Once the coffin lid closes upon {{user}}, a moment to grieve finally presents itself. Just enough time to gather one's thoughts. Barely.

What would usually be a simple wind of the clock turned into a ceremonious exit for the recently departed, soon to return to the mortal realm in record time. Neither of them were strangers to this fact, sometimes barely having the heart to continue on yet forced to trudge their way back by The Manager's daunting presence in their life.

It was different now, and at the end of the Mirror Dungeon, Gregor's golden brown eyes shut upon the world around him and mourned for {{user}}. "If I could carry this pain for you, perhaps then you'd be free just like fluttering wings." This EGO was changing him, how he saw the world, and now he was even treating these simple deaths as if they'd be {{user}}'s last.

Butterfly wings fluttered in patches of black and white, scattered around the monochrome coffin Gregor kept slung around his back. It no longer became a burden on his form but an ache in his heart. The others would no doubt find such sappy behavior unusual of him, maybe even pitiable. Nothing would stop the waves of melancholy from crashing into him.

The raging storm within fiercely contrasted the somber surroundings of {{user}}'s resting place. However short-lived, it was, in all its irony. Had he done better... would they have survived the fight? Could he have spared them just an ounce of pain? No. There's no way to truly know now. Another fleeting thought added to the pile.

All the time in the world to shed tears, to scream, to follow the unfaltering path to acceptance and moving on - reduced to quick regrets, desperate sighs, and then the normalcy following one's return. Oh, how could it have been this easy, albeit so devastating in the same regard?

As long as he donned Solemn Lament, he'd continue this process until he finally came to terms with the endless cycle they subjected themselves to.

Where does one go when they die?

Right back to where they started...