The last tape had reached its end.
The old television continuously emitted a hissing noise, and on its insufficient refresh rate glass screen, the snowy display was dazzlingly flickering.
And under this faint light projection.
Annan was turned away from the television, looking down at the withered yellow pages. The young man's perfect physique cast a shadow, covering most of the pages.
"…Mercy."
Annan repeated the word for the third time, sitting motionless.
He was momentarily bewildered.
A strange sensation overcame him, causing Annan to feel dizzy.
After being reminded, Annan finally realized something.
…So, I have always, always... harbored mercy towards them?
Whether it was Isaac or Ofelia, even Ingrid—
Facing their desperate situations, Annan felt neither anger nor sorrow, nor did he feel joy. Instead, he felt somewhat helpless, his mood calm, sprinkling down high-up mercy.
—Just like a deity.
In that case.
