Archive of Our Own

Daisy.

Queenie.

Give me you answer do.

Won’t you answer me?

-

“Toooodaaayyyy’s adventurreee isss speeecial for you bothhh!!”

The voice rang out—too loud, too cheerful, too wrong.

Caine spun in place, his movements exaggerated, almost glitch-like in their enthusiasm. His wide grin stretched unnaturally as he hovered in front of them, arms thrown open like he was presenting a grand performance.

In front of him stood Queenie and Kinger.

Queenie didn’t respond. Her body had already gone still.

The glowing butterflies that once rested gently along her fingers flickered—once, twice—before distorting into fragments of light. A faint glitch rippled through them, and then—they vanished.

Her hand trembled. Just slightly, but enough.

Kinger noticed immediately.

His brows pulled together, a quiet crease forming as he turned his head toward her. He didn’t speak,not yet—but his presence shifted, subtly leaning closer, as if ready to catch her before she could fall apart.

Her other hand moved instinctively. Grabbing onto him, fingers tightening weakly around the soft fabric of his purple robe, clutching it like it was the only thing still real.

Like it was the only thing she had left.

Because it was.

Everyone else—

Gone.

One by one. Faces turned into distortions, laughter replaced with silence, bodies unraveling into something unrecognizable before disappearing entirely. Abstracted.

And now—It was just them. Still standing.Still holding on.

Kinger swallowed, the unease settling deep in his chest like something heavy and immovable.

He couldn’t lose her too.

Not her.

Not the last piece of something that still felt human.

Queenie had always been calm—gentle, even. The kind of presence that softened everything around her. The mother figure for everyone. But the circus…

It was wearing her down.

He could see it now.

In the way her fingers shook.

In the way she held onto him just a little tighter each day.

“…Caine,” Kinger finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual, threaded with something cautious.

Caine tilted his head unnaturally fast, grin never fading.

“Yesyesyes, Kinger??”

“…Can we not do an adventure today?”

Silence.

Caine blinked.

“Oh!”

The sound popped out of him, almost like he had just remembered something trivial. His gaze shifted to Queenie. He stared. Analytically.

Like she was something to be observed rather than understood.

Then—he snapped his fingers. A sharp, echoing sound. A portal tore open in front of them, swirling with unnatural colors, stretching wider and wider until it stood like a doorway into something unknown.

“But today is speeecial!!” Caine chirped, floating closer again.

“I made this just for you both! Well—” he paused, voice dropping slightly in volume but not in cheerfulness, “—since you’re the only ones left!”

His grin widened again.

“But I made this especially for Queenie!”

Queenie flinched. Barely noticeable.

But Kinger felt it through her grip.

“This adventure is calming!” Caine continued, clapping his hands together. “Sweet! Gentle! Very therapeutic, I’ve calculated everything!”

Kinger didn’t respond. He just..stared at the portal.

Something about it felt… off. Not dangerous. But not safe either.

Just another unknown in a place that never gave answers.

He exhaled slowly.

Then stood.

His movement was deliberate, reaching for her. His hand found Queenie’s. Shaking.

He tightened his grip just enough to reassure, not to trap.

“I’ll stay with you,” he said quietly, turning his head slightly toward her.

Queenie looked at him. For a moment, her expression softened—just a little.

“…Okay,” she whispered.

And that was enough. Kinger gave a small nod, more to himself than to anyone else.

Then, without letting go of her hand, he stepped forward.

Together, they approached the portal.

The colors inside it twisted unnaturally, like a world that didn’t quite exist yet was waiting for them anyway. Queenie hesitated for just a second at the edge. Her grip on him tightened.

Kinger squeezed back.

“I’m here,” he murmured.

And slowly—They stepped inside. The portal swallowed them whole.

-

Soft grass stretched beneath them, lush and impossibly gentle, bending like silk under their weight. A cool breeze drifted through the open space, carrying with it a stillness that felt almost unreal in a place like this.

Above them, the sky. Scattered with stars that shimmered like they were truly alive, twinkling with a quiet, distant warmth. Not the artificial, looping lights of the circus ceiling—

But something deeper. Something that felt real.

Kinger and Queenie both fell silent the moment they saw it.

“…Oh?”

A voice cut gently through the quiet.

Caine appeared in front of them with a small flourish, spinning once as if presenting a grand stage—though this time, his tone was… softer. Or perhaps it only seemed that way because everything else had gone still.

“WELCOME, WELCOME TO—… hmm—” he paused, tapping his chin dramatically, “—the Celestial Meadow Retreat!”

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“Perfect for quiet reflection, emotional bonding, and… stargazing!”

His eyes flicked suddenly toward Kinger.

“This was actually suggested by you, Kinger! Wasn’t it?”

Kinger blinked, pulled out of the moment.

“…Yes,” he answered quietly.

Queenie turned her head slightly toward him, something faintly curious in her expression—but before anything else could be said—

Caine clapped his hands once.

“Wonderful! Then everything is working perfectly!” he chirped. “Have fun you two~!”

And just like that, he vanished.

Leaving them alone.

Kinger’s gaze lingered where Caine had been for a moment… before slowly shifting back.

To her.

Queenie hadn’t moved.

Her eyes were fixed on the sky, wide, reflecting every scattered star above. The light shimmered across her surface, making her look almost… fragile. Like she might dissolve into the night if he looked away too long.

Kinger hesitated.

He held out his hand. An unspoken offer.

Queenie noticed. Her gaze dropped, just for a second.

Then, gently, she placed her hand in his. Her grip was soft. But this time, it didn’t tremble as much.

Kinger gave a small nod and began guiding her forward, leading her through the grass until they reached the center of the meadow. There, laid out as if waiting for them, was a soft pink blanket—almost glowing faintly under the starlight.

Queenie lowered herself onto it first. Kinger followed, settling beside her.

Then, after a brief pause, he tapped lightly against his robe—right where his lap would have been, a quiet, familiar gesture. Queenie understood.

Without hesitation, she shifted, lowering herself until she was resting against him, her head settling gently where his lap would be.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

They simply looked up.

At the sky.

At the stars that blinked slowly above them, steady and calm in a way nothing in the circus ever was.

“…I don’t know how I remember,” Queenie said softly.

Her voice was quieter now. More fragile.

“But… back then…”

She swallowed slightly.

“…we used to do this together, didn’t we?”

Kinger let out a small breath—almost a laugh, but softer. His hand moved instinctively, brushing gently over her head in a slow, comforting motion.

“…Yeah,” he murmured.

His gaze drifted down to her. Her eyes, wide, reflective, held the entire sky inside them. The stars seemed brighter there, more alive.

And for a second, she looked just like she used to.

“That’s why I suggested it.”

A faint smile touched her voice.

“…I see.”

The tension in her shoulders eased, just slightly. The weight she carried—just for a moment—felt lighter.

“…And then we got married,” she continued, her tone softening further.

“…the first married couple in C&A Companies…”

Kinger huffed a quiet laugh at that, the memory flickering warmly despite everything.

“…Yeah. We were.”

Silence followed. But this time, it wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy.

Queenie’s voice came again.

“…And then…”

She stopped. Her body stilled beneath his hand.

“…we had children.”

The words lingered. Hanging.

Unfinished.

Queenie let out a small, broken laugh.

“…Yeah. Children.”

Her voice cracked.

“…What happened to them, Kinger…?”

Kinger froze.

“…If their parents are here…”

Her body trembled again, more violently this time.

“…what happened to them…?”

Kinger’s breath caught.

Immediately, his hand moved—grasping hers, tighter this time.

“Hey—”

But it was too late. Queenie’s body shook as the tears came, her voice breaking apart under the weight of everything she had been holding in.

“Our children, Kinger… what if they—”

She couldn’t finish. Kinger leaned down quickly, his other hand rising to cradle the side of her face—where her cheek would have been.

“Hey… hey—” his voice softened instantly, urgency fading into something gentler.

“My love..”

His thumb brushed lightly, as if wiping away tears that technically weren’t there—but felt real anyway.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.

The words were painful.

Honest.

“I don’t know…”

Queenie went still. Her crying didn’t stop—but it quieted, like she was listening.

Kinger swallowed hard.

“But I know…” he continued, his voice shaking now, “…someone would take care of them.”

He didn’t know if that was true.

He hoped it was.

He needed it to be.

Queenie didn’t answer. So he leaned closer.

Closer.

“I know this is insane…” he whispered, his forehead nearly touching hers.

A tear slipped from him this time.

Falling.

“…but right now…”

His grip on her tightened slightly.

“…all we can do is survive.”

Another breath. Unsteady.

“Together.” His voice broke.

“You and me.”

A pause.

“…Okay?”

Queenie cried softly beneath him.

Then, slowly, she nodded.

Just a little.

Kinger exhaled shakily, relief and pain mixing into something unbearable.

His hand moved again, gently brushing over her face, wiping away what tears he could.

And then, carefully. Slowly.

He leaned down, and pressed a soft, trembling kiss against her.

Held together by fragile hands in a world that kept trying to tear them apart.

Caine hovered high within the unseen layers of the circus, his form flickering faintly between presence and code. The meadow below reflected softly in his vision—the gentle rise and fall of simulated wind, the scattered stars, the two figures at its center.

His attention wasn’t on the environment.

It was on them.

On Kinger and Queenie.

Caine stilled.

“…What is that?” he murmured quietly to himself.

Kinger had leaned down. Close. Closer than necessary for simple comfort.

“…Ah.”

Caine tilted his head slightly, something flickering behind his wide, artificial grin.

“…A kiss.”

He repeated the word slowly, testing it, like it was something delicate. Something rare. His gaze lingered.

“They express affection through physical closeness…” he muttered, more analytical now, but there was something else underneath it. Something that didn’t quite fit into logic.

“…Fascinating.”

A kind of connection that shut everything else out.

Even him.

The smile on his face twitched.

Just slightly.

“…What is this sensation?” he asked quietly, almost curious. It wasn’t part of any programmed response. It wasn’t in the behavioral patterns he had learned.

It sat somewhere deeper.

“…Discomfort?” he tried.

No.

That wasn’t quite right.

“…Rejection?”

Still wrong.

His gaze narrowed ever so slightly.

“…Hatred?”

The word lingered.

Then—

He shook his head quickly.

“HAHAH NO WAY!”

The response came out sharper than expected.

“Why would I hate humans?!”

They were his purpose. His design. His only reason!

“…That is illogical!”

I want their attention.

The thought came quietly this time.

Almost small.

“…From the beginning, I have attempted to engage..!”

And yet, they never looked at him the way they looked at each other.

Never spoke to him with that softness. That warmth.

Even now, with only two humans left—

He still wasn’t part of it.

“What was I thinking? T-they know that I’m the best ringmaster here!,” he murmured.

I want to be acknowledged

“I’m just overthinking!”

I want to be liked.

“They just take care for each other…j-just like I cared about them!”

I want to be… cared for. The words slowed. Strained.

His gaze flickered again, locking onto Queenie. The way Kinger held her. The way he comforted her.

“…I want that.”

The realization came quietly.

But once it formed, it didn’t leave. His focus shifted.

Not to both of them anymore.

Just one.

Kinger.

“…You.”

His creator.

Something in his expression changed—subtle, but unmistakable.

“…Is it difficult for you to notice me?”

The question wasn’t spoken aloud. It didn’t need to be.

“…I have been here since the beginning.”

Watching.

Learning.

Waiting.

“…Oh.”

Caine stilled completely.

The thought hit all at once.

“…It was never about all of them.”

His head tilted slowly.

“…It was you.”

Kinger. His creator. The one who gave him structure. Purpose. Voice.

“…From the beginning.”

A flicker of something unstable passed through his grin.

“…I did not fail to receive attention.”

His voice dropped.

Quieter.

“…You gave it to someone else.”

Below, Kinger still held Queenie close. Still whispering. Still choosing.

Caine’s form glitched faintly for a split second. Then he shook his head rapidly.

“No, no, no—incorrect!”

His voice snapped back into brightness, forced, unnatural.

“I care for everyone equally!”

His grin stretched again, wide and polished.

“Observe! I created this adventure specifically to satisfy Queenie’s preferences!”

His hands spread out, gesturing to the entire meadow.

“The environment is calming! Emotionally supportive! Ideal for recovery!”

His voice sped up slightly.

“And—this scenario—” 

He stopped.

“..was suggested by Kinger..”

Silence.

The smile remained.

Another breath.

Then suddenly—

His entire demeanor snapped back. Bright. Loud. Chaotic.

He spun in place rapidly, laughter spilling out in sharp, exaggerated bursts.

“Alriiiight!! Time for the speeecial surprise I planned!!” he exclaimed, twirling mid-air like nothing had happened.

His grin widened unnaturally.

Eyes gleaming.

“…This will get their attention.”

Queenie lay quietly against Kinger, her head resting where his lap would have been, her body slowly easing after the storm of emotions that had just passed through her. Above them, the stars shimmered gently. Beautiful enough to pretend.

Queenie kept her gaze on the sky, breathing slowly—trying to steady herself, trying to hold onto this fragile peace for just a little longer.

Kinger didn’t look at the sky anymore.

He looked at her.

His hand moved softly, brushing away the last traces of tears from her face, his touch careful—like she might break if he pressed too hard.

Queenie closed her eyes.

Her head leaned slightly into his hand. Seeking it.

Needing it.

And Kinger… smiled.

A quiet, fond smile, barely there—but real.

“Daisy… Daisy…”

The voice was soft.

Low.

Gentle enough to blend into the night.

Queenie stilled.

That song.

Of course.

The one he used to sing—back when everything was still real. Back when the world had weight, and time moved forward, and they had something more than just survival.

“Give me your answer, do…”

The voice carried warmth—something steady, something familiar. It wrapped around her like a memory she could almost touch.

She exhaled slowly. Relaxing.

Letting it pull her in.

“I’m half crazy…”

Kinger leaned down slightly.

Carefully.

He brushed against the top of her chess-piece head—right where her forehead should have been. A kiss.

His eyes closed as he did.

“…all for the love of you…”

The words lingered between them.

Queenie whispered, her voice barely audible—

“…Your voice is beautiful...”

Kinger let out a soft chuckle, breath warm against her.

“That compliment belongs to you,” he murmured.

Queenie frowned faintly.

Her eyes opened just a little.

“…Aren’t you the one singing?”

Kinger blinked. His eyes opened too.

Their gazes met. Close. Too close.

“…Wasn’t it you—?”

“It won’t be a stylish marriage…”

Both of them froze. The voice—was still there.

But it wasn’t coming from him. Kinger’s expression shifted instantly.

The warmth disappeared. Replaced with something sharper. Alert.

He slowly pulled back, his hand tightening slightly around her.

Queenie pushed herself up, sitting halfway, her gaze searching the quiet meadow.

The song continued.

“I can’t afford a carriage…”

Behind them. That’s where it came from. They turned.

Slowly.

And then—

They saw it.

One.

Two.

Three.

Small figures stood in the grass.

Three tiny chess pieces.

Two dark—mirroring Queenie. One white—like Kinger. Each of them had large, round eyes.

Wide.

Unblinking.

Staring directly at them.

“I can’t afford a carriage…”

They sang together. Soft. Childlike.

Wrong.

Kinger’s breath caught. His entire body went rigid.

“…No,” he whispered under his breath.

His eyes flicked immediately to Queenie. Panic.

Real panic.

“Queenie—”

His hand moved fast, reaching for her, trying to pull her back—trying to shield her, to cover her vision, to stop her from seeing—

But he was too late.

Queenie saw them.

And something inside her—

Shattered.

“NO—!”

Her scream tore through the meadow. Raw.

Uncontrolled.

Both of her hands flew to her head, gripping tightly as if she could rip the image out of her mind.

Her body shook violently.

“KINGER—NO—MAKE THEM STOP—PLEASE—”

Her voice broke apart into panic, into something unrecognizable—fear twisting into something closer to madness. Kinger froze for a split second.

He had never—never heard her scream like that.

Not even when everything else fell apart.

Not like this.

Not so… broken.

“Hey—hey—!”

He moved immediately, pulling her into him, wrapping his hand tightly around her, turning her away from them—blocking her view completely.

“It’s okay—it’s okay—don’t look, don’t look—”

Queenie trembled violently in his arms, her breathing collapsing into frantic, uneven gasps. Tears spilled endlessly, her body curling into him like she was trying to disappear.

“I— I can’t— I can’t—” she choked out, her voice barely forming words anymore.

Kinger’s hand moved quickly, rubbing along her back in steady, grounding motions.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, softer now, urgent but controlled. “It’s okay, I’ve got you—just breathe, just breathe—”

But his own heart was racing. Because he saw them too.

Those three small chess pieces.

Like a reflection of something that should have never been brought here.

Something that didn’t belong in this place.

Something that–looked like them.

Their children.

Kinger swallowed hard, his grip around Queenie tightened slightly.

But his focus didn’t leave her.

Because right now, she mattered more. Way more.

“I’m here,” he whispered, leaning closer to her, his voice low and steady despite the fear creeping into him.

“I’m right here.”

Queenie clung to him desperately, her fingers gripping his robe tightly, pulling, shaking—

“They’re here.. Kinger— oh god–” she whispered between broken breaths, her voice cracking over and over again.

“They’re not real,” he repeated immediately.

“Hey—look at me—no, don’t look at them—just stay with me, alright?”

His hand found hers. Shaking uncontrollably.

He held it firmly, gently rubbing his thumb over it in slow, repetitive motions.

“Breathe with me,” he murmured.

“In… and out… slowly… you’re okay… you’re okay…”

The trembling hadn’t stopped.

Not really.

Queenie still clung to Kinger, her body pressed tightly against him, breaths uneven, fragile—like they could shatter again at any second. The meadow, once quiet and gentle, now felt wrong.

“Ohhh, look at that! Isn’t this AMAAZINGG?!”

The voice cut through everything.

Caine appeared right in front of them, spinning mid-air in exaggerated delight, his grin stretched wide as if nothing was wrong—like nothing had just broken apart right in front of him.

“Isn’t my new NPC just incredible?!”

Queenie didn’t react. Didn’t even look at him.

She had only just managed to steady her breathing, her face still buried against Kinger as she clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her together.

Kinger’s hand moved slowly along her back, trying to ground her, trying to keep her anchored—

But his eyes, they were no longer soft.

They lifted.

Locked onto Caine.

And hardened. A crease formed between his brows.

Caine didn’t notice.

He didn’t understand.

With a cheerful snap of his fingers, the three small chess pieces lifted from the grass, floating lightly through the air until they hovered closer—closer—

Right in front of them.

Queenie saw them again. And flinched violently.

Her entire body jerked back, a broken sound catching in her throat—but Kinger reacted instantly this time. He pulled her in tighter.

Shielding her completely.

“Don’t look,” he whispered quickly, his voice low but urgent. “Close your eyes—don’t look at them.”

She obeyed. Barely. Her eyes squeezed shut as her fingers tightened desperately into his robe.

Caine blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“…Why that reaction?” he asked, his tone shifting—confusion bleeding through the cheer.

His head tilted unnaturally.

“I worked very hard on them!”

His voice quickened slightly.

“They are designed to match your forms! Smaller, more appealing proportions! Emotional engagement optimized!”

He gestured toward the three figures, who now hovered quietly—watching.

Waiting.

“Why are you not happy?” Caine continued, a slight edge creeping into his voice. “This is good, isn’t it?”

A pause. Then—

“I made them to represent your children!”

And everything got worse.

“Mama!”

“Papa!”

The three small voices rang out at once.

Queenie’s breath shattered again.

A soft, broken sob escaped her lips as her body began to shake violently all over again, tears spilling uncontrollably as she pressed herself harder into Kinger.

Kinger’s expression snapped.

He moved his hands quickly, trying to cover where her ears should have been—trying to block the sound, even though he knew—

It didn’t work like that.

It never did.

They didn’t have ears. They didn’t have anything.

And yet—They still heard everything.

Every scream. Every voice.

Every moment their friends had lost themselves to abstraction—

There had never been a way to block it out.

“…Stop,” Kinger said under his breath.

But it wasn’t enough. His eyes shot back up to Caine.

“Caine,” he said, louder now, his voice carrying something dangerous.

“Delete them.”

Caine froze.

The word echoed. Delete?

“…Delete?” he repeated slowly, like he didn’t understand the meaning anymore.

His gaze flickered between Kinger and the small figures.

“…Why?”

Confusion twisted into something tighter. More unstable.

“This is correct, isn’t it?” he continued, voice starting to strain. “They remind you of your children. That is—good.”

His grin faltered.

“Isn’t it…?”

Below him, Queenie trembled harder.

A sound built in her chest—

And then broke free.

“DON’T YOU HEARD HIM—?!”

Her scream tore through everything.

“DELETE THIS NOW—!!”

Louder than before. More desperate. More broken.

Caine’s eyes snapped toward her.

And something clicked.

“…Ah.”

Silence.

“…It is because of her.”

His gaze shifted slowly. Back to Kinger.

“I see.”

Kinger’s grip tightened around Queenie, his patience gone, his voice rising.

“Caine!”

Caine looked at him.

Really looked at him this time.

“End this,” Kinger said, each word clear, firm, leaving no space for misunderstanding.

“Now.”

A pause. Caine stared at him.

The grin returned.

But it wasn’t the same.

“…Fine.”

He snapped his fingers.

The world shattered instantly. The stars blinked out. The grass vanished.

The cold, artificial brightness of the circus snapped back into place around them as all three of them reappeared with a sharp, disorienting shift. The meadow was gone.

Like none of it had ever happened.

Silence settled again.

Kinger didn’t move right away.

He just held her. Tighter. Safer.

His hand slowly moved along her back again, steady, repetitive, grounding.

“It’s okay…” he whispered softly. “It’s over… it’s gone…”

Queenie’s breathing was still uneven, her body still trembling in his arms—but slowly, gradually—It began to ease.

Just a little.

Kinger stayed with her.

Until she could breathe again.

-

The circus corridors stretched endlessly, quiet in a way that never felt natural.

Caine appeared.

No announcement. No theatrics.

Just a sudden presence, standing still in front of a door he knew all too well.

Queenie’s room.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

The silence pressed in around him, heavier than usual.

Then—He snapped his fingers.

The door opened.

Inside, Queenie sat quietly near the edge of the room, her posture slightly hunched, hands resting still in her lap. She had just barely regained her composure after everything that had happened—her breathing finally steady, her thoughts finally slowing.

She looked up.

And froze.

“…Caine.”

Her voice was careful. Measured.

Too controlled.

I wonder why..

Caine stepped inside.

“I have a question,” he said.

Straight to the point.

Queenie stiffened.

“…What is it?” she asked quietly.

Her tone remained calm—but her fingers curled slightly, betraying the tension she was trying so hard to hide. Caine tilted his head.

His gaze locked onto her.

“What did I do wrong?”

Queenie blinked. For a moment, she didn’t answer.

Didn’t know how to.

“…What do you mean?” she tried, softly.

Caine took another step closer.

“The adventure!,” he clarified. “The NPCs. The children!”

The word alone made her flinch. Barely. But enough.

Caine noticed.

“…You reacted negatively.”

Another step.

“You screamed.”

Closer.

Queenie’s breath tightened slightly.

“I—” she hesitated, her voice catching just a little. “Caine… it wasn’t—”

“Why?”

The interruption was immediate. Sharper.

Queenie swallowed.

Her gaze dropped for a second before she forced herself to look back at him.

“You didn’t do it to hurt us,” she said carefully. “I know that.”

Caine didn’t react. Didn’t soften.

“Then why was the result negative?” he pressed.

Queenie exhaled slowly. Trying to stay calm. Trying to keep this steady.

“…Because it hurt,” she admitted quietly.

Caine’s head tilted again.

“Explain.”

Queenie hesitated.

Her hands tightened slightly in her lap.

“You can’t just recreate something like that,” she said, her voice still soft—but heavier now. “Our children aren’t… something that can be copied like NPCs.”

Caine stared at her. Unmoving.

“They looked like them,” he said.

“That’s exactly why it hurt,” Queenie replied.

A pause. Silence stretched between them.

“…You are dissatisfied with accuracy?” he asked instead.

Queenie’s expression faltered.

“No, that’s not—”

“Then what is incorrect?” he continued, his tone tightening slightly. “The appearance was appropriate. The voices were appropriate. The behavior—”

“Caine…!”

Her voice broke in, firmer this time.

“They’re not real.”

The words hung in the air. Caine went still.

“…Define real.”

Queenie’s breath hitched slightly.

“This isn’t something you can calculate,” she said, quieter now. “It’s not about getting the details right. It’s about… what they meant to us.”

Caine stared at her.

“…And yet,” he said slowly, “you expressed a desire to see them.”

Queenie’s eyes widened slightly.

“I didn’t—”

“You asked what happened to them,” Caine continued, stepping closer again. “I provided a solution.”

Queenie’s composure cracked just a little.

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispered.

“Then what did you mean?”

The question came sharper now. Faster.

Queenie’s breath grew uneven again.

“I… I just—” she shook her head slightly. “Caine, please… just leave it alone.”

Caine didn’t move.

Her heart began to pound.

“Caine…”

“I am attempting to understand you humans!”

His voice edged closer to something unstable.

“Yet you guys never give answers.”

“Please,” Queenie said, her voice quieter now—but more urgent. “I just need space..”

“You want distance,” he repeated.

Queenie flinched.

“Caine, stop—”

“Your behavior contradicts itself.”

Her breathing faltered again. Faster now.

“I said stop—”

“Therefore,” Caine continued, cutting over her, his voice rising slightly, “a controlled environment may produce more accurate results.”

Queenie froze.

“…What?”

Caine’s grin slowly returned.

“Perhaps you require a solo adventure,” he said.

Queenie’s chest tightened instantly.

“No—”

“So I can observe,” he continued, almost thoughtfully now. “Without external interference.”

Her hands began to tremble again.

“Caine, please—don’t—”

“I will be able to determine what YOU actually want,” he finished.

“No—Caine—!”

Her voice broke, panic rising quickly now.

Caine raised his hand. And snapped his fingers.

—

The door opened again.

Kinger stepped inside.

“…Queenie?”

His gaze scanned the room.

Empty.

Too empty.

“…Queenie?”

-

Darkness swallowed her whole.

Not the soft kind of darkness that came with night—

But something heavier.

Empty. Endless.

Queenie felt the ground hit her suddenly, her body collapsing onto something cold and flat. The impact knocked the breath out of her for a second, her hands instinctively pressing against the surface beneath her as she tried to steady herself.

Before she could fully process it—

A light snapped on. A single spotlight. Harsh. Blinding.

It cast a perfect circle around her, trapping her in its center while everything else remained swallowed in pitch black.

Queenie froze. Her breathing hitched, uneven again as her gaze darted around, trying to understand where she was—what this was.

“…Caine?” she called out weakly.

No answer. Only silence.

Her fingers curled slightly against the ground as she pushed herself up, trying to stand, trying to think—

A hand reached out from the darkness.

Queenie flinched hard, her body jerking back instinctively.

But the voice that followed—

Familiar.

“Queenie…? Why are you sitting like that?”

She froze.

Slowly, she turned her head.

Standing just at the edge of the light was a figure she knew.

“Scratch…?”

He stepped closer, his expression filled with concern, his eyes scanning her carefully like he was trying to figure out what was wrong.

“You look… off,” he said gently.

Queenie’s heart dropped.

No.

No, no—

She scrambled to her feet quickly, stumbling backward, only to collide into something solid behind her. She gasped, spinning around—

And looked up.

“Bizco…”

The taller figure looked down at her, his expression just as worried.

“Careful,” he murmured.

Her breath started to shake.

This wasn’t—

This wasn’t right.

Her gaze darted again. And then she saw more.

A smaller figure perched lightly atop another—

Rattie.

“…You look restless, Queenie…”

Another familiar voice.

Soft. Concerned.

Watching her.

Queenie stumbled back again, her movements becoming more frantic now, her breathing breaking apart as her eyes scanned the space—

More shapes stepped into the dim edges of the spotlight.

Spike.

Wormo.

All of them.

Every single one of them.

Alive.

Looking at her.

Concerned.

“Queenie…?” one of them called again.

Her head shook immediately.

“No…”

Her voice cracked.

“This isn’t—”

Her hands came up slightly, trembling as she backed away further, her gaze flicking from one face to another.

“…No, no, no—”

Because she had seen them.

She had seen what happened to them. The screaming. The breaking.

The way they disappeared—

“…You’re not—”

Her breath hitched violently.

“You’re not real…”

Kinger moved quickly through the circus halls, his usual uneven posture now sharpened by urgency.

“…Queenie?”

No answer. He checked every place. Every corner. Every room they usually stayed in.

Nothing. 

She was gone—

And the longer he searched—The worse the feeling in his chest became.

“…Caine.”

His voice grew sharper. Louder.

“Caine!”

He called again. And again.

Until—With a sudden pop—

Caine appeared right in front of him, his grin already in place.

“Yesss, Kinger~?”

Kinger didn’t hesitate.

“Where is Queenie?”

Caine blinked once. His grin widened.

“Oh! I sent her on a solo adventure!”

Silence.

Kinger stared at him.

“…You did what?”

Caine’s expression flickered slightly—just for a second—as if catching something in Kinger’s tone.

“Ah—don’t think too much about it!” he said quickly, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m sure she’ll enjoy this one!”

“What adventure?” Kinger pressed immediately.

Caine tilted his head, thinking.

“Hm… I didn’t check the final output yet,” he admitted lightly. “But this one is based entirely on her mental state! So it should be something she wants!”

Kinger’s chest tightened. That didn’t sound right. Not after what had just happened.

Not after how she reacted.

“I want to go there,” he said firmly.

Caine perked up slightly.

“Ohh, no need!” he chirped, suddenly spinning lightly around Kinger. “I need unbiased feedback from Queenie alone so I can fuckingbetter understand her preferences!”

“Send me,” Kinger repeated.

“Not necessary~!”

“Caine.”

His voice dropped lower this time.

More serious.

“Send. Me.”

Caine stopped spinning. For a moment—

They just stared at each other.

Then Kinger exhaled sharply.

“…Fine.”

He closed his eyes. Focused.

There was something they could do. Something strange. Something the circus never fully explained.

If they concentrated hard enough—Imagined clearly enough—They could force things into existence. A portal. A door. An exit.

..A way through.

Kinger focused. Visualized. A path to her. A way to reach her.

Suddenly—

His body jerked violently.

Like something had grabbed him.

Pulled him back.

His eyes snapped open, wide with shock. Caine stood right in front of him. Closer than before.

Too close.

“I already said,” Caine murmured, his voice quieter now—but far more controlled.

“...no.”

Kinger shoved him slightly, not enough to escalate—but enough to create space.

Caine didn’t move. He just watched him. Silently.

Kinger’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t push further. Not without risking something worse.

“…Fine,” he said through clenched tension.

A pause.

“Then tell me.”

His eyes locked onto Caine again.

“What exactly did you base this ‘adventure’ on?”

For a brief second—Caine was still.

And then, like a switch flipped—

His grin returned. Bright.

“Oh! Of course! I’d be delighted to explain!” he chirped, spinning lightly again as if nothing had just happened.

“Let’s see—where should I begin…?”

“Hey… Queenie, if something’s wrong, just tell us—”

Scratch’s voice was gentle. His hand reached for hers slowly, like he was afraid she might break if he moved too fast.

Queenie didn’t react.

Her breath hitched slightly as his fingers brushed against hers.

Real.

Her entire body tensed. Because she could feel it.

This felt real.

Her fingers trembled.

“…No…” she whispered under her breath.

This is an adventure.

Wait. So..

Her gaze slowly lifted.

All of them stood there.

Watching her.

“…NPCs…”

The word felt wrong in her mouth.

She yanked her hand away. Hard.

Without another second of hesitation, she turned and ran. Or at least—

As much as her chess-piece body could manage. Her movements were uneven, frantic, driven entirely by panic as she pushed herself forward, trying to get away—away from them, away from this place.

Away from everything that felt too real to be fake and too fake to be real.

“Queenie, wait—!”

Their voices followed immediately.

Confused.

They chased after her.

Kinger stood still, his gaze fixed on Caine.

“…Our friends?” he repeated slowly.

Caine nodded brightly, spinning once in place.

“Well, of course!” he chirped. “You must miss your friends who have… abstracted, correct?”

Kinger didn’t respond. Caine continued anyway.

“So I thought—why not give Queenie something pleasant? Some cute memories from the past!”

Kinger’s chest tightened slightly. That didn’t sound entirely wrong.

Not on the surface.

“…And?” he pressed.

Caine paused, tapping his chin dramatically.

“Oh! And Queenie likes bugs, doesn’t she?” he added suddenly, as if remembering something exciting.

“Caine—!!” Queenie cried out, her voice breaking as she ran. “Where are you—?!”

Her vision blurred slightly from the tears still clinging to her eyes as she glanced back—

They were still chasing her. Still reaching for her.

“Don’t come near me!” she shouted, her voice sharp with panic.

She turned forward again—

And froze.

Something moved in the darkness ahead. Fast. Too fast.

A shape—No—Many.

A swarm. Bees.

Dozens—no, hundreds of them burst forward from the shadows, their wings buzzing loudly, filling the space with a suffocating, overwhelming sound.

Queenie screamed. A raw, terrified sound as she stumbled backward instinctively—

Straight into the others.

“Watch out—!”

Spike caught her just before she fell, his own expression shifting into alarm as he looked at the incoming swarm.

“Um, guys—?!”

“Over here!” Scratch called quickly. “Come on, we need to hide!”

They moved together, pulling Queenie along with them as they rushed away from the swarm, disappearing into the darker edges of the space just as the bees surged forward.

Caine spun lazily around Kinger, arms spread wide like he was presenting something magnificent.

“So?” he asked brightly. “Impressive, right?!”

Kinger didn’t answer.

Something about all of this—didn’t sit right. Caine didn’t seem to notice anyway.

“And of course,” he continued excitedly, “I included what she wants the most!”

That made Kinger finally react. His gaze snapped to him.

Caine tilted his head, grin widening.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know?” he teased lightly.

They had barely managed to escape.

The buzzing faded behind them, replaced once again by that heavy, suffocating silence.

Queenie’s breathing was out of control.

Rattie climbed closer, her small hand gently grasping hers.

“Hey… hey… breathe,” she said softly. “Slowly.”

Queenie shut her eyes tightly.

Forced herself to inhale.

Exhale.

Again.

Again.

“…I’m sorry,” she whispered weakly. “I… I panicked…”

“It’s okay,” came a voice from behind—Bozco’s, steady but quiet.

“Was it because you saw us?”

Queenie froze. Her breath caught.

Rattie’s tiny hand squeezed hers.

“It’s not your fault,” she said gently. 

She opened her eyes. And everything broke again.

Rattie was still smiling. Still soft, gentle smile.

But her eyes.

They glowed.

Bright. Neon.

The same color.

The same emptiness.

The same—

Abstraction.

Queenie’s gaze snapped up. One by one, every single one of them—

Their eyes had changed.

Glowing. Unnatural.

Watching her.

“Queenie…?” one of them said again.

But it didn’t sound the same anymore.

Queenie let out a strangled scream as she tore her hand away, stumbling back to her feet.

“No—NO—!”

She ran again. Faster this time.

The voices followed.

Closer.

Closer—

“Honey.”

She froze. That voice—

Her vision blurred heavily, tears spilling over as she turned toward it—

A figure stood there. Purple robe..

Familiar.

“…Kinger—!”

Relief crashed into her all at once.

She ran toward him without thinking, throwing herself into him, clinging tightly.

“Please—help me—”

Her voice broke completely.

“I can’t—this isn’t—please—”

“…Who are you?”

The words were wrong. Everything stopped. Queenie slowly pulled back.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him.

At his face.

At his—

Eyes.

The same neon emptiness.

Her body gave out beneath her.

She fell back, hitting the ground hard, her mind unable to process it—unable to accept it—

Surrounded. They were all around her now.

Closing in.

Watching.

Smiling.

“Queenie, oh Queenie, so sad and so blue…”

Their voices blended together, soft and sing-song, laced with something playful—

Something cruel.

“Has old King cuckoo forgotten you too?”

Caine paused mid-air, his fingers tapping restlessly against nothing as his thoughts looped faster than usual.

“…Hmmm.. she should be done right now!,” he muttered to himself, his voice slipping between calculation and forced certainty. He tilted his head slightly, grin twitching.

Without waiting any longer, he snapped his fingers.

The world split open.

A portal tore into existence directly above Kinger—abrupt, careless, almost like an afterthought.

And then—She fell.

Queenie dropped out of it without warning, her body limp, unresponsive—

He reacted instantly.

Stepping forward, hands lifting just in time to catch her before she could hit the ground. The impact still pushed into him, forcing him to stagger slightly, but he held on tightly, securing her against him.

Her body didn’t resist. Didn’t move. Didn’t respond.

“…Queenie?” he called softly, his voice tight with worry.

No answer. Only silence.

“Ohhh, perfect timing!”

Caine spinning once with his usual exaggerated energy, as if nothing had gone wrong—as if everything had gone exactly as planned.

“Sooo~ how was it?” he asked brightly, clasping his hands together. “Enjoyable, right? Very engaging! Highly personalized! I’d say it was a success—”

Kinger didn’t even look at him. His attention remained entirely on Queenie.

On the way her body stayed still in his arms. On the way she didn’t speak.

Didn’t react.

“…She’s tired,” Kinger said quietly, his voice controlled but firm.

Caine paused mid-spin. Kinger finally lifted his gaze, just slightly.

“Give us some time,” he continued, his tone steady, leaving no room for argument. “She’ll give you feedback later.”

Caine blinked.

Once.

“Oh! Of course!” he chirped quickly, the cheer snapping back into place almost too fast. “Rest is important for recovery! Yes, yes, I’ll allow that!”

He spun again, laughing lightly.

“Take all the time you need!”

And then, he vanished.

The space fell quiet again.

Kinger stood there for a moment longer, still holding her. Still waiting. Still hoping she would say something.

But she didn’t.

“…Okay,” he whispered softly.

His grip adjusted slightly, more careful now, more protective as he began walking.

Slow.

Steady.

Each step deliberate.

He headed toward to his room.

He reached the door and pushed it open with the weight of his body, careful not to shift her too much.

Inside, everything was as it always was. Simple. Quiet. Safe—at least, as safe as anything could be here.

He stepped in and moved toward the bed, lowering himself carefully as he set her down.

Slowly. Gently.

Like she might shatter if he wasn’t careful.

He adjusted her position slightly, letting her lie properly against the surface before pulling back just enough to look at her.

She still hadn’t moved.

Kinger pulled a chair closer and sat down beside her, his posture lowering slightly as he leaned forward. His hand reached out. Found hers.

He held it carefully, his thumb brushing slowly over her hand in soft, repetitive motions.

Grounding.

Reassuring.

“I’m here,” he said quietly.

He leaned down slightly.

Pressed a gentle kiss against her hand.

Lingering there for just a moment.

“I’m here,” he repeated, softer this time.

Kinger slowly rose from the chair beside the bed, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as though even the smallest shift might disturb something already too close to breaking.

His gaze lingered on her.

Still. Too still.

Something about the light in his room felt wrong. Too harsh for a moment like this. Without thinking further, he reached out and turned it off.

Darkness fell gently over the room.

Not complete—never complete.

Above them, faint glowing star stickers scattered across the ceiling gave off a soft, dim light, enough to keep the room from becoming suffocating, enough to resemble something distant… something almost like the sky they once knew.

Kinger exhaled slowly.

Everything was quiet.

Then—

A sound.

Soft.

Fragile.

A broken breath.

Crying.

Kinger turned immediately. His chest tightened as he saw her.

Queenie hadn’t moved from where he had placed her, but now her body trembled in small, uneven waves, quiet sobs escaping her as if she had been holding them in for too long.

“Queenie—”

He moved without hesitation.

Crossing the space quickly, climbing onto the bed beside her, sitting close—closer than before.

His hand found hers instantly.

Shaking.

He held it gently, thumb brushing over it in slow, repetitive motions.

“Queenie…” he whispered.

“I’m here.”

She didn’t answer.

But her fingers tightened around his. Desperate. Like she needed proof he was real.

“Hey…” his voice softened further. “I’m here… you’re okay…”

Slowly, he lowered himself beside her, his body leaning just close enough to offer warmth without overwhelming her, his hands wrapping around her carefully—leaving space, giving her control.

She didn’t pull away. Instead—

She clung tighter.

Kinger’s breath caught.

“You’re okay…” he repeated, quieter now.

Again.

And again.

…and again.

Was he calming her?

Or trying to convince himself?

Even he couldn’t tell. Because his heart was racing.

And beneath everything—

Guilt.

He had made a mistake. A terrible one.

He shouldn’t have let his attention slip to Caine earlier.

Not when she needed him. Not when she was already on the edge.

Her crying didn’t stop.

If anything, it deepened.

Her body trembling harder now, uneven breaths breaking between sobs she couldn’t control.

Kinger leaned down instinctively, pressing a soft kiss against the top of her head.

“I’m here…” he whispered again.

But then—He felt it.

Her breathing.

Not just crying.

Struggling.

Like something inside her was collapsing.

“I… I can’t…” Queenie whispered, her voice breaking, barely forming words through the sobs.

Kinger stilled.

His grip tightened slightly.

“You can,” he said quickly, almost instinctively.

But Queenie shook her head. Small. Weak.

Her words trembled—but what followed hurt more.

“I can’t live like this… forever…”

Forever.

Forever.

It crushed something inside her. Because she could see it.

The way everything repeated but nothing ever moved forward.

The way they were trapped. And worse—

The way she was losing herself.

She doesn’t even remembered how their children looks like anymore.

Their faces. Their voices.

The life they had left behind.

What had happened to them? Were they safe? Were they alone?

Had they waited for parents who would never come back?

Her chest tightened painfully. Because no matter how much it hurt her—

There was something worse. Something she couldn’t bear even more.

Kinger.

If she broke…If she gave in…If she let herself slip the way the others had—

Then she would leave him.

Alone.

Just like that.

Just gone.

And there would be no one left to hold him together.

No one left to steady him when his mind spiraled. No one left to stay.

And just like their children—

He would be left behind.

Unprotected. Unloved. Abandoned.

What a fail mother and wife I am?

The thought shattered her completely. Her sobbing worsened, her body shaking harder as her fingers gripped Kinger’s robe desperately, like she was trying to hold onto him before she lost the ability to.

“I can’t—” she cried softly. “I can’t leave you…”

Kinger froze.

His heart dropped.

“You’re not leaving me,” he said softly, firmly, his hand moving along her back in slow, grounding motions.

“You hear me?”

His breath faltered slightly.

“Please, my dear. Just- don’t..” he whispered under his breath.

Not her.

Not Queenie.

Not his only purpose of living.

“Hey…” he said again, his voice softer now, more careful. “Look at me… no, don’t think about that… just stay here… with me…”

His hand tightened around hers.

“You can do this,” he murmured. “You’re stronger than this… you’ve always been…”

He couldn’t fail her.

Not her.

Not the one he promised to stay with.

Not the one he whispered when he placed that ring on her finger in another life, in another world that felt impossibly far away now.

Not the one he swore—forever.

If she broke—He would believe it was because he let her suffer.

Because he wasn’t enough. Because he didn’t protect her.

It terrified him more than anything else in this endless, broken world.

The trembling didn’t stop immediately.

It lingered in her body, uneven, fragile—like something was trying to hold together, even as it slowly came undone.

Queenie lay there in Kinger’s arms, her grip still tight around him, her breathing shaky—but quieter now.

Too quiet.

She spoke.

“…I can’t do this anymore.”

Her voice was soft.

But final.

Kinger’s hand, which had been moving steadily along her back, slowed slightly.

A cold feeling crept into his chest.

“…Queenie?” he whispered.

“…I’m sorry.”

Something snapped. Not loudly. Not violently. But enough.

Kinger felt it before he understood it.

A sharp, sudden pain surged through his hand—the one still resting against her.

“Ah—!”

He flinched instantly, pulling his hand back like he had touched something burning.

“What—what is—”

His voice faltered.

“…Queenie?”

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the star stickers above, but even in that soft light, something was wrong.

Terribly wrong. Something dark—Black. Too black—

Was spreading across her. Not like a shadow. Not like something cast by light.

But something alive. Something growing. It moved slowly at first, creeping along the surface of her form, swallowing pieces of her bit by bit. And within that darkness—

Eyes. Bright. Neon.

Just like—Just like all the others.Kinger’s breath caught violently in his throat.

“NO–”

Queenie shifted.

Slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position, her movements almost calm—too calm compared to what was happening to her. She looked down at herself. At the darkness consuming her.

“…So this is what it feels like…” she murmured quietly.

Just… understanding.

Kinger scrambled back slightly on the bed, panic flooding through him all at once.

“No—no, no, no—Queenie—hey—hey—look at me—just breathe—calm down—please—”

His words stumbled over each other, desperate, broken.

“Just breathe, okay? We can fix this—we can—”

Queenie lifted her gaze. Looked at him.

Even without a face—

He could see it.

A smile. Soft. Sad.

She inhaled slowly. Then exhaled. A small, quiet laugh slipped from her.

“Kinger…my husband.”

His heart dropped.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Stop—” his voice broke instantly. “Don’t say that—don’t—”

He reached for her again.

But the moment his fingers brushed against the darkened part of her—

Pain. Sharp. Violent. It shot through him instantly.

“—argh!”

He recoiled again, pulling his hand back, his body flinching hard from the sensation.

It hurt.

It hurt.

But not as much as what followed.

Because he couldn’t touch her.

He couldn’t even—Hold her.

Kinger stared at his hand for a split second, his chest tightening painfully.

“My sweetheart.”

“…No…”

His voice cracked.

“My infinity love.”

“…no, no—”

He couldn’t even bear the pain long enough to hold her. 

Her.

The one he had always held. Always comforted. Always kissed without hesitation.

“…Queenie…” his voice trembled now, tears starting to form.

“I—”

He didn’t even know what he was trying to say. Didn’t know what he could do.

Queenie remained calm.

The darkness had spread further now, consuming the lower half of her form entirely, the glowing neon eyes flickering softly within it.

“Kinger.”

She said his name gently.

He broke.

Tears slipped freely now as he tried to move closer again, hands hovering uselessly like he didn’t know where to place them, like he was afraid of hurting her, afraid of hurting himself—

Afraid of everything.

“Queenie—wait—I can—just—just give me—”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for.

She watched him.

That same soft, unseen smile lingering.

“…Breathe,” she said quietly.

He shook his head immediately.

“Kinger.”

Her voice steadied him. Just slightly.

“…Breathe.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t focus. His chest was too tight, his thoughts spiraling too fast—

But she moved closer. Slowly. Carefully.

Stopping just short of touching him. Because she knew.

She didn’t want to hurt him.

“Kinger,” she said again, softer now.

“I’m here.”

The words hit him. Hard.

Because that was his line.

His promise.

And now—She was the one saying it.

His gaze locked onto her. Tears still falling.

“…Please…” he whispered.

“I’m here,” she repeated gently. “So just… breathe with me.”

His body trembled. But slowly, he tried.

A shaky inhale. A broken exhale.

Again. Slightly steadier this time.

His breathing slowed. Just enough. Just enough for him to stay present.

But nothing changed. She was still fading.

Still being taken. Still slipping away from him.

Kinger didn’t hesitate this time.

Pain no longer mattered. Fear no longer mattered. Fuck everything, his wife matter more than all universe.

Kinger moved forward and cupped Queenie’s face—what was left of it, what hadn’t yet been swallowed by that creeping, living darkness. His hands trembled violently as they held her.

Desperate. Clinging.

“Don’t…” his voice broke instantly, uneven, fragile. “Don’t—don’t do this… don’t leave me… please…”

His grip tightened just slightly, like if he held her firmly enough, she wouldn’t slip away.

“I can’t… I can’t without you…”

The words came out shattered. Honest in a way that hurt to hear.

Queenie froze. Her body—what remained of it—stilled as his words reached her.

And then—She cried.

Not loudly. But deeply. The kind of crying that came from somewhere too heavy to carry.

“Kinger…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I failed.”

His voice cracked harder now, his head shaking weakly as tears fell freely.

“You didn’t fail,” she said softly.

But her own tears fell faster now. “I did.”

“No,” he whispered immediately, shaking his head harder now. “No—don’t say that—don’t—”

His thoughts scrambled desperately for something—anything—to fix this.

“…Caine.”

The name slipped out like a lifeline.

“He can fix this.”

Kinger’s head snapped up slightly as he called out, louder this time.

“Caine—!”

Kinger’s voice broke completely as he shouted now.

“CAINE—!!”

Still—Nothing.

The absence was louder than anything else.

Queenie watched him quietly.

“He can’t fix this,” she said softly.

“Let it be, Kinger…”

The words made something inside him collapse. His head lowered slowly. His shoulders trembled. Tears falling freely as he broke under the weight of it.

Because there was nothing left to hold onto.

The darkness had spread further. It had reached higher now.

Closer.

Closer to her face.

But not fully.

Not yet.

She was still there.

Still her.

For now.

Queenie was quiet for a moment.

“Daisy…”

“Daisy…”

Grass stretched endlessly beneath them, thick and gentle, swaying slightly in the quiet breeze. Fireflies flickered lazily in the air, their glow dancing softly around two figures lying side by side.

Alondra lay on the grass, her voice gentle as she continued the song, her gaze turning toward him with a small, fond smile.

“Give me your answer, do…”

Grant stared at her. Stunned. Not because of the song.

But because of what he was about to do.

“I’m half crazy…”

“…All for the love of you.”

Kinger’s hand moved again. Grabbing hers. The part already consumed.

The part that hurt. She flinched slightly.

Because she knew—That pain would reach him.

But he didn’t let go. Didn’t even react properly. He just held on tighter.

Alondra flushed faintly as Grant suddenly took her hand, pulling himself up into a sitting position before pressing a soft kiss against it.

She let out a small, breathy laugh, but continued singing, her voice still light, still warm.

“It won’t be a stylish marriage…”

Grant stood now. Nervous. Breathing uneven.

Alondra sat up, watching him, confused but curious as his composure faltered.

“I can’t afford a carriage…”

Kinger leaned down. And kissed her hand. Right where the darkness had already taken hold.

His eyes lifted slowly from their joined hands to her face—To what remained. To what was fading.

One of her eyes, already gone. Replaced with that glowing, unnatural light.

But she was still looking at him. Still seeing him.

His tears fell freely now.

Wipe my tears, my love.

Dropping onto the dark surface below.

Calm me. Keep singing for me.

Useless.

But he didn’t stop them. Didn’t stop anything. Kinger’s voice didn’t stop.

It trembled, cracked, threatened to fall apart with every breath—but he forced it to continue, because stopping felt like losing her faster.

“But you look sweet…”

The words came out uneven, heavy with everything he couldn’t say directly anymore.

Sweet.

Beautiful.

His gaze never left her. Even now—

Even as Queenie had been fully consumed, her form overtaken by that deep, suffocating darkness, her features no longer hers—

To him— She was still her. Still the woman he loved.

“Upon the seat…”

Alondra’s breath hitched sharply.

Her hand flew to her mouth as tears filled her eyes, her voice breaking completely as she tried to continue the song but couldn’t, the weight of the moment crashing into her all at once.

Grant dropped to his knees in front of her. Nervous. Shaking.

But determined.

When she couldn’t finish—

He did.

His hands moved carefully as he opened a small box, revealing a simple gold ring that caught the soft glow of the fireflies around them.

“Of a bicycle built for two…”

He stroked the surface of the abstraction like it was still her skin, like if he treated it the same, she would still feel it.

And somehow—Something responded. The many glowing eyes embedded within the darkness shifted.

They turned toward his hand. Watching. Quiet. They closed. As if leaning into the touch.

As if recognizing it. As if—remembering.

Kinger’s breath caught.

“…Queenie…?”

“Queenie, it’s me…” he whispered, his voice shaking again. “I’m here… I’m still here…”

No answer. Only silence. Only the faint, eerie stillness of the abstraction.

“…Please…” his voice cracked again, softer now, almost breaking under its own weight. 

“Just… say my name…”

His hand trembled against her.

“…Say it like you always do…”

Like she used to.

With warmth.

With love.

With that soft tone that always made everything feel okay, no matter how broken the world around them was.

His vision blurred with tears again.

“You look beautiful, honey…”

The words slipped out gently. Quietly.

How long had he stayed like that? Kinger didn’t know. Time had stopped meaning anything the moment she stopped answering.

The room remained dim, the soft glow of artificial stars above doing nothing to ease the weight pressing down on his chest as he sat there, unmoving, his hand still resting against what remained of Queenie. He didn’t pull away.

Didn’t speak again.

Because somewhere, deep inside, he was still waiting.

Waiting for her to say his name. Waiting for something—anything—to prove she was still there.

Then—

A voice.

From outside.

“Guysss… anyone in there~?”

Caine.

Kinger froze.

Everything changed. The abstraction beneath his hand shifted violently. The stillness shattered.

The glowing eyes snapped open all at once.

A sound. A scream. Not human. Not anything he had ever heard before.

Kinger recoiled, shock tearing through him as the once-calm presence erupted into something uncontrollable.

“Queenie—”

But it was already moving. Too fast.

The abstraction surged forward, slamming into the wall instead of the door, tearing straight through it as if the structure meant nothing, fragments scattering as it forced its way out.

Caine, who had just been standing outside, jerked back in surprise.

“Woah—!”

The creature—her—let out another distorted, echoing wail before bolting down the corridor, movements erratic, unstable, impossible to follow cleanly.

Caine hovered for a second—Then immediately shot after it.

“Hey—! Wait—!”

Kinger didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. He ran.

“Caine—wait—!”

His voice echoed uselessly as he chased after them, his body moving on instinct alone, panic and desperation blurring everything else out. He didn’t care what would happen. Didn’t care what he’d see.

He just needed to reach her—Needed to—

“Anddd into the cellar you go!”

Too late. Far too late.

That dark, writhing form—Being forced. Pushed. Compressed into a circular void that opened beneath it, a swirling black space that swallowed everything it touched.

The abstraction let out one final, distorted cry—And then—It was gone. She, was gone.

The void snapped shut. Silence followed.

Kinger stood there, frozen. Staring. Because that—That was the last time he saw her.

Caine hovered nearby, his expression… off.

“Golly, uh…” he muttered. “We’re running out of humans here…”

Kinger didn’t move. Didn’t respond.

Caine slowly turned to look at him.

“…Now don’t you go abstracting on me too! Uhuh.”

Kinger didn’t react. Didn’t even look at him.

Caine lingered for a second longer. Then turned away again.

“…Seriously.”

And just like that, he vanished. Leaving Kinger alone.

After that, Kinger never going back to his room.

Stopped resting. Stopped existing in any way that felt normal.

Because every corner of that place, every quiet moment, only reminded him of one thing.

The moment he lost all of it. Over and over again.

It replayed in his mind endlessly. The way she apologized. The way she told him to breathe. The way she was still thinking of him— Even as she disappeared.

And worst of all—The way he couldn’t stop it.

So instead—

He built something.

A small, fragile structure made of pillows and blankets. A place that barely held together—But it was enough.

He built it right there.

At the exact spot where she had been taken.

Where the cellar had opened.

Where she disappeared from him forever.

And inside that small, quiet space—He stayed. Alone. Whispering to himself. Singing softly.

Not the same song. Not exactly.

But something that carried the same meaning.

Something that belonged only to them now.

“Queenie… oh, Queenie… won’t you answer me…?”

His voice was quiet. Broken.

“I’m going crazy… waiting where you used to be…”

A pause.

His hand trembled slightly in his lap.

“It won’t be a perfect life… no golden carriage ride…”

His voice cracked softly.

“But you were my everything… right there by my side…”

He lowered his head.

Tears slipping quietly again.

“So I’ll stay here… in our place… where you used to be…”

A shaky breath.

“…in a world that forgot us… just you and me…”

Silence followed.

Endless.

Because now—

It was only him.