Dimentio and Blumiere both sat atop Flipside Tower. The crowd had dispersed long ago. Mario and Luigi were down with Merlon, talking about something that most likely didn't matter. The sun had just set, turning the sky a dark purple color. The lantern in Blumiere's hand seemed to glow brighter in the darkness, however, he wasn't sure if it was actually glowing more intensely, or if it simply appeared brighter due to the contrast of the darker surroundings. 

Neither of the former villains had ever seen Flipside at night. It was actually quite beautiful. Lights from the streets and the buildings kept the city bright. Even after hours, the streets felt alive and were filled with chatter and laughter. There was a glowing quality to each of the dimensional doors as well, that was practically unnoticeable in the daytime.

Dimentio carefully held the book with both hands, reading through the contents. Luigi had said another chapter was unlocked. That wasn't the case, however. More than a chapter had unlocked. The entire book had made itself available. There were pages and pages filled with words, to the point where Dimentio couldn't even read it all. The beginning of the book was filled with dated entries, but as time passed, the dates went away, revealing a story. A story about someone's life. A story about love and forgiveness.

It wasn't like the Light Prognosticus in the sense that there were heroes and good guys. However, it wasn't like the Dark Prognosticus either. There was no black and white. There were no heroes and villains. There were just people. People who yes, did questionable things to the protagonist of the story, but there was no pure antagonist. No one person was the source of all evil. It was that quality that made the story feel real.

That, and the disorganization. The fact that the story was messily made it feel all the more true. The fact that there were thoughts and phrases contradicting one another made it feel like a human mind. There was a unique beauty to the messiness.

The story was about a man. A man who spent his life feeling as though he had never been truly alive. It wasn't until he decided to push himself to step outside his comfort zone did he start finding purpose. However, the protagonist of the story wasn't some brave, selfless, perfect legendary hero like the legends in the Light Prognosticus. The main character was flawed. The main character felt things like anger and betrayal. They were complex in a way.

The main character was someone with room to grow, as were all the side characters.

The fact that there were pages and pages of words showed that the author did in fact not die on April 5th, as he had written in the last entry Dimentio and Blumiere read. In fact, there were dated entries explaining how he had in fact gotten himself into a duel over something as simple as a girl, then somehow miraculously won. However, even as the victor, he had chosen to get his competitor to a healer. A seemingly stupid move on his part, but it did show a lot about his character.

"Do you think the entries are real...?" Blumiere asked, reading over Dimentio's shoulder. "Or... are they all just part of a story?"

Dimentio shrugged. He honestly wasn't sure anymore. When the two of them first stumbled upon the book, they thought that it was a simple journal. However, looking back at the entries before the story part of the book even began, they were starting to feel more and more like set up for the actual story. There were aspects that felt real, but that may have just been due to the messy format it was written in.

"Perhaps it's a legend," Dimentio suggested. "A story born of truth. Something that could be real, but we've no way to prove it."

Blumiere nodded, then carefully took the book from the jester, briefly skimming over the pages. He turned the pages, flipping to the end of the book. He noted how the handwriting had gotten progressively messier. The ink smeared slightly as if the author didn't even wait for it to dry before turning the pages. 

By the time he made it to the last page, where there was a footnote of sorts. One last entry that wasn't part of the story. The handwriting was barely even readable. Still, he found himself squinting, trying to take in the words anyway.

There's a magic that comes with forgiveness. It's a power that I cannot quite explain. We strive for others to forgive us for the mistakes they make, but no one ever talks of the feeling the individual giving the forgiveness will be hit with. It is like a weight is being lifted off of me for good. I realize now that by withholding my forgiveness, I was hurting myself more than anyone else.
That doesn't mean everyone deserves forgiveness. I am simply saying... sometimes, people should forgive others, not because others deserve it, but because they deserve that inner peace. They deserve the opportunity to move forward and continue living.

Blumiere frowned slightly, as Dimentio stood up and leaned over his shoulder, silently reading as well.

Forgiving others is easy. The challenge was forgiving myself for not being enough for her. The challenge was forgiving myself for everything.

Something about that phrase resonated within Blumiere.

He never even thought about himself as someone he needed to get forgiveness from. He always assumed that forgiveness was something he'd have to earn from others.

The art of forgiveness is still not a concept I have mastered. I'll be the first to admit that I am flawed. However... I want to try. I want to really try, for myself and for my child. Perhaps if the world was more forgiving, we wouldn't be at war. There are good people on both sides. There doesn't need to be separation or fighting. If we as a people learn to forgive, we can move forward and become stronger. We can become happier.

"Blumiere..." Dimentio muttered, reading ahead. The former count was well aware that the jester was a much faster reader, but he still chose to ignore him, slowly reading through the paragraphs at his own pace.

The sun has just set on another day. You were buried last night. I haven't seen you yet. I wanted to attend the funeral, but I didn't want to be surrounded by dozens of people giving me pity. I will be visiting you often on my own, with Blumiere of course. I won't let him forget you, and will try to fill your shoes to give him the life he deserves. I'll keep him safe, while also letting him grow into his own person, just as I believe you would have wanted.
I wish you all the best, and as always, I am going to continue to try. I'll try to be brave, I'll try to be smart, I'll try to be good.
Most importantly, I'll try to be forgiving.
With much love, Marc

Blumiere tensed up, his grip on the book tightening the second he saw his own name.

"What...?" Blumiere asked, re-reading through the last paragraph another time.

He didn't remember anyone by the name of Marc. Was the author talking about a different Blumiere?! No, he couldn't have been. Blumiere wasn't exactly a common name. 

"Did you know him?!" Dimentio asked.

Blumiere quickly shook his head no, looking down at his staff before looking up at Dimentio. 

"Are you sure?!" Dimentio asked. "Because no offense, but Blumiere isn't the most common name-"

"I'm sure!" Blumiere exclaimed, re-reading through the paragraph once again. "I don't know him. I never met anyone named Marc. This... has to be some sort of coincidence."

"Really? Because it sounds like he's your-"

"Don't," Blumiere interrupted before Dimentio could finish that thought. He knew very well what Dimentio was about to say to him, and he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to believe it.

He didn't want to think of a life with someone like Marc as his father instead of the reality of what he got. He didn't get an awkward, forgiving person as a dad. His father was cruel and harsh. His father was short-tempered and angry.

"I... I'm so confused," Blumiere breathed with memories of his childhood playing through his mind. 

There were no memories of Marc. Not a single one.

Blumiere shook his head, then closed the book and looked down. 

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

"For what? Being confused?" Dimentio asked. "Honestly, I'd be equally as lost if I was in your shoes-"

"No, I'm sorry," Blumiere repeated. "To you. For... betraying you and everyone else. I'm sorry for making you feel small. I'm sorry for every wrong I've ever done you. I'm just sorry. I... beforehand, you asked me what I was sorry for, and I couldn't answer. I can now. I'm sorry for taking your trust and breaking it."

Dimentio stilled, taking a small step back as if upon instinct. 

He looked down at the book in Blumiere's hands, then at the lantern.

"Blumiere, I already forgave you," Dimentio breathed, smiling slightly. "I forgave you the second I started calling you Blumiere again. I'm not the one you need forgiveness from."

Blumiere frowned, confused. Dimentio had already forgiven him? After everything they went through? After all the hate and anger, all the betrayal and fighting?

"... I already forgave you too," Blumiere breathed. "I just... haven't been strong enough to admit it, I suppose. I... after everything that happened, you weren't even the person I blamed."

Dimentio nodded in agreement, bowing his head. 

"Yeah... I suppose I blamed myself more than anything," Dimentio admitted. "I mean, yes, I blamed you... but not as much as I liked to let on."

Forgiving others is easy. The challenge was forgiving myself for not being enough for her. The challenge was forgiving myself for everything.

Blumiere's eyebrows knitted together. He looked down at the closed book, then at the lantern in his hands.

"We have to forgive ourselves..." Blumiere muttered, so quiet that he was hardly speaking at all.

"Come again?" Dimentio asked, when Blumiere stood up, smiling brightly.

"I know who we need forgiveness from!" Blumiere exclaimed. "It's us- it's been us this whole time! We don't need to prove anything to the world, we just have to prove to ourselves that we can change. If we don't forgive ourselves, then how do we expect others to forgive us?"

Dimentio stilled, his face going slightly paler than it was before. 

While Blumiere grinned and smiled, having finally found the solution he needed in order to reunite with Timpani, Dimentio grew afraid. Dimentio became uneasy.

This was because the jester knew himself. He knew that it didn't matter how much time he had, he'd never be able to forgive himself for what he had done. Not completely, at least. How could he forgive himself, knowing that he betrayed everyone he ever cared about? How could he ever forgive himself knowing that he made himself known as the psycho clown who nearly destroyed all worlds? He always thought it would be easier to get forgiveness from others, but from himself? It didn't matter how many people forgave him, he knew he could never truly forgive himself and mean it.

He knew that in Blumiere's case, yes, self-forgiveness would be difficult, but at the end of the day, it wouldn't be impossible for the count. Especially since he had Timpani's love on the line. He knew that Blumiere would be able to pull it off, knowing how hard he had been trying to turn over a new leaf and be good. He knew that Blumiere would be able to forgive himself, knowing how difficult his childhood was and how unfairly the world had treated him. There were loads of things aside from himself that Blumiere could easily place the blame on. His father, the war separating him and Timpani, and even the Dark Prognosticus. 

For Dimentio, he had only himself to blame. Sure, he could convince himself to blame the count, but the worst thing Count Bleck did to him was lie to him and the rest of his loyal minions. Count Bleck didn't murder someone he loved. At the end of the day, the person responsible for Dimentio's own actions was Dimentio himself. He knew he could never forgive himself, no matter how he twisted the story.

Dimentio blinked, snapping himself out of his thoughts and bringing his attention back to Blumiere, who was smiling as if he had just won the jackpot. Dimentio wished he could share the former count's excitement, but he couldn't.

"I don't think I can," Dimentio breathed.