The sound of dripping sewage water, the increasingly annoying beeping of his device, and the stinging pain of the sizzling wounds inflicted on his body, the man slumped against the wall. His polished suit caked in the blood of the three Index Proxies he had slain as he escaped from the now gone House of Spiders. The project was a short success, then followed by failure. The other nursefathers are dead, as well as the apprentices. Though, he never recalled having an apprentice of his own. Nor did he recall the Dihui Star having one. Oh well.

Fits of coughing and wheezing escaping from his mouth with each strained breath. Despite his ragged breathing and obvious exhaustion, his lips remained curled into a faint, almost unsettling smile. The steady drip of sewer water echoed through the air, each droplet plinking softly against the grimy floor as he carefully reached down and picked up the beeping Prescript Device. Its cold surface rested in his trembling hand, the soft hum and rhythmic beeping cutting through the stagnant silence around him. The blue light of the device gleamed against his face, illuminating his features in the darkness as the screen brightened with a new command. The rhythm remained steady, repetitive, almost hypnotic—a sound that made his heart race with a familiar nervousness and anxiety, feelings that might have once belonged to the person he was before.

"【To:Rien】..."

The shifting letters finally settled into a command, an unfamiliar but annoying command.

"For the last remainder of your life's journey, recite the given poem to the last word." "I have nothing but my sorrow and I want nothing more. It has been, it still is, faithful to me. Why should I begrudge it, since during the hours when my soul crushed the depths of my heart, it was seated there beside me? O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me. Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart. O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart." "Failure to complete this last Prescript will result in consequences."