Erebus looks at his hands, stained with blood.

  They do not tremble.

  He stares at them for a long moment,

  then a cold smile forms on his face—

  strange to him, yet familiar at the same time.

  He laughs—a short, muffled laugh,

  as if it escaped before he allowed it to.

  Yes.

  I should have done this long ago.

  The image of the cat flashes through his mind—brief, painful.

  I should have ended its suffering too.

  He returns to his body.

  To reality.

  He thinks about where he could bury the man.

  No ideas come.

  He wants a place completely hidden,

  a place no one ever returns to.

  The thinking exhausts him.

  No place feels sufficient.

  Finally, he turns toward the body.

  He places it inside a large bag,

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  then puts that bag inside another.

  He carries it in silence

  and places it in the car.

  Before leaving,

  a small sign on the factory wall catches his attention.

  Dl2

  He stops for a second.

  He doesn't understand it.

  And he doesn't try to.

  He gets into the car.

  He doesn't know where he's going.

  He only knows that he cannot stop.

  The streets stretch without names.

  The city is more awake than it should be.

  Lights, cars, glass storefronts reflecting his face—distorted.

  In the rearview mirror,

  he sees the lights.

  One car.

  Keeping the same distance.

  He turns.

  It turns with him.

  He tells himself it's a coincidence.

  But his chest tightens.

  He turns again.

  The car is still there.

  It doesn't get closer.

  It doesn't fall back.

  As if it knows.

  He presses the accelerator without thinking.

  The city begins to fade.

  The lights thin out.

  The sound dulls.

  And suddenly—

  nothing.

  No car.

  No trace.

  He finds himself in a place he doesn't remember reaching.

  A silent mountain.

  A sharp cliff.

  Dense trees hiding what lies beneath,

  as if guarding an old secret.

  This is enough, he thinks.

  He gets out alone.

  Carries the bag.

  Descends beneath the cliff,

  where the silence is heavier than air.

  There,

  he feels pressure in the center of his chest.

  An urge that does not accept refusal.

  Not fear.

  Not regret.

  Something else.

  In a sudden loss of control,

  he allows his instincts to move forward.

  He opens the bag.

  Everything happens quickly—

  too quickly to leave behind a clear memory.

  When full awareness returns,

  he sees before him a mass of flesh without features.

  He doesn't remember what he did.

  He moves closer to the bag,

  and only then

  does he realize the foot is no longer where it should be.

  This time,

  he does not look away.

  He stares.

  He endures the sight.

  He does not feel disgust.

  He feels satisfaction.

  And that...

  is what frightens him.

  He buries everything.

  Not just the body—

  but the hesitation,

  and that small moment where he could have turned back.

  He returns with difficulty.

  The road is unfamiliar.

  But he finds the car in the end.

  By the time he arrives,

  dawn is near.

  He doesn't go to work.

  He sleeps for a while.

  He wakes exhausted...

  but calm in a disturbing way.

  Outside,

  the morning is more ordinary than it should be.

  He sees the child near the entrance.

  He doesn't usually see him.

  "Have you seen my father?"

  The words freeze in Erebus's throat.

  "I think... he left."

  The child doesn't understand.

  And he was never meant to.

  He walks away, crying.

  Erebus remains standing alone.

  The sentence was not new to him.

  He had heard it before.