M- MILENDA???
"Good morning, Fez! How are you doing?" She smiled like nothing had happened—that day, or any of the days after.
"…M-..Morning," Fez mumbled, voice low.
He watched her fuss with the sleeve over her bandage, almost embarrassed for her gentleness.
She's fine…
His thoughts stumbled over the relief, the disbelief.
…despite what happened.
Tch… ZEF's voice dripped disgust, curling against the inside of Fez's skull like smoke.
Fez ignored him, stepping into stride beside Milenda as they walked past the checkout lanes.
She's so cuuuute…
Ahh…I should stay calm. Stay calm, stay normal…
Tch.
ZEF's voice was sharper this time, practically sneering.
Stop already. You're unattractive when you're like this.
Fez pretended he didn't hear, pressing his lips together before finally finding the nerve to speak.
"…Sorry for the loss. That was because of m—"
Milenda reached out without hesitation, pressing a finger lightly to his lips.
"No, no…it's okay!"
Her smile was a little tired but genuine.
"I think I've…passed through that."
he let her hand drop from his lips, gaze drifting to the tiled floor.
"…Grek was a kind person, though. He didn't deserve that end."
Heh. ZEF's voice came in low, curling with cruel amusement.
So maybe he deserved two holes—one in the heart and one in the head?
Fez clenched his jaw, trying not to let it show on his face.
"…Do you know where Zack went?"
Milenda looked up, blinking like she'd just woken from a long sleep.
"I…I don't remember." She pressed her palm to her temple, her brow knitting as if the answer was hiding behind her eyes.
"I just…found myself in front of the hospital," she murmured, voice distant. "Saw the doctors holding me…running somewhere. I don't really know how I got there."
Fez shifted, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out that sounded right.
"…He's…an amazing, mysterious person, right?"
His voice was quiet, almost careful, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to say it.
"I know right!??"
Her face brightened, just a little, with something close to pride.
"He's our savior, after all. He killed ZEF."
For a moment, Fez almost believed it—until a quiet laugh uncoiled in the back of his mind, cold and mirthless.
"Ah—yes, yes…he did it."
Not bad at lying, boy, ZEF added, voice low and amused.
Fez kept his hand closed tight around something small, hidden in his fist.
They walked side by side until they reached the low hill just outside town—the place they'd always ended up before everything fell apart.
In the past days, Milenda had never sat there. She'd only stood, watching the horizon like she was waiting for something.
This time, Fez plopped down first, a little too fast.
He jolted back upright when he realized she was still standing over him.
"Ah—aaa…the weather is beautiful, right? Right? Haha…"
Milenda didn't say anything at first, just looked down at him with that quiet, patient smile.
"Oh! I—I almost forgot!"
He opened his fist, holding the hairclip out to her like it was something precious.
"Take this."
For a moment, there was only the hush of wind in the grass—
That thing… ZEF's voice drifted up,
"Oh…I thought you'd dropped it."
Milenda took the hairclip carefully, her fingers brushing his for just a second.
"Thank you so much, Fez. This is…the only thing that reminds me of my mother. It belonged to her."
The breeze moved through the grass, stirring the edges of her hair.
Suddenly, ZEF's words about her echoed in Fez's head—sharp and impossible to ignore.
He swallowed, voice a little unsteady.
"Can I…ask you a question?"
She tilted her head, curious.
"Are your powers—the poisoning—do they…have healing features too?"
"…because when you cried in my chest…it re—"
SHUT UP, KID.
ZEF's voice slammed through his head, jagged with something that almost sounded like panic.
SHUT THE HELL UP.
Milenda blinked, her hand frozen where it was tucking the hairclip into her hair.
"…Fez? are you okay?"
Fez didn't answer. He just kept staring at her, eyes flat and searching.
Inside his skull, ZEF's voice hissed again, low and furious:
What are you trying to remind her of, kid? She's in trauma right now. You want to freak her out? Make her remember you had a wound? You'll make her state even worse.
The air seemed to thin around Fez's lungs.
DON'T YOU DARE show her the dark wound in your chest…
His gaze dropped to the grass "…I think…you're right," he murmured, almost to himself.
But he knew—ZEF wasn't protecting him.
He was protecting himself.
"What's wrong with you, Fez?"
Milenda tilted her head, and a small, sweet laugh slipped out—just for a second, almost shy.
"Features? I don't think they had anything…special."
Her smile faded into something more thoughtful as she toyed with the hairclip.
"You know what…I wish I'd never had those powers."
Her voice softened, drifting down with the breeze.
"They were…inherited from my mom."
She looked out over the slope of the hill, eyes distant.
"In this world…there are so few real heroes. My mom was one of them."
She hesitated, then added quietly:
"…She was in the Super Elites."
"Did she?" Fez asked, like he hadn't really heard that last part.
"Yes…"
Milenda's gaze dropped to her hands. She turned the hairclip over and over, as if it might give her something to hold onto.
"…and I took her place."
"Why?" Fez said softly.
Her jaw tightened, the edges of her voice roughening.
"Because…I will never forgive that person."
Her fingers stilled on the hairclip.
"I will never forget that person—even if he's dead."
She looked up, her eyes dark with something fierce and old.
"I swear…I will never forgive ZEF."
Inside Fez's mind, a cold, delighted laugh began to spool out—low and echoing, twisted with glee.
Heh…heh heh heh…
ZEF's amusement rasped through his skull like claws on glass.
"But…he vanished. He isn't in this world anymore, right?"
Fez felt the cold laugh still coiling in his head, wrapping tighter around his thoughts.
"…Yes…sure," he said.
The laughter didn't stop HYSTERICALLY, even.
Fez's confusion snapped into raw frustration.
"SHUT UP ALREADY!!!"
Milenda flinched, blinking at him like he'd slapped her.
"…Huh? Excuse me?"
She leaned in closer, her face puzzled, searching his eyes.
"Oh—s-sorry, sorry," Fez stammered, hands waving frantically. "It was…um…a bee. Beside me."
"Oh… i see..." She tilted her head, studying him for a second longer before letting it drop.
"Anyway, Fez…did you hear about the heroes selection global contest?"
"I think I did…I saw it on TV yesterday" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yes. It's going to start this afternoon."
"…Because…the Super Elite has disjointed."
"…Why?" Fez asked, almost under his breath.
She looked down at her hands again, voice low.
Because…I stopped being a hero
Somewhere else—in an old house tucked inside a crumbling apartment block in a city thick with bad men and worse rumors—
A man sat alone in a narrow room, the wallpaper peeling in long, curling strips.
Books and thick journals crowded every shelf, piled in uneven towers that leaned toward the ceiling.
A chipped coffee cup steamed beside him, the scent mixing with the stale air and the faint trace of pipe smoke.
He turned a page with careful fingers, eyes tracing neat rows of notes—dates, names, theories scribbled in a looping hand.
A single desk lamp cast a warm, yellow pool over his work.
He paused, tapping the end of his pen against the paper.
In a quiet tone that didn't quite match the shadows curling around the room, he murmured:
"I love super heroes."