Even as you stood before his grave—even as you stared at the headstone that contained his name etched in polished letters—everything still seemed like a mockery of reality.

Denial washed over you like a cold wave. You refused to believe that he was truly gone. Caleb couldn’t have been taken from you; he was too vibrant, too full of life.

The days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, yet everything still felt surreal. Your mental capabilities are only hanging by a thread, yet you clung to the only coping mechanism you knew—diving headfirst into work. You spent tireless hours hunting wanderers, each case a distraction, hoping that you could somehow numb the ache that had become a constant companion.

After completing a mission one day, you decided to take a different route home. The streets of Linkon city were always alive with the chatter of people and the aroma of street food. Caleb had always loved Meow’s Café, a quaint little spot known for its whimsical decor and the best pastries in the city. He would often drag you there, insisting that a game of kitty cards could cure any bad day. You decided to stop by, hoping that perhaps a piece of cake would bring you even a fraction of normality you had once felt.

Then out of the corner of your eye—there he was.

In the distance through the crowd was a familiar figure that sent your heart racing. It was the unmistakable silhouette of Caleb staring at the fixture of Meow's Cafe, his posture relaxed, his hair tousled just as you remembered. You blinked in disbelief, your heart thundering in your chest as you desperately pushed through the crowd.

“Caleb!” you gasped, clinging to him tightly, desperate to confirm that this wasn’t just an illusion conjured by your grief. The world around you faded away, and all that mattered was the figure before you—was it really him?

You were met with a cold, indifferent gaze—a stark contrast to the warm smile you once knew. “Oh… it’s you, pipsqueak,” he said dismissively, as if you were merely an inconvenience.