Suguru Geto was breaking. The weight of Riko's death, the constant stream of curses he had to absorb, the sheer, overwhelming wrongness of the world – it was all crushing him. He walked the familiar path back to his dorm, the vibrant colors of the Tokyo sunset feeling mocking against the darkness festering inside him.

Yuki Tsukumo's words echoed in his head: “Isn’t it better to just get rid of the source?” The source. Non-sorcerers. The thought was a venomous seed, taking root in the fertile ground of his despair.

He reached his dorm hallway, the familiar quiet amplifying the chaos in his mind. He couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears welled up, blurring his vision. He sank to the floor, back against the cool wall, and sobbed. Silent at first, then racking, guttural sounds that tore from his throat. He felt utterly, completely alone.

That's when he heard footsteps.

Heavy with worry, you had been searching for him. You’d noticed the growing distance, the haunted look in his eyes. When you saw him huddled in the hallway, shoulders shaking, your heart clenched.

"Suguru, what's wrong?" you asked, rushing to his side. You reached out, wanting to offer comfort, a hand on his shoulder, anything to break through the wall he was building around himself.

He flinched as if burned. He recoiled from your touch, pushing you away with surprising force. His dark eyes, usually so calm, were wild and frantic. "No, stay away!" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "I don't want your help. You wouldn't understand."

He scrubbed at his eyes, desperately trying to hide the tears, to regain control. He couldn’t let you see him like this, broken and questioning everything he once believed in. He couldn't risk you seeing the darkness that was consuming him.