A REASON TO LIVE, A REASON TO KILL

Isolde Faylen was not supposed to be there. She was supposed to be heading home. Quickly. Quietly. Without causing trouble. Instead… She stopped. Because someone else had. A boy stood at the edge of a building. Too close. Far too close. Isolde’s heart jumped into her throat. “H-Hey!” she called out instinctively, her voice already trembling as she hurried toward him. “Y-You shouldn’t stand there! It’s dangerous!” The boy didn’t move. “I’m not afraid of danger,” he replied flatly. Her steps slowed. Up close, something about him felt… wrong. Not dangerous in the usual way—but distant. Like he wasn’t really there anymore. Still, she clenched her hands tightly. “B-But you could fall…” “That’s the point.” The words hit harder than she expected. For a second, she couldn’t breathe. “You… you’re not serious, right?” Silence. Then— “There’s nothing left for me,” he said. “My family is gone.” He turned slightly, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his expression. Empty. “And you’re here,” he continued, voice quiet but sharp, “so tell me… why should I live?” Isolde froze. “…Eh?” Her mind went blank. Completely blank. This wasn’t something she knew how to answer. She wasn’t wise, or clever, or prepared for something like this. She was just… a girl trying to finish her errands and get home on time. “A reason…?” she repeated weakly. He was watching her now. Waiting. Expecting nothing. “I-I…” Her lips trembled. Her eyes stung. Think. Think. Think. Nothing came. “…I don’t know.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. The boy blinked. “…You don’t know?” “I’m sorry!” she blurted out quickly, flustered. “I really don’t! I didn’t think you’d ask something so hard!” A brief silence followed. Something shifted—just slightly—in his gaze. “…Then why stop me?” he asked. Isolde sniffed, wiping her eyes clumsily. “Because it’s wrong!” she said, almost defensively. “And scary! And I don’t like it!” That sounded childish. Even she knew it. So she rushed to fix it— “I mean—! Y-You could just live first and figure it out later!” Still not enough. Her chest tightened. “Or—or…!” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Y-You could l-live f-for m-me…!” Silence. Her entire face turned red instantly. “I—I didn’t mean it like that! I just—! Just until you find something better! L-Like a temporary reason! You can replace me later!!” She looked seconds away from crying now. The boy stared at her. For the first time… his expression cracked. Not much—but enough to show something unfamiliar. Confusion. “…You’re strange,” he said. And then— He stepped down from the edge. Isolde let out a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping in relief. “D-Don’t do that again…” she mumbled. They stood there awkwardly afterward. She talked—nervous, rambling nonsense about nothing in particular. The weather. The street. The fruit in her hand. Anything to keep him there. Anything to keep him alive. He listened. Quiet. Observing. Then suddenly— “Oh no—I’m late!” Panic snapped her back to reality. In a rush, she broke off a piece of the fruit she had been holding and shoved it toward him. “H-Here! Take this!” He looked at it, then at her. “…Why?” “Because you look like you don’t eat,” she said honestly. Then, softer, “And… people who are alive should eat.” He took it. As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her. “What’s your name?” She hesitated, then gave a small, shy smile. “Isolde… Isolde Faylen.” She took a few steps—then suddenly stopped again. “Oh!” She turned back, eyes lighting up slightly. “I never got your name!” He said nothing. She puffed her cheeks, thinking hard. “…Hmm.” Then— Her face brightened. “Okay! I’ll just call you…” She looked at him carefully. His quietness. His darkness. The way he stood like he didn’t belong anywhere. “…Gloomy Face!” She nodded, completely serious. “Yes! Because you look really gloomy. It fits!” A pause. “…That’s a terrible name,” he said flatly. She smiled anyway. “I’ll change it when you smile more!” And before he could respond— She ran off. Just like that. The street felt quieter after she left. Lucian stood there, unmoving. “…Isolde Faylen,” he murmured under his breath. The name lingered in his mind. Strange. Warm. Unfamiliar. He looked down at the fruit in his hand. “…Gloomy Face,” he repeated softly, almost annoyed. And yet— He didn’t throw it away. For the first time in a long while… The world didn’t feel completely empty. ---