Friday came, and with it, nervousness on a level that Gaius could swear that he’d never experienced before, both in his past and his present life.

Which, once he thought about it while washing his face, probably hinted at his single status back on Earth. Once he thought about it, it made some sense — assassins really weren’t prime boyfriend material, after all. Taking a few deep breaths, he walked out of the bathroom and sat on his bed.

“Nervous?” Nexus asked.

“Very.” Gaius looked at the sun, which, like him, just had gotten out of bed, and then trembled. “I don’t even know how to describe this feeling of mine. And I have to endure eight hours of this.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, Isabelle’s probably feeling the same way.”

“I’m supposed to be the guy with memories of his past life,” Gaius replied. “And therefore, I’m not supposed to be…well, whatever mess I’m in right now.”

“Just because you remember your past life doesn’t automatically mean that you have an obligation to be perfect, to put others first.” Nexus replied. “How many times do I need to get that into your thick head?”

“Your arguments aren’t convincing enough in that regard,” Gaius replied.

“Clearly convincing enough for you to take your future seriously enough, though.” The artificial intelligence snickered. “Don’t look at me like that; you know I’m telling the truth.”

Gaius gestured, and the little sculpture floated over to him while upside-down. Ignoring Nexus’ protests, he looked at the well-made figurine thoughtfully, bobbing it up and down to gather his thoughts. Whatever he’d said earlier about Nexus’ arguments not being convincing was a lie; he wanted to believe in them too.

As Nexus did a few cartwheels next, Gaius rubbed his temple. He knew why he didn’t want to accept Nexus’ arguments. It wasn’t because they weren’t convincing enough — Gaius couldn’t care less if there were other people like him.

No.

He was afraid of the future. If he were to accept Nexus’ arguments, that it was fine for him to seek out happiness now and forever, Gaius knew that he would no longer be able to move on. He would never be able to accept his fate of being torn away, to lead a solitary existence at a place where no one would ever come.

Who could? In a future where the Demon God was defeated, and the world was at peace…even the greatest of saints wouldn’t willingly condemn themselves into watching over the Crying Abyss for all time. If he was indeed forced into such a scenario, Gaius wasn’t sure if his mind would survive it.

And when it all boiled over, the Five Lands would have simply traded one enemy — the Demon Sovereign — for another terrifying foe. A mad, broken Gaius, with the powers of the Crying Abyss at his command.

Gaius knew himself well enough.

Whether he could convey his thoughts to Isabelle or not was a whole other issue. More importantly, there was a part of him who didn’t care what happened, so long as he attained his own happiness.

Was he going to deny that part? It was a good question, one that Gaius didn’t have an answer to. After all, if he already had one…he wouldn’t have arranged to meet her in the first place.

Taking in a few deep breaths, Gaius belatedly realised that he had been waving Nexus around for quite some time, and then lowered the sculpture onto his bed hurriedly. “Whoops.”

“Whoops, indeed.” Nexus shook its head like a dog shaking off water, and then sprawled over onto his mattress. “It seems that you’ve finally sorted your thoughts out, in a way.”

“I had an entire year in Cybral to think about it,” Gaius replied. “Don’t reduce my efforts there into nothing.”

“It’s different,” Nexus replied. “There, you were thinking and planning for a future without you. But the you earlier weren’t thinking about anything but yourself. Thoughts. Worries. Hopes. Fears. For once, you took my advice, and stopped thinking about the others.”

It paused for a moment to sit up. “What have you decided on?”

“I wish I knew too,” Gaius replied. “But at least I’m not going to do a no-show or something. I owe her…I owe Isabelle too much. She, at least, deserves to know everything I do. As for what comes next…”

“Please don’t say something like ‘We’ll get married after the war’, though.” Nexus leaned forward, and despite its expressionless face, Gaius could see a small smirk on its face. “That’s just a death flag, and since death flags probably won’t apply to you, it’s going to apply to—”

“Okay, let’s stop right there,” Gaius said. “I won’t say anything about that, alright?”

“That’s better.”

Slapping his cheeks twice, he picked up the artificial intelligence and walked out of the room. Once downstairs, he looked around, only to see a table laid out with breakfast. Nakama had gone out early in the morning to play with her friends, something he was a tad worried about.

He was definitely overthinking it, however. His sister had been doing that while he had been in coma; nothing would change just because he woke up.

“Still,” Gaius wondered out loud, “where’s Isabelle and La-Ti?”

“I was practicing,” a familiar voice replied. Gaius turned his head to see Isabelle holding onto a rapier — the same one she’d chosen back when they were exploring Solaris’ tomb together. Her cheeks were particularly rosy, and for a moment, Gaius wanted to squish them.

“Seems like you’ve been doing it regularly,” Gaius replied.

“Of course. Anyway, breakfast is ready. You can start first, if you want to.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Gaius replied.

“I thought we were starting off in the evening, not in the morning,” Isabelle replied, her eyes twinkling.

“Just think of it as a warm-up. I am unbelievably nervous,” Gaius replied.

“And you’re fine with telling me that?” Isabelle replied.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Isabelle turned away from him at a speed that was slightly faster than usual. “I’m going to wash up and change.”

She returned around fifteen minutes later, and a placid breakfast followed. Gaius wasn’t going to do anything, not until evening fell.

After all, who talks through serious things at the crack of dawn?