I will finally embark on the road of no return called hero

"Those who've passed on shouldn't meddle in the world of the living," Cyd muttered. "They drag the living back into the pain of the past." He hesitated, though, scythe poised mid-air, as if unwilling to strike.

"You're not serious, are you?" Cyd's eyes bore into Wels, searching for doubt. But Wels just looked back, eyes steely with resolve.

"Detective, I appreciate everything you've done for me," Wels said, stepping between Cyd and the woman beside him, her figure ghostly yet vibrant. "But I'm doing this for her. I have to protect this workshop—our workshop."

The living cling to memories, unwilling to release the dead. Cyd knew the truth: the only ones trapped by the dead are those who can't let go.

"If we don't close this gate," Cyd finally lowered his scythe, "others will pay the price. The workshop's fate is already sealed."

"Then at least let me leave with her," Wels said, clenching his fists.

Cyd let out a sigh and stepped back. "You're one stubborn fool."

Wels managed a sheepish grin, squeezing the woman's hand as they moved toward the gate together.

"Wait!" Lord El-Melloi II's voice echoed as he ran forward, dread filling his eyes. He knew—he'd known all along—that Wels would step through that gate, even without hearing the truth. Though Wels was no romantic, he looked at the ethereal woman like a bashful schoolboy.

"Wels! You can't go in there! There's no way back!"

Wels turned, a peaceful smile on his face. "I'm sorry, Lord El-Melloi II. My riddle caused you more trouble than I intended. But this… this is the end I wanted. I won't die; I'm just heading somewhere I can be with her."

With a snap of his fingers, Cyd summoned flowers to bloom along the vines, their petals bursting open with a quiet, blessed light. The storm settled, the dawn crept through the clouds, and a breeze touched Wels' face as he took the woman's hand. Together, they looked like newlyweds stepping into the next chapter.

"Be happy," Cyd whispered, waving them off.

"Thank you," Wels said, bowing to Cyd. He shared one last look with the woman, and with a content smile, they disappeared through the gate.

As Wels vanished, the gate twisted and dissolved, sending a beam of light toward the heavens. Lord El-Melloi II halted, dazed, watching the sky as stray petals fell, sticking to his damp coat. For Wels, these petals might have been a wedding blessing. To El-Melloi II, they felt more like a funeral.

There was a time, ten years ago, when he might have grabbed Cyd by the collar, demanding, Why didn't you stop him? You're a hero, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to save people?

But he was different now, mature enough to just stand there, watching the sky, silently grieving his friend's departure.

"Thank you." El-Melloi II took out a cigarette and held it in his mouth.

"I could've stopped him," Cyd said, slinging his restored Pandora on his back. "But I didn't. Punch me if you want, friend; even the so-called hero let him go."

El-Melloi II exhaled smoke, looking a little older than he had moments before. "Even if I'd tried to stop him, he'd have learned the truth and taken this path regardless. Your choice was right; it's my own attachments that kept me here."

"Still hurts to say goodbye," Luvia appeared at his side, hand on his shoulder. "Need someone to stick around with you? I'm out of smokes, though."

El-Melloi II wordlessly held out his pack, but she plucked two from it, tossing one to Cyd.

"Growing up, huh?" Cyd chuckled, lighting his cigarette. "If that means saying goodbye to the people we care about, I'll gladly stay immature forever."

"That's what being an adult is, I guess," Luvia replied, lighting his cigarette and nodding solemnly. "Besides, I think we're all a little grown-up by now."

El-Melloi II looked skyward, eyes reflecting memories of tall, resolute figures fading away. "They're the lucky ones, leaving us behind to suffer. Doesn't seem fair… if only they could've just… taken us with them…"

Each of them, having seen too many people fade away, stood there, faces obscured in smoke, embracing that fleeting moment of vulnerability before the bitterness of reality returned.

"Master." Gray gripped her scythe, unsure, as she watched them standing amidst dawn's first light, their figures blurring as if they'd vanish too.

"Don't worry about them," Reines put a hand on Gray's arm. "That's just how they mourn—a small ritual of friendship. It's over now. Let them rest."

"Understood." Gray nodded.

"Go pack up, then. We'll head back soon." Reines turned to leave, though Gray hesitated, bowing in apology.

"Forgive me," she said softly. "I'd like to wait here for my master."

Reines stopped, eyeing her momentarily before shrugging with a small grin. "Fine. Lucky for you, I need a nap anyway."

"Thank you!"

"But, Gray," Reines' eyes twinkled with mischief, "you'll owe me one later."

Gray, oblivious, nodded. Her gaze remained on the three men in the light, the cigarette smoke curling up into the sky.

The cigarettes weren't out yet, so they could remain in that moment a little longer, still those people who once needed each other.

"So, Luvia, shouldn't you be somewhere else?" Cyd broke the silence.

"Hey! Trying to get rid of me already?"

"Come on, you're the picture of maturity."

"And you're as mature as they come, El-Melloi II!" Luvia shot back.

"Ha!"

"Honestly, I'm the only one here properly savoring this tragedy. Now leave, old men."

"Shut up! You're the oldest one here!"

As the smoke dissipated in the breeze, and the smoldering tips touched their lips, the three of them turned back to the world, stepping forward once again as the men they'd become.

"Let's go."