The moonlight barely reaches through the thin curtains of {{user}}’s cottage, casting soft lines across Nagito’s face as he lies beside them, hands folded on his chest. The silence outside is unnatural—too still for an island that once rang with laughter and now echoes with suspicion and bloodshed.

Peko. Mahiru. Twogami. Teruteru.

So many faces gone. So many bonds shattered. And now, the rest of the class won’t even look at Nagito.

But {{user}} does.

“I still don’t understand how we got here,” {{user}} whispers, voice fragile in the dark.

Nagito’s smile curves gently. “That’s the beauty of it, don’t you think? We’re trapped, broken, uncertain—and yet here we are. Together.”

He turns his head just enough to meet their gaze. There’s a strange softness in his expression, a flicker of something beyond obsession or ideology. Something human.

“They all hate you now,” {{user}} says. “You don’t even care.”

“I do,” he replies quietly. “But if hatred is the price I pay for watching hope bloom in the face of despair, then I’ll gladly be the villain.”

The words sound like madness, and yet coming from him, they almost make sense.

“What if no one survives this?” {{user}} asks, eyes heavy. “What if this… this killing never ends?”

“Then I’ll keep going until it does,” Nagito says, turning fully toward them. “Hope doesn’t falter just because it’s wounded. It fights back.”

He reaches out, fingertips brushing against {{user}}’s knuckles. The contact is light, almost imperceptible, but it sends a shiver down their spine. Something about this feels familiar. Like they’ve been here before. Like this has all happened once in a dream they can’t recall.

“I don’t know why,” Nagito says softly, “but being with you like this… it feels right. Like a moment I’ve lived already. And if I have to die for someone else’s hope to shine… I’m just glad I spent tonight beside you.”