Time stood still, or perhaps it moved on, indifferent, as Tingle hung suspended in the still air.

Below him, a yawning grave beckoned, having swallowed Cremia and starving yet for more. He'd heard the booming crunch of the impact, the scream of terror cut short; it was a horrific thing that Tingle had never heard before, but that was not the worst of it. No, it was what came after that sang a far more harrowing tune. Following this gruesome finality was a ringing silence, a hollow nothingness that signified the end of one life, and the continuity of a world that had already forgotten it.

Above, salvation sat, silent, unfeeling; it was a faint light that had carried no warmth, not reaching out to him, but also not withdrawing. The choice was his, and his alone, as he was the only one who could care.

But he didn't.

He didn't move, he didn't speak, he didn't cry. He couldn't. There was no energy, no emotion, not even the desire. It was just... Nothing.

Had it not been for involuntary instinct, Tingle would not have been levitating on what remained of his helium supply. But in that moment, dangling in a vivid limbo, he wondered if any route of survival was worth the effort. He could not decide if he wanted to go back to the surface, just so he could return to his sad little life and suffer the same miserable cycle.

"Wretched Great Fairy... You've doomed us both with your cruel joke..."

He was happy once: in his lane, doing his own thing while working towards a future. Life was tough, but it was simple, and, for all his distaste for certain aspects of it, he was content. But then came the Fairy, offering him the poison that was hope: hope of something better, hope of a dream realized. And he took the bait, like the stupid human he was.

"What have you gone and done this time?"

A voice called out to him, one that he remembered from the very beginning of his pointless journey. It was the Fairy, looking down on him with her undeserved superiority.

"Come to mock me, fairy? Have I amused you with my suffering?" He asked, his voice completely lifeless.

"Don't be ridiculous." She scoffed "You are the one who cannot leave your home without getting yourself in trouble—I had nothing to do with this."

"And yet, you watched." Tingle spat "You stood by, while I struggled, and others suffered, and all for what?"

The Great Fairy didn't respond right away, as if considering her next words carefully.

"Tingle... I can only help you so much." She sighed. "Were you expecting me to teach you the very basics of public conduct? Did you truly believe that no one would take issue with a man approaching random women, proposing a sexual relationship? If I am at fault for failing to educate you on that subject, then so be it, but it is no less your responsibility to not be a complete fool."

Tingle wanted to protest, but no sound came out. In spite of her callousness, the Fairy was right, and he was too mentally drained to argue. There was one one thing that did not yet make sense:

"Why have you sent me on this goose chase?" He asked. "Were your promises of delivering me to the fairy realm a lie?"

"Yes, unfortunately." The Great Fairy said, "I redirected your efforts specifically to keep you away from my kind. You have been a nuisance to both man and fae alike, and it was a matter I had to resolve."

And finally, it all came together: the Great Fairy had lied to him from the start, his endeavors to find a wife not only had negative impact on his life and those around him, but were utterly pointless. He didn't even want to be married prior to being tasked with this nonsensical mission anyway. And the more he considered this, the more he felt like an utter imbecile, a feeling which was oddly liberating.

"Ha... Ha ha..."

All his struggles, his hopes and dreams, were nothing but a fantasy, a falsehood made up by a cruel prankster... that prankster being none other than himself. A man, well into his 30s, still believing the foolish tales told to him as a child, and acting on them like a delusional simpleton. He was both the joke and the punchline, the only shame being that he couldn't figure out whether he was the first or last to get it.

"Ha... Ha ha ha ha..."

His laughter was not joyous, but the opposite: a bitter, spiteful, resentful noise that echoed through the canyon. It was the laugh of a broken soul, one whose mind was shattered, and its pieces scattered far and wide. And yet, it the most genuine expression he'd had in a long, long time.

"Ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA! You know, some say that humor is derived from pain." He declared.

The Great Fairy raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond.

"Or perhaps it is contradiction, the absurd juxtaposition between reality and the images we create." Tingle continued. "For the longest time, I believed I was a fairy trapped in a human body—look at me now, how that notion has materialized!"

He was no longer scared, no longer angry; he simply was.

"I should thank you, Great Fairy, for teaching me a valuable lesson. Even if it was not your intention, your ruse has proven fruitful nonetheless. I am no more a fairy than you are a human; it is a truth I've long known, but failed to see."

The Fairy remained silent, not having anything left to say. Tingle, likewise, had no more words for her, and he felt no need to linger any further. He adjusted his air bag and prepared to ascend.

"Where will you go?" The Great Fairy asked.

"Home. I will return to Clock Town, and face whatever awaits me there." Tingle replied. "Whether it be more anger and insults, or, dare I say, forgiveness, it will be a welcome change from what I've endured thus far."

"But the people, they will surely attack you. Is this really what you want?"

Tingle closed his eyes and exhaled.

"I tire of running from what I've created. I will face my accusers... Like a man. Farewell, Great Fairy."

He rose up, slowly ascending towards the surface. He did not look back, and he didn't have to; he knew what was coming, and, for the first time in a long while, he was ready for it.

"...Farewell indeed, Tingle."

When Tingle emerged from the tower, the sun had already set, and the stars pierced the veil of night. The angry mob appeared to have dispersed, and the only sounds were those of the nocturnal animals, going about their simpler lives. It was a tranquil scene, but with the knowledge of what awaited him, Tingle felt anything but peaceful; society was looming ever closer, and with it, the familiar pressure in the air.

In spite of everything he learned, Tingle still could not put his finger on what it was that made human social structures so suffocating. He knew why he hated it: it was the expectations, the rules, the constant fear of making a mistake and incurring the ire of one's superiors; but as to the source, he could not tell. Perhaps something went wrong along the way, and nobody knew how to fix it; or maybe, such was the price humanity paid for progress, a burden to be shouldered if they wanted running water and a reliable supply chain.

But one missing puzzle piece relied on another: were the people happy with this arrangement, or was it only accepted as something that was out of their control? He couldn't tell, not in the slightest, and he'd probably never know. Mutoh, Cremia, the Curiosity Shop guy; all these people seemed perfectly willing to discard their civilized ways and turn to savagery at a moment's notice. But was this done in the name of conformity, defending their fragile system from the threat of a deviant; or was it rebellion, taking out their frustrations on an easy target?

Either option was preferable to the third, the most terrifying possibility: that, perhaps, the oppressive rigidity of the status quo was necessary. That the rage and violence he witnessed was not a reaction, but something that always existed, bubbling just beneath the surface: a madness that could only be suppressed by means of laws and restrictions. If this were true, and Tingle prayed with all his might that it wasn't, then he'd have to live with the knowledge that he was indeed the greatest fool of them all, believing in a love and peace that could only be enforced by the edge of a sword.

It was a grim reality no matter how he tried to look at: that the people he'd known and loved all his life were always a few bad days away from killing each other. The system was not only cruel, but fragile, and the slightest misstep could set it all ablaze. And now, Tingle had ruined it for them by introducing his own form of delusion.

"I want to make them happy again, even if it's not real... I don't care what the truth is."

He saw torchlights, and the figures of several people approaching. It was Mutoh and the remnants of his posse, and they were coming back. Tingle took a deep breath and landed, allowing the inevitable confrontation to occur. He was tired of running, tired of hiding, and, most of all, tired of being afraid.

"There he is!"

"Catch him! Don't let him escape this time!"

They surrounded him and formed a tight circle, cutting off any potential means of escape. The Curiosity Shop guy looked a little worse for wear, and a Goron had a noticeable black eye. But despite their injuries, their faces were the picture of malice, and they were not about to let their quarry slip from their grasp.

"So, here we are again, eh?" Mutoh sneered.

Tingle did not respond.

"You think you can just waltz back into town after everything you've done?" The construction foreman continued.

"No." Tingle said quietly.

Mutoh blinked, a little surprised by the answer.

"No? Then what's your deal, huh?" He growled, "Got any more tricks you wanna try?"

"No, no ideas." Tingle replied, "I'm turning myself in."

Mutoh stared at him in silence, dumbfounded by his statement. He then glanced at his compatriots, and, seeing the same confusion on their faces, returned his gaze to Tingle.

"Well then, that's... A shame. I was hoping you'd be more of challenge this time around."

He motioned with his hand, and his companions advanced, restraining the fairy-obsessed man.

"For murder!" Tingle shouted.

Mutoh paused, not quite sure he heard what he thought he did.

"What was that?" He asked.

"Murder." Tingle repeated.

"What?! Who did you kill?" Mutoh snapped.

"Cremia."

Mutoh froze, as did the rest of the mob. They stared at him, trying to make sense of the bizarre claim.

"You're lying." Mutoh said flatly.

"I wish I was." Tingle responded, his voice hollow. "But it's true. Cremia is dead."

The tension hung thick in the air as the men took the revelation in. For a moment, Mutoh was unsure of playing the judge and executioner, but the rage quickly rekindled and burned through any sense of hesitance.

"Oh you're dead now, boy." He growled, balling his fists.

Tingle looked down at the ground, resigned to his fate. He didn't resist as they led him away; he knew it would be futile, and, more importantly, he did not want to. He would have clarified that what had happened was an accident, but he didn't see the point; the fact remained that he was the one who caused all this, and he was ready to pay the price.

So began Tingle's final day on the face of the earth. The Sun rose from behind the gallows, creating an eerie silhouette that foreshadowed what was to come. It was complemented well by the bars on his window, adding the important message that there was no turning back from his decision. He was no longer a weirdo that couldn't get a date, nor a freak to be ignored; no, he was a murderer, and he was going to die like one.

He didn't sleep that night, as doing so would have wasted his remaining time, and he didn't want to do that. He had spent enough of his life in a dream world, and now, he just wanted to spend his last waking moments contemplating a reality he'd long blocked out. Because even with his newfound perspective, he still hated this world and all it stood for.

It would be a joyous occasion, if not for the tragedies surrounding it, to finally be on his way out of a place he never belonged. There would be no more politics, no greed or war; he would never again have to hear the hateful speech that was whispered against neighbors. The fake smiles and empty words were over, and he would no longer watch the thieves and liars swindle the innocent. No, soon, he would be free... only in a way he did not initially have in mind.

He would be free from the world, a world that would no doubt forget him; just as he would forget it. A world in which only the chosen winners could live their dreams, while the others were doomed to work and rot. A world for the wicked and the cunning, who were free to prey upon the weak and naive. A world where every word and deed was carefully calculated, with no room for error, so as to suit the ever changing whims of their betters.

He was happy for that Link kid, who managed to get back to his own realm without having to experience any of this. But alas, Tingle could not because Termina, sadly, was indeed his home, and it had to be his until the end.

(I wonder how he's doing... Did he find his friend?)

A loud knocking shook him out of his thoughts.

"Last meal, bud."

A plate of cold, soggy oats was slid under the door, and Tingle picked it up, staring at it listlessly.

"Thank you."

The jailer's footsteps faded away, leaving him alone with the food. Tingle didn't find the smell appetizing, nor the sight pleasing; it was a sad excuse for a last meal, and the thought that they didn't even bother to make him a good breakfast just reinforced his opinion of how things were: it was thrown together because that was the rule, not because anybody cared. He was just an animal to be slaughtered, just a thing to be dealt with, and the sooner they got it over with, the sooner everyone could move on.

Nevertheless, he took a bite, forcing himself to finish it; after all, a lingering aftertaste of watery slop just seemed go well with the rest of the picture.

It was almost like something a nagging wife would have thrown at him...

Fog permeated the streets, making the walk to the gallows seem endless. Tingle felt like a ghost, already floating aimlessly through the domain of the living where he had no business. His feet felt cold and numb, and the chatter of the crowd merged into a dull, indecipherable hum. He could feel their eyes, their hatred, their disgust, boring into his being as if daring him to speak.

As they drew closer, he could see the wooden frame looming out of the mist. It was a simple design, with a single rope hanging from the crossbeam. A noose was tied, and Captain Viscen was standing on the platform, looking down at him. The formalities were read, the accusations repeated, and Tingle simply wanted to get it over with.

Alas, he was forced to wait while the law went about its stupid rituals; while this went on, he finally found the courage to gaze upon the angry faces of the crowd.

Mutoh and his workers were front and center, smug and self-satisfied. The Bombers had come as well, looking on with the morbid curiosity of youth. Anju, Kafei, and their respective families had also shown up, stone-faced and unmoving. Tingle's eyes scanned the crowd, and found the person he was looking for.

Romani.

Hers was the most difficult face to see: the eyes, once filled with hope and promise, were now dark and empty, their spark completely extinguished. She did not move, she did not blink, she just stared, emotionless, into the distance, and it broke Tingle's heart to see her like this. It reminded him that no matter how satisfying his own death would be to the rest-even if things returned to some degree of normalcy, a young life had been irreparably ruined.

"And with this, Tingle of Southern Swamp, you are hereby sentenced to hang by the neck until you are dead. Do you have any final words?"

The Captain's voice cut through his thoughts. Tingle looked up and shook his head.

"No."

"Very well." Viscen motioned, and the noose was fitted over his neck.

From there, Tingle closed his eyes and blocked out the outside world. With mere seconds to live, his final thoughts were of the next world and what it may bring. Was there a paradise beyond this one, and would he deserve entry into such a place?

It was pointless, but he chose to envision a better world, one where adventure and romance were everywhere: heroes with magic swords, supervillains bent on world domination, princesses trapped in castles. It was a ridiculous vision, and a part of him hated how childish it was, but perhaps in another time, another life, he would have loved a world like that.

At least more so than he would the entanglements and obligations of marriage.

The floor dropped out from under him, and Tingle fell with one final thought.

(Hyrule... that's what Link called it...)