The rumors around town were not pleasant. Most called him suspicious, some called him a murderer, and very few were indifferent. This wasn't the first time he came back without his teammates, and there were enough times that it truly seemed as though he was doing something evil.

Would that they could see the state of this man that they all called a "Devil".

Entering the dark room, a series of tools, materials, and various scrapped equipment lay scattered around.

A furnace wasn't lit, but the smolders were still a orangish yellow color that attempted to light the darkness. Had the night not been as dark as the room, the open windows might've iluminated the room. The faint moonlight that did shine through, only made it to the foot of the couch which sat opposite the window.

Atop the couch sat a bundle of blankets with a young man's head barely peaking out of the top. His sulken eyes stared forward and paid no attention to the surrounding atmosphere. His hair was a mess of tangles from tossing and turning on the couch. Atleast this was a sign he had tried to sleep.

I supposed his state was partially my fault. I chose to wait until he had finished smithing before coming to check up on him. As a result, I missed the moment when all of his emotions no longer found a pleasant distraction. I'd done this before. Comfort someone who had just lost someone they were close with. In fact, I've done it with people who had lost those closer to them than the adventurers Alex had known for a few weeks. But how many lines can one come up with to help a tormented soul who goes through the same cycle of loss and replacement. 

If a sword breaks, you replace it. You can do this endlessly, each time the sword is less familiar, nevertheless it can still hold its function. When people break, is it possible to replace them endlessly? The constant cycle of replacing people doesn't make the replacements unfamiliar, rather you become less and less familiar with yourself. 

For someone like Alex, who came to this world alone and repeatedly lost and lost does anything ever become familiar again? If there exists an answer to all the questions swirling in my head, it does not matter. I can only sincerely make actions based on his state. 

Across the unmoving blankets, a crimson heart in a golden cage lay sprawled across a darkened pillow. Undoubtedly a blacksmith's result from the newest tragedy.