Disclaimer: Noblesse belongs to its creators.
(As told by An Sangeen. This is placed right after he leaves M-21's fight with Cerberus.)
The Safest Place
I followed the address to the apartment, but as I am standing here, I wonder if I shouldn't call it a penthouse instead. I have never been somewhere so luxurious. Not even on our honeymoon when I booked that hotel I could never afford. I saved for months to be able to give you that. But this? It was just handed to me, a key and an address. It makes me wonder who these people are to be able to give this away as if it were commonplace. And if this is the safe house, if this is what they throw away, what must their normal lives be?
I was afraid to enter at first. I though it must be a mistake. A trick. But when I finally got the nerve to walk through the entrance, the courage to try the key in the lock, I found that this place had been prepared for me. Or, rather, for someone. I am certain I was not intended to be the host. And the feeling of intruding somewhere I don't belong makes me uneasy. I wish you were here with me, and at the same time, I am glad that you are away. I would hate to see you enjoy the things that I cannot give you. I know this is selfish of me.
Instead, I search the rooms to take my mind off you. I try not to think about you, but I still worry. I worry because I'm not there to protect you. I'm not there to hold you back. Because you're by yourself. But I know I can do nothing for you. I know you're strong, but I also know you can be weak. And that I know you better than you know yourself. I can't stop thinking of you, but I do things that ease my mind. I dig through drawers and look for some detail that would help your investigation. I know this mustn't be very important to you right now, but it's the only thing I can do.
I find very little. Each bedroom is elaborate but empty. Clothes hang in the closets and confirm my suspicion that this place is not meant for me. Still, I wear the outfits. The only clothing I have is the bloodied uniform I came in and even that has disappeared. It makes me wonder if I am not alone. If they are watching me. I feel uncomfortable, but I cannot leave. I don't know where to go. It's better if I am somewhere you cannot find me.
There is an envelope on the table with my new identity. There is one for you as well if you need to escape. I wonder if we will need to use it, or if you would be willing to use it, someday. I know that the decision is yours. I always let you have your way.
It was the same when I released your wrist and let you fight. It meant so much to you to succeed in that mission. We have known so many failures. And the anger in your eyes masked your desperation. Yes, I know even that about you. And I know there was nothing I could do to stop you. You could always convince me to do anything. But if I had known that moment would have lead to this, would I have stopped you?
I find myself thinking of you fighting that man. Of him cutting your shirt. Of him saving me. I never imagined he hid so much power. I feel so weak. And I'm jealous. Jealous of him. Jealous for you. I can't tell you this, how it bothers me, but I know you must already know it. You know me the way I know you.
I want to see you. I have read your new identity a thousand times, and I have lost myself staring at your picture for hours on end. I become transfixed. My circumstances, my surroundings fade away and there is only you. I want you here. This, too, is selfish of me. I will find a way to be with you again. Wait for me.