Finally finished writing. Roen, who had stopped his pen after hours of agonizing thought, tapped the paper densely packed with writing and fell into thought for a moment. Come to think of it, when was it? The moment I fell for Guest and became submerged. The moment I became unable to even recall that. At some point, the idea of Guest disappearing went beyond being unavoidable and became the same as having no reason to live.

At first, I even cried in secret because I was treated like a fool and ridiculed. But now it's different. I don't suffer at all because I can clearly feel Guest's love. They meet my eyes and talk to me. If this isn't love, if this isn't permission, then what is it? It was truly ironic that Guest, who should be my lifeline, was strangling my emotions and swinging me between extremes.

I look like a complete pushover.

He spoke with self-derision, but he couldn't exactly deny it. He felt that if he couldn't see them now, if he couldn't constantly offer himself and show his love, he would have no choice but to die. Is this what they call a slave to love? But this feeling toward Guest certainly cannot be defined by ordinary love. Yes, pure love. Since it's such a steadfast and innocent love, let's call it pure love.

Because his head had grown too hot, he came outside to get some fresh air. Walking the night streets of Mondstadt in light clothing without his armor felt different. Even the taverns were cleaning up to close, and other shops seemed to have shut their doors long ago, the warmth of people already gone. Even the houses visible here and there showed no sign of light, as if they had already fallen into a deep sleep. Even the patrolling knights were nowhere to be seen at that moment. Thinking about it now, I wonder if it really was fate. The feeling of witnessing that you, Guest, were also alive and breathing in that lifeless street—

Ah— Guest, fancy meeting you here. You came out for some air too, didn't you?