The world felt like it had shifted, though Roy couldn’t pinpoint how. He stood at the traffic lights, the same ones he'd crossed this morning, but this time something felt heavier. A weight pressed on his chest, though he couldn’t tell if it was foreboding or merely the aftermath of his conversation with Kieran.

The light turned red, and his legs moved automatically, stepping off the curb.

“Roy!” Kieran’s voice sliced through the air.

Startled, Roy turned his head, his foot already on the asphalt. A blaring horn and the screech of tyres came too late.

The impact came like a thunderclap. The car hit him hard, sending him flying through the air. Time slowed as Roy twisted mid-flight, his body folding unnaturally. He crashed to the ground, the world exploding into pain as blood poured from his body, pooling on the pavement.

Roy’s vision blurred, his mind struggling to grasp the scene. Pain screamed through every nerve, but his focus wavered as Kieran knelt beside him, his voice trembling.

He was alive, and that brought happiness to Roy.

“It’s okay, Roy. You’re gonna be fine. The ambulance is on the way. Just hang on, okay?” Kieran’s hands pressed against Roy’s wounds, desperate to stem the bleeding.

Roy blinked slowly, his breaths shallow and ragged. The world around him faded in and out, the chaos of honking cars and panicked voices melting into an indistinct haze.

And then he saw her.

The witch knelt beside him, her silhouette impossibly vivid against the dulling background. Her eyes, shimmering with something between tenderness and possession, locked onto his.

“Are you exhausted, Roy?” she asked softly, her voice cutting through the cacophony like a gentle melody.

Roy tried to respond, but his body wouldn’t obey. His chest heaved, struggling to draw in air, and his mind wavered on the edge of consciousness.

The witch reached for his hand, her touch unnervingly warm despite the cold seeping into his limbs. She held his hand close to her chest, her gaze unwavering.

“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard again,” she murmured, her tone almost scolding, though it carried an undertone of affection. “I only want you to push yourself for me… and me alone. But…” Her expression softened, her lips curling into a bittersweet smile. “I wouldn’t like a Roy who never looked at anyone else but me. I know—I’m selfish, aren’t I?”

She moved behind him, cradling his head gently as she sat on the pavement. Tapping her thighs, she whispered, “Come now, Roy. Don’t you like resting on your mother’s lap, just like when you were little?”

Unable to process his thoughts, Roy found himself leaning back, his body instinctively seeking comfort. His head rested on her lap, her fingers brushing through his blood-matted hair.

The blood pooling around him seemed to slow, thickening and drying unnaturally. The sounds of Kieran’s frantic shouting and the distant sirens blurred into an indistinct hum, like a distant memory fading away.

The witch leaned down, her face inches from his, her expression a mix of tenderness and longing. “You’re always trying so hard, Roy,” she said, her voice soft and melodic. “Too hard. You don’t have to fight alone anymore. Just… rest. I can't wait for you in your next life.”

Roy’s eyelids grew heavier, his body numb to everything but her presence. The world faded into a dull, crimson haze as her lips brushed against his.

And then, silence.