The cave narrowed, stone closing in like a throat. The light thinned as the cold deepened.

Soren rounded the corner.

—and the world broke.

—instantly emptied of any semblance of sense.

Vinegar lay on the ground where she had fallen.

Her body was twisted wrong. Her bra top and flesh spread open like it had given up trying to keep her warm.

Her head lolled to the side.

Her neck?

No.

The cut was clean. Too clean.

That was definitely a blade's work.

Handler stood over her.

The knife was still in his hand.

Blood crept down the metal in slow, patient lines, dripping to the stone with a sound far too soft for what it meant.

His face was empty. Not cruel. Not angry. Just… finished.

It was unbelievable.

Vinegar's eyes remained open.

They stared at the ceiling of the cave, glassy and unblinking—and from the corners of them, tears still slipped free, tracing quiet paths down her temples, as if her body had not yet been told she was dead.

Soren's breath hitched.

Then his went lower. To her stomach.

It had been opened with immaculate precision.

Slacker was bent over her, sleeves rolled, hands red all the way to the wrist.

It seemed like he worked without hurry, without ceremony, lifting something from her as though it were nothing more than a task he had done a hundred times before.

Soren's eyes moved to the side. Beside Slacker were insulated boxes.

They were neat, labeled, and packed with ice.

No doubt this was planned ahead of time.

One box was already being sealed by Ratler, who acted as Slacker's assistant.

Soren saw what lay inside before the lid closed.

Kidneys.

Vinegar's kidneys.

Another container waited, open, hungry.

Her fathers weren't just killing her.

They were harvesting her.

Soren's legs gave out.

He hit the stone on his knees, the impact dull, distant, like it belonged to someone else.

The cave swam. His chest burned. Tears poured down his face, hot against the cold air, blurring her, blurring everything.

His voice came out broken. Small. Almost a child's.

"Why…?"

The word barely survived the space between them.

And no one answered.

Slacker merely turned to Handler and then Ratler.

He did not stop his work, as if expecting them to handle the situation.

Ratler instantly used his cloning ability, becoming four, circling Soren.

"We are Soren kid. But there is too much at stake here." Handler muttered.

"Too much?" Soren asked, still not moving even as they closed in with steady steps.

But she... she loved you.

All of you.

Why do this to her?"

Handler sighed. "Even if I explain it to you, you'll never understand." However, his gaze faltered a bit.

As if a bit of guilt still lingered. Then again, it was only fair it did.

After all, they had been with Vinegar for three years now.

And all that time, they had been her three dads.

"The person we work for. Even if we don't do it, he will. Not after the bullshit you caused us."

Soren froze, head up in confusion. "Me?"

Ratler shook his head. "You don't understand, kid. We only had one mission here. It was simple. To kill the Soul Mecha pilots disturbing the master's flock.

However, even after three years, we barely got the opportunity to bribe the guards—just enough to get the design of just one Soul Mecha."

Soren's mind suddenly flashed. He remembered the map Slacker was always reading.

However, in that final loop—the day he saved Vera Kanta—it turned out that it was not a map.

Slacker had squeezed it and thrown it to the side.

It made sense now. It was because Soren had ruined their plan.

It was no wonder that day they were not happy to see him, even though in all the other loops before this one, they had welcomed him with open arms.

And when Vinegar pulled him away as they went to her cave, she had said that Slacker used to be a Soul Mecha designer of sorts.

It was all coming together.

And as it did, the tears stopped. He asked again. "And what about Cynthia? Why did you want to kill her?"

The three men looked at one another, obvious surprised.

"I'm impressed you figured that out." Handler redponded. "It was a plan we never executed. Dragon has always been the one closest to getting the Crowned Jewel. We were going to buy more time for ourselves by killing her, and pleasing the master.

But at last, you came along and ruined absolutely everything.

Soren was very shocked by the revelation.

"Then why did you help me? Why did you help me get the Crowned Jewel?" He asked.

"Because..." Slacker stood to his feet. "We never thought you'd actually get it. A mere trash F–rank?" He scoffed.

"Getting the Crowned Jewel should have been impossible. You should have died during that raid, same with Dragon.

That way, no one else would dare touch the master's flock, and we could have secured ourselves more time to do as they intended.

But you had to go and just do the impossible."

Slacker shook his head, eyes spitting the venom he had obviously held back for a long time now.

"But... But you saved my life, Slacker."

Slacker rolled his eyes. "Don't start." His tone got higher and harder. "You think I did it for YOU!? Do you know how much burden I carry?"

Then Slacker's eyes fell on Vinegar. They were softer. "For her. She deserved a happy ending—at least once in her life."

He leaned in, bloody fingers closing her eyes. "Forgive your daddies, little one. The world is just not fair."

Soren watched the interaction—brows tightening into a frown.

"Don't touch her!" He spat through his rage. "You don't deserve to."

"I can tell." Slacker added. "You really loved her."

"The joys of youth," Ratler added. "Tsk tsk tsk."

By now, Soren's hands already leaked with blood from his fingers digging too deep.

"I understand why you hate me. But still, why her?" He asked.

Handler wanted to respond, but Slacker was faster. "There is no need to know. You will be joining her soon."

They moved.

Slush...

[You Died]

(Author's note: Dpress_Law, I told you, right? You underestimate me.)

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