The void opened once more,
but the jasmine fields were gone.
In their place was a vast, silent expanse of twilight.
The entity appeared,
still wearing Rose’s face,
but the mocking smirk had vanished,
replaced by a solemn, quiet presence.
She walked across the stillness toward Mitsuo,
who was sitting on the ground,
his shoulders slumped
and his head bowed low.
"We meet again,"
she said softly, sitting beside him.
She began to reach out,
perhaps to pull him back into another comforting lie—
but Mitsuo spoke first.
His voice was hollow,
devoid of the frantic confusion of their earlier meetings.
It carried the heavy, crystalline cold
of the dark stars.
"I did something horrifying, didn't I?"
The entity paused.
She didn't offer a motherly hug.
She didn't tell him it was a dream
or blame the world.
Recognizing that the "Angel Prince"
was finally awake to his own darkness,
she simply sat beside him
and gave a slow, honest nod.
Together, they looked up at the sky above—
a sky no longer filled with memories,
but with the cold, distant light
of the stars he had unleashed.
The riverbank was peaceful,
the water singing a soft melody against the stones.
Mitsuo walked with his head bowed,
his heavy footsteps contrasting
with the light, airy grace of Clara.
She talked to him normally,
chattering about the small things—
the way the light hit the water,
the dreams she had—
just as she used to
when he was nothing more
than a lifeless doll in the slums.
Suddenly, Mitsuo stopped,
his boots sinking into the soft sand.
"What happened?"
Clara asked, turning back
with a curious tilt of her head.
"Why?"
Mitsuo’s voice was a ragged whisper.
"Why do you keep forgiving me?
I’m literally the cause of death.
I’m the reason everyone is gone.
Why are you acting like this is okay?"
Clara stepped closer, her expression softening.
"For me...
whenever I look into your sapphire eyes,
I don't see death.
I always think of the night sky
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filled with glowing stars.
And stars...
stars don’t know how to lie."
She smiled—a radiant, genuine expression
that seemed to pierce the twilight of the void.
"This makes no sense,"
Mitsuo snapped, his frustration boiling over.
"How can you be so naive?!
Look at me!
I’m a monster!"
"Because you’re my Angel,"
Clara replied simply.
"What?!
Again with that absurd name!"
Mitsuo shouted, his voice cracking.
"I hate it!
I’m not an Angel...
I am the.....the Dark Wolf."
He looked away, his gaze falling to his own shadow,
which seemed to pulse with a dark, predatory hunger.
"Then you just need to become the White Wolf,"
Clara said.
She reached out and took his hands,
pulling herself into a warm embrace.
To Mitsuo, the gesture felt like a divine light
washing over him.
The cold weight of the dark stars in his soul
began to thaw
under the heat of her touch.
"Before all this,"
Clara continued, her voice muffled against his chest,
"some people called me dumb.
They watched me talk to you all day
while you sat there like stone.
I knew some of them only followed you
because of the money,
and they talked behind your back
about how you were a 'freak' or a 'doll.'
But I always nagged them.
I told them they were wrong."
She pulled back just enough
to look him in the eyes.
"They called me delusional.
But today...
today you aren't just standing there.
You're listening to me.
You're talking about yourself.
You're feeling.
Doesn't that mean
my stars were right all along?"
As she spoke,
the stagnant, dark stars within Mitsuo’s sapphire eyes
began to shift.
The dull, oppressive gloom was replaced
by a brilliant, kinetic energy.
The stars didn't vanish;
they began to move—
streaking across his pupils
like shooting stars caught in the morning sunlight.
The "Dark Wolf" hadn't disappeared,
but for the first time,
it was no longer alone in the dark.
The golden riverbank felt warmer than ever,
a stark contrast to the cold, dark stars
that had previously occupied Mitsuo’s soul.
Mitsuo and Clara laughed together,
a moment of pure, untainted connection
that felt like it could last an eternity.
But the light began to shimmer
and fade at the edges.
"It’s time now,"
Clara said softly, her voice beginning to echo.
Mitsuo’s laughter died in his throat.
A wave of desperation hit him;
his hands gripped the fabric of his jeans
so hard his knuckles turned white,
trying to anchor himself to this peace.
"Please,"
Clara whispered, stepping closer.
"Take care of my sister, Claire,
after all of this.
Promise me."
Mitsuo couldn't speak
through the lump in his throat.
He simply nodded,
rolls of tears falling from his eyes
and darkening the sand beneath him.
Clara reached out,
pulling him into one final, lingering hug.
"Don't cry, my White Wolf,"
she murmured against his shoulder.
Mitsuo fought his own face,
struggling to push through
the agony of the goodbye.
With a monumental effort,
he forced his features
into his characteristic smug expression,
striking his usual confident pose
even as the tears continued
to track down his cheeks.
"I’m...
definitely not crying,"
he said, his voice trembling
with the effort of the lie.
"Goodbye, Mitsuo.
Thank you for being my Angel,"
Clara said.
Before he could reach out for her one last time,
the dimension shattered.
The river, the sun, and Clara herself vanished,
hurtling Mitsuo back into the gray, silent void
of his inner mind
where the World Organism awaited.
The entity stood behind him.
For the first time,
the voice that spoke wasn't Rose’s melodic, teasing tone.
It was a neutral, ancient resonance
that carried no familiar ghost.
"What route do you choose then?"
the voice asked.
"Isn't it obvious?
Lol,"
Mitsuo replied.
His tone had returned—
the sharp, cocky edge that defined him—
and he flashed a smirk
that finally reached his eyes.
"The White Wolf."
He turned back to face the entity.
Because the World Organism appears
as the person the observer desires to see most—
and because Mitsuo had finally accepted
his responsibility to the living and the dead—
the face of Rose was gone.
Standing before him was Clara.
Mitsuo stood tall,
his sapphire eyes no longer dull
or filled with stagnant stars,
but burning with the kinetic light
of a shooting star.
He was ready to wake up.
To be continued...
? MYukH. All rights reserved.
Thanks all the readers for reading it till so far.
Angels Without Halos : Born without Grace or AWH (in short) will come to an end with Chapter 17 continuing from Chapter 16.
