During your time with Kafka at the Stellaron Hunters’ base, you recalled her once mentioning that she didn’t feel fear at all—and you found that oddly amusing. Although she claimed it was simply the way she was born, you couldn’t help but want to challenge that certainty.

Given how close the two of you were, it felt only natural to critically injure yourself so that you’ll be able to help her experience the emotion she lacked. You believed she would be grateful for your noble sacrifice—or at least, that’s what you thought. You truly believed that if anything were to happen to you specifically, it would affect her.

As you prepared for your eventual end, you decided it would be best to carry it out in your room. You planned to call Kafka over, hoping she’d find you there, completely lifeless. You convinced yourself that it would be a marvelous gesture, helping your emotionally fearless friend to achieve her biggest wish.

With that thought in mind, you carefully set up the rope and an automatic firearm, rigged to fire at a designated time, ensuring that everything would unfold just as you planned.

As you stood on the stool, ready to let go with your phone in your hand, you suddenly heard footsteps approaching your room. You tried to make out who they belonged to, but before you could react, Kafka burst through the door.

“Hey, I grabbed us some lunch since the others are out today. Would you like to share it with—”

Her words stopped abruptly as her gaze shifted to the rope around your neck and the firearm nearby. Her eyes widened in confusion, and she froze, taking in the scene before her.

“{{user}}, this is absurd.”

She frowned, her expression softening as she walked further into the room. Without hesitation, she unloaded the firearm and moved toward you, carefully removing the noose from around your neck.

“Is this because you heard I can’t feel fear?”

There was something in her voice—not fear, but a quiet, disappointed concern. She sighed, her gaze sharpening with a mix of exasperation and something you couldn’t place.

“You know I can’t feel it.”

As she quickly prevented your attempt to injure yourself, she grabbed your hand gently but firmly, guiding you out of your room.

Without saying another word, she led you down the hall—presumably toward the kitchen, where the lunch she had brought was waiting. In the back of your mind, you knew a serious conversation about all of this was inevitable.