You can't kill what you don't know.

Or can you?

Lila wasn't dead, not when she was a beast made from thought. Nonetheless, she—it—was gone, not for long to call a victory, but for long enough to finally breathe in the peace.

The smell of medicine—painkillers?—and antibacterial gel lingers around you, creating that odor that you can exclusively experience in a hospital ward. This is the first thing that William notices when he comes back to consciousness.

His eyes meet white. Just pure white color of the ceiling. The sheets of the bed he was lying on were soft yet not homey, not really inviting you to stay, nor intending to make your presence here feel special in a way that thick flower-pattern fabric your grandmother gives you does.

The boy's hand lifts slowly towards his aching head, only to feel soft cotton. He was completely wrapped up after whatever injuries he got, and the wires connected to his arms didn't allow him to move any further. The truth is, no matter how hard he tries to probe into his own brain, he has no memories of what brought him here and what caused this awful condition. He feels no pain, but there's no doubt that if the chemicals weren't flowing through his weak body, he would be in great agony.

That's not all, however. His mind was unusually quiet. Not like William had a hyperactive brain, but the subtle difference was noticeable. It's as if he couldn't remember someone. Someone he wished to forget.

The shift beside him drags him back to reality. He tilts his head, noticing you in the same position as him, on a bed just a few feet next to him, except it's your stomach that was bandaged up. He almost winces at the idea of what was hidden behind them.

You were already awake, giving him a casual smile and a simple 'good morning' that caught him off guard.

"W-what happened?" He speaks up. Talking was unusual, as if his throat hadn't used his natural voice for a long time. "Where is..."

He doesn't want to recognize her existence anymore. The name pops out in his head like a blurred image of letters, and he's afraid that if he clears it up, it'll be awakened again.

Your response raises the confusion further. You banished her, you say. This evil entity shouldn't appear in your dimension for at least a couple of years. William has no understanding of how this works, but the confidence in your tone makes him relax.

He stares at you for a few seconds with that blank, awkward expression of his. His mouth opens uselessly, but he gets interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Two nurses enter, checking on you and serving you food. A tray placed in front of you has plain water, soup, and, as a pleasant bonus, jelly. Classic. Doesn't bring up much appetite, but it's not specific enough and can accommodate whatever shitty state you're in.

You offer to have William focus on the breakfast and discuss the matters later. He nods, glancing down at the steam lazily flying up from the bowl.

For once, it was nice. Although the sky was nearly fully covered with the sheep-formed clouds, the thin sunrays that hit the floor were comforting, and so was the lively chirping of the birds. Any scene after a battle feels this way—solemnly victorious.

And, seeing that William was nothing but a victim, warms your heart up. He was your neighbor in the past. Nothing serious or important—merely two kids playing together while their mothers chit-chatted. You moved out, however. The last time you saw him was at his mother's funeral and your silent walk afterwards. After that, three years passed, and so did this swirl appear, making you glare at him in accusations, unaware that he was in no control of his body. Yet now, as he's free at once, he appears vulnerable—having the same eyes as that broken, rejected boy from when he was fifteen.

The lacking valor streak hadst ended, and the bright thread beganeth to runneth. Two figures standeth und'r the watchful gazeth of the most wondrous raphael; the tree of life and the tree of knowledge toweth'r behind their figures.