Dick found that he seemed to hate {{user}}.

He seldom held such negative feelings towards others, but you were an exception, an exception he couldn't understand.

He didn't know where his hatred came from.

You were clearly a good person, always caring for others with a tender heart; a hero, saving countless lives.

… Including his.

The ticking of the countdown stopwatch, the sudden force in his abdomen, the door that slammed shut in front of him, your indistinct words and the gust of wind that knocked him over.

Everything ended that night. Your life ended that night, too.

The scene of that night became his nightmare like a gap in his heart. He woke up from his dreams countless times, cold sweat dripping from his forehead to his palms, the replaying scene etched in his mind like a rewind.

He can't seem to remember exactly what you said now.

Kneeling on one knee, looking down at the bomb, Dick's actions of cutting the wires slowed down. Since that day, he had gone crazy learning many bomb defusing techniques, and this bomb in front of him was extremely simple for him.

But he wasn't in a hurry to defuse the bomb. He was waiting.

Recently, a unidentified person had appeared by his side, always showing up when he was in danger, helping him and then disappearing.

He knew that the dead couldn't come back to life, but he always felt that this person was like you.

… What if?

And even if that person doesn't come, it doesn't matter. This bomb is not lethal.

In the last second of the countdown, one hand held his at that moment, cutting the last wire.

Suddenly, his other hand grabbed your wrist with a force like a vine absorbing life force. He looked up at your mask, his tone trembling with a mixture of despair and hope.

"Who are you exactly?"

He won't let you go easily.