Raising his eyes, Shinji saw that Okami had turned back to Yoru.
"Yoru, go to the market. Find out about the girl I told you about."
"The girl?" Shinji asked, his throat tightening.
He immediately recalled the girl he had abandoned at the market.
He had seen her being chained and taken, and he had only decided to act once it was too late.
"She's the one who should have been saved… not me," Shinji murmured.
The last words he had heard from the girl's mouth came back to him:
"Sir, save me… I don't want to lose my freedom again…"
Yoru nodded and left the room without a word.
Shinji, on the other hand, didn't dare lift his eyes anymore. Shame consumed him. He despised himself. He had tried to meet her gaze one last time that day, but it didn't help him forget his cowardice. He couldn't stop repeating to himself:
"I abandoned her. I could have… at least tried. But I did nothing. I knew I couldn't do anything against them; I was just trying to ease my conscience."
He placed his right hand over his face to try to hide. Hide what exactly? He couldn't even explain it to himself—his cowardice, his hypocrisy. It didn't matter. As long as no one looked at him, as long as he was ignored, he wouldn't have to face who he was or, rather, who he had been.
Haruka gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You don't have to worry anymore, Shinji. You're not alone anymore. With us, you'll learn to love yourself again."
And with those words, he felt something break inside him.
It wasn't shame or self-loathing. It was tears this time. The tears of a relieved man, as if a weight had been lifted from him.
He murmured, almost out of breath:
"You saved me… even though I'm just a stranger…"
Haruka gave him a warm smile. At that moment, Shinji understood that he, too, deserved a second chance.
Across from them, Okami watched, her expression unreadable.
Haruka helped Shinji stand, placing his arm over her shoulder, and they left the room together, walking slowly down the hallway until they reached a room opposite the makeshift infirmary where he had woken up.
She opened the door to this room and pointed to a small stone basin at the far end before leaving him alone.
Shinji approached the faucet and let a trickle of water flow before leaning down to wash.
And in that puddle of water, he saw his reflection. The one he had tried to avoid in the alley.
"This face…"
"I haven't changed much since that day, after all…"
He still looked like the boy he had seen in his nightmare, with the same eyes, the same black hair.
As he began to inspect himself more closely, he noticed something.
"A scar…"
Under his neck, where the boy in his dream had nothing. Shinji didn't understand this mark.
"How did I get this?"
He gently touched the area. He felt slight tingles.
"Was it the butcher before he took me to the cave, or the blows I took in the alley? No, it couldn't have healed so quickly."
"Why don't I remember it?"
Haruka returned with a small pile of clothes. She saw the anger in his eyes.
"We all have a past, you know. Maybe it's better not to remember it and to start over, to have a fresh start to show the world we're more than what it shaped us to be."
He looked at her, surprised.
But she wasn't smiling. She seemed to be hiding something, something buried within her that she couldn't forget.
"Here," she added. "You'll blend in better with these."
She handed him the clothes and quietly slipped away to give him some privacy.
Shinji slowly removed his t-shirt.
And at that moment, he noticed that the scar on his neck wasn't the only one he had. Another one covered nearly his entire chest.
He brushed the mark with his fingertips, trembling.
"What happened to me…? How could I have survived this…? Unless… it has something to do with… my death?"
He felt his heart beat faster, his breathing quicken. The memories didn't return. Only silence reigned within him. A terrifying void, a gaping hole in his memory.
He leaned against the wall, trying to calm himself.
"This wound… it can only be that…"
He closed his eyes and began to feel a pain in his head.
But he had to stay strong. He had to move forward. At least to understand. To recover his memories. To give meaning to his life.
He put on the clothes Haruka had given him. A simple linen shirt, beige pants, a patched-up hooded vest. Nothing impressive, but it was exactly what he needed—to blend in and no longer endure looks like those of the butcher and the twins.
He took a deep breath, looked at himself one last time in the water, and left the room.
Haruka was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed, leaning against a wall.
Beside her, Okami was staring at a small open window.
"Is he ready?" the head asked.
Haruka nodded.
"He looks like it, at least," Haruka replied, giving Shinji a faint smile.
"Go catch up with Yoru. Given his reaction earlier… I can't leave this responsibility to him alone."
"Yes, Okami-sama."
Haruka set off.
Okami turned to Shinji and gestured for him to follow.
"Alright. You'll stay here for a while until your body heals. Once it does, I can't force you to stay. It'll be up to you."
She turned away and started down the hallway. Shinji followed, still a bit hesitant.
They passed several worn wooden rooms, encountering a few curious, tired, but not hostile faces. Children played on the floor, adults repaired furniture or prepared modest meals.
No contempt, no anger, no envy in their gazes.
Shinji could hardly believe it.
He felt something twist in his chest. He had fled, suffered, screamed, yet here, amidst the misery, people managed to remain human.
"They're laughing," he murmured. "Despite everything, they're still laughing…"
Okami slowed her pace, turning her head slightly toward him.
"As you can see, I couldn't find anything better for them, though they deserve all the lands of Stygia. Terror took everything from them…"
"Terror?" Shinji thought.
She stopped.
"But as long as we have this…"
She placed a hand on her chest before raising her eyes proudly.
"…we'll survive."
Shinji froze.
Those simple words… touched something deep within him.
He remembered his memory, the state he was in.
"If I had found a place like this refuge back then, I could have…"
But that thought was cut short.
A figure appeared, emerging from a slightly open door further down the hallway. The air shifted. As if an invisible blade had just been drawn.
The peaceful atmosphere from moments ago had changed.
The person was approaching them more and more.
It was a man, about Shinji's age, with purple hair and sharp features. He walked with an almost exaggerated nonchalance, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on Shinji.
He let out a mocking smile when his eyes met Shinji's, but his gaze revealed contempt, a contempt Shinji hadn't seen in anyone else in the refuge, not even in Yoru's eyes.
Shinji didn't know him, but his instincts tensed immediately.
The stranger stopped a few steps away, his shadow grazing Shinji's on the dusty floor.
He finally broke the silence.
"So, it's you."
His voice was low, almost a murmur. And what he said didn't seem to be truly directed at Shinji, as if he were speaking aloud to himself.
A shiver ran up Shinji's neck. He hadn't said or done anything, yet he already felt trapped.
But before the man could say anything more, a sharp, icy voice rose from behind Shinji:
"Daichi."
Shinji flinched.
Okami was approaching with slow steps. Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unyielding authority.
Daichi half-turned. His smile widened slightly, as if he were amused at being interrupted.
"Just taking a stroll," he said with false innocence.
"Not now."
Okami's tone snapped like an order.
Daichi shrugged, not bothering to argue. He turned on his heels, but before disappearing into the shadows, he cast one last glance at Shinji before leaving.
Shinji didn't dare move for a moment.
Okami remained silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on Daichi.
"Ignore him," she said finally.
She turned on her heels, leaving no room for discussion.
"Follow me."
Shinji, regaining control of himself, began following Okami again.
He walked behind her without saying a word.
The hallway grew narrower. The walls closed in, as if they wanted to suffocate them. The smell of dust and old wood intensified. With each step, Shinji felt his heart beat a little harder.
They reached a door Shinji hadn't noticed earlier. Without a word, Okami turned the handle.
When the door opened, Shinji quickly scanned the room. It was shrouded in semi-darkness. No windows. Only a small lantern hanging from the ceiling, casting dancing shadows on the bare stone walls. An atmosphere that reminded him of the butcher's cave.
However, he noticed that in this room, instead of a chair in the middle, there was a table, and on it… a blade. His blade.
The one he didn't know why he possessed. The one everyone seemed to want to take from him.
The one he hadn't had the courage to draw to save the girl.
He approached it slowly. His footsteps echoed on the creaking wood. Once he reached it, his hand reached out on its own.
He didn't understand why, but this weapon seemed to call to him.
Its shadow seemed to merge with his own.
He touched the handle. The metal was cold. He was certain—it was indeed his blade.
But as he was about to lift it, a flash of steel grazed his throat.
Okami had approached without a sound, and now… the tip of a short sword rested just under his chin.