(POV – Protagonist)

As Victor and Emily stepped out into the hallway, just outside my room, I stayed seated on the bed. Nyara was beside me — quiet as always — wrapped in that gentle shyness that seemed to be an inseparable part of her.

For a brief moment, as the sound of their footsteps faded away, I let the silence fill the space between us. That was when I caught myself watching my sisters more closely than usual.

Suddenly, something struck me — or perhaps it simply became clearer. It was one of those subtle realizations that had always been there, yet for some reason, I had never truly stopped to consider. And now, seeing it for what it was, I felt that maybe I should care more than I had allowed myself to before.

For some reason that, even now, I can only describe as a complete mystery, my sisters had started appearing — one after another, as if something unseen was calling to them. The logic behind it?

Honestly, is there even any logic at all? At first, I tried not to think too much about it. Maybe it was just coincidence, I told myself. But the more I watched, the clearer it became that there was nothing random about it.

The presence of the Virtues in the human realm is never something simple — there’s always a price, an imbalance, an inevitable consequence. They couldn’t even remain here if it weren’t for me. And yet, they’re coming... one by one.

Seconds ago, when I suddenly asked myself that question, I simply... accepted it. Strangely, a part of me — maybe the most instinctive one — thought, without any effort, that my sisters’ appearance, one after another, was something natural, almost inevitable.

As if, on some level, I had always known it would happen. In the end, no matter how much I tried to reason it out, I couldn’t reach a conclusion — or at least not one that felt truly satisfying.

Of course, I’ve tried asking my sisters. I’ve spoken to each of them, one by one, trying to understand why they were appearing like this, as if following some invisible order.

Yet, despite the subtle differences in their answers, they all ended up saying the same thing. Althea, Nekra, Chronas, Nyara, and Eryanis — all of them claimed they were simply doing what their eldest sister... technically, me... had asked them to do a long time ago.

Then again, although my sisters used the term “long ago,” it’s impossible to know exactly how much time has truly passed. They’ve never been particularly good with numbers — to them, decades, centuries, or millennia blur together as easily as someone forgetting what they had for breakfast.

They might speak of something that happened eons ago as if it took place just last week. Well... I suppose I can’t really blame them. When you’re immortal and have lived long enough to watch your own universe take shape, the notion of time loses any real weight.

“...Sister, is something happening to you?” asked Nyara, who was sitting beside me on the edge of the bed. Her voice was soft but carried genuine concern. I was still there, motionless, lost in thoughts tangled and shapeless.

“Does it have to do with those questions you asked before?...” she pressed, leaning in a little to get a better look at me. “You still don’t remember, do you?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer Nyara’s questions — after all, I still had my own. Of course, I was happy to have my sisters with me; seeing them all together brought me a comfort that was hard to describe. To be honest, I’d missed them even before I met them.

Even before Nekra appeared, there was a constant feeling of absence within me, as if something essential had been lost somewhere I couldn’t yet know or recall.

From the moment I opened my eyes in that forest, I felt I needed to search for something — an invisible piece that would complete who I was. Back then, I didn’t understand what that restlessness meant, but now I see why I felt that way.

Without saying a word, I moved one arm toward Nyara, my gaze calm yet distant. She simply watched me, still, as if waiting to see what I would do next. My fingers brushed through her soft hair, and I began to stroke it gently — my sweet, tender little sister.

Nyara closed her eyes, surrendering to the touch, and a faint purr escaped her throat — so soft and spontaneous that it drew an unguarded laugh from me, one of those laughs that rise before you even realize it.

And yet, even as I did, I couldn’t ignore the uneasy feeling of eyes fixed on me — thin, piercing, insistent, like needles pressing into my skin. I blinked, trying to mask the discomfort, before turning toward the direction that invisible pressure came from.

Nekra, Althea, Eryanis, Chronas, and—strangely enough—even Laura were all watching me. There was something intense and possessive in their eyes, a flicker of jealousy shimmering in each expression, as if, for a brief moment, the air between us had grown too thick to breathe.

But then, I realized their stares weren’t exactly directed at me—rather, at my hands, which were resting gently on top of Nyara’s head.

So... in short, they were jealous, right? I could understand my sisters. But why did Laura look just as jealous—or maybe even more so—than they did?

Althea was the first to approach. Her body floated with an almost ethereal lightness, moving so gracefully that the air itself seemed hesitant to touch her. She stopped just a few inches from me, eyes locked, expression expectant.

Then she tilted her head slightly—a simple gesture, but clear enough for me to understand what she wanted. I blinked, confused for a second, before it finally clicked. Well... I guess I didn’t have much of a choice.

Besides, it’s not like I was trying to give Nyara special treatment or anything. I sighed, resigned, and reached my hand toward Althea’s head.

The moment I started stroking her hair—or whatever it was—she made this weird sound, somewhere between a purr and a gurgle, and then... drool started running down the corner of her mouth. I decided not to comment on it.

Of course, the next instant I had to share head pats with all my sisters, who were watching me with sharp, almost challenging eyes—as if ready to start a new world war in the name of equal affection.

Chronas, surprisingly, was the most straightforward in her reaction: the moment my hand touched her head, she leaned against me with a content sigh. A simple gesture, but an adorable one—and, I have to admit, rather welcome.

Eryanis and Nekra, on the other hand, were a bit more reserved. At first glance, they seemed reluctant to show any desire for my attention—as if they were trying to hide what they really felt.

Yet, the instant my hand touched their heads, everything changed. Their expressions softened right away; even Nekra, who usually carried that melancholic, distant air, seemed to lighten—almost serene, like a flower finally opening to the sun.

After that little marathon of affection I ended up having to distribute to everyone—including Laura, who was practically shooting daggers at me with her eyes, demanding her share—Emily and Victor finally returned. When I looked at Victor, he met my gaze. There was something different about him.

His eyes seemed lighter, no longer burdened with that tension I’d noticed ever since we came back from the “Time Flux” Before, he’d always seemed distant, lost in thoughts I couldn’t reach. Now, though, it felt like he’d finally come to terms with himself.

Victor gave me a faint, knowing smile, and I simply nodded back. Our “friendship” was never exactly simple—it was odd, in a way—but still real. We both knew that, even without saying a word.

***

(POV – Victor Hale)

As Victor watched the [Angel of Death] standing before him, he felt strangely lighter. Until now, he’d always been somewhat tense in her presence—after everything he had witnessed in the “Time Flux” how could he not be? But in that moment, something inside him seemed to quiet down.

For the first time in a long while, Victor felt as though he had finally made peace with himself. He feared the Anomaly—there was no denying that. It would be a lie to say he didn’t sometimes feel a subconscious tension whenever she was nearby.

And yet, he trusted her. He trusted that, no matter how enigmatic or terrifying she was, the [Angel of Death] would protect those she loved. And somehow, Victor realized he might even fall into that category—at least, in her eyes.

He... considered her a kind of friend—or, at the very least, someone close enough to earn that title. It was a strange friendship, distorted, existing on that thin line between the human and the anomalous. There was clearly something wrong with that connection, something that defied his sense of normalcy.

Victor couldn’t claim to share the Anomaly’s thoughts, nor that he suddenly saw her as human. Yet there was a quiet certainty within the confusion: he definitely didn’t hate her.

While those thoughts still lingered, Victor felt a gentle tug on his clothes. He blinked, distracted, and turned toward the source of the touch. In front of him were Sara’s large, bright eyes—his little sister—staring up at him with curiosity.

For a moment, he just looked at her, puzzled. Then she opened her mouth to speak, and her next words left him completely stunned.

“Brother...” Sara said, in the same neutral, expressionless tone as always. The word hung in the air for a moment. Her eyes stayed fixed on Victor—steady, serene, her expression unchanging. After a brief silence, she continued in a nearly whisper-soft voice: “I... want to share my authority with you”

Victor fell silent at her words. His eyes blinked once—just once—a brief, almost involuntary reaction, as if his mind were desperately trying to process what he’d just heard. The air around them seemed to grow heavier.

Every gaze turned toward him, and Victor could feel, with uncomfortable clarity, the attention of Emily, Laura, and each of the anomalies present focusing on him.

When he finally lifted his head, he met the impassive stare of the [Angel of Death]. Inside, he was silently begging for some kind of guidance, any sign that would tell him what to do next.

The [Angel of Death], on the other hand, upon noticing Victor’s gaze fixed on her, met his eyes for a brief moment before shaking her head frantically from side to side and raising her hands in denial — an almost desperate gesture.

Victor, confused, turned his gaze toward his little sister, Sara, who was still clinging tightly to him, as if even the slightest distance between them could separate them forever. Meanwhile, his mind was racing, trying to make sense of what the hell was happening and how, in the name of everything they knew, they had ended up in that situation.