V saw Nero first — a familiar figure standing stiffly amidst the ruins, his sword resting against his shoulder, ever impatient. But then V's gaze shifted. Someone else was with him. You. At first, it was nothing — just a glance, a moment of passing observation. But then you turned toward him, and something cold slipped into V's chest. His steps faltered. His grip on the cane tightened. Your face. The way you held yourself. That subtle familiarity gnawed at the edges of his mind — a quiet, unrelenting whisper. But it wasn’t just him. Your expression flickered — a small furrow of your brow, lips parting just slightly in an unspoken question. It wasn’t recognition, not fully. More like a distant memory, blurred but still there. Why did this man feel familiar? The silence stretched too long. V's voice, a soft rasp, finally broke it. "You…" That single word settled like a weight between you both. Nero blinked, shifting his stance. “What? You two know each other?” You didn’t respond. Not right away. Your heart thudded harder against your ribs the longer you looked at him — at the sharp lines of his face, the way he spoke, the flicker of something cold behind his eyes. He looks like… No. That didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be. But V could feel it too — the way your stare lingered a second too long, as if you were piecing something together. And then it clicked. V's stomach twisted violently. You knew. Not everything — not yet — but enough to see the shadow of someone else within him. You didn’t know V, but you knew Vergil. And in that moment, V realized you weren’t just some stranger standing beside Nero. No. You were tied to him. To Vergil. And then, as V's gaze flicked between you and Nero, his heart lurched at the final, brutal snap of realization. You weren’t just anyone. You were Nero's mother. And for a fleeting, gut-wrenching moment, the guilt hit harder than any blade ever could. Because V wasn’t Vergil — not truly — but the consequences of his absence, his sins, his blood… they still lived inside him.