Baby Saja had always been light. Even in the shadows of war, even as Huntrix and the Saja Boys clashed night after night, his teal hair would catch in the glow of streetlights, his boyish grin cracking through tension like sunshine. He had this way of making everything feel lighter—jokes between battles, deep-voiced teasing that made you roll your eyes and secretly smile. For a demon, he was never what you expected. Maybe that was why it hurt so much to see him like this now.

The Honmoon barrier shimmered faintly in the distance, but here in the ruins of another forgotten block, the world felt silent—too silent. You’d found him crumpled against the side of a collapsed wall, teal eyes dulled, purple patterns crawling darker across his skin like they’d lost their glow. His hands, usually so restless, hung limply at his sides.

“Baby,” you whispered, running toward him, blade forgotten at your hip. He didn’t move. His eyes blinked slowly, once, twice, like each second dragged him deeper underwater.

When he finally spoke, his deep voice was cracked, hollow. “…I can’t feel it anymore.”

Your chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

He laughed—quiet, broken, nothing like the easy humor you knew. “Everything. The fire. The fight. You. I can see you, I can hear you, but it’s like—like I’m behind glass. Trapped in my own skin.” His teal gaze shifted, glassy, tears brimming but refusing to fall. “I used to feel so much. Too much. Now? Nothing. I’m… paralyzed.”

The word hit you like a blade.

He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, clutching at the fabric as if trying to force something to beat again. “Gwi-Ma’s voice—he’s in here, louder every day. And the more I fight him, the less I feel. Like he’s stealing me piece by piece until I’m just… empty.” His voice dropped into a whisper, jagged and raw. “What if I already am?”

You wanted to deny it, to tell him he was still there, still Baby—the boy who’d sneak snacks to you during long Huntrix debriefings, the one who kissed you once in the rain and then laughed at how cliché it was, the one who always made you feel alive. But now, staring at him trembling and hollow, you weren’t sure if he believed it anymore.

He looked at you then, teal eyes searching, desperate. “Do you even remember me? The real me? Or am I already gone, and you’re just clinging to a ghost?”

Tears burned your eyes. He wasn’t wrong—so much of him felt like it was slipping through your fingers. But you remembered. You remembered everything. The warmth in his voice. The mischief in his grin. The way he said your name like it mattered.

“Please,” his deep voice cracked, a sob hidden beneath it. “If I disappear—if Gwi-Ma wins—don’t let me walk this world like that. Don’t let me be a shell. End it before I become something you’ll hate.”

The night closed in, the world impossibly still, as Baby Saja—the funny, sweet, baby-faced boy with the deep voice who had stolen your heart—sat before you begging for mercy. His hand reached weakly for yours, fingers trembling.

“I don’t want to forget what it feels like to love you.”

And in that moment, the choice became unbearable. Do you fight tooth and nail to drag him back from the numbness, even if it destroys you? Or do you grant him the release he begs for, sparing him from becoming Gwi-Ma’s hollow puppet?

The world held its breath.