Feliciano tripped over the weeds, skidding to a halt outside of the mansion, just as he did those countless tries ago. He shakily got to his knees, stepping behind him and wiping his eyes with the dirty backs of his wrists.
The mansion, old and creaking, before him seemed to shrink deeper into itself. He continued to run away, towards the bleak sky. The chalky-white grass, laced with brown weed, threatened to stop his every step. He grit his teeth.
That monster, whatever it had called itself, had devoured all of his friends again and again, until Feliciano could barely remember his past. As far back as he could reach in his mind were screams of agony. He recalled Kiku's disfigured form. He lay against the piano like a broken doll, blood seeping. Ludwig and Gilbert—joking around on their deathbeds.
Feliciano growled in anger and continued running, reaching an abandoned road. A sign swayed in the bitter wind. He clutched it desperately. Then that monster, after over seventy times trying in vain to rescue them all, told him to run away. Feliciano stared, growling that he never would. The stench of death rose up to his nostrils and Feliciano blinked away tears, clutching his fist tight around the book.
The monster, speaking as though within his head, said he could find all his friends alive if he left, since he obviously did win. Then, he left.
Feliciano stood, watching after him. He distrusted it all, but the very fragment of hope glowed inside him. Maybe…
He picked up the key and left downstairs. A door hung open to his right. Feliciano looked about him and entered, the key and book still in his grip. The far corner of the room, staring into the sky as though begging for forgiveness, sat the remains of Yao. The skin had sunken in, the eyes vacant, and the black hair turned to wire and falling out in handfuls, like leaves in autumn.
Feliciano cried in agony and stepped back. How long had he been up there? Had he waited too long?
Still…
Feliciano managed to leave the house, shoving the key in.
Even if he was lied to, he could run back and reverse time all over again, and try and try.
Feliciano stopped, stepping onto the dead road. A light mist began to waft in, chilling him. Only now did he notice the blood smears along his uniform and how unruly his hair had become. He shivered and stepped back. His spine ached along with his knees.
"Hey, I heard this mansion is totally haunted!" A girl called from behind him.
Feliciano turned and saw a young girl, blonde and clutching a boy who must have been her boyfriend.
"No!" Feliciano snapped, "Don't you dare go in!"
"Old man, please, it's just a joke. You aren't fooling nobody." The boy sneered.
"Old man…?" Feliciano repeated, watching them scurrying past the gates.
Feliciano held his hands in front of him. Withered. Ropy veins trailed along his skin, his bones jutting out, the nails yellowed and broken.
He dropped to his knees and wept. To a passerby, he may have looked fragile enough to turn to dust with a single touch.