They escaped through the memorystream—a back channel Luma had shown them just before she vanished. A psychic corridor hidden behind moments of intense déjà vu. They emerged in the old library's north wing, gasping, coughing up phantoms.
Rin didn't speak for a long time. Neither did Kuro.
But something between them had shifted. A silence bloomed—not the kind that binds, but the kind that waits.
Three days passed.
Rin studied the Echo Log obsessively. It began to reveal more. Pages no longer fought back. Some stabilized, showing maps of mental architecture. Instructions on how to rebuild the erased.
But Rin couldn't focus. Luma's last words rang louder than any page.
Something gnawed at him.
And then… he found the memory.
A hidden chapter. Buried beneath a code lock that cracked only when Rin remembered the smell of Sera's perfume.
The memory wasn't his.
He watched it unfold: a younger Kuro, kneeling before Archivist Sae. A report. A mission.
"He's the final key," Kuro said. "When he opens the Vault, I'll erase him myself."
The memory collapsed.
Rin reeled.
He confronted Kuro in the archive chamber, voice shaking.
"You lied to me."
Kuro looked tired. Not guilty.
"I used you," he admitted. "And I still am."
Rin raised his hand to strike, but Kuro didn't flinch.
"I never promised to be your friend," he said. "I promised to keep you alive. And I have."
Then he vanished—leaving nothing behind but silence.