Evin hung dazedly for a few seconds, his brain trying its damn hardest to make sense of his situation. One by one, the facts started to list themselves in front of him. He was tied by a rope of some sorts, something was burning underneath him, he'd just attacked a person he'd thought was the Type 12, and the Voice wasn't responding to his calls. In fact, it was hard to even feel its presence, a sense that Evin as becoming more and more adept at feeling.

But slowly, more facts started appearing in his head. The size of the room he was hanging inside, the familiar color of the walls, the scenery that was visible through the windows… and the familiar clothing the figure on the floor wore.

"Father…?" Evin found himself muttering.

Quickly and almost subconsciously, he put out the fire underneath him, and then undid the ropes that bound him. He didn't make himself weightless, but that turned out to be a grave mistake, as the pain from his metal leg made him shriek in agony, drawing tears from his eyes.

But the pain did not impede him for long, as he crawled next to his father's body and turned the body over. A large chunk of ice, still maintained by World energies clogged his neck. Evin expected to see his father to be gurgling out blood from his wound, still fighting for life, but no. His father lay dead on his floor and it was Evin that killed him in his moment of panic.

For a moment, he found it hard to breathe, and felt his eyes tearing up without control. The pain, the guilt and the grief combined together to make a mess of Evin's emotions as he lay there silently, weeping. Mourning.

He didn't know why, but Evin expected himself to be act more irrationally than this, with screams and shouts and a loud painful wail.

But there was also a part that expected calmness. Considering everything his father had done to him, how terrible of a man his father was, shouldn't Evin be glad he was dead?

He didn't even know if one was supposed to be having of all these random things while mourning.

'Shouldn't there be just grief? Why all these unnecessary thoughts?'

Despite feeling that it was hollow, Evin did perform a mourning and eventually, his tears dried up.

With conflicting emotions, he found himself observing his father's body.

His body had thinned so much, Evin was finding it hard to believe that the man used to tower over him, feeling like the colossi from the stories. Grime and dirt filled his body, giving off an almost unbearable stench. His leather clothes looked like they haven't been washed in weeks, looking stiff as if his sweat had seeped into it.

Evin looked around the house, and found it in a similar state. The floor was filled with dust, and random handprints could be found near doors… and of course, the thick smell of alcohol.

'How could someone live like this?'

His eyes fell on his father again.

But by the Empress's grace he felt disgusted with himself. The blood did not disturb him, his father's wide-open eyes did not prickle at his conscience, and the sorry state of him and the house only made him glad he left this place half a year ago.

There was even a part of him that justified his actions, saying that it was for the best that Edmund died. It didn't seem like the man would survive for long anyway. Evin was only putting him out of his misery.

'Would I act like this if the Voice had suddenly perished from his mind? Would it be the same for Leanne or Bella?'

The thought sent chills down his spine.

"But what happened here?" he suddenly said out loud, more loudly than he intended. He searched for the truth of the matter, to keep himself distracted from the death in front of him.

With determination, he scoured his mind for the events before his blackout.

The Voice had finally spoken to him, despite the long silence between them before that. Evin was trying hard to focus on what it was saying, but for some reason, he couldn't remember much from its words. Though, he clearly remembered its last words.

'I'm sorry for what I'm about to put you through…' the Voice's words echoed through his mind.

"After that, I got hit in my head… and woke up here, tied to a chair, with smoke coming from under me… and my father looking like a golem."

Evin could connect the dots from here on out. His father must've seen Evin standing alone in the alleyway and attacked him from behind. He didn't know what the chair and the smoke was, but he supposed it was an occultic ritual of some sorts. But why would he appear as a golem?

'I'm sorry for what I'm about to put you through…'

"Ah, it was an illusion," he realized, not really sure if he wanted to learn something like this. "So It guided me to accidentally kill my father…"

Before going silent, the Voice had constantly warned Evin that he would regret his actions. Was this its way of getting back at him?

Except, the ploy didn't affect Evin as much as both of them would expect it to. Evin was sad, sure, but he wasn't devastated. He didn't want the Voice gone.

Was he inhuman for having these thoughts? Evin didn't think so. The Voice was more father to him than Edmund ever was. He had finally accepted this and he wasn't going to shy away from it now.

'But what will I do if the Voice decides to kill others? Bella, Leanne, Phel, and Arza… Will I act the same as today, mourning silently, but still adamantly clinging on to the Voice?'

Evin didn't know. And he didn't want to think.

He absorbed a lodestone, and using the moisture in the air, began encasing his father in a prison of ice.

Lightly grunting, he got up to his feet and walked outside. Thankfully, the rain had stopped. He then made his way towards a guard-post nearby and lightly knocked on its door. A curse came from inside it, and soon, a large statured man opened the door.

"What do you-" the man began, but after his eyes fell on Evin, he stopped abruptly.

Evin was puzzled, but then he remembered the blood splattered on his face. Despite his apparent calmness, he hadn't bothered to clean it off… Weird.

"I think I killed my father."