Al had just returned to his chamber in the Virellano estate.
"Ah… what kind of dreadful thing did I just experience…"
He murmured faintly as the heavy door closed behind him. His voice carried the weary tone of someone who had just been dragged through a storm of chaos and revelation.
His steps faltered as he crossed the dim corridor toward his bed, and before even bothering to turn on the lights, his body slumped down onto the edge of the mattress, moving as if his bones themselves resisted his weight.
His hands trembled. He lifted them slowly, staring at them with an empty gaze — as though he could not yet comprehend that those hands still belonged to him.
His fingers felt light yet unbearably heavy at the same time, as if a part of himself had been left behind somewhere beyond comprehension, in a realm that refused to be defined by words or form.
"I can't even tell what's real anymore… or what's not." he muttered under his breath.
