"What's starting over...?"

"There was never any hope from the beginning."

Turing painfully held down the pants of their patient gown, biting their lips until they bled. The blood flowed from Turing's mouth like winding snakes.

"Breakup is breakup! Can't you understand?"

"Because I don't love you anymore. Don't love you anymore!"

Turing felt their teeth about to shatter, their heart's sea about to dry up.

The pain from Red Port, Lachésis, Tartarus Castle, all the hardships combined, couldn't compare to the iceberg tip of the agony Turing endured from saying these two sentences themselves.

The taste of despair slowly emanated from Turing's murmuring heart.

"Is there really no turning point... Turing?"

"Not even a chance?"

Merka leaned against the door, feeling Turing's warmth.

The door board was heated like a furnace from Turing's body, bringing warmth to Merka.

"..."

Turing truly regretted it.

There would be no greater moment of regret in her life than today.

Regretted everything with Merka.

Regretted being born as a male.

Regretted falling in love with this man.

"Unless a star fell from the sky."

With tearful eyes, choked throat, Turing almost squeezed out this sentence from between their teeth.

Turing curled up, looking out at the swaying pear trees and the moon wheel silently glowing beyond the trees.

Somehow, there was always a vague impression in her head.

It was also a full moon at that time.

Dawn seemed like a lonely night crow, half rising and never setting, between the pear trees and the cliffs.

Turing knew what happened at that time.

She and a girl made a wish upon a shooting star.

In the end, a miracle occurred, and the wish came true.

"But I can't remember who that girl was."

"Let alone how the shooting star fell."

Turing shook her head with regret, stood up from beside the door.

"Goodbye, Merka."

"Never see each other again."

Her eyes filled with tears, Turing threw herself into the hospital bed, no longer thinking about the harsh reality.

"I'm not a real girl after all."

"How can I delay Merka until now?"

"It's all my fault."

"It's all my fault."

"Turing?"

Sensing that the breath from the other side of the door had disappeared, Merka became anxious again.

Merka hurriedly wanted to knock on the door again, but their hand stopped just an inch away from the door.

"Shooting star... I understand."

"Turing, wait for me."

The gesture of knocking turned into a caress, Merka gently touched the heavy door, murmured something to themselves, and turned away.

In the distant Erisburg of Crotto, dignitaries from all over gathered to mourn Theresa, the renowned musician and sorceress who was skilled in both arts.

As they looked upon Theresa's heavy, somber black and white coffin, the noble figures present couldn't help but feel uneasy and restless.

Some were reminded of her fiery and bold demeanor as a brave swordswoman, capturing criminals and helping the needy, while others recalled her arrogance as a pianist, playing extraordinary and unconventional music in the concert hall.

Some even found it hard to believe that the once dominant Forbidden Orchestra had completely disappeared.

The horrifying impression left an indelible mark in their hearts, as if it wanted to transcend time and space, to punish once again those who dared to commit injustice against the people and betray the family.

"Ugh..."

Amidst the solemn silence, Oedipus, who was originally healthy and composed, suddenly knelt to the ground and vomited black blood.

The nobles who witnessed this couldn't help but feel ashamed. Could it be that Oedipus, too, had some taboo about Theresa's death?

Of course not.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

London, who had been standing by Oedipus' side, immediately approached and supported her, expressing concern.

"That damn traitor, Theresa, has wounded you severely."

"You should rest."

Oedipus pushed away London's hand, stood up straight, and regained her usual indifferent smile, though her lips were still stained with blood.

"It's nothing."

"I should be asking you, have you dealt with that mechanical deity that injured me earlier?"

Oedipus walked ahead of London, descending from the funeral, and asked her.

"Yes."

"As per your instructions, I cast it into a bullet."

"It is now in the magazine of the handgun I carry with me."

London answered respectfully.

"Good...you've done well."

"When the time comes, I will tell you how to use it, and you will use it accordingly, understood?"

"But never let me see it again."