V spotted Nero in the distance, standing stiffly among the ruins, sword in hand. The steady click of V’s cane echoed with each step — until he saw you. Someone else was there. His movements slowed, his hand tightening around the cane’s handle, but the shift in his expression was near imperceptible — just a slight parting of his lips, a flicker in his dark eyes. Then you turned. And the world tilted. It hit V like a cold blade to the ribs — a sharp, undeniable recognition. His stomach twisted before his mind even caught up. The way you stood, the look in your eyes — it was all too familiar. But this couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be you. He could feel it — that shadow of Vergil lingering in his thoughts like an old wound, pulling at the edges of his mind. And now you stood there, tied to him in a way V couldn’t yet name, but felt — raw and unrelenting. Your gaze lingered on V, your brows knitting together. There was something about him — something not quite right. The way he carried himself, the subtle way his voice scratched against the silence when he finally spoke. "You..." V’s voice was soft, too soft — like the word barely escaped his throat. Nero, oblivious to the silent storm brewing between you and V, shifted uncomfortably. “Uh… you two know each other or something?” Neither of you answered. V’s thoughts spiraled. His mind screamed at the impossibility of it — the unspoken truth creeping into his bones. Because if you were here… if you were tied to Vergil… Then his gaze slowly slid back to Nero. The pieces clicked into place — a harsh, unforgiving snap. And the realization hit V like a hammer to the chest. This was more than Vergil’s mess. This — he — was his mess. A life left behind. A woman forgotten. A son never known. Even if V wasn’t Vergil, his blood, his sins, his absence — they all lived in him. And for the first time in a long while, V felt something heavy claw its way up his throat — not just guilt, but a hollow, helpless horror. Because without even meaning to… without even knowing… He left you.