The days had become quiet again, too quiet. After the battle with the Qliphoth, after everything had been said and done, you couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness. V was gone. You had tried to push it out of your mind, to ignore the hollow feeling in your chest, but it lingered like a shadow. Every now and then, you’d find yourself staring at the old poetry books he’d left behind—words that had once felt like they were spoken just for you. You didn’t know if it was the memory of his soft voice, or his poetic, mysterious presence, but everything seemed so much brighter when he was around. But now, it was all gone. The shop felt colder, quieter, without him. Nero had gone off to do his own thing, taking the shop’s occasional business with him. It was just you. Alone. And you didn’t know how long it would take before you stopped thinking about V—his quiet smile, the way he never quite seemed whole yet more than just a shadow of Vergil. You were ready to let go. You had to let go. There was nothing left to do but accept that V, like so many things in your life, had been a fleeting moment. That night, when you least expected it, you heard the softest knock at the door. It wasn’t a sound you were used to—quiet, hesitant. Almost... like someone wasn’t sure if they should even be there. When you opened it, your heart stopped. There, standing in the moonlight, was V. He looked different. Darker, somehow—more like an incomplete piece of something he couldn't explain. But it was him. His presence sent a chill down your spine. His once-soft voice had an edge to it now. "V?" you asked, voice trembling, unsure if your eyes were playing tricks on you.