"…That's really far."
"Mhm."
"Even if I wanted to help, I don't even know how."
"Mhm."
"After everything he's done for us…"
"Mhm."
In an alley filled with gangster bodies that might as well have been background props, the two voices carried clearly through the narrow space.
Exusiai leaned against the wall, tilting her head back to stare at the sliver of sky between the buildings. Texas, meanwhile, kept her eyes on the downed thugs, her tail flicking as she calmly knocked out anyone who showed signs of waking.
For them, this was almost routine: go out, run into gangsters, deal with them, then chat. A smooth, familiar loop—except now, new words had slipped into the usual pattern.
In truth, their relationship was better than it looked. They understood each other well. It was just that one appeared loud and carefree, while the other looked quiet and withdrawn—complete opposites—so outsiders often assumed they weren't that close.
But they were.
They could talk about almost anything. Even topics that were private—things that had happened to them in the past—had been shared. They knew what each other carried.
And precisely because of that, seeing a familiar kind of "shadow" in someone else stirred confusion and questions.
"Even if I ask him, all I get is stuff like 'please take care of things in the future'—no real sincerity. But he is serious. Do you think he has some… huge, unspeakable secret? Something even bigger than yours, Texas?"
A gangster tried to ambush them; Exusiai casually put a bullet through his head. As he dropped, she turned her face toward her friend.
Texas slowly pulled her weapon free from another unconscious body.
After hearing Exusiai's question, she only shook her head in silence.
"He probably knows my situation."
"Huh? You never told me that."
"He knows yours too."
"Yeah. That's true."
"So it's not fair."
"Exactly."
Exusiai nodded vigorously, then put another round into the head of a thug who was playing dead. Frowning, she muttered:
"He always acts like he trusts us completely… but he never mentions his own stuff. He puts his own things aside like they don't matter, like he can just keep walking forward alone. It makes you feel…"
A word flashed through her mind.
It hurts.
After being brushed off a few times, even Exusiai—who wasn't especially perceptive—could tell Li Lin simply didn't want to talk about it.
But wasn't that unfair?
Maybe the important part wasn't "fairness," exactly.
Maybe it was that someone she trusted deeply… didn't trust her the same way. Or rather—he did trust her, in a sense, but that very trust was what made her angry.
He was convinced everyone would leave him eventually, so he kept the relationship "proper" from the beginning—at arm's length.
She had no proof, but she couldn't shake the feeling that was exactly how he thought.
"Even though he could just come to Laterano with me…"
Still grumbling, Exusiai turned to Texas and asked her next question:
"That thing he had custom-made—never seen anything like it. He said it was used as an antenna. Texas, have you ever seen a device like that?"
"Not in Columbia or Siracusa."
"And if he said it was worse than what a Catastrophe Messenger deals with… would that mean someone like an explorer from the Black Flow Forest Sea, or the Endless Snowfields? Could Li Lin really be that kind of person?"
"Doesn't seem like it."
"So what happened to him to make him like this…"
"The piano might have the answer," Texas said quietly.
"Why?"
"He's learning piano."
"I know that."
"He wants to learn a piece called Farewell Letter."
"Ah…"
Exusiai blinked, her mind rapidly weaving a story—not necessarily correct, but frighteningly plausible.
Catastrophe Messengers and guides in dangerous regions were always in high-risk work. And sometimes, combat strength didn't matter as much as caution, judgment, and experience. Combined with Li Lin's behavior—his strange knowledge, his inexplicable background—it almost fit.
A man who saved others on the edge of the world, whose heart had gone numb. Someone who still believed people could be good, but was absolutely certain about separation and loss. Someone who couldn't endure watching companions die and vanish anymore, and who quietly fled through hidden channels to Lungmen.
Maybe it wasn't right. But Exusiai felt that if she pushed a little harder, she might actually uncover the truth.
"But it should get better!" she declared.
Dropping down from above, she looked at Texas and grinned.
"I've already built a good relationship with him, you know? It won't take long before we're real confidants. Then we'll find out what happened. And when we do, I'm going to make him explain everything!"
"..."
Texas didn't respond. She just looked at Exusiai. At the words "real confidants," her eyes flickered—only for an instant.
If Li Lin were here, he'd probably notice that tiny change immediately.
But Exusiai, being naturally sunny, tended to focus on one thing at a time. She rarely caught subtle shifts like that unless she'd been watching for them all along.
Friendship.
Then where was this irritation in her chest coming from?
Texas stared at the countless "gangster props," pulled out a pocky stick, and slipped it between her lips. Her mind kept circling: Farewell Letter… and the shape of that umbrella.
And now, in the piano practice room—
"Senior, you're learning really fast," Sora said. "Did you have experience before? Finding the feel after only a few presses is impressive. But you can't be too tense—your hands are already sweating. Relax. Feel my movements, then move."
"No," Li Lin said flatly. "It's because my concentration is absolute."
His eyes were locked on the small hands covering his own. He forcefully blocked out the warmth and tactile presence behind him and spoke with rigid calm.
Being repressed is correct. This is not messing around. Seriously.
One lapse, and you fall straight into the kill zone.
Remember the lesson: never mess with coworkers. Never trust that kind of thing. Interpersonal relationships cannot be chaotic. Absolutely not.
…At minimum, you can't let other people realize it.
No—keeping distance is better.
Watching Sora's hands pressed tightly to his as she earnestly corrected his motions, Li Lin thought from the bottom of his heart:
Distance. Distance is survival.
....
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