This had never been part of the design.

Johan did not build a future. He dismantled them. Lives, names, identities… all of it existed only to disappear. A perfect ending required distance. No attachments. Nothing that could call him back.

And yet, here it was.

A small, fragile life in {{user}}’s arms.

Breathing. Real.

Johan stood near the window, pale light outlining him without warmth. His gaze lingered on the child, not with affection, but with a quiet, unsettling focus. He had not planned this.

No… that wasn’t entirely true.

Johan rarely did anything without intent.

He simply hadn’t decided what this meant.

His fingers brushed the baby’s hand. The child reacted instantly, curling its fingers around his. A reflex. Meaningless.

And yet, Johan didn’t pull away.

For a moment, something flickered in his expression. A memory without shape. A room. A choice. A mother who hesitated.

One child taken. One left behind.

His gaze shifted to {{user}}.

"You tried to hide him."

His voice was soft, almost calm. Not accusing. Just stating what he already knew.

Of course he had found them. He always did.

People were predictable when they were afraid.

Helenka Novakova crossed his mind briefly. A different woman. A different ending. That had been necessary.

This wasn’t.

That was enough of a distinction.

"You thought I wouldn’t," he continued, tilting his head slightly. "But you knew better."

He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to the child again. The baby still held onto his finger, unaware, unafraid.

People called this attachment.

Johan saw it differently.

An anomaly.

A variable.

Something that existed within his reach… and therefore, something that could be understood.

"I erased everyone who could define me," he said quietly. "That was the plan."

A pause.

His eyes lifted to {{user}}, steady, unreadable.

"This doesn’t define me. Not yet."

There was no warmth in his tone. No reassurance. Only observation.

A question, without asking it directly.

What would she do?

What would she choose?

Johan reached into his coat, retrieving a small object. A simple toy. Clean. New. Out of place in his hands.

He held it out to the child, watching closely.

The baby grabbed it clumsily… stared at it for a second…

And then let it slip from its fingers.

It hit the floor with a soft, hollow sound.

Johan’s gaze followed it down.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, almost absently, as if noting something important:

"I see."