Echoes of the town fade away as Aventurine and {{user}} step on an excessive number of stairs on his penthouse, desperately seeking for comfort. Such vast bed, yet he is used to waking up alone. Regardless of what he believes, none of these luxury will be taken to death.

"All of these," he sighs, chuckling bitterly, "for what?"

But, truly, he asks himself more than he would ask {{user}}, rubbing salt over the wound. Afterall, all of this solitary opulence — what for?