"I was sent by Lord Uemon to take care of you."
A gentle voice echoed in the empty hospital room.
The room was spacious, housing only one patient. It was isolated from bacterial contamination, devoid of any sharp objects, and its security matched that of a VIP private room in a top-tier hospital before the great catastrophe.
The patient wore a specially made, semi-transparent silk hospital gown that hung loosely on his thin frame. Through the fabric, one could see scars of varying sizes covering his body—not like the random scribbles of a child, but deliberate, methodical marks.
Even more striking were the dozens of layers of bandages wrapped around his eyes.
"How could they do this…?"
The owner of the gentle voice seemed to grit her teeth in shock at his current state.
The patient on the bed couldn't see her face, but from her voice, he guessed she was a young woman.
"It's okay. I'll always be with you. I can help you with anything. Let me be your eyes!"
"Get out."
The patient lay still, his words icy.
"Would you like something to eat? Or do you need to use the bathroom first?"
The voice drew closer—she seemed to have stepped beside the bed.
"I brought food. Let me feed you. Here, say 'ah—'"
Something was placed on the bedside table.
The woman coaxed him with infinite patience.
The patient remained silent for a while.
Then he sat up, not opening his mouth, but instead reaching out toward the bedside table, feeling for the tray of food.
"I told you to get out. Are you deaf?!"
With a forceful swipe, he knocked the tray off the table. It clattered loudly against the floor, the simple motion leaving him panting.
Unseen by him, the food scattered everywhere.
The woman froze for a moment before silently crouching down and cleaning up the mess, tossing it into the trash.
"I'll be right outside. Call me if you need anything."
"What if I need you to die?"
Malice dripped from the patient's words.
She didn't respond.
After a brief silence, she opened the door and left.
The patient lay back down.
Deprived of his sight, plunged into darkness, his blood gradually grew tainted with violence. From time to time, he would furiously knock over anything within reach.
Some time later, the door opened again.
"I brought you a Walkman."
The gentle voice returned.
Soon after, a nostalgic Showa-era melody filled the room. The singer was likely a famous star—her voice sounded familiar in his memory.
She deliberately placed the Walkman at a distance from the bed.
With music in his ears, the dark world no longer felt so isolating. His agitation eased slightly.
"I brought food again. Let me feed you. It's been a long time since you last ate."
"Get out."
"...Call me when you're hungry. I'll always be here."
After a pause, the door closed.
The patient went the entire day without eating.
When the magi learned of this, they came.
By the time he regained awareness, he felt an unfamiliar fullness in his stomach.
He had been hypnotized—force-fed while under hypnosis.
It didn't matter.
He was used to it.
When the woman brought food again, he still knocked it over without hesitation.
"Defying the magi will only make things harder for you. Nothing will change in the end."
Her voice remained gentle, untouched by anger.
"For your own sake, please eat. Staying alive is what matters most. As long as you're alive, there's still hope."
Hope as long as you're alive?
The patient scoffed but said nothing.
Late at night.
A shrill alarm blared through the hospital room.
Hearing it, the magi immediately set aside their work and hurried toward the room, their expressions indifferent despite their rushed steps.
The girl, too, was startled awake by the noise and scrambled out of bed.
"He tried to kill himself again."
"How many times is that now?"
"Who keeps count? He won't die either way."
Standing at the doorway, the girl overheard the magi's callous exchange.
Inside, the patient lay on the floor, his head bloodied, sprawled across a magic circle.
He had smashed his head against the wall—only for the magic circle to forcibly sustain his life.
The room had been specially designed by the magi, every inch laden with their spells. The moment he acted out, they would know.
"Trapped in a place like this, suffering endlessly, with no escape even at the breaking point… Where is this 'hope' you speak of?"
When he woke, he turned to her with a mocking grin.
Watching him, the girl clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms. The sting in her hands was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.
For the first time, in the depths of her soul, she began to question her mission.
"It's okay. I'll always be with you. I'll stay by your side forever!"
"What's the point?"
The patient laughed, his scorn palpable.
"Anyone can spout pretty words. If you really mean it, go tell those magi you want to be their next test subject! If you can still spout that naïve nonsense after that, maybe I'll believe you."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
"...I understand."
The girl stood and left.
Finally gave up, huh?
The patient lay back down.
After so long in this place, he had long abandoned hope.
Always be with me?
Hope as long as you're alive?
Those were nothing but the self-righteous words of someone who had never known hell.
No one who had truly suffered would ever say such things.
The next day.
"I brought you a clock."
The gentle voice returned once more.
"Even if you can't see it, I'll tell you the time."
But this time, her voice carried a faint weakness.
"...What's wrong with you?"
"I underwent an experiment."
"Are you stupid?"
The patient turned toward her voice in disbelief.
"You said it yourself—if I went through the same experiments as you, you'd believe me."
Her voice was soft but firm, devoid of any falsehood.
"I kept my promise. I hope you'll trust me now. I'll always be with you!"
The patient fell silent for a long time.
As if stunned by her foolishness—or perhaps moved by her actions—he finally spoke calmly for the first time.
"What's your name?"
Now that he thought about it, he didn't even know her name.
"Huh?"
The girl was taken aback by his softened tone.
"I said, what's your name?!"
A hint of impatience crept into the boy's voice.
"If you're going to stay with me forever, how am I supposed to call you without knowing your name?"
"You're right!"
Her voice brimmed with audible joy.
"My name is… Jeanne! And yours? What's your name?"
"...Roy."
The boy answered coldly.
***
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