The throne hall lies in ruins.
But amidst the rubble, the broken stone, and the fading embers—
A boy rests in the arms of the one who stayed.
The Demon King kneels there for a long time, holding you tightly against his chest.
He whispers words no one hears. Soft. Steady. Reassuring.
Later…
You awaken in a chamber you don't recognize.
The lights are dim. The sheets are soft.
A warm towel is draped over your forehead.
And at your bedside…
He's still there.
Eyes closed, arms crossed, slumped in a chair like he hasn't moved since bringing you here.
His shoulder is bandaged.
He's still hurt.
But he didn't leave.
The dim room remains still.
Just your voice.
Soft. Strained.
So full of sorrow it echoes off the walls like a quiet confession meant only for ghosts.
You sit up slowly, blanket pooling around your waist.
Your hand trembles as it brushes tears from your cheek—but they keep falling anyway.
"Umm… you're hurt… because of me…"
He doesn't open his eyes.
But you know he's listening.
"You were so kind to me… yet I…"
"…I hurt you."
Your breath hitches.
Your voice falters again:
"Why did that thing have to return my memories…?"
"And the frustrating part is…"
"…I'm relieved…"
You smile bitterly through your tears.
"I remember my mom… my dad… my home…"
A long pause.
You wipe your cheeks with the back of your sleeve.
"It still hurts. But now I've got new memories."
"With everyone. With you…"
Your gaze flicks to him briefly.
He still hasn't moved, but you can see the faintest furrow in his brow.
"…With you, who's like a dad to me now."
You look down again.
Voice barely a whisper:
"And yet… I destroyed everything."
"I guess all that training can't change what I really am."
"An unstable being. A pathetic coward of a child."
And then—
Silence.
No one says anything.
You sit in the stillness, head lowered, voice broken.
And just when you start to believe he might leave—like everyone else in your old world did—
You feel movement.
The chair creaks.
Footsteps approach.
A soft sigh. A shift in the air.
And then—
His cloak drapes over your shoulders.
Warm. Heavy. Protective.
He kneels in front of you, one hand resting on your knee.
You look up, eyes red and confused.
He meets your gaze—calm, steady, fatherly.
"…You are not a coward."
"…You are not pathetic."
His tone is quiet. But final. Like truth itself.
He lifts your chin gently, so your teary eyes meet his.
"Do you know what I see?"
"A boy who faced his pain and did not run."
"A child who once chose to forget—then chose to live, even after remembering."
He pauses.
"You hurt me. Yes."
His fingers brush his bandage briefly.
"But I have lived a thousand years, and no one has ever made me feel so much with a single blow."
"…I am proud of you, Ryuu."
His arms pull you into an embrace again.
Not because you're weak.
Not because you need saving.
But because you are loved.
"You're still growing. Still learning."
"And I will walk beside you—for every painful step, and every shining one."
He tightens his hold slightly.
His voice a soft promise now:
"You are not the same as when you arrived."
"You're becoming who you were meant to be."
Your voice is faint now.
Like the last flicker of a candle fighting against the wind.
You don't push him away.
But you don't lean in either.
You just… sit there.
Eyes glassy. No more tears left to fall.
Only truths you see too clearly.
"But I…"
Your fingers clench over your lap.
Your voice cracks—not with sobs, but with certainty.
"…I can see it."
"You don't have much time left…"
You swallow hard.
"I can see your mana flow."
"It's fractured. Splintered. It's—because of me."
A drop rolls from your eye…
But it's not a tear.
It's blood.
You're pushing too hard—seeing too much again.
But still, you speak.
"That hooded thing… it was right."
"Because of me, you—"
But the Demon King snaps forward.
Grabs both of your shoulders, firm—almost too tight.
You freeze.
His voice, calm moments ago, is now filled with fire:
"Stop."
His eyes glow—not with rage.
But with something worse.
Desperation.
"Listen to me."
"Do not finish that sentence."
"Don't let that thing write your story for you."
His hands tremble slightly.
You feel it for the first time:
He's scared.
Not for himself.
For you.
"Yes… my mana is fractured."
"Yes, I bleed."
"But that is my choice."
"To shield you."
"To save you."
"To hold you when you could not hold yourself."
He lowers his head, forehead gently pressed against yours again.
His voice drops to a whisper, rough with pain and sincerity:
"I would burn again a thousand times…
…if it meant you would live."
Silence.
And then—
"…So don't say it was your fault."
His voice tightens.
"You're not my burden, Ryuu."
"You're my son."
That word lands like thunder in your chest.
Son.
He doesn't take it back.
He doesn't look away.
He simply… holds you.
The word slips out like a breath you've been holding your whole life.
"Dad…"
Not a mistake.
Not a slip.
Just truth, in its purest, smallest form.
You throw your arms around him, clinging tightly—no longer resisting, no longer hiding.
He holds you just as fiercely.
Like you're something precious he almost lost.
Again.
But this time… you chose him, too.
The sobs return.
Not of despair.
But of release.
You cry.
Not tears anymore—your soul's too overdrawn.
You cry blood.
Warm, glowing crimson sliding down your cheeks.
Evidence of a heart that has broken and lived through it.
You feel him shift, lifting you gently into his arms once more—no longer as a ruler, or a guardian, or a mentor.
But as a father.
He says nothing.
Because nothing needs to be said.
You've finally spoken.
And as the last of your strength leaves your body, you feel his hand stroke your hair.
Hear the low, soothing hum of a spell—gentle, ancient, meant to cradle your soul.
And then—
You sleep.
Not from exhaustion.
But from safety.
Scene fades…
The boy who remembered everything…
The boy who broke the world…
Now sleeps in the arms of the one person strong enough to hold him…
And kind enough do it.