The ruin stayed silent through the night.
Not empty.
Just… holding.
Haruto didn't sleep properly.
He didn't feel like he needed to.
Or maybe the feeling just didn't arrive on time anymore.
Belial was still nearby, sitting with its usual unreadable stillness.
For once, it didn't speak first.
Haruto broke the silence instead.
"…there's something else here."
Belial's ear flicked slightly.
"…yeah."
A pause.
"…you found it."
Haruto didn't answer immediately.
He was already moving deeper into the ruin.
Not toward the carvings this time.
Further in.
Where the air felt more… sealed.
Like it had been untouched for longer than the rest.
There—
folded against the stone.
Not decayed.
Not dust-covered.
Just waiting.
A cloak.
Haruto stopped.
"…that shouldn't still exist," he muttered.
Belial stepped closer.
"…it does."
Haruto crouched slowly.
The fabric didn't feel like anything special at first glance.
Rough.
Worn.
But intact in a way that didn't make sense.
No rot.
No tearing from time.
Just presence.
He hesitated for a moment… then touched it.
It was warm.
Not physically.
More like it had been holding onto something that hadn't left yet.
"…this is from the same person," he said quietly.
Belial didn't deny it.
That was enough.
Haruto lifted it carefully.
Something shifted underneath the folds.
A small object.
Or paper.
Pressed into the fabric like it had been hidden deliberately.
He pulled it out.
A strip of worn material.
Not ink-written.
Carved.
Like it had been forced into meaning.
Haruto read it slowly.
"…Arthur."
Silence followed.
Not heavy.
Just absolute.
Belial didn't move.
"…that's a name," Haruto said.
"…yeah."
A pause.
"…it used to be."
Haruto looked at the cloak again.
Now it didn't feel like cloth alone.
It felt like something that had been *held onto too long*.
"…he left this behind," Haruto said.
Belial finally spoke.
"…no."
Haruto glanced up slightly.
Belial's eyes were fixed on the cloak.
"…he left this so he wouldn't be fully gone."
That made something in the air feel tighter.
Haruto unfolded the cloak fully.
Inside the fabric, faint markings were stitched—no, pressed in unevenly.
Not decorative.
Not intentional design.
More like repetition.
Same symbol.
Same motion.
Over and over.
Haruto traced one of them lightly.
"…he kept marking it."
Belial nodded slightly.
"…so something would stay attached."
Haruto exhaled slowly.
"…that's why it didn't decay."
"…yeah."
A pause.
"…it's anchored."
Silence returned again.
But this time it felt different.
Like the ruin had become slightly more aware of them noticing it.
Haruto hesitated, then draped the cloak over his shoulders.
Nothing dramatic happened.
No glow.
No reaction.
Just weight.
And… presence.
Like something was settling into place that wasn't fully his.
"…it's still here," he said quietly.
Belial watched him for a long moment.
"…for now."
Haruto looked down at the cloak.
"…Arthur," he repeated under his breath.
No response.
Of course there wasn't.
But something about saying it made the air feel less empty.
Like the name didn't disappear immediately after being spoken.
Haruto tightened the cloak slightly.
"…so this is what you tried."
Belial tilted its head.
"…what do you mean?"
Haruto didn't answer right away.
His eyes stayed on the ruin walls.
The carvings.
The repeated attempts to stay remembered.
"…you didn't want to disappear," he said.
A pause.
"…so you left pieces of yourself behind."
Silence.
Then Belial, quieter than before:
"…yeah."
Haruto looked down at the cloak again.
"…and it worked."
Belial didn't answer.
That silence was heavier than agreement.
Haruto turned slightly toward the exit of the ruin.
The desert outside waited.
Unchanging.
Unstable.
"…I guess I'll see how long it lasts," he said.
Belial stood.
"…you're wearing it already?"
Haruto adjusted the cloak once.
"…I don't have anything else."
A pause.
"…and neither did he."
The wind outside shifted faintly.
But didn't enter.
And for the first time since Haruto arrived here…
something about him didn't feel like it was being ignored as easily.
Not safe.
Not stable.
Just… noticed.