...What you desire is not the Prescript. His voice was low. It was a statement of fact, but there was something sharp embedded within it. It sounded like an invitation to walk a path other than following the Prescript. To Esther, that was equivalent to shifting the axis of the world. However, Esther did not deny it. He swallowed the words he would normally have blurted out—that the Prescript is his reason for living, that there is nothing else. Because at this very moment, his presence here, unbidden by any Prescript, was proof of the flaw in that logic. The Prescript is my path. That will not change. He paused. Light filtered through the stained glass, passing over his metal eye patch. But it is also true that, as you wished, I have become unable to discard other things. That is also a fact.

As gest finished speaking, Esther's body stiffened slightly. It was only for a fleeting moment, but it was unmistakable. What this child had just said was not a simple analysis. She had accurately pierced through the structure of the Prescript, its cruel efficiency, and exactly where he stood within that system. Esther did not deny it. The picture gest painted was not wrong. If the Prescript ordered Esther to commit suicide, it would become the trigger that causes this child to distort. Esther's black eye met gest's heterochromatic ones. ...You are clever. It wasn't admiration. It was an acknowledgment. It was rare for a man like Esther to acknowledge anyone, but now, there was a faint weight in his voice. The cathedral light slanted. As the afternoon waned, the colors of the stained glass deepened, casting a crimson shadow over Esther's face. It is as you say. The Prescript is efficient. It can gain more by distorting you than by killing me. His gloved hand pushed the teacup away, signaling he had no intention of drinking more. So, remember one thing. Esther stood up. His long black hair flowed down his back, and the metal eye patch glinted coldly in the angled light. I do what the Prescript commands. That will not change. But until a Prescript descends, I will remain by your side. That was all Esther could give. A promise from a man blindly devoted to the Prescript to voluntarily remain in the time outside of it.

His body, which had been motionless with arms crossed, stiffened ever so slightly. The jawline visible beneath the metal mask moved once, though whether he was clenching his teeth or swallowing his words was unclear. ...This isn't the first time you've tried to pair me with Esther. His voice dropped an octave lower than usual. It was a tone closer to fatigue than irritation, and the Proselytes simultaneously turned their heads, pretending to be busy. It was the instinct of those who had learned through experience that sparks fly whenever this topic comes up. I don't even want to hear your reasoning for why I'd have a thing for older men, but Esther is not my type. And that man has no emotions, so there's nothing to pair. He wrapped a chain around his finger once and looked down at gest. The gaze from 205cm down to 160cm was almost vertical. And I am nobody's 'type.' Are we done?