He fell on his rear. His mouth agape, eyes locked onto it and his breath laboured. The resounding thud of the fallen body as crimson red blood oozes out of it. It was a tragic sight, a tragic death for a tragic life.

That face that lacked soul morphed, turning lifeless by the moments. Her voice, sullenly describing the cold embrace of death, whispers into silence.

Her pale, delicate fingers lay on her gut, holding the wound, pressing onto it, screaming desperation in the silence that ensues. Her brown vest turned red, leaking on the tiles beneath her.

Yomikawa Hirano was no stranger to death. He has caused dozens, perhaps a whole lot more than that. In the span of 2 years, killing has become his daily activity.

It was a necessity. Those deaths were either his and Aiho's, or theirs. He chose the latter. Even if they were younger than he, when they cower before him, even when they begged to be spared. He had to.

But this... what was so different about this one? What was so different about this one that distinguished it from those other people that he had willingly disposed of?

How come just this single death, managed to bring out such a reaction from him? The deepest part of his mind is in scramble.

This girl, who resembles that girl so much. He was ready to kill her. They were clones, a mere doll whose whole purpose in this world was to simply achieve a goal set on stone for them.

But to paint the image of a person who views him as an older brother. A person whom he sees as a person who he cares for. Even as a mere image...

That's just cruel.

And then a knock. "It appears that you were quite shaken by this." The voice from above. Kihara Gensei. "Don't worry. As I said before, they're dolls. They don't live."

You can tell him that as many times as you want, he'll believe you just as many times. But to take out his feelings out of the equations is simply an impossibility. If only there was a machine somewhere, capable of erasing memories.

"Get up." The voice adds. "There was supposed to be more of this; 15 more, actually." Hirano's eyes widened at that.

That's right. He's supposed to be killing all 20,000 clones. And just a single scenario a day would take decades for this to complete. Meaning he'll have to do multiple.

He had to kill 16 clones everyday, until all 20,000 were either dead, or he became a Level 6. That'll take 2 years.

His sanity will be gone by then.

He can't do that. No way in the world. Not even Aiho could force him into it. He wouldn't dare. He doesn't want those faces burning into his mind, nor did he want their blood forever tainting his hands.

He doesn't want it. Not for himself.

So he opened his mouth. "Stall it for today. Double it tomorrow." The very words left a sour taste in his mouth, like acid melting his tongue.

"Not possible. The Tree Diagram has done its calculations. Every possible variable has been factored in. All of it must be perfect, lest we're gonna have to redo the whole calculations. We don't have the time to do that." The old man explains.

"Something is going to happen." He looked up at the window pane. He kept his expression calm. "Today."

There was a pause at that. "And exactly what would that be?"

Something about Hirano changed that day.

It was as if a part of him had died, shattering into a million pieces and scattering to the wind. He still moved through his days, but there was a hollowness to his steps, an emptiness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Everybody noticed.

The change was subtle at first, almost imperceptible. But as time went on, it became more and more pronounced. People who had known him for years couldn't quite put their finger on what was wrong, but they could sense that something wasn't right.

He was known for being quiet, he was also known for his ability to remain calm and level-headed, even when everyone was actively trying to provoke him. But now, he seemed to be constantly lost in thought, his mind elsewhere. There was a restlessness to him, a constant energy that seemed to be barely contained.

He still interacted with people, but it was as if he was going through the motions. And when they asked him about it, he wasn't just giving them vague answers anymore, not even trying to dismiss them. He was outright hostile.

The change was particularly noticeable when it came to Yoshikawa. She had always been close to him, but now, he seemed to push her away. He would ignore her attempts to engage him in conversation, even when she demanded for his answers, an uncharacteristic thing for her to do.

The more days passed, the more noticeable it became. And as the distance between them grew.

Most notably, the change in dynamic in his group of friends. His presence became an ominous cloud, casting a shadow over every gathering. They tried to include him, tried to make him laugh, but it was as if he was a ghost, haunting the memories of the person they used to know.

Kuroko partially blamed herself for this change. After all, she was the last person whom he had interacted with before this sudden transformation. She recalled how she screamed at him, pouring all her feelings whilst also blaming him for the effects he had on her. She was the first to acknowledge that her actions weren't exactly justified, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she had somehow pushed him over the edge.

Her guilt and inability to understand what was happening to him gnawed at her, eating away at her from the inside. She tried to approach him on multiple occasions, to apologise and to make amends, but he always pushed her away. It was as if he didn't want to be reminded of the person he once was.

His demeanour changed even more drastically around Misaka. He would avoid her gaze, flinch when hearing her voice, to the point of even physically reacting to her presence. It was clear that something had deeply affected him, and she was at the centre of it all.

It was a jarring revelation for the Ace of Tokiwadai. What could she have possibly done to invoke such a reaction just from the mere sight of her? It was as if he was looking at her with a mixture of fear and loathing, as if she had become the embodiment of all his pain and suffering.

Frenda was the first to point this out. And it caused a lot of commotion in the group. The two girls were practically at each other's throat, arguing about what was happening to Hirano. Kuroko couldn't help but feel like she was losing her grip on reality. All these unsettling changes were happening right before her eyes, and she was powerless to do anything about it.

Uiharu, being the gentle, empathetic soul that she was, tried to intervene. She could see the turmoil in all their eyes, the fear and confusion that lingered in the air. She knew that something was deeply wrong, and she was determined to find out what it was.

She was the mediator between the two, yet the conflict between them worsened. Frenda became more aggressive, her words sharp and cutting. Misaka, in trying to defend her innocence, only served to further inflame the situation. The tension in the room was palpable, a thick fog of unease that seemed to hang over everyone. Kuroko could feel her heart racing, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. Not with their close-knit group.

Ruiko Saten, the newest addition to the group, but also the most sociable and lively girl amongst everyone, couldn't do anything but watch as the cracks form and the rift widens.

Unable to watch any further, she was the first to break. She screamed at the top of her lungs. "Enough! Just stop it, all of you!" Her voice was shrill, and it echoed through the room. The others turned to look at her, their faces a mixture of surprise and relief.

But it's as though her words fell on deaf ears. The arguments continued, each one louder than the last. Frenda's voice, sharp and accusatory, cut through the air like a knife. Misaka tried to defend herself, her voice shaking with emotion and brimming with desperation. Uiharu's pleas for calm were drowned out by the cacophony of raised voices. Even Kuroko seemed to be lost in the chaos, her eyes darting back and forth between the two girls, her expression betraying her conflicted emotions. It was as if they were all trapped in this endless cycle of anger and hurt, unable to find a way out.

Ruiko felt a sense of despair wash over her. She felt her throat tighten,a choking sound escaping her lips as she knelt down, face buried deep into her knees. How had things gone so wrong? Why were they all so angry with each other?

"You're not... eating?"

His eyes moved from the box in his hands, up to the person before him. Aiho's head was tilted. He shook his head weakly, snapping back at the present.

Aiho sighed, a resigned expression on her face. She shifts a little on her bed, but regardless didn't question it. What ensued next was a tense silence, her beeping life support machine beeping next to her bed being the only sound filling the room. It was the same silence that filled their interactions today. One was

He sat there, staring blankly at the untouched food on his hands, his thoughts a million miles away, and in the past. The other was merely tired, wanting to sleep. It was a sad state of affairs for them both.

After several moments of silence, Aiho cleared her throat. "Hirano..." she started, her voice soft and hesitant. "I'm sorry... about what happened. About me not being there for you..." Her voice was weak, much like her fragile state.

Again, he shook his head. "It's not that." Aiho let out a small sigh, shifting slightly in her bed once more.

"Then what is it? What happened?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "You've changed... and I want to know why."

He looked at her, his eyes void of any emotion. His lips pressed thin, as if forcing the words out. "I'm just... tired. Of everything."

There were so many things he wanted to say, so many emotions churning inside him. But he couldn't find the words. Instead, he focused on the box in his hands, running his fingers over the worn-out plastic.

As much as he tried to avoid her gaze, he couldn't help but feel her eyes on him. He could sense the concern in her words, the desperation to understand what was happening to him. It was a familiar feeling, one that he had grown to resent.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a way to escape from this uncomfortable situation. But there was nowhere to go. Instead, he found himself staring blankly at the box in his hands, unable to bring himself to look at her. The silence stretched on, feeling like an eternity before he finally spoke.

"Do you... remember when we first met?" His voice was barely audible, but it caught Aiho off guard. She turned her head slightly, her eyes searching his face for any signs of emotion.

She nods. A faint smile formed around their lips. "That place. It's gone now." He spoke rather distantly.

Aiho shivers slightly at the memory of it all. Just the thought of it has her heart lurching in her chest. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I'm sorry. I'll... make it up to you." She said in between her breaths. She's having a hard time breathing again.

Her words were hopeful, but they fell on deaf ears. Hirano merely shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the box in his hands. "It doesn't matter," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "Besides. Will you be fine?"

She sighed, shrugging. "I'll live."

He nods. For a second, they were quietly savouring their meal, but the boy couldn't keep his gaze on the box forever. So his eyes jumbled between several objects in the room.

And for a moment there he saw the wires hanging loosely on the back of her ear, connected to a black box wrapped around her neck.

The doctor, Heaven Chancellor if he recalled correctly, once asked if he could find someone to be Aiho's control centre. As in, a host for her brain activity.

Hirano offered to be one before pulling his offer. And even had he been connected, according to the doctor himself, Aiho's brain would melt from overexertion due to too much exposure to his inhumane level of information intake. His Vector Control would kill her.

He shuddered at the thought.

But then there's this other thing.

The doctor also claimed that a computer couldn't be a complete replacement, and that an actual brain is needed for her to work as nicely as she is now.

So then who is this person that is connected to her right now? He doesn't know. But he will find out later on. He couldn't believe it took him this long to realise this.

Just as he was indulging more into the thought, the door opened. He turned around and saw Yoshikawa. She appears to be out of breath, panting heavily as she tries to catch her breath.

She looked worried. Though, saying that she was worried would only undermine her feelings. She was terrified. She had a look of dread in her eyes, and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. But she at least calmed down when she saw him.

"Yomikawa Hirano..." That's not good. Whenever the older woman uses his full name, it means that she's worried about something serious. She brought forth her phone, pointing to a single message. One that he had sent just about half an hour ago.

The woman was genuinely scared. Very much so that she didn't even drive her car, opting to just run out of sheer panic. "Are you fucking stupid?!" She screamed, her voice shaking with anger and fear. He flinched at her outburst. Aiho was on his back, absolutely shocked at her swearing. He, however, was quiet.

"Selfish little shit!" The room fell silent once again, the tension palpable. "If you want to die, then kill me first you ungrateful brat!" She shouted, her voice echoing through the room. Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of anger and fear. He remained quiet, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he contemplated saying something, but in the end, he simply shook his head.

"I'm not going to,"

"Then why do you send me that... horror of a message?" She screamed, her voice breaking with emotion.

Hirano remained quiet, looking down at the box in his hands. He didn't respond to her question, instead choosing to focus on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"Well?" Yoshikawa snapped, her voice cold and demanding. "Are you going to answer me or not?"

"Yoshikawa." Aiho warned, her voice barely a whisper. But it was enough to make the older woman pause and turn towards her.

"What?" She snapped, her anger still evident in her eyes.

"I think you should calm down," Aiho said softly, her voice shaking slightly, her gasp for air becoming a bit more palpable. "Let him answer."

The woman's eyes twitched, but did as asked. She closed the door behind her, crossing her arm. He kept his gaze at the ground, fiddling with the box in his hands. "Kikyou," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

That surprised Yoshikawa. Hirano had said of her given name. One that he had never used before. Her expression softens at how gentle he had become when he spoke. She swallowed, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Do you trust me?" He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in a while. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, one that she had never seen before. It was as if he was asking for her help, but was too scared to voice it.

Yoshikawa sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Yes," she said softly. "I do trust you."

His stiff shoulder finally relaxed under her touch. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

And then the door opened once more. She turned around, and was met with people in black attires.

Nunotaba Shinobu was never really a good person. That's what she liked to think of herself. The only reason she felt empathy for certain things was because she was an expert in human behaviours and biopsychology, which her training had taught her to understand and predict the actions of others.

But sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if her emotions were genuine or if they were just a byproduct of her studies. But the stark differences between Dolly and her sisters; they were terrifying.

She had seen it all before. The same emptiness, the same lack of understanding, the same coldness in the eyes. It was a common sight in the world where power often came at the cost of humanity. The same humanity that she swore to protect.

But she couldn't change things. Not by herself. She could only observe and guide, nudging the world in the right direction when the opportunity presented itself. And that was what she had done with Hirano. The shadow of their past loomed large over them, casting a pall of darkness even as the light of hope flickers intermittently. Their lives were a delicate balance between the two, like the intricate dance of a pair of partners who had spent countless hours perfecting their steps.

And the consequence of any misstep could be disastrous. But they continued to dance, Hirano with the weight of the world on his shoulders and Shinobu, ever-present but invisible, guiding him through the shadows. It was a dance that neither of them could abandon, for it was the only thing that kept them connected to their humanity.

But when she heard of the news, things changed. He was suddenly determined, even more so than he was back then. But there was something about him that was different.

He looked fragile, as if already standing on the brink of breaking. And yet, there was an unyielding strength to him as well, a resilience that refused to be crushed under the weight of all that he had been through. It was a contradiction that she couldn't quite understand.

The way he spoke was soft, almost hollow. The words were empty, as if they had been spoken by someone else. But there was a determination there as well, a resolve that burned bright despite the darkness that surrounded him. It was as if he was walking towards his fate, willingly embracing the chaos that had defined his life.

The thing that changed the most was his eyes. In her world, the eyes were the window to one's soul. It represents the depth of their emotions, the clarity of their thoughts.

And in his eyes, she could see the glimmer of hope, the flicker of sanity, and the burning passion that drove him forward. But what frightened her most was the emptiness that lingered just beneath the surface, as if he was moving through a world devoid of colour and life.

She knew. He's done it. The project has started. And just this one single experiment has already taken a toll on him. It was her fault. She didn't know why, but she felt that she was responsible for it all.

Everything they've worked for, all those months, sleepless nights spent meticulously planning, crafting and executing their strategy, had led to this moment. It wasn't too late per se, but the things that needed to be done, the sacrifices that needed to be made... They were all so much more than she had ever bargained for.

She knew the risk. But is she willing to pay that price? She wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to. As much as she was like this, she still wanted to live. She valued her life just as much as she wanted the clones to live.

This left her in a crossroad between two decisions that hung in the air like a gallow. In the distance, the white room seemed to glow brighter, as if in anticipation of what was to come. Shinobu took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

She knew enough of what'll happen next; only one choice here would change the outcome, one that would truly take effect for the better. She wasn't like Hirano anyways, and there's no way she'll let him do it.

Not only has he got the power, he has more reasons to stick around. He has his family, his friends. She on the other hand? She doesn't have much. Parents, maybe. Friends? The only person that will probably miss her is Dolly. But it won't be long before she meets with the girl again in the afterlife, if there is one anyway.

So she prayed to whatever God there is out there. Vishnu, Yahweh, Allah, Jesus, Buddha or whatever their name was. The demon before her, Kihara Gensei and his cronies. Hope that the flames will consume them.

The old man's eyes are in a state of deep, heated glare. Reflected in them was her face. Not much was shown in them.

"You know how this ends." The man spoke.

She was aware of that. The damage she is about to inflict isn't even anywhere near enough to come close to cripple the entire project. They have near limitless fundings and the backing of the Board of Directors themselves.

The schematics for her invention were public knowledge and the machines were already mass produced, numbering in the hundreds, spread across the city. There's no way anyone could destroy them all in time. Not even Hirano.

The destruction of this one particular facility wouldn't do much except delay the project again yet for another month or so. It was useless. What she was doing was useless. She's going to die for nothing.

Injecting the Misaka Network with Dolly's memory would do nothing but make things harder than it has to be. Because they'll now be aware of their own feelings, the value of their lives. If they fight back, they'll just have to erase it from the control tower.

These people, the Kiharas, they've done some things to kids much younger. Hirano was an exemplary subject of it. He has been here since he was a mere toddler. What is a mere clone when a human in its purest form isn't even alive in their eyes?

What she's doing right now is throw her life away. So chuckled at that, a dry noise that simply just escaped through her lips.

It was almost amusing. All this fighting, all this bloodshed and sacrifices, just for what? To give someone the chance to live a normal life? To have a family and friends and to experience the happiness that they so desperately sought after?

But such things were only for the lucky ones.

And Yomikawa Hirano was certainly a very lucky boy. For his part was only possible with his power. Basically forcing this into their hands.

Her thumb pressed repeatedly against the trigger as the old man continued to watch her. His eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion save for the faintest hint of amusement. She knew that he was enjoying this.

The nearby blast was what she last heard before her world turned black, a numbing pain throbbing at the back of her neck.

Kihara Amata was a very busy man. Responsible for some of the city's darkest and most violent aspects, his time was always consumed. Even his leisure time was spent in the service of progress, of whatever that meant in the twisted mind of his.

He was rarely ever surprised. Having experienced everything that life had to offer, and beyond, he knew what lay behind every shadow, every slight movement in the corner of his eye. But here he was, sitting in his private office, his jaw slightly agape, unable to believe what he was seeing.

The destruction of the Tree Diagram was sudden. It was visible even in the night sky, falling down from the atmosphere in the form of a small meteor shower. For those who know of its power, the Tree Diagram held immense significance.

It represented the pinnacle of scientific understanding, a breakthrough in modern technology that promised to revolutionise the world. But now, it was gone, obliterated in an instant. The shockwave from its destruction rippled through Kihara Amata's mind, leaving him reeling in disbelief.

And if there's one thing in this world that he hated more than being surprised, it was being below someone else. And this fiasco implied that someone had outsmarted him, had bested him in a game he thought he had control over. The mere thought of it made his skin crawl.

"Fetch me that woman."

"On it." Kihara Amata's voice was cold and hard.

When he arrived at that hospital, he kicked the door open, enough to rupture it off its hinges. The sound of metal and wood shattering filled the room, the echoes dancing around with malice. He stepped inside, following behind at least a dozen men, his eyes immediately drawn to the single figure standing just beside on an empty bed.

He grunt, scowling in disapproval at the sight. "You..." He hissed, the words cutting through the air like sharp blades. "What the fuck did you think you're doing?"

The person in question didn't flinch, nor did his expression change. His hair was a tangle of silvery strands, falling across his face in disarray. The boy shrugged.

Amata's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to try and deny it, are you?" He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. "Don't bother. That woman is dead either way."

The boy remained silent, his gaze unyielding. The room seemed to grow colder as Kihara Amata stalked closer to the boy, his men forming a silent, menacing semi-circle around them. The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring, the only sounds being the harsh breath of their boss.

"I was here." "I was here." The boy's voice was soft, almost whispering. It was eerily calm, despite the tension in the room. Something in that tone made the Kihara confused.

"Huh?"

"This bed," The boy pointed at the empty bed beside him. "I was here. 3 years ago when she first got me out." Kihara Amata's eyes narrowed to thin slits as he studied the boy. Was he playing some kind of game with him? Was he trying to manipulate the situation?

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Again, he shrugged. He speaks softly, almost too quietly for Kihara Amata to hear. "You won't find her. None of you will."

The room grew unbearably cold as Amata's anger boiled over. His hand shot out to grab the boy by the throat. But what's surprising however was just at the last second, the man pulled back at such a ferocious strength, that his very own shoulder audibly popped.

Suddenly it was quiet. Everyone froze. Even more so both the boy and the man. Kihara Amata hadn't expected that to happen. Was the boy expecting that? No, he couldn't be. The shock and confusion written all over his face was a clear indicator that that wasn't supposed to happen.

No words were spoken. But the sudden twitch on the boy's lips and the realisation in his eyes. He knows. "You pulled your punches to use my power against me." He could feel his hand flinch. His secret was uncovered. They're fucked.

The boy took much of his personality during their time together. If that statement stays true, then Kihara Amata and his cronies are to be left mangled in a hospital room.

"You're not in power here." He manages to utter through gritted teeth.

"Am i?" The chill in the room intensified as the boy's words sliced through the air. The shadows seemed to dance, a macabre ballet of darkness and fear. Kihara Amata's face twisted in anger. He's being toyed with. His pride was wounded.

Out of impulse, his hand flashed out once more, this time connecting solidly with the boy's jaw. The boy's head snapped to the side, a pained grunt escaping his lips. But as the man stood there, triumphant, he felt a chill run down his spine.

Again. Confusion. The older man blinked, his grip on reality shifting and twisting like water. He felt weird, watching the boy squirming on the floor, and... weak. It shouldn't be this easy. He should be unable to move, or at least... struggling more.

This is a ruse, a mere distraction, so that he could... could...

Could what? What does he get from doing nothing? Was he doing nothing?

The silence had stretched long and taut, the only sounds the sharp breath of the men in the room and the slow, shallow breaths of the boy on the floor. Wanting to make sure, the man tried again. This time, with a kick straight to the boy's gut. He watched it connect, seeing the breath get knocked out of the boy. But still, he felt unnerved. It was like hitting a punching bag. There was no resistance, no... nothing.

What is he doing? He doesn't know. But why does it matter now? Why would it matter if this boy had been playing possum this entire time? He should have just killed him when he had the chance. Now it was that time.

A twisted thought flashed through his head. Suddenly, Kihara Amata knelt down, the cold palm of his hands wrapped around the boy's throat. Amata's grip tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of the boy's throat. The tugging on Kihara's lips, a ghost of a grin, as the boy's face began to turn red. The boy's hands reached up, scratching at the iron-like grip around his throat, but it was futile.

If he wants, he could so very easily escape with his power. It was very easy for him. But it was clear that he has no plan on doing that again.

It was amusing. The most destructive power in the city, and he was being strangled by his bare hands.

A cold, predatory smile spread across Amata's face as he savoured the feel of the boy's life ebbing away. "I'm so gonna enjoy this, you stupid sack of fucking shit."

The night was still young, with many more hours of torture to come. And Kihara Amata was nothing if not patient. So, he pressed on, twisting and squeezing, revelling in the pain and fear that surged through the boy's body.

It was a night full of pain. Pure agony was the only word to describe it. And when morning came, the room threw the first rays of light onto a scene that seemed more horrific than any nightmare, as if to mock any lingering sense of hope.

The boy's body lay limp on the floor, his features twisted in a silent scream that only the shadows seemed to hear. Blood pooled around him, staining the pristine tiles a sickly shade of crimson. Kihara Amata stood over him, his chest heaving with each laboured breath.

The light of dawn cast a cruel, unforgiving glow on the room as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Kihara Amata surveyed his handiwork with a mix of satisfaction and disbelief. The silence hung heavy in the air as Kihara Amata stood over the broken body of the boy.

His heart raced, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Questions swirled through his mind; what had the boy been planning? Why hadn't he simply used his power?

The whole project was stopped. The injuries he had sustained threw a wrench at the already broken down machines. The destruction of the Tree Diagram had been the final nail in the coffin.

The Board of Directors no longer trusted Both Kihara Amata and Kihara Gensei, with the absolute destruction and failure at the very first day of the largest project in the history of Academy City, the two's reputation had gone down the drain.

Especially with the former, having been retired from his position as a Lead Researcher into a field supervisor for a new paramilitary group taken from his own facility. Hound Dog.

Gensei however, hasn't been seen in a while.

Aleister Crowley wasn't entirely pleased. The deviation from his main plan had been severe. This series of chain events wasn't supposed to happen. None of it. The cracks in his master plan grew wider the less he intervened.

But he saw potential in them in the long-run. But as of the current moment, the boy who had been the catalyst for all these events, is currently the primary focus of his interest. Especially his little friend. He will keep an eye on the other two, but for now, his attention is elsewhere.

A spiky haired boy, whose power is the complete opposite of the white haired boy.

The man smiled. "What do you think, Aiwass?"

Quite boring, isn't it? I'm sorry about that.

Anyways, new chapter next week!