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Summary
The house John lives in is not his father’s. He alchemized a new one a year ago, unable to bear the pictures on the wall, his father’s study, his father’s room, the kitchen—all of it. There came a point he could not bear to leave his room because just stepping into the all-too-familiar hallway made him sick to his stomach to the point of wanting to retch over the threshold. It’s your fault, John. It’s your fault he’s gone. And you still dare to exist in the remnants of his presence?
No.
No, he didn’t dare.