Two weeks later, the doctor issued a critical notice and told them to prepare for the worst.

A somber atmosphere settled in the hospital room that was filled with muffled sobs, hiccups and sorrowful cries.

One by one, everyone said their goodbyes, and when it was Noir's turn last, he slowly dragged his heavy feet forward and arrived by her bedside, though he had no idea what to say. His mind was numb, and his tongue heavy as if laden with lead.

What was he even supposed to say at a time like this? Goodbye? But he had already done it, no? Every single day, starting from the moment when he first noticed the black mist around her, he had already said his goodbye. He had been prepared for this day to come…

Tremblingly, her frail hand reached out to him, and Noir instinctively moved to grasp it, only to be startled by how cold it felt.

For as long as he could remember, she had always radiated warmth. This was the first time he learned that she could be this cold. Unnervingly so.

"It's okay… don't make that kind of face," she whispered between faint breaths.

What kind of face? Noir wanted to ask, but he couldn't. His lips would not part. Only the slightest bob of his throat betrayed the emotions churning inside him right now.

"Noir ah…" At the gentle sound of his name, Noir quietly perked his ears up to listen to her fading murmur. "After I'm gone, take good care of yourself and… don't blame yourself for what you couldn't change. It will be okay, my child… you are not cursed."

"Maybe… maybe one day you will be able to save someone… with that gift of… yo..urs…"

Her words faded into silence as her breathing ceased altogether. A long beep pierced the air as the heartbeat in the monitor went flat. Her cold hand slipped out of his grasp, leaving his hand suspended in midair. Frozen still.

Behind him, uncontrollable cries erupted as a group of people mourned and wept for her death.

Only Noir stood silently on the side akin to a statue, his expression blank.

With her passing, the black mist around her body finally dispersed, revealing her appearance to him once more. Thin, withered, and emaciated. And yet… a faint smile lingered on her face, no different from the first day he saw her— and on the countless days after that.

Noir's gaze stayed on that eternal smile until the white sheet was drawn over her face, not moving an inch. It wasn't until she was taken away that he withdrew his gaze, as though jolted awake from a hazy dream.

One after another, the grieving people filed out of the room, leaving only him behind

He leaned back against the window and stared at the cloudy sky above, his gaze heavy and unreadable.

***

From the start to the end, Noir did not shed a single tear.

Looking at the red, swollen eyes and tearstained face of the people around him, Noir felt it again— the sense of disconnection, as if he alone existed in a different plane than others. It was a persistent feeling that had been clinging to him when he first entered the orphanage all those years ago, but with the director's warm and gentle care, that feeling had gradually disappeared with time.

But now, it came back again—stronger than ever.

Almost as if, with the director's passing, she had also taken away the last piece of light she had given him, leaving him hollow and empty once more.

She had been his teacher, his family, his friend, the biggest presence in his life. And with her gone, Noir's last connection with this world also disappeared.

The days that followed went on as usual. He still attended school, worked on his trinkets, painted his canvases, and took care of the younger children in the orphanage. But only he himself knew how adrift he had become, like a tree that had lost its roots, or a dandelion scattering with nowhere to land.

It was only then did he realize that his home had always been a single person.

Soon after Noir came of age, he moved out of the orphanage with the money he had saved up over the years.

Heeding the late director's advice, he chose the art stream during high school and also casually settled with a related major he was most comfortable with: sculpting. His little trinkets sold out as soon as he put them up for sale, and he was admired by his peers for his peerless talent.

His life was smooth sailing— yet dull and boring nonetheless.

Alas, just as he thought that these monotonous days would last forever, something unexpected happened.

It happened one ordinary night as he was making his way home from campus. At such late hours, the street was desolate, leaving only the flickering street lamps to illuminate the path in front of him. He could hear nothing other than the crisp crunches of dry leaves as his feet stepped across them.

Just as he was about to cross the road—

"Meow."

The melodious cry of a cat rang out loud and clear amidst the silence.

Noir turned to the source of the sound, only to be met with a pair of glowing emerald eyes. A black cat sat on top of the brick wall, staring straight at him.

"It's you," Noir's eyes flickered with recognition.

He had seen countless black cats in his life— the skinny ones, the feral ones, the docile ones, and yet there was just something about this cat that left a profound impression on him. Was it its glossy fur coat, shining even darker than the night, he wondered. Or was it its intelligent emerald eyes that seemed capable of expressing such vivid emotions more than himself? Noir couldn't tell for certain. Perhaps it was the combination of both.

He first saw this black cat on the first day he was sent to the orphanage.

As the police officer talked with the director in the office, he had been left outside the hallway, staring blankly at the pattern on the floor. And then this black cat popped up out of nowhere and brushed against his leg.

He had tried to pet it, only for his hand to be swatted away. The black cat then strutted away with a haughty air, leaving the dazed little boy staring at the faint red marks on his white and tender hand.

Afterwards, the black continued to appear on numerous other occasions, like the day he left with his first family, the day he was sent back to the orphanage, the first day he attended junior school, even on the day of the late director's funeral…

It didn't seem to mean anything at first glance. After all, the orphanage had sheltered many stray cats and maybe this black cat was one of them too, which explained why Noir had bumped into it quite frequently. But when this brief encounter continued over the span of years, with the black cat appearing only during major events of his life, everything became shrouded in a magical and mysterious air.

Noir had tried asking, of course, only to feel silly about it afterwards.

How could a human and a black cat communicate with the language barrier between them?

And so, with Noir's breezy attitude, he began to take things in stride, even anticipating its random visits. Treating it completely like an old friend.

More often than not, he was not allowed to touch. Any careless attempts would result in scratch marks on his arm, sometimes even his face. But on some special occasions, like on the late director's funeral, the black cat would meow affectionately and even take the initiative to climb onto his lap, purring softly on its throat, as if offering warmth and comfort.

—How about tonight, then?

With a mild sense of curiosity, Noir slowly stretched out a hand, but the black cat promptly turned away with a flick of its tail.

Ah, he clicked his tongue softly. Seems like it's a no today too.

He was about to take his leave, when he noticed the black cat stopping and turning to look at him. It took a couple more steps, then stopped and looked at him again.

Even though Noir was not proficient in the language of cats, the meaning of this gesture was unmistakable.

"You want me to follow you?"

"Meow!" it stomped its paw as if urging him.

"Looks like I'm starting to understand you a bit…" With that murmur, Noir began to walk after the black cat, curious to see where it would lead him as something like this had never happened before.

Unbeknownst to him, he was walking deeper and deeper into the darkness… until he saw a strange bus parked in the distance.

.

.

That was the day Noir discovered the existence of the Nightmare Cycle.