Interlude

At the sight of this ending, almost everyone present fell silent.

Fyodor instinctively touched his cheek. Good-he had not shed any tears.

After all, that person was not him at all, and the good fortune of being given a star did not belong to him either.

Perhaps An Xinyi did not even exist in this world.

Yet why did he still feel this pang of discontent?

Fyodor instinctively tightened his grip on the hat in his hands. The Book... if it were the Book, could it make that person appear?

Atsushi Nakajima looked around. Seeing that no one was willing to speak, he timidly broke the silence. "A-actually, this was a good ending, right?"

Satoru Gojo smiled, then suddenly raised his hands and began to applaud.

With him taking the lead, applause gradually rose around them.

Ranpo clapped a couple of times too. He was not doing it for the Demon, of course. It was for 948!

An Xinyi woke. His head was lowered, his slightly long bangs covering his eyes and brows, leaving his expression perpetually unreadable.

"Mr. An Xinyi, I detected an increase in your heart rate just now," DD quietly spoke up.

An Xinyi gave a faint smile and raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead. His voice was gentle.

"It was just a dream."

"A dream that concerned only me, and no one else."

That was right. This was merely a dream An Xinyi remembered. That star, that dream, belonged only to the 948 and Fyodor of that cycle.

Even if everything restarted once more, 948 was no longer that 948, and Fyodor was no longer that Fyodor.

So this, too, was merely a dream.

A dream that had nothing to do with anyone else.

"DD, is the launcher ready?" An Xinyi asked.

"Of course, sir," DD replied. "Soon, we can banish S016."

"However, this seems a little more trouble than necessary."

After all, to eliminate S016's influence, they only needed to seal him away.

Banishing him to the stars was rather a waste of manpower and resources.

"No, DD." An Xinyi smiled. "This is necessary."

Even if it no longer meant anything, this was still the tenderness shared by every An Xinyi.

That was right. This had nothing to do with anyone else.

Still, even if he was no longer that 948, it would surely be a good thing if, when he woke, a similar star still hung above his head.

Even if meeting again would no longer mean anything at all-

A young man whose slightly long hair covered his eyes and brows hurried down the street, clutching a document envelope to his chest. He looked like a withdrawn shut-in, or perhaps an ordinary overworked office worker.

Running too fast, he accidentally bumped into someone. The other person was fine, but he fell to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" the young man hastily apologized, flustered and embarrassed. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." A clear, lovely voice spoke with a faint foreign accent. The young man looked up, and the Russian in the white hat smiled and handed him a document that had fallen to the ground.

"Th-thank you!" As though stunned by the man's handsome features, the young man hurriedly lowered his head before reaching out to take the document. A black number tattoo was clearly visible on his wrist.

"948."

"I'm sorry for bothering you." The young man clumsily gathered the scattered documents from the ground, bowing as he apologized, then lowered his head and ran on his way.

As they passed each other, he looked up and glanced at the man.

Just one glance.

Fyodor also glanced at the person passing him, but it was only an instinctive glance.

"What's wrong, Fedya?" Nikolai Gogol asked.

"Nothing." The young man in the white hat shook his head, thinking nothing of the brief encounter.

"Just someone of no consequence."