The door creaked softly as Eva stepped inside the cabin.
Ren sat in the same spot she'd left him—on the floor, back against the wall, lost in thought.
He looked up when she walked through the door.
"You talked to her?" Ren asked softly.
Eva nodded once, closing the door behind her. "I did..."
He waited for her to say more, but she didn't.
She crossed the room and sat beside him, her knees folding under her.
"Those children in the fields...She said they were happy," Eva murmured.
Ren's gaze didn't move.
"Because they don't know..." He stared at the floor for a while before speaking again. "If they ever remembered what came before this world, they wouldn't be smiling like that."
Eva lowered her head, her fingers brushing the wooden floorboards.
Ren leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. The faint laughter of children outside bled through the walls, light and soft. He thought of how long it had been since he'd heard something like that. He remembered back in the real world, he'd sometimes hear other youthful patients outside his window, playing with each other in the nearby garden.
"They're the same...huh?" Ren thought to himself. "Making the most out of a cursed life."
He opened his eyes again.
"You want to stay," He said flatly, just stating as if he already knew.
Eva didn't turn away. "Would that be so bad?"
Ren's mouth opened, then closed. He didn't have a good answer.
Part of him wanted to say yes. That it would be weak to stop now, that they were supposed to find the others—the overseers, the truth behind the Mother and this world. But another part of him, the quieter, tired part, wondered what would really happen if they just stopped.
How easily his thoughts change when Eva is with him.
Eva's voice broke his thought. "You're thinking about leaving alone again, aren't you?"
Ren's head turned sharply toward her. "What makes you say that?"
She gave a small smile—not teasing, but sad. "I can feel when you're desperation, Ren."
Ren looked down at his hands. His hand was still resting on the hilt of his worn-down dagger, his thumb brushing the metal edge like he needed something solid to hold on to for sanity.
"She knows..."
He was thinking about leaving.
The idea had been there since the moment they arrived in this quiet village.
He could move on alone. It would be safer that way.
She wouldn't have to see what came next — the horrors that would wait beyond this land.
"If she were to stay here, she'll be fine. She'll forget the horrors eventually." Ren began to rethink his thought process. "She'll smile like the children do. And I…I will carry their burden."
He swallowed hard.
"I'd rather she forget me than die again, no matter how much it hurts."
The thought lingered like poison. He hated how selfish it would be to keep her by his side, only for his own sake. He hated how selfish it sounded. But the fear of losing her stayed.
He'd already failed the one he loved before.
"Mom...if I go alone, at least she would find peace. That's enough right?"
Even in this strange world, she was the only thing that made him feel human. The only piece of warmth he had left, even after only so little time spent together, she gave Ren meaning. And the thought of walking without her again felt like stepping into an endless grave. Alone.
"Ren," Eva said softly, pulling him back. "If you're thinking of leaving me here…don't."
He blinked, surprised she'd said it so plainly.
"I-I'm not," He said, but his voice didn't sound convincing, not even to himself.
Eva gave a small huff through her nose.
"You are." Her tone wasn't angry. It was tired, gentle.
Like she'd already made peace with whatever fate he'd decided.
"You saw what's out there." Ren said, lowering his voice, "If something even stronger than the Mother is waiting...I'm not risking you getting caught up in that again..."
"I know you don't...But you think I want to sit here, knowing you're out there suffering alone?
Her hands curled slightly in her lap.
"I don't know how much of me is even left, Ren. But what's left wants to go with you."
He pressed his palms against his face, elbows digging into his knees.
"Why…" He muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough. "Why can't I just let you go?"
Eva froze, unsure if he was talking to her or himself.
Ren dragged his hands down over his face.
"Why won't you just leave me to suffer alone," He whispered, quieter this time.
He stayed like that for a while, palms hiding the exhaustion etched into his eyes.
Then, Eva reached out. Her hand rested on his shoulder—light, hesitant at first, then steady.
"Ren…you saved me. Don't forget that." She whispered. "You pulled me out of the Mother's hold when I didn't even remember who I was. You have given me a second chance to live."
Ren's breath trembled.
"I understand you want to protect me," Eva continued, her thumb brushing against the fabric of his tattered cloak. "But that doesn't mean pushing me away when you're unsure."
He slowly lowered his hands, eyes red, the faintest trace of moisture along his lashes.
Her voice stayed soft.
"Whatever waits beyond this place...I want to face it with you. Not behind you."
The weight in his chest started to break apart, piece by piece. Ren's hands finally fell from his face completely. The tears came slow and reluctant. He tried to keep his composure.
But it was too late.
Eva stayed close, her hand never leaving his shoulder. Ren felt her warmth seeping into him, grounding him in this moment—proof that she was still here with him.
He let his head fall forward, his forehead brushing against her shoulder.
"I thought I was done feeling things like this…After all I've been through."
Eva smiled faintly. "It's okay to cry...It shows that you care...That you're human."
The sound of the children laughing outside carried through the thin wooden walls again.
And suddenly, Ren was somewhere else.
In his mind, the cabin faded away to a new home. It was smaller, warmer—from another time.
He saw his mother again.
He was just a little boy, tucked in his bed, teary eyed from a cruel nightmare.
His mother knelt beside him, her voice as gentle as the night air.
"Ren…" She whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "It's okay to cry, you know."
He'd shaken his head, too stubborn even then.
Her hand cupped his cheek, warm and steady. "It's okay to need someone, Ren. Even superhero's need help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak. Be the superhero, my boy."
He remembered how her fingers trembled a little when she said it.
The memory cracked open something deep inside him.
When Ren blinked, the world shifted back to the broken cabin.
Eva's hand was still resting on his shoulder, her touch the same as his mother's had been.
"…Thank you," He murmured
Eva gave a gentle smile.
"We'll find them..."
"...Together." Eva said, finishing his sentence.
He looked up at her then.
"We will." She hesitated. "Just…not yet."
Ren exhaled, something heavy leaving him with it. "Yeah…not yet."
They stayed sitting together until the sounds of laughter outside grew louder.
One of the children's voices called out through the window.
"Hey! You two! Come play with us!"
Eva's expression brightened, faint amusement tugging at her lips.
"I think that's our invitation."
Ren shook his head, almost smiling. "You go. I'll just watch."
She was already standing, brushing the dust from her clothes, and held out her hand.
"Come on, Ren. Just for a little while."
He took her hand as they stepped into the mist.
The children ran through the misty field barefoot, unbothered by the strange stillness.
Ren stood among them, unsure at first. One of the younger boys threw him a ball of woven straw—it hit his chest before he could react.
The boy laughed. "You're supposed to throw it back!"
Eva giggled quietly beside him, and after a second, Ren did.
The boy barely caught it and stumbled backward, laughing boastingly. Another child darted in to snatch the ball away, and soon they were all chasing each other through the misty field.
A girl tugged at Eva's sleeve and pointed toward Ren. "He's not running!"
Eva smirked. "You heard her."
Ren raised his hands slightly in dismissal. "I'm good right here."
But Eva was already running toward him. Before he could react, she caught his wrist and pulled. He stumbled forward, startled, nearly tripping over his own feet as she laughed harder. The children erupted into cheers, circling them both, urging him to join their game.
And slowly—hesitantly—Ren began to move with them.
Eva was beside him the whole time, her laughter blending with theirs.
It didn't matter that the sky never changed its palette, or that the mist swallowed the horizon whole. For a moment, it all felt…normal. It all felt...human. And that's when Ren laughed.
"Guess we can stay a little longer," He said quietly to Eva.
Eva nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face, still smiling.
"Just a little more."