He turned, picking up a few small, dusty planks from the ground. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That... you feel like you're never going to be good enough." she smiled, despite the weight of her words. Morio seemed to catch onto her expression and quickly shoved off whatever she tried adding. He ducked, searching through a pile of garbage, meaninglessly, as the only thing he wanted to do was avoid this conversation altogether.

"You're going to tell me that Ingo's the same, right?" he continued, eventually. "That, as rivals, we shouldn't-"

"It's not about Ingo."

"Jyuzou? I know that bastard, and he's already got everything in this damn world." he shook his head.

"Me, Morio." the light beam faded into obscurity. "Me."

"You?" he raised an eyebrow. "You, of all people? The open-minded, kind Genni, always chasing around the others to make ends meet? You're always good enough if you try and solve every issue you come across. At least, to them." Morio turned again, squinting his eyes. "It's all good until you encounter something you can't change, no matter how much you try!" he pushed a few planks around.

"I..." she spoke, clenching her fist again. "I get why you're angry." she huffed. "Emotions are... human, after all." she smiled.

"Can't you be more clear? I always hated when people spout so much nonsense-"

"I already have things I can't fix, Morio!" she shouted.

The white-haired Morian's eyes widened in shock.

Sir Ton would never doubt hers or his very own words. Genni felt frustrated as if a certain illusion of promised happiness snapped.

Morio gulped, standing up.

"If you could listen to me, maybe you'd understand where all of this is coming from," Genni said. "I'm only trying to reach out a helping hand."

"Okay," he added. "I'm listening."

Genni breathed out, constantly, her eyes drifting back and forth across the room and back to Morio, whose heart was beating faster than usual.

Sir Ton would've wanted this. The more humans there were, the closer to perfection. Morio would've understood.

Right?

"I was-"

Suddenly, a loud noise from above sounded, muting any sounds coming from below. In just a second, the two snapped out of whatever they were trying to convey, glancing at each other in shock.

"Ingo, Jyuzou!" Genni mouthed, before running up the stairs.

***

Ingo smashed the ground with his club. "What do we have here?!" he inched closer, with a grin, while Jyuzou stood on the other end of the third floor, observing from afar, and even taking notes despite how much he trembled.

The black-hooded man chuckled, his features barely sticking out atop the animal skull mask he bore, hooded. "You think you're so clever, don't you?"

"I would be a big fat liar if I said no!" Ingo yelled. "Right, Jyuzou?"

"M-Maybe." Jyuzou shrugged.

"Your sheer brutality is what's driving you forward. You want to hit me with that weapon, don't you?" he asked, huffing, while Ingo's sandal further dug into his stomach. He coughed, some blood painting the mask covering his face. "Show me what you're made of."

"Ingo, don't!" Genni yelled, stepping in from the side. The entire area was grim, dust changing into a soot-like substance dripping from the walls, a few opening up to reveal the setting sun, and hints of the festival in the distance. In short, a place where one wouldn't want to find oneself at any cost.

"I won't," Ingo added.

"I heard you when you first stepped in," he spoke through his teeth, squinting his eyes. "You want to crush us, don't you? Kill all if it matters to you! GET IT DONE WITH ALREADY!"

"He's provoking you!" Genni commented.

Ingo growled, with a tinge of annoyance. He took a few seconds to collect his thoughts, before opening his lips and further pushing on the man's body. "That's what you Wakon freaks want, right? Death." Ingo inched closer. "When I meant to crush, I meant to destroy all your wishes. Death itself goes against what we're all seeking here."

"You're just following whatever Behemoth wants you to!" he put both hands on his neck as if simulating choking. "We know who you are, Morians."

Jyuzou's eyes shrank, and Genni quickly looked back at Ingo, who didn't seem phased.

"We know what she wants from us!"

"She, me—who really cares?!" Ingo crouched, desperately trying to take the mask off his face. "Everyone wants you gone!

"It's too late already," he muttered. "Too..." he gasped. "Late!"

Ingo finally let go, ripping it off his face, only to reveal a grin. All of the Morians looked in.

Their eyes were frozen, glancing right back at Ingo, and, with each second passing, more blood stormed out from behind their ground teeth.

Genni immediately approached from behind, a bit curious. She crouched, hesitantly reaching for his hand and pulling it away from his neck. Three sharp nails moved out of the innards of his neck, and she covered her mouth.

"He's..." Jyuzou uttered. "Dead."

"Killed himself before I could squeeze enough out of the damn Wakon!" Ingo uttered, stepping around. "Shit!" he kicked a knocked-over chandelier, further breaking it into bits and pieces.

Morio observed, curiously.

Ingo pushed his hand into the dark wall. "We have to warn Koyote and Olala before it's too late."

Even though it already could've been too late.

Jyuzou gulped, glancing around, stuffing a hand into his pocket. He fixed his glasses, noticing that Genni did the same, as usual, using her wrists.

***

Olala huffed, taking another step up Mount Yosei.

The setting sun cascaded over the mountain, creating a shadow overlapping the path she followed, giving light to flowers she passed by, only now stopping to appreciate their smell and unique bloom. Dakarai, besides being keen on books, was also well-versed in nature, to some extent, following the many works written by Martin Baron. He'd always talk about them, despite her requests to switch up the topic.

Either way, it was another unique quirk, so upon seeing what book Jyuzou carried, she was reminded of the thousands of boring pages it housed. Boring, because she never got to read them willingly, and even now, Dakarai, perched up on the edge of Mount Yosei, found himself flipping through another book.

Olala breathed out, putting both hands on her hips, and cranking a shifty smile.

"Hold on." he raised a finger. "I'm almost finished with this page."

"Really?" she asked, furrowing her brows. "You haven't seen your daughter in a season and the same old tale is what you prioritise?"

He laughed. "I'm joking." he beamed, from ear to ear, putting down the lecture next to the ground.

He stood up and swiftly embraced Olala with a tight hug. She too, gave in, squeezing so hard that it hurt, but they chuckled it off a few seconds later.

"Are you sneaking off to the festival today?" he asked.

"I thought you'd be more inclined to ask about the past," Olala replied, sitting down and digging her hands into the grass.

"Not really. Koyote already gave me heaps of information over the passing time, but if it wasn't for her, this responsibility would lay on your shoulders."

"Give me a break, Pa." she winked.

"I know you have it hard over there, but hey, you're still alive."

"Barely." she looked forward, easing out.

It seemed, that a moment of peace amongst all those unsure waves created by Koyote herself finally came, and when the sun hit the distant horizon, a burden disappeared from her heart. She could relax, and think of anything that didn't concern her life for the past half a year.

Family. A place one could call home, even if it wasn't a house. Home was where comfort was. Home was where Dakarai sat, and smiled, in the same direction she did.

For the next minutes, perhaps even an hour, they chatted about the most trivial things, not letting go of the sunset. Even if one turned to the other, both would never directly look into each other's eyes. After all, it could just disappear, without them catching a glimpse at all the colours and shades it created in that half-a-second.

The librarian put his fingers together. "Galliath's quite the place, eh?"

"You always say that."

"Heh, don't blame me for appreciating the beauty of what resides in Errarion," he added. "You know why we moved here."

Olala's smile slowly faded. "Even if she's gone?"

"Her memory belongs to Galliath, the place she was born in." he nodded. "Somewhere there..." he pointed. "Around the volcano. That's where we buried her."

"There are no burials in Galliath. She's special, then."

"I guess so." he smiled. "I believe that through prayer and thought, there might be some way for her to return. Even if years passed, why not hold onto hope?"

"Come on, Pa. I don't want to speculate. Why are we wasting our time talking about Mama again?"

"Wasting? But you always smile when you think about her, don't you?" he asked, and Olala did spot a light beam. "Maybe she's still there, just out of our reach."

Olala looked at Dakarai and eventually crept closer. She put her hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Do you still remember her face, Olala?"

"You said my eyebrows were like hers," she muttered.

"Always moving around, so full of emotion and intrigue. You raised them the first time you saw a yundul, and you furrowed them so hard when that guy didn't want you to steer it." he smiled, and she laughed. "You raised them the same way when you saw me atop the mountain."

Olala nodded.

"...and furrowed when I saw you reading that book," she replied.

If there was peace, this was the moment she felt it. Harans never treated death as an opportunity to frown. Be happy that they were there.

However, it seemed that someone, even if they believed in these words, opposed them to the fullest extent. Dakarai's soft beam slowly faded into nothingness, and Olala moved away a little.

"Is something the matter?"

"N-No." he shook it off, faking a smile. "Just life, I guess."

"They're trying to take the library again, eh?"

"Not this time, strangely enough. It seems that the board finally learnt that the town needs more reliable sources of information instead of more restaurants serving roasted bamboo. People are always searching for answers, even if they don't even realise it. I too, am, constantly."

"Well, with the amount of books you read..."

"It seems that no books were talking about some form of cure for wounds, Olala,"

"I'm sure so."

"Not in my library then, and I'm afraid I won't have enough time to find such."

His last word lingered, as the feeling of embrace was replaced with a cold wind striking from the back. Olala stared at Dakarai unsurely, with a frown and concern. However, he still smiled.

It wasn't a warm beam, but a bleak front.

He put his hand on his forehead. "I always appreciate sunsets like this because I don't know if I'll see it tomorrow." he shrugged. "Maybe I won't even remember the sight today if life decides such."

"Are you..." she muttered, gulping. "Sick?"

"One way to call it." he smiled. "I've been to Reggio, and no matter how many potions I paid for, it seemed that it wasn't something medication could fight."

Reggio was the equivalent of a medical room in Magna. Specialised doctors and healers took in cases of extreme sickness, with a profound, and usually hard-to-obtain cure.

Dakarai had no cure.

"Haran Spread, it seems." he raised a finger. "No way to cure it, other than... hope I guess."

Haran Spread was a rare disease carried from Beastmen to Harans, mostly spotted a few years before the Second War. Although its source has mostly diminished, it still seldom appeared, with a thickened coat and no way to fight it. Much like the organs which slowly halt their movement when you're older, the longer it takes, the closer you are to a sudden death.

Olala's lips shook before her hand landed on her mouth. Her eyes were trembling as well, besting not to move into tears at such a moment.

"D-Don't cry," Dakarai muttered. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"D-Death? I don't want you to die!" Olala finally yelled out.

Dakarai sighed out. "It might be hard for you to understand. Losing someone you love."

"B-But why? Why aren't you trying to fight it? Leave the island, and find someone who can heal you! That stone in the Paladin, which saved-"

"It's a fictional book." Dakarai lied. "There's no cure for the Haran Spread."

Olala breathed in, hastily, her tears mixing in with the fresh, mountain air. She covered her eyes, moving back a little, the drops from her eyes unwillingly landing in Dakarai's open palm.

"...and I am trying. Always, doing everything to extend the little time I have left." he smiled. "But no matter the outcome, you'll still be here, Olala. As perfect as you are right now."

"D-D..." she stuttered. "Don't say that," she added, putting her hands on his shoulder.

Dakarai moved a little, startled. His cold smile finally turned into a distant frown. He squinted his eyes, furrowed his brows, and finally stared at the sun.

It disappeared behind the horizon.

"I don't want to die, Olala,"

She wept into his shoulder.

"If there was, one way, to fix all of this... even if it meant great sacrifices, I'd choose that road, solemnly." he continued.