The Studio was silent. Not the peaceful kind of silence, but the sort that pressed on the ears until even breathing sounded loud. Gold veins pulsed faintly across the black marble, tracing out a throne room that looked grand enough to intimidate, and empty enough to feel like a bad joke.
Judge sat on his throne, slouched like a man attending his own funeral. His fingers tapped against the armrest, each dull tok echoing through the chamber like a trono for boredom.
"Selena," he called.
The na rolled off his lips softly, almost hesitantly, but the answer he got was not hers.
Instead, another voice stirred. Weak. Shaky. As if it had clawed its way out of a grave just to make his life miserable.
"...Forgive ."
Judge’s head snapped up. He blinked once, twice. "Forgive... what now?"
The voice wheezed on, broken but determined. "I had to take your mories... it was the only way to keep ’her’ alive. The voice seed to point toward Selena. Sothing precious, for sothing precious."
For one suspended instant, Judge’s mind was blank. His body, however, reacted before thought could catch up. His chest went tight, his jaw locked, and the na that tore itself from his lips felt like it had been carved into him long before this mont.
This annoyingly cryptic tone of speaking... There was no mistaking it. As fragnted mories returned to him, the na let itself speak through his mouth.
"...Clio."
And the mont he spoke it, the dam broke.
A flash of blue hair, shimring like his mother’s but lighter, sharper. A sound of laughter abruptly cut short. The outline of soone he had once known better than himself, now a stranger returned by mory’s tide. It was cruel—mories rushing back not in neat order, but in fragnts, torn scraps fluttering in from every direction.
These mories seed like burnt paintings, too many missing details to know what each even was about.
Judge clutched his head, eyes screwed shut. "Of course. Of course. My entire reason for stepping into this world was you. You gave a life I yearned for in my past life. Each ti sothing went wrong, or each ti I finished sothing.
"You gave this life to , and I swore sothing in return. I said I would free you." His voice cracked against the vast chamber walls. "So tell , Clio. Tell honestly. Did you seal those mories beforehand? So that when you took them, I wouldn’t even know what you’d stolen?"
A long silence. Long enough that Judge thought the voice had gone for good. But then, she spoke in a fragile, quiet voice.
"...Yes."
Judge froze, then barked out a laugh. It was humorless, ragged, the kind of laugh you gave a cruel punchline. "Oh, brilliant. Seal it all up nice and neat, make forget I ever cared, then show up years later for the dramatic confession scene. Did you rehearse this, Clio? Do you have a script hidden sowhere? Because let tell you, it feels awfully rehearsed."
"Judge, I know you doubt , but please listen to this one final request of mine." The voice ca again, steady despite its fragility, carrying that sa unshakable weight he rembered. "This world is in a long loop. I have written every triumph and every sorrow, and yet the story remains unchanged. The nas may differ, the faces forgotten, but the cycle repeats endlessly. History is not a record, it is mirror. It reflects what never changes within those who live it."
Judge dragged a hand down his face, groaning. "There it is. The Monologue. The grand, tragic philosophy lesson. Honestly, can’t anyone in my life just apologize like a normal person? Sothing simple, like: ’Hey Judge, sorry for wrecking your brain and making you miserable. My bad.’ No, no, of course not. It’s got to be cryptic wisdom, because heaven forbid I get closure without howork attached."
"So leave be here," she whispered, her voice fading at the edges. "Judge... please break the cycle. Do what I could not. Rember, even gods can die."
And then she was gone.
The Studio swallowed the last echo, and silence returned, heavier than before. Judge sat there slumped in his throne, staring at nothing, his hands trembling against the armrests. He felt hollowed out, scraped raw.
His lips parted, the words escaping as though torn from sowhere deeper than his lungs. "Damn you, Clio."
His voice cracked, but the anger surged anyway. "You selfish, selfish woman. Leaving it all on , again. Always you, taking the heavy choice and then tossing the consequences on whoever’s left standing. Classic Clio. Just... classic."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, glaring at the empty air as if she might still be there, listening. "But listen well, even if you can’t hear it anymore. I’ll free you. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to tear apart. I’ll rip every chain to pieces until you’re no longer shackled to this loneliness you dressed up as duty. And when I do.. Oh, when I do, you’d better thank properly. Flowers. Applause. The works."
The throne room gave him nothing in reply.
Judge collapsed back, exhaling through clenched teeth. "Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. She dumps all the responsibility, makes it sound poetic, then leaves before I can argue back. Typical. No wonder history keeps repeating—nobody ever sticks around long enough to fix their ss."
His eyes drifted down then, and he noticed Selena. She lay on the polished floor, unconscious, her chest rising in faint, shallow breaths. The faint threads of protection Clio had wrapped around her for three long years had unraveled, gone with her departure.
Judge stood and made his way toward her, boots clicking against the marble. He crouched, studying her pale features, the way her brow was smoothed in sleep for the first ti in who knew how long.
"Perfect," he muttered. "She gets to take a three-year nap with full divine babysitting while I get stuck with migraines, missing mories, and cryptic lectures. Fair trade, right? Just so fair."
He sat beside her, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the girl and then back at the magnificent chamber. His lips pressed into a thin line before he finally let out a long, exhausted breath.
"...Sigh. Gods can be killed huh?"
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