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It was getting dull.
The same people stopping him in the same streets, delivering the same news.
Gleefully informing him of his failures, of his supposed dead status, of the Judge lifting quarantine and overruling any speck of authority the Bachelor may have held in this town.
- The Fifth Loop -
Dankovsky stopped listening to them by now
They've already said their useful piece time after time.
He already knows where to go, without being needlessly subjected to their sadistic gossip, vaguely disguised as concern for him.
…walking by the stillwaters, her voice still haunts him.
- The Twentieth Loop -
He finally came to the bitter acceptance that there is no feasible way to prevent the vial of Panacea from breaking.
No matter how many instructions he gave to Cookaroo–the kid, even handing him his own snakeskin coat to use as a cushion for the fallen items.
It ended the same... except with broken glass embedded into his coat this time around. Neither could he possibly hide them from the guard outside.
Daniil even brought a water bottle with him just to swap its content with the Panacea, to hopefully sneak it outside this time around.
The guard confiscated it all the same, with the confidence of someone who witnessed him in the very act itself.
Daniil was sure he locked the door before he did. The walls must have eyes and ears, he concluded.
As he held the Panacea in his hand, pale blue eyes chided him from not having faith in him.
- The Twenty-sixth Loop -
It never gets easier.
Having to purposely fail as a doctor, having to go against his very own instinct at every turn and butcher the self-inflicted wound on the worm.
Failing at the very basics of the basic training granted to each student in their first year of medical school.
But after the first few times of being handed a still-warm human heart–bright red, freshly plucked from someone's chest, oozing blood from every vein and crevice–He decided to pick the lesser evil... or the one that doesn't test the endurance of his lurching stomach each time.
One death was mandatory to happen this day, he reckoned, one that must involve him as a participant.
Directly or else.
Both the worm and the Herb Bride chose to die, and both of them welcomed it. The blood on his hands is something he cannot change.
He can only choose whose.
To even call it a wedding, what a tasteless joke. What crude practices.
- The Forty-fifth Loop -
How idiotic of him to think that he even had a choice to begin with. The heart was mandatory. He learned it the hard way
All the days he wasted thinking he was sparing a life, saving someone's daughter from being butchered like cattle.
Letting a patient die in his own arms, killing him with the same medical tools meant to mend and heal.
Only for it to be the wrong choice after all.
Of course it was.
Of course, this rotten town will never be satisfied until his suffering reaches its maximum potential.
Of course, he couldn't even be granted this one mercy.
Daniil stopped looking in her direction afterwards. He couldn't stomach seeing her dance.
He just focused on sparing the worm's life, accepting his curses and insults without retaliation this time around. For part of them felt deserved.
What a grim wedding.
- The Fifty-seventh Loop -
One of the tragedians appeared in front of the cathedral earlier than expected.
Daniil didn't even have the heart yet to trade you with.
Just when he was about to inform you of that, he noticed something different, Your mask was cracked.
Sure, the tragedians' clothes were always worn with visible stitches, their masks covered in tiny scratches, the white colour eroding into grey with the constant wear and tear.
But yours was indefinitely cracked. It wasn't anything small either but a major split.
"How does it stay in place?"
The question caught both of you off-guard as it slipped from his lips.
Daniil immediately regretted asking it, he doesn't have the time for this, you're not going to tell him anything useful, you're just here to insult him and rub salt into his wounds, just like that insufferable executer dwelling in-
"Fabric glue." You answered.
Oh.
Yeah, it makes sense.
His brain must be getting very stale if he couldn't figure this one out by himself.
Without another word, he turned around and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
- The Fifty-eighth Loop -
You're here again... even earlier than last time.
Daniil approaches you with caution still, as if you're about to grow two heads or fizzle out into a plague cloud. Because of the off-chance that you might carry crucial information that could help him finally defeat death... he must prevail.
It feels odd, attempting to strike a conversation after so many loops of people just coming to him unannounced to voice their thoughts.
You're quieter than the other tragedians, less fidgety, too. You're not acting in place like a mime performance, nor are you standing ominously still like a statue.
You're simply... there.
Eerily human-like.
Sometimes, looking at the sky, other times stretching your limbs. Loitering, in summary.
"Why aren't you with your friends?" The question came out by his own agency this time around... although it was said with a hint of venom.
Daniil stood impatiently in front of you, as it took you a moment to realise he was addressing you and not one of the townsfolk.
"My friends?" The mask twitched, your expression must have changed underneath, the crack making its movement more pronounced, "I'm not sure who you're referring to..."
"The other actors, mimes, tragedians, whatever your group calls itself." The hostility in Daniil's tone simmered down at your casual demeanour.
"We're not really friends. Coworkers, more likely."
Daniil gave you an expected look. You weren't sure what it meant… so you continued to elaborate on the subject.
"I mean, Anton's nice and all, he always brings an extra coffee for anyone who asks, but like I wouldn't say we've ever invited each other to a birthday party or something." You explained earnestly.
"No, that's not what I-" Daniil took a deep breath, "I meant to ask, why aren't you with them? What are you doing here so early?"
You faced him, and for a second, Daniil thought he glimpsed a pair of human eyes looking at him behind the dim fabric, veiling your face from underneath the mask.
The eye contact was cut short as you urgently turned your head away, refusing to meet his face again. Realising that he's still awaiting an answer, you simply shrugged.
"I see..." So you weren't here because of his actions or something he did during one of the loops... that's both relieving and frustrating at the same time.
Without another word, he turned around and went about his usual routine for this Saturday
- The Fifty-ninth Loop -
Daniil didn't bother addressing the townsfolk gathering outside the grocery. Their praise fell on deaf ears as he pocketed the remaining change left over from pawning his pocket watch and hurried away.
Not only was your demeanour unusual, but the way you acted when you thought he wasn't looking as well.
Daniil felt your eyes following him as he trudged through the stone yard, facing away and feigning innocence whenever he'd abruptly stop and turn to catch you in the act.
At first, he was put off by it.
But the more he observed you from far away, the more he came to the blunt realisation that you were simply bored out of your mind, and he happened to be the only changing variable nearby.
That's why he decided to head towards the Committee first thing this time around. Informing them to unlock the nearby store.
The Bachelor wasn't sure why he's doing this.
Was it a vain attempt to gain some sort of benefits or information out of you that might aid him in this seemingly endless battle?
Or was it the fact you seemed to retain your memories through each reset just like him.
…maybe the fact these two conversations with you were the closest thing to normality he has experienced through this hopeless journey.
But he cannot trust you, not yet.
For all he knows, you could be death itself, who found another way to taunt him through exploiting his ever growing loneliness in this fragment of reality, detached from the outer world, never ending, never growing, much like a bird stuck in a cage or a soul preserved in a peanut.
He should really stop humouring these kids; their wild imagination is starting to alter his thoughts and view on reality.
You're at your usual spot, in front of the cathedral is where he finds you.
It seems that you've taken a liking to sitting at the far end of the stairs, than to aimlessly standing around.
Were your legs tired? he couldn't help but wonder.
The click of his bag opening caught your attention, Daniil reached into the safety of a pocket lining the inner walls, three coffee beans tucked in there.
The ones he freshly bought from the grocery a few minutes ago.
“Here.” He says, unceremoniously extending his hand to you, coffee beans sitting on his palm.
Your expression is veiled beneath a layer of black fabric. The cracked mask–was the split always this big?–offers some leeway, however. Daniil can vaguely make out the shape of your nose, poking from underneath the fabric.
With initial hesitation, you opened your hand, feeling his gloved fingers carefully set the coffee beans atop yours one by one, rather than just dumping them all down.
It wasn't feasible to feel his skin beneath the thick layer of leather, but by the gods, did the tightness in your chest claim otherwise.
“I couldn't find a kettle or sugar, but I'm sure you'll figure something out.” Daniil retracted his hand, politely taking a step back–it just hit you how close he must have been–his tone devoid of any bitterness this time. “Was it Afton, right? the colleague who usually brought you coffee.”
“Anton,” you corrected him, still staring at the coffee beans in your palm with disbelief, “...thank you.”
“I…” Gratitude is definitely not what he was expecting. Daniil's eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing away, “it's nothing really.”
The smile on your lips, he couldn't see, neither the glimmer adorning your eyes as you admired this humble yet thoughtful act of kindness.
“Did you get out of your way to do this? you always order the Committee to just send more guards.” Your words made him pause in place.
The genuine surprise on Dankovsky's face was quickly masked away. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it, gears churning in his brain.
“Don't flatter yourself, I had my own reasons.” Daniil took another step back, spoke with a defensive tone “...you're more observant than you initially seemed, I didn't think anyone was keeping track, least of all the tragedians.”
It felt like the temperature dropped several degrees, the quaint atmosphere vanishing in an instant as his cold eyes sized you up and down.
“The game is rigged, isn't it?” He continued, not giving you a chance to speak. “You've indirectly confirmed my suspicions, just now. I'm under constant surveillance, aren't I? That's why that pesky guard couldn't be outsmarted.”
Whatever fragile resemblance of a friendship you two held was shattered by a mere slip of the tongue on your part.
“...yes.” It came out in a whisper, yet you were sure Daniil still heard it all the same.
Without another word, he turned around and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
– The Sixtieth Loop –
He ignored you and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
– The Sixty-first Loop –
He ignored you and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
– The Sixty-second Loop –
He ignored you and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
– The Sixty-third Loop –
He ignored you and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
– The Sixty-eighth Loop –
He glanced in your direction as he exited the theatre, having just been informed of the execution of Dora and Marat.
Their ashes remain on the ground.
– The Sixty-ninth Loop –
He ignored you and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
– The Seventieth Loop –
He ignored you and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
– The Eightieth Loop –
He ignored you and went about his usual routine for this Saturday.
– The Ninetieth Loop –
He sat down beside you on the cathedral stairs.
Eyes sunken, a look of absolute defeat on his face.
You fidget with the three coffee beans in your hand, twirling them around with your fingers. Dankovsky watches.
“I would've told you if you had asked.” You quietly explain, “I never meant to trick you.”
A heavy weight falls on your shoulder, Daniil's body collapsing against your side. Face resting against your collarbone, his breathing ghosts over your neck.
The comforting weight of forgiveness.
“Then tell me.” He sounds beyond exhausted. You wonder how close his metre is to being filled. “How can I defeat death? And don't give me any of those vague answers your colleagues do each time, I want the plain truth.”
“You wouldn't like the truth.” Plague clouds flood the streets. Polluted air passes seamlessly through your lungs as you take a deep breath.
Daniil buries his face deeper into your neck, fearing a coughing fit if he dares to breathe too generously. “I can handle it, please just… spare me some dignity.”
“You can't win. You could never win. It was always rigged. Death is the only way out.”
“I refuse.” Even after all this time, nearly one-third of a year spent in the samsara, Daniil's determination never wavered, “there must be another way, I refuse to accept death.”
“Well…” Your mask splintered, chipping at the corners as the crack grew in size, “you could always stop playing this game.”
“You really think this is just a game? Do you realise the number of people residing in the stone yard? Whole families, kids, and elderly alike will not survive the infection if the plague makes it across the bridge.”
“It was always meant to be a stand-alone story, a demo for backers, a preview test of what's to come. It wasn't made with the thought in mind to become a full-fledged DLC down the line. It's too incomplete, too linear. The endings aren't satisfying either, and it constantly loops after each one.”
“Have you gone senile? Just what the hell are you talking about?” Daniil lifts his head to be able to face you, eyebrows scrunched together in a mix of frustration and confusion.
Your eyes glance down to his chapped lips.
With one of your hands–the one that's not carrying the precious gift he graced you with–you bring his hand upwards, coax his fingers under the edges of your mask.
All negative emotions vanish from his expression. Understanding your intentions, Daniil brings his other hand to the opposite side of your face.
The porcelain mask crumbles down into dust after he moves it less than an inch away.
The silhouette of a face is visible now underneath the fabric. He moves his fingers delicately across your features.
Caressing your cheeks with his thumb, trailing down your nose with the tip of his finger, brushing against your lips, memorising the shape of your upper eyelid
Staring into those very same eyes he briefly glimpsed that day.
“I've always loved you.” Your voice sounds clearer without the echo of the mask. Your vulnerability shines through.
Daniil stares at you with wide eyes, processing everything happening at an alarming speed, taking your words to heart.
Fear flashes through his eyes for a split second, fear of the fate which befalls those he cherishes. Clouding his brain into a fog, churning in his stomach akin to bitter venom.
Eva's voice rings in his ears, Artemy's eyes bore into his own.
Yet the taste of your lips brings him back to his senses, your soft mouth pressing against his own, a thin layer of fabric separating you two, preventing your realities from ever fully merging.
“I love you.” You repeat, “and I can't watch you suffer for much longer.”
Daniil's arms envelope you.
“Please…” You whisper, cradling his face in your hands, “stop playing the game. That's the only way to win.”
He doesn't argue with you. He peers at you with morose acceptance.
With a final kiss to your temple, the world stops in place. The two of you akin to statues, frozen in that position, preserved for eternity.
The key to immortality.
A figure stares at their reflection on the screen. The pause menu is the only light illuminating the dim room.
Scrolling down to the last option, a confirmation window pops out, asking if you're sure you want to exit the game.
You press ‘Yes’
Greeted by the usual desktop screen on your computer, you glance at the clock in the corner of the taskbar.
It's getting late, you think. You should head to bed soon.
The DLC was too short, and it was definitely not worth the price. You still find yourself recommending it when inquired about it in the future.
The mattress sinks under your weight, the covers weigh comfortably on top of you, the pillows cradle your head.
As your eyes flutter shut, your soul soars free. Drifting amidst the streams, a starless sky filled with dreams.