Youri stood motionless before the dimming screen, its faint glow flickering across his face as the call with Alan came to an end. The silence that followed was deafening. For a long moment, he didn't move—didn't breathe—didn't think. Then slowly, almost mechanically, he lowered his gaze to the polished surface of the desk beneath his hands.
Alan's words echoed in his mind, over and over, like a verdict already passed.
It's either you… or her.
Youri closed his eyes.
Memories flooded in, sharp and relentless. Leonora's laughter beneath the trees. The warmth of her hand in his. The quiet mornings. The rare, fragile moments where he had believed—truly believed—that life had finally chosen him for something other than destruction.
But beneath those memories, something older stirred.
Something colder.
Something that had never truly left.
He had lived his entire life on the edge of ruin, walking a path soaked in fire and blood. He had tried to bury that man—to abandon him, to forget him—but now… now he understood something with terrifying clarity.
You don't escape what you are.
You only delay it.
Slowly, Youri opened his eyes.
The warmth was gone.
In its place stood something far more familiar—something the void itself once feared.
The Reaper had awakened.
Without a word, he turned and walked out of the study.
Leonora was already there, standing in the hallway, her presence steady yet tense—as if she had felt the shift before even seeing him. The moment her eyes met his, something inside her faltered.
She stepped forward quickly.
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice tight. "What happened?"
Youri didn't answer.
He walked past her.
That alone was enough to send a chill through her.
"Youri!" she called after him, sharper this time.
He kept walking.
Through the halls. Past the marble pillars. Out into the open garden where the evening wind whispered through the trees. He stepped onto the grass and stopped, his gaze drifting toward the horizon—the same view that had once brought him peace.
Leonora followed, her footsteps quick, uneven.
She stopped a few steps behind him, her chest rising with restrained emotion.
"What happened?" she demanded.
The wind moved through his hair, brushing it across his face as he stood there, silent.
Then, slowly… he turned.
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, Leonora felt it.
That look.
The one she had hoped never to see again.
Gone was the man who had learned to live. Gone was the warmth, the softness he had fought so hard to reclaim.
What stood before her now… was the man who had survived by becoming something else entirely.
Youri took a step closer.
"I thought we would have more time," he said quietly. "But I guess I was wrong."
Leonora frowned, confusion and fear intertwining. "What are you talking about?"
He lifted his hand—cold, steady—and placed it gently against her cheek.
"I have to go."
Her eyes widened.
"No," she said immediately, grabbing his wrist. "What did he say to you?"
Youri didn't answer.
Instead, he pulled her into his arms.
For a brief moment, everything else disappeared. The world, the war, the past—it all faded into nothing as he held her.
Then he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"I never wanted to break my promise."
And just like that… he let her go.
Leonora stood frozen as he turned away.
"No—Youri, wait—"
But he was already walking.
Across the garden.
Through the gates.
Out of her reach.
Moments later, the roar of his bike shattered the quiet of the estate. He didn't look back. Didn't hesitate. The machine surged forward, tearing through the roads of Fansilia as the city blurred into streaks of light around him.
Hours passed.
The sun fell.
Night consumed the sky.
And still, he rode.
Until eventually… he stopped.
Marta's pub stood at the corner of a dimly lit street, its warm glow spilling onto the pavement like an invitation he didn't deserve.
He stepped inside.
The noise faded the moment he entered.
Not because anyone told it to—but because of him.
Youri walked to the counter and sat down heavily, his head lowering onto his folded arms.
Marta looked up from behind the bar.
She studied him for a moment, her expression shifting from irritation to something more serious.
"Well," she said dryly, "what did you do now? Piss her off again?"
No response.
That was enough.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Something was wrong.
She didn't press him.
Instead, she poured him a drink.
Then another.
Then another.
Bottle after bottle.
Time blurred.
By the time Leonora called, asking if he was there, Marta didn't need to ask twice.
"Yes," she said simply.
And not long after—
Leonora arrived.
The door slammed open.
Her presence cut through the room like a blade.
She spotted him instantly.
Sitting there.
Broken.
Drunk.
Running.
Her anger ignited.
Without a word, she stormed forward, grabbing him by the back of his collar and yanking him off the stool. He barely reacted, his body too heavy with alcohol to resist.
"Enough," she snapped.
She dragged him across the floor, ignoring the stares, ignoring the silence.
Outside, she shoved him into the car.
The drive back was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that said everything words couldn't.
By the time they reached the mansion, Youri was barely conscious.
Leonora dragged him inside.
Through the halls.
Up the stairs.
Into their room.
This time… she didn't throw him.
She helped him onto the bed.
Carefully.
Gently.
Her anger was still there—but beneath it… something else was breaking.
She reached into a drawer.
Pulled out a pair of cuffs.
Her hands trembled slightly as she looked at him.
"This is for your own good," she whispered.
She secured them around his wrists.
"I won't let you walk to your death."
The night passed.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Morning came.
Light filtered into the room.
Youri stirred.
His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the brightness. For a moment, nothing made sense.
Then he felt it.
The weight on his wrists.
The memory returned all at once.
He stared at the ceiling, silent.
Then—
Movement beside him.
Leonora woke.
She pushed herself up, her eyes immediately finding him.
"So," she said quietly, "you're finally awake."
No answer.
He just looked at her.
That same look.
It made her chest tighten.
Her expression hardened.
"So you're still not talking."
Youri shifted, starting to sit up—
But Leonora grabbed his cuffed hands.
"No."
Her grip tightened.
"You're not going anywhere."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then—
A quiet sound.
Metal.
Cracking.
Leonora's eyes widened.
Youri gently pulled his hands apart—
And the cuffs… snapped.
Fell.
Useless.
Silence filled the room.
He stood up slowly.
Leonora didn't move.
Tears were already falling down her face.
She knew.
Whatever he was about to do… she couldn't stop it.
And that terrified her more than anything.
In one final, desperate attempt—
"If you step out that door," she said, her voice breaking, "I swear… you're dead to me."
Youri froze.
For just a second.
Then he turned back to her.
And smiled.
Not the cold smile of the Reaper.
Not the empty one.
But something soft.
Something real.
"I know," he said quietly.
A pause.
"I'm sorry… for what I'm about to do."
Then he turned.
And walked away.
This time—
He didn't stop.
And he didn't look back.