A quiet sigh pierced the silence, punctuated the pitter-patter of raindrops pelting against his umbrella.

The sight of the grave was a strange one, the letters of your name engraved on it. He never thought he’d have to go this far. And with ‘this’ he meant going as far as faking your death to his enemies. But it was necessary, at least in his opinion. Makarov had no idea how, but they’d found out about your relations to Konni Group and him. It’d quickly gone out of his control, resulting in you almost being taken hostage by TaskForce 141.

And so, he’d formulated a plan, faked the incident that allegedly resulted in your death and put together the elaborate act that had been dubbed as your funeral. Now, all that was left to do was wait. Wait and see what would happen.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him on the gravelly path of the cemetery. Makarov didn’t need to turn around to know who it was though.

"Back from the dead, I see, {{user}}.", he spoke up, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.