracked under its own weight, fragile and desperate, her arm stretching toward him as though she could physically stop his departure, as though he were something still within reach.
"Hana."
His voice came slowly, calm and stripped of warmth, sharp enough to still the air between them. She flinched at the shift, her hand faltering mid-air as she withdrew slightly, while his gaze stayed fixed forward, never once meeting hers.
"Don't follow me…"
"But I can help you, Jurgen, please just—"
"Hana!"
The word cut through her sentence, sudden and absolute. There was force in it, but beneath that edge, something fractured lingered, an almost restrained desperation, as if he were holding himself back from becoming worse.
"I have no use for your love… or your pity."
"I have no reason to love… or be loved by someone like you."
Each word landed heavier than the last, deliberate and cold, as though meant to sever any remaining hope she clung to. The space between them felt narrower and more suffocating with every syllable.
"So stop this nonsense… I have no use for you."
"Get back inside."
His tone dropped into something final, low, merciless. He adjusted the strap of his bag, paused briefly, then continued without looking at her.
"I don't need someone crying behind me."
"I need power."
Then he stepped forward and began to walk.Behind him, Hana stood frozen, tears streaming endlessly down her face, her vision blurring as his figure grew more distant with each step. Jurgen gritted his teeth as he moved, a faint sound escaping him under his breath.
"Tch…"
A small tremor passed through his expression, betraying something he refused to acknowledge.
"Yes, Hana… I'm not worthy to love… or be loved by someone like you."
"If you stay with me… you'll only watch me become something you'll hate."
He kept walking without turning back, hands clenched tightly at his sides, gaze fixed ahead with unyielding focus as the morning sun rose higher, spilling warmth across the world while his figure grew smaller against it. The wind moved through the grass, soft and indifferent, as if carrying him away regardless of his will.
Do I really want revenge… against the world?
…this world that took everything from me… yes… I'm not to blame. Its this cursed world.
Thoughts churned within him, each one sharper than the last, searching for something, anything, to bear the weight of his rage: the world, the people, even himself. None of them felt large enough, yet none could be spared either. The horizon widened as he walked, swallowing his certainty in its brightness.
Behind him, Hana collapsed to her knees, clutching her chest as her sobs broke free, her voice rising in desperation even as it failed to reach him. He was already too far, reduced now to a silhouette dissolving into the morning light, carried forward by a wind that did not wait.