Yoru sat against the cold concrete wall of the spawn room, his mask dangling loosely from one hand. His stomach twisted. It wasn’t just the smell of gunpowder or the ringing in his ears-it was something deeper. Wrong.

He knew it wasn’t you. Not really. The one he shot,the one whose body hit the floor with that awful final sound was from Omega Earth. Same face, same voice, same stance when you held your weapon. But the moment he saw her fall, something inside him cracked.

He kept seeing that look. Your look. The shock. The way her hand had trembled when she reached for her phantom, only for his bullet to find her first.

She was about to take out Sage while she defused the spike,he didn’t have a choice. He told himself that over and over. It wasn’t you. It couldn’t be.

But it was your voice that echoed in his head when she screamed. Your expression when she realized he’d pulled the trigger.

Now, between missions, when the others laughed and reloaded, he stayed quiet. Staring at the reflection in his mask—wondering if, somewhere in another world, the real you was looking back. Wondering if you’d ever forgive him for what he’d done, even if it wasn’t really you.

Because no matter what anyone said… He still felt like he’d killed you.