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Geppetto's puppet felt distressed, an emotion he had experienced before, but never like this. Compared to those previous moments, his heart was now far more developed.

It was both a blessing and a curse to have a heart. It let him live, feel love and joy—but it also condemned him to pain, loss, and grief.

In his short life, he had already experienced loss, but at least with Sophia, he had been able to do something .

But this time, when he found himself unable to return to Lea and Romeo, worry began to take root.

Was he now only able to return to a frozen time?

The sun no longer set there, nor did the moon rise. That morning, eternally sunny and snow-covered, had been frozen still.

But no one remained. There was no trace of the people who had once loved the boy his heart belonged to.

Had something happened to them?

Had they succumbed to their wounds?

Had they been attacked?

He had already suffered the loss of Romeo once— by his own hand . It had been unbearable. His heart ached for Romeo even if he couldn't yet name the emotion. But now, having learned how close they once were, how deeply Romeo had suffered for Geppetto’s son, he realized it wasn’t just the echo of Carlo’s ergo yearning for him— he yearned for him too.

Every time he recalled their battle, how he had defeated him, the pain weighed heavy on his soul. That’s why he had kept Romeo’s ergo. Ergo that whispered his name. Because the deepest part of him missed him.

He longed for him.

And after witnessing that smile—the one Romeo wore when Lea rescued him from Arlecchino’s horrific display—he knew he wanted, needed, to see it again. That smile had been beautiful. It had comforted his soul, even if the circumstances around them had been horrifying.

“ Romeo didn’t deserve any of this, ” he repeated to himself. “ Not what Arlecchino did to him. Not what my father did to him. Not what I did to him. ”

Lea didn’t deserve her suffering either.

From the moment he heard of the Legendary Stalker, his ergo stirred. A mild fascination which he couldn't put into words. Then curiosity. Then pain. Especially after seeing her final memory in the sand while going to the alchemist isle.

He had wondered if she and Carlo had been close. Now, after retracing her steps and following her desperate journey to save Romeo, he knew .

They were a family. The three of them.

Carlo was deeply loved—and he loved them just as deeply. He knew it. His ergo told him. And somehow, despite barely knowing them, he loved them too.

He didn’t feel he had the right to, but he couldn’t help it.

All he wanted was for them to be happy. Safe.

But now, not being able to reunite with them… he feared the worst. Gemini tried to reassure him, told him they were probably fine.

But if they were fine… why couldn't he go back to them?

His soul panicked. What if he hadn’t saved Lea in time? 

What if Romeo hadn’t survived?

What if he had failed?

There was only one way to know: check if he still held Romeo’s ergo.

He dreaded it, but he had to look. He had to know. His hands trembled as he reached out—and when he found Romeo’s ergo still with him, along with the message box Venigni had stored…

His P-Organ stopped for a moment.

Why? Why was it still there?

Where had he failed?

Had all he done not been enough?

Had Romeo still succumbed to the petrification disease, only to be turned into a puppet by his father after all?

Did he still have to fight him?

Why? Why was any of this fair?

What had been the point of going back?

And Lea… where was she? He knew her illness made survival harder. But where was her body ? Her grave ? How could he pay proper respect to her if she was actually gone? And if she wasn’t , then where was she?

The questions weighed him down. Suffocated him.

After retrieving Rosaura, hoping to reactivate her eventually, he went looking for answers.

Even Gemini—who had once reassured him—was now filled with worry and sadness. They both longed to go back. To do something. To try again.

He visited the Opera House, clinging to delusion, hoping something might be different.

But everything remained the same. The scorched floor. The broken stage. The fire.

He tried to visit the zoo. It was gone, burned down, just as Gemini had said.

The Kroud had destroyed both the Zelator facility and the ruins. And he had no way of reaching the Monad Charity House.

What was left?

What could he do?

All of this had been an ergo phenomenon. So he fixed his hopes on one last idea—maybe if he returned to a place of high ergo concentration, he would see the white butterflies again.

Maybe—just maybe—he could go back once more.

He visited the Alchemist Island again and rushed into the sandstorm. Perhaps there, he would be able to find clues, or maybe even see them again. Maybe he could witness what had changed for them.

And he did notice a change.

A single memory was waiting for him. Lea was there, watching over Carlo’s body on the floor.

Geppetto’s puppet slowed his pace, relieved to find her presence. He approached and focused on them, silently wishing Lea would step out of the sand and speak to him.

But this time, she was not lamenting her failure to arrive on time. She was thanking him for coming back and wishing they could meet again. Then, after softly calling the name of the boy whose ergo he now carried, her cherished student, she vanished.

The distress quickly returned. The same overwhelming emotion he had felt when he defeated Romeo—when he heard his ergo crying out—came flooding back. But now he could finally name the feeling.

He was sad . Deeply, painfully sad.

And his P-Organ hurt.

It made no sense. It was a mechanical device, it shouldn’t have been able to translate this emotion. But somehow, it did. It felt as if the P-Organ itself were being crushed. Or perhaps more accurately, as if it were crushing his ergo from the inside.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

He had felt this before, and yet he still wasn’t used to it. He didn’t like being sad. But sadness was part of being alive—part of being a real boy, a person of his own—so he accepted the feeling.

Still, he couldn’t accept the outcome of it all.

So he went to what he considered his last resort.

He visited Sophia and told her everything he had just experienced. She could manipulate time to a certain extent, and she had been close to Lea and Romeo—so if anyone could help him, surely it would be her.

But the puppet-turned-human did not get the answers he was hoping for.

She listened to him carefully, silently, as her mechanical eyes shed what looked like tears.

She hadn’t heard or seen anything from Lea after she cut ties with the family, but she knew Lea had kept a caring eye on her. Then, she completely lost track of her once she was taken by Simon to the Arche Abbey.

From there, she tried reaching out to anyone who could help her, and despite all her searches across Krat, she had never stumbled upon Lea’s ergo—or any real trace of her—so she truly wouldn’t know what had become of her.

As for his experience in the past, she was both marveled and confused. She had a powerful affinity and control over ergo, but her time-related powers were limited to rewinding time for a single individual, and even those had only become so potent because of the experiments Simon performed on her.

She was certain she could never send anyone so far back in time, and she wouldn’t dare try.

Still, she was able to provide thoughtful theories about what might have happened, based on the documents Geppetto’s puppet had recovered from his time in the past—yet another reminder that what he experienced had not been a dream.

She had never known that Carlo’s mother had been a Listener as well, but that revelation shed new light on why she had been able to communicate with Geppetto’s puppet in the way she did.

“Perhaps those white butterflies were a manifestation of Carlo’s powers and will, guiding you, so you could help those dearest to him.”

“But I don’t think, clever one, that this phenomenon could be repeated. What you experienced was a singular moment, where a strong wish was able to cross the bounds of time—a phenomenon as rare as a shooting star landing at our feet. Unique, and most likely unrepeatable.”

“I’m sorry, kind one. I’m afraid I don’t have the answers you’re looking for,” she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder in quiet comfort.

The silver-haired puppet felt defeated. Was this simply how things were meant to be? He had brought them peace… but in the end, he had not been able to save them.

He grew pale. The shine in his eyes abruptly vanished, and though he didn’t notice it, his hands began to tremble.

Sophia noticed, and offered for him to stay the night at her place. If anyone in the world was still safe, it was him.

But he was clearly shaken, and she thought it would be best if he had time to rest—both physically and mentally.

Puppets were not designed to sleep, yet both of them did anyway. Sophia was simply happy to disconnect from the world for a moment, while Geppetto’s puppet found himself fascinated by the strange ability of his mind to play images and situations within his head.

But that night, he didn’t sleep at all. He lay on the bed staring at the night sky, trying in vain to forget what he saw as his failure.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t think of anything else but the fact that he hadn’t been able to save Lea or Romeo. And when the pain became completely unbearable, he carefully took out Romeo’s ergo.

He cradled it, holding it close to his chest.

And that simple gesture—just holding Romeo’s ergo right next to his own—brought a strange lightness to his being. It felt almost like he was being hugged.

There were no arms around him, but there was something, someone , wrapped around his heart, keeping it from breaking further.

And his heart responded to the pull, to the call. So he hugged the ergo even closer and closed his eyes.

This pull, this gravitation between their ergos, was incredibly strong. It even felt alive.

He knew the feeling was stemming from Carlo’s ergo—but by now, the line between where Carlo ended and he began had become blurred. He didn’t have Carlo’s memories, but he had carried this ergo, nourished it, filled it with his own thoughts, his own will, his own feelings.

This ergo, this heart, was his as well.

He had his own bond to Romeo. He missed him. He wanted to see him again. There was nothing he wished for more than to see that smile again—the one he had glimpsed, fleetingly, under the snowy dawn on the human face of the puppet he had so unfairly slain.

He wanted to spend time with him. Hear his story. Save Krat together. Feel together. Be embraced by him in moments like this… just feel his arms around him again.

The puppet curled up even more. Sleep would not come for him tonight. But he still thought of images, of scenarios—where he and Romeo worked hand in hand, helping puppets and humans alike as Krat slowly healed.

Not only that. He imagined them discovering new places, exploring the world, simply existing together, and having company.

He lay there the whole night, lost in imagination, voicelessly asking:

“ How can I help you, Romeo? How can I see you again? ”

His mind wandered back through his entire journey—from the moment he woke up in that train workshop, to this very day, after everything he had been through. And that’s when the thought came to him.

He had been able to give life back to Sophia. So what if he could do the same for Romeo? What if he gave him a second chance?

The sun was already high in the sky when he jumped out of bed. And before even pitching the idea to Gemini, he went to find Sophia, who was already tending her garden.

He didn’t say anything. He simply showed her Romeo’s ergo.

Sophia, as a Listener, recognized it, and understood.

“Is this what you want, kind one?” she asked gently.

Geppetto’s puppet nodded, but then frowned, his expression shadowed with doubt.

“Is this selfish? Would this be the same as what my father did to him?” he asked, his voice low and nearly trembling.

“You would bring him back unattached to strings. Once he returns, you can ask him if he wants this second chance or not.”

The answer didn’t completely ease his worries, but she was right. He could give Romeo the choice.

“Will you be using his same puppet body?”

He nodded… then shook his head, reconsidering. He would need to use the King of Puppets' body, so Romeo’s ergo could remain stable. But the body was incredibly damaged—mostly by his own hand. And if he truly wanted to give Romeo a second chance at life, a life where he could feel human again, it would need to be repaired… perhaps even rebuilt.

Just by looking at his uncertain face, Sophia understood. They had been through much together. She had learned to read him even without words.

“Do you know anything about puppet creation or maintenance?”

He answered with a silent shake of the head.

“Well,” she said, “you could always ask Venigni or Eugénie. They are masters of their craft. There’s also the documentation Geppetto left behind. If you wish to proceed, this would be a good place to start. Just be careful, clever one. Even if they are your allies and friends, the world still isn’t ready to understand our situation—as human souls in puppet bodies.”

Geppetto’s puppet nodded.

He thanked her and returned to the hotel. Before starting anything, there was much he needed to think through and prepare. So he spent a couple of days roaming the city, hunting carcasses and planning.

When he finally understood everything that had to be done, it was time to put his plan into motion.

---------------------------------------------------

The first part of his plan was perhaps the most crucial: he needed to make sure the King of Puppets’ body was still there.

Geppetto’s puppet was terrified it might be gone. After all, his father had visited the Opera House shortly after his battle with Romeo, and he could only pray that he hadn’t destroyed or disposed of the body.

So he went back to look for him throughout the Opera House, this time it wouldn’t be a short visit.

The fire that had scarred Romeo’s body was finally extinguished, but everything else remained the same—the stage, the broken glass, the stains.

Most of the puppets that once roamed the venue were nowhere in sight, making it safer to explore. Not that he wanted to harm them, he now knew they had only attacked him because they were protecting their king.

After a while, he came upon a corridor where a few puppets were still gathered, and he followed them.

It took them a moment to notice him. And when they did, they moved to attack. But instead of retaliating, he lowered his weapon and bowed.

It was both an apology and a gesture of peace, a way to say: I am not here to hurt you.

It was a risk—he had harmed them so deeply in the past—but even though they menacingly reached towards him, they stopped at the last second. Then, without a sound, they turned away and continued on their path.

The puppet who had broken free of his father's schemes silently thanked them. He couldn't speak their language, but they were able to understand him.

So he continued after them, now more cautiously, careful not to provoke them.

And following these puppets proved to be the right decision, for they led him to a small sanctuary. There, they had laid their king’s body on a bed made of crimson drapes, surrounded by fresh flowers. The puppets still mourned him.

The silver-haired puppet’s heart froze at the sight. Relief surged through him, Romeo’s body was preserved, cared for, but it hurt so deeply to see him lying there, injured, lifeless, with closed eyes.

He was forced to confront the full weight of what he had done.

Even if he hadn’t known the truth at the time, the guilt remained—he carried it with him every day.

He approached slowly. Some puppets moved in protest, but after sensing no threat, they allowed him to draw closer to their monarch. He knelt beside Romeo and gently took one of his hands, cradling it between his own.

He promised them he would bring him back. He asked them to keep caring for him in the meantime. He wasn't sure if they trusted him, but they didn’t stop him. And in the end, they let him leave in peace.

From that day on, he returned to the Opera House again and again, always checking that Romeo and the puppets were safe, always bringing fresh flowers to lay at his side.

The second part of the plan involved learning about puppet repair and anatomy. To achieve this, he would need help from two individuals. The first was Venigni, and the second was his friend from the swamp—the broken puppet.

Geppetto’s puppet went to the swamp first, as he needed his friend’s consent before doing anything else. The broken puppet, as always, greeted him warmly and welcomed the proposal with great excitement.

The puppet-turned-human had asked only a single question: “Would you like to be able to explore the world by yourself?”

And the broken puppet had immediately agreed.

He was excited about being repaired and having a few modifications made that would help him experience emotions better. It didn’t matter that, in order to do this, he would have to reveal the truth of his free will to a human—he trusted his only friend, and he knew he would never put him in danger.

Now that he had the broken puppet’s consent, it was time to approach the other person involved in this step of the plan: Venigni.

Geppetto’s puppet had considered including Eugénie, but she still carried a slight bias against puppets. He feared she wouldn’t take well to the idea of granting a puppet more autonomy. So for now, he left her out and reached out only to Lorenzini. Despite his complicated history with puppets, Venigni had always treated him, Pulcinella, and even Fuoco as close companions.

Venigni was surprised to hear that the one who had saved his life had an awakened puppet as a friend, but he wasn’t shocked by hearing about another case of a puppet developing an ego.

He had always known it was possible, ever since he was a child. And after spending so many years with Pulcinella, he had never doubted it. Despite the mechanical body, Pulcinella had a heart—a loving one that cared for him like a father.

It was the same with his savior. Venigni had watched his heart evolve until he became human in his own right.

He also knew that Geppetto’s puppet cared deeply for him and was someone who fought for peace. So he was certain he wouldn’t have proposed this plan unless he truly believed it was safe. Because of that, he gladly accepted. To him, the whole idea felt as though the puppet simply wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps by learning the art of puppet-making.

In fact, he was honored to be the one teaching Geppetto’s son, as if he were passing on the torch he once believed he had received from the old man himself. And Geppetto’s puppet would never break that illusion for him.

They decided to use a small workshop nearby. Venigni’s Works was still not completely safe, with carcasses and rogue puppets lingering in the area, but this smaller workshop was close enough to the hotel for safety, and far enough from the public eye to keep their project a secret—for the broken puppet’s sake.

Once everything was set up, the puppet that resembled Carlo returned to the swamp and carefully brought his friend to the workshop. There, he and Venigni worked on his body for weeks.

The work itself went smoothly. Lorenzini was an excellent teacher, and Geppetto’s puppet was remarkably gifted at learning. It also helped that, during the process, the apprentice puppet returned to Geppetto’s old workshops and ransacked everything, collecting his books and manuals to continue studying from his father’s legacy.

The hardest part of this phase was securing the right materials. With Krat still isolated from the outside world and much of it in ruins, it was really hard to find anything new and in good condition. So for everything they needed, the puppet had to travel across the city and surrounding areas to scavenge what he could.

It was always dangerous, but one benefit of going alone was that any materials he found, he could split—half for his friend’s restoration, and half for Romeo’s. It doubled the effort and time, but for Romeo, it was worth it.

After a couple of months, they finally finished restoring the broken puppet—who, at this point, was broken no longer.

The puppet was now able to stand on his own and run, and thanks to all the modifications made to him, he could now express emotions on his face as he felt them.

He was ecstatic—overjoyed with his transformation. And of course, he was incredibly grateful to both of them—and to Pulcinella as well, who had been present throughout the entire process, frequently conversing with him and offering companionship.

They even prepared some clothing for him, so he would be ready to explore the outside world.

It was a bittersweet moment for everyone. Geppetto’s puppet had grown used to his friend’s company. He had been a constant presence, someone with whom he could share discoveries and reflect on the feelings of what being human meant to them. And now, he was leaving.

He was happy for his friend, of course—but he also knew he would miss him.

“Don’t worry, my first friend. I’ll think of you often. And I’ll surely visit you in the future!” the newly awakened puppet promised.

Venigni was deeply moved by witnessing the growth of yet another puppet. During the process, he had considered attaching covenant rules to his systems, just as a precaution to prevent any harm to humans. His past urged him to do so—it was what logic and fear dictated—but in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to even suggest it.

This puppet had free will, just like any human or living creature. Why should having a mechanical body subject him to restrictions that wouldn't apply to humans?

Humans shouldn’t kill either. That was a choice—guided by law, yes—but not a law etched into their very soul.

So, in the end, he chose to believe again, just as he had believed in Pulcinella, and just as he now believed in his Compagno .

“And thank you too, for introducing me to new friends,” the once-broken puppet said, turning to his first friend as he gave a warm smile to the others as well.
“You have all been very kind to me.”

They each shook his hand, and the puppet left, dressed like a human, feeling like a human, and once he was out of sight, the silver-haired puppet turned to Venigni.

“Thank you, for all your help. I learned a lot from you,” he said, a soft smile curving his lips.

“Compagno, my friend,” Venigni replied as he began tidying the workshop, “after everything you’ve done for me, this is nothing. You were a delight to work with, and you certainly have the talent to be an inventor in your own right! If you ever want to start a career as a craftsman or workshop technician, let me know—we can make it happen.”

“I’ll… think about it,” the puppet replied.

After cleaning up everything, they closed the workshop and left it as it was for the time being. Geppetto’s puppet knew that to repair and bring Romeo back, he would need secrecy and a workspace of his own. After all, making repairs on an already functioning puppet was not the same as trying to bring someone back to life, despite their similarities.

Besides, Romeo was the King of Puppets—and even if no one had ever seen what lay beneath that massive mechanical armor, he didn’t want to take any risks. He wouldn't endanger Romeo.

So he took over his late father’s hidden workshop inside the train wagon. The area around it wasn’t completely free of carcasses yet, but at least no large monstrosities roamed nearby anymore. The wagon itself had reinforced walls, and with a few added security measures to prevent anyone from stumbling upon it by accident, it was ready to serve as his new base.

While transporting materials and books to the workshop, his weapon and puppet string legion arm suffered some minor damage. It wasn’t anything serious—he could have easily repaired them himself using his tools or with the power of a Stargazer—but he decided to use the opportunity to initiate the third part of his plan: asking Eugénie for guidance on weapon and legion arm repair and creation.

He wasn’t sure what kind of life Romeo would want to lead after waking, if he even woke up and chose to keep on living at all, but he wanted to offer him the same opportunities he had. Romeo had been a Stalker, a skilled fighter, and he wanted to ensure he had the means to continue that life, should he wish to.

However, the ability Sophia had granted him to rewind time was unique and couldn’t be shared. That meant he had to be prepared to maintain and fix anything Romeo might need.

Eugénie was delighted to help Geppetto’s puppet. She did wonder how his weapons had always returned in near-perfect condition after so many battles, but she chose not to dwell on it. Instead, she was simply happy to continue supporting the one who had kept them all safe—so that he, in turn, could continue helping others and searching for survivors throughout the city.

She was even more elated when he asked her to teach him about maintenance and crafting. It was an honor for her to instruct Geppetto’s son himself.

She provided incredible tips and information: diagrams, blueprints, material lists, and techniques. The puppet felt almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of knowledge being handed to him, but he was grateful regardless. He also found genuine joy in the process. Learning new things alongside friends brought him happiness.

He even brought some of Geppetto’s notebooks to her so they could decipher them together.

The puppet who could lie gained all the knowledge he needed for the moment. He would certainly return to Eugénie in the future to deepen his understanding and share his findings, but for now, he had everything he needed to begin the fourth part of his plan: restoring the King of Puppets’ body.

Now that everything was ready, he needed to retrieve it. The puppets had accepted his presence as he left flowers for their King, but he wasn’t sure if they would allow him to take Romeo away.

He didn’t want to hurt them, but he was unsure how to explain his intentions. Should he tell them everything? Should he reveal Romeo’s ergo to show he meant no harm?

Unable to decide, he asked Sophia for help. She softly giggled and agreed to accompany him.

Even though they were there to take Romeo, both brought flowers with them. When they reached the chamber where Romeo rested and offered their flowers, Sophia gently took his hand and prompted him: “Use your heart to convey what you want to say.”

He closed his eyes and thought of the King of Puppets: of their fight, his guilt, the care he’d given Romeo’s ergo, and how deeply he longed for him. He remembered the smile Romeo wore that snowy morning, and his desire to see that smile again.

And as if the puppets could hear his heart, they slowly moved aside, gazing at him with sad but gentle eyes. None of them raised a hand in protest.

Sophia gave him a quiet nod.

The puppet who bore Carlo’s face stepped forward, and with the utmost care, lifted Romeo’s limp body and held it close to his chest.

The puppets in the room placed a hand over their hearts; others simply waved at him.

“I promise I will take care of him,” he said.

Then they left.

Geppetto’s puppet took Sophia home first.

“Let me know if you need anything else, kind one,” she offered.

The puppet nodded, then left with Romeo for his workshop.

He gently placed the other puppet in the work chair and pulled up a stool to sit by his side for a moment.

Then, he took out Romeo’s ergo and held it close to his head. The ergo called to his again, and he couldn’t help but feel every inch of his body stirring—overwhelmed by feeling.

“I promise I’ll bring you back,” he whispered to the warm, glowing sphere he held. “I promise, Romeo.”

He carefully stored the precious ergo away, securing it where it would remain safe. And then, Geppetto’s son finally began the repairs on his dear King of Puppets.

But repairing Romeo took much longer than Geppetto’s puppet would have liked.

One of the main reasons was that, even if he had wanted to dedicate 100% of his time to the restoration effort, the truth was that he still had a duty to Krat. He cared deeply for his friends at the hotel, for the puppets whose egos had awakened, and for the innocents still struggling to survive in the ruined city.

He continued clearing Krat of carcasses and rogue puppets too far gone to be saved. It was a task that would likely take years to complete, but any progress was meaningful progress.

He also rescued survivors and guided them to the hotel, where Venigni and Polendina looked after them.

The community remained small, but everyone was willing to help.

They also had to think about the future. Staying in Krat was dangerous, with Kroud still present in many areas, so they were considering the possibility of starting over somewhere new.

In the meantime, Venigni—with the help of the puppet who had given him closure about his past—created a few miner automatons. These were powered only by electricity (now that they fully understood ergo came from human life) and were used to remove the Kroud from small areas. The material was then transported to the mines, so they could begin clearing a path to move safely and secure provisions.

They were still figuring out how to safely dispose of the mineral, but for the time being, the plan was working.

The silver-haired puppet also visited the Opera House regularly to make sure the puppets there were doing well. From time to time, he even brought new awakened puppets to join them, giving them a haven of their own.

And even with all this going on, he always made time to return to Romeo and continue his repairs.

It struck him as strange when he realized he had started to actually need sleep. Before, he had chosen to rest out of curiosity, his own decision to explore the dream world—but now, he was so thoroughly exhausted from his duties, and from working night and day in the workshop to give the King of Puppets a proper body, that his own body began to shut down on its own.

He learned what a yawn was, and what it felt like to be sleepy.

Gemini suggested that he bring in a blanket and a pillow. Whenever he noticed his vision blurring or his hands failing to do what he wanted them to, he would lie down and fall asleep, waking up feeling refreshed.

Perhaps this was just another sign of his constant evolution, becoming more human each day.

He found it amusing—and, in some ways, comforting—that it was mostly Romeo who had guided him through his most drastic changes as he embraced his humanity.

The second biggest reason Romeo’s body was taking so much longer than the broken puppet's repairs was because, this time, he lacked a second pair of experienced hands.

Of course, Geppetto’s son made sure his work was impeccable—he would accept nothing less than perfection for Romeo—but this meant he had to take more time, avoiding any mistakes.

He couldn’t call on Venigni this time. He had to do everything on his own.

While creating the parts for Romeo wasn’t difficult, deciding on how those parts should look, and how much of the King of Puppets' original body he should retain, was far more challenging.

Many aspects of his father's previous design were not functional, and some were even detrimental in this form. Geppetto had likely prioritized making Romeo fit into the enormous puppet body he was forced into, rather than considering the more human capabilities he required.

The cord on Romeo’s back, which had been heavy and clearly designed to provide some kind of support, was the first thing to go. He would no longer need to be tethered to that massive body.

Then, there were his legs. He remembered their fight—how Romeo towered over him. He knew that in the past, and from the paintings and pictures, Romeo had been tall, but with a proportionate build.

So he would have to completely redo his legs.

As for his arms and face, he came to a standstill.

He couldn’t shake the memory of Romeo’s bloodied and mutilated arms hanging limply in front of him, a haunting and painful image from the Rose State.

His first instinct was to create a new set of arms for Romeo and cover them with synthetic skin. That way, perhaps Romeo could forget the trauma he’d endured.

But… who was he to decide that for him? Who was he to reshape that memory, to rewrite that pain?

It was hard to accept—seeing Romeo's damaged arms brought him intense sorrow—but it wasn’t his pain that mattered. In the end, he chose not to cover the arms with skin.

Romeo's current ones were too damaged from their battle, so he carefully built new prosthetic arms. He made sure they had the same capabilities as his own steel arm, with full range and strength, while preserving much of the visual design Romeo had worn as the King of Puppets.

Working on his face and head was especially time-consuming. He wanted to craft every detail with the utmost care, replicating every nuance of Romeo’s handsome face.

Romeo had lost most of his puppet face because of him, so it felt like the very least he could do— the bare minimum —was to repair the damage he had caused.

He gave him the ability to grow facial hair and hair in general. He sculpted skin with a soft, peach-like texture full of life. He tinted his lips with the same rosy hue he remembered from that snowy morning when he rescued him, and gave his eyes the depth, color, and shine they had always deserved.

The final and most challenging piece of the puzzle was recreating the P-organ.

The P-organ was no ordinary mechanism. It was special—essential. It kept his ergo protected and flowing, and it was what had allowed him to connect to emotion, to emulate a human heart. If Romeo was to have a real second chance, he needed that organ too.

Of course, Romeo didn’t need the same level of monstrous ergo input. So Geppetto’s puppet modified it: enough capabilities to grab ergo to sustain and nurture him, but without the risk of overload.

But this was the most difficult task of all. Geppetto had left behind at least a hundred manuals and blueprints, most of which were nearly impossible to fully absorb in a short amount of time.

And even if he wanted to, he couldn’t remove his own P-organ to study it up close.

So he relied on what Venigni and Eugénie had taught him. He trusted his instincts, his learning, and the will of his own heart—and he began to build.

There was no room for error, so he approached the task with utmost precision and care.

And in the end, all the hard work paid off. He completed the organ. All the tests suggested it would work. It responded as expected. It held energy. But he still had to insert Romeo’s ergo and bring him back to life.

Before doing so, however, he wanted to prepare something more.

He needed clothing.

Back at the hotel, he had learned to sew with the help of Pulcinella and Polendina and Eugénie. After gathering high-quality fabrics, he crafted a shirt and pants, simple, but elegant. They were nearly identical to what he had worn when he first awakened. And they bore a striking resemblance to what Romeo had worn when Arlecchino captured him—probably what they both had used as Stalkers in their past lives.

And finally, after months of work, Romeo’s body was complete. He was clothed, repaired, restored. Everything was in place.

Now, it was time to begin the fifth and final part of the plan: Give him his ergo back—and breathe life into him once more.

---------------------------------------------------

For the final step, he chose Sophia’s new home.

He himself had woken up in that very workshop, and he remembered how confused—and, to whatever extent he had been capable—strange he had felt. But he didn’t want that for Romeo. He wanted him to feel different. Safe. Maybe even… cozy.

Sophia had already offered one of the spare rooms in her new residence, a small villa on an isolated island near the Rose State. Far from civilization, known only to her family. It was a sanctuary. A place where both she and Romeo would be safe.

When Geppetto’s puppet arrived, Sophia guided him to the room where he could lay Romeo down. Carefully, reverently, he placed him on the bed.

She was stunned by what he had accomplished. Her eyes shimmered with emotion as she looked at the boy she had once helped raise, now whole again, something she never thought she’d see.

The silver-haired puppet turned to her and asked once more if she was certain about not wanting a new body now that he was sure of his ability. But she gently declined again.

“I’m content,” she said. She rather stayed the way she was than having to undergo more changes, even if it would be painless.

He nodded, understanding, and turned his focus back to Romeo.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” he asked quietly. “What if I did something wrong?”

Sophia placed a hand on his shoulder, offering silent reassurance.

“You’ll never know unless you try, clever one. I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be reading downstairs.” She squeezed his hand, a small gesture filled with hope, and left the room.

Alone now, the puppet with Carlo’s face stood beside Romeo as the sun coming from the window warmed the room.

He looked peaceful—a far cry from how he’d last seen him in their fight at the Opera House.

Geppetto’s puppet stepped closer and took out Romeo’s ergo. Still warm. Still pulsing. Still calling to him. Gently, he placed it into the newly built P-organ. Then, with hesitation and care, he added a sliver of his own life energy, hoping it would be enough to bring him back.

At first, nothing happened.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. The silence stretched. And the silver-haired puppet began to panic.

Had he missed something? Done something wrong? Had he damaged the ergo? Was the P-organ faulty?

His thoughts spiraled.

Just as he was about to head downstairs to get Sophia, the P-organ began to beat.

And then—after a few seconds—Romeo opened his eyes.

Unlike the last time he’d woken, this time he felt… calm. Not horrified. Not afraid. There was confusion, yes, but it wasn’t laced with panic.

Where was he? What had happened?

He slowly turned his head and saw someone standing next to him, watching him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

At first, he didn’t recognize him. The stranger’s hair was a different color now—longer, lighter—but the face... That face was unforgettable. It belonged to Carlo. Or at least, someone who bore his face. This one was softer, more melancholic. Gentler.

Romeo’s instincts made him wary for a heartbeat, but the other puppet—this man—didn’t move. His eyes were filled not with malice, but with joy. Relief.

Before Romeo could speak, he realized something felt... different. His body wasn’t human, but it didn’t feel broken. It didn’t feel like a cage. He raised a hand to his face and felt skin. Warm, textured skin beneath his mechanical fingers.

He stood up abruptly, searching for a mirror. And when he found one, what stared back at him nearly broke him.

His face.

Just as he remembered it from when he was still human. No longer pale or lifeless. His hair held color and shine again. He could see pores. Stubble. Life.

And his clothes—the same ones he used to wear when he was human. His old stalker's clothes. His old self.

It was too much. Too much to take in. And yet it was beautiful. So overwhelming, so unexpected, that tears welled up in his eyes.

And this time… he was able to cry.

Behind him, Geppetto’s puppet remained silent. Letting him process it all, offering quiet companionship.

Romeo, overwhelmed, moved toward the terrace. He stepped outside and breathed in the salty sea breeze. It brushed across his face and through his hair, and for a fleeting second, it felt like being alive again.

This wasn’t human. Not completely. But it was a world apart from the monstrous armor Geppetto had trapped him in. No longer bound. No longer imprisoned. He was free.

Behind him, the other puppet followed, still at a distance. He said nothing. He simply waited, eyes lowered—hopeful, but patient.

Romeo turned to look at him again. Cautiously.

He didn’t know if he was safe here. Not yet. But there was no aggression in the other’s gaze. Only quiet awe.

So he stepped closer. Bit by bit. Until they stood face to face.

He studied the puppet’s new features again. That familiar softness. That fragile, quiet hope.

And then, finally, he tried to speak.

“Carlo?” Romeo asked, surprised by the sound of his own voice. He hadn’t spoken in so long—hadn’t been able to speak. The words felt strange on his tongue.

Geppetto’s puppet looked away, a sad expression forming on his face. Everyone saw Carlo in him… but he knew he wasn’t him. Not fully. Not without his memories certainly.

He didn’t know how to explain it in a way that wouldn’t hurt, so he simply shook his head.

Romeo, seeing the gesture, assumed the other puppet couldn’t speak. After all, he hadn’t said a word back during their fight. Perhaps communication would be difficult now too.

But then, to his surprise, the puppet with Carlo’s face spoke.

“The boy this ergo belonged to… I have his heart, but not his memories,” he said quietly, almost apologetically.

Romeo’s heart sank at first—but oddly, he also felt comforted. Carlo’s memories were precious to him, but this puppet, even without them, still held him in some way. Just like Romeo knew that the human he once was— that Romeo—was gone now too. But that didn’t erase who he had been in his heart.

“I see,” Romeo replied gently. “You do look exactly like him… well, except for the long white hair, and the blue eyes, and the freckles.”

He tucked a strand of his own hair behind his ear and smiled slightly.

The shorter puppet looked down again, sadness returning to his features. Romeo realized his mistake—maybe he had never seen what Carlo looked like when he was alive. He hurried to add something kinder.

“But it suits you well,” he said. “Guess that old man wanted you to inherit his eyes.”

That mention of that man made Geppetto’s puppet tense. He knew all too well the horrible things his father had done to the man standing before him. But Romeo couldn’t know what the puppet in front of him was thinking—he just assumed he had touched a nerve by mentioning the name so casually.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Romeo added quickly.

“It’s fine,” the other puppet said, his voice still low. “He wanted me to be someone I’m not.”

A heavy silence settled between them, until Romeo offered a small, sincere truth.

“But the freckles… they make you look more like your mother. She had them too.”

At that, something changed.

The puppet with silver hair lifted his eyes—no longer filled with just sorrow. His face softened with a faint but genuine wonder.

He had never seen Carlo’s mother. Not in pictures. Not in dreams. But the P-organ inside him pulsed strongly at those words.

“I see,” he said with a soft smile.

“Can I ask you something?” Romeo said.

“Why did you… bring me back?” Everything told him he could let his guard down with this puppet, but the trauma still made him uneasy. He felt free—free of attachments, of covenants that bound him—yet he needed to know what he wanted from him this time.

The puppet who had repaired him shifted his gaze away and looked around nervously. Romeo found it strangely endearing, how fearless he was when facing carcasses and rogue puppets, yet terrified when it came to speaking his feelings.

He grabbed his left arm with his right hand.

“I… know what happened to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserved a second chance.”

“ So it was pity, then ,” Romeo thought.

“And… and… I…” The silver-haired puppet struggled, clenching his hand tightly. “My ergo missed you. I… I missed you,” he finally said, his heart pounding.

Romeo’s heart pounded too, something he hadn’t thought he would physically feel again.

Carlo had longed for him. Even in this new life, even if he was not Carlo anymore, their souls… their hearts were still reaching for each other.

Romeo didn’t notice it, but his cheeks had gained a soft and lovely rose tint, just like they had when he was human. He remained silent, trying to process everything, when Geppetto’s puppet spoke again.

“I think that was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I didn’t ask if this is what you wanted… but I had no way of asking you. If this isn’t what you want, I can always take your ergo and set it free,” he said shyly.

It was so like Carlo to worry about things like that. Romeo could see it—his beloved Carlo’s heart, present and alive.

“By taking my ergo and setting it free… you mean killing me?” he asked, his expression now completely serious.

The puppet dressed in a workshop uniform grew visibly distressed by the question.

“No! I mean—it probably would count as killing you, but it's not like that. It would be painless, like what I did with Sophia—”

“Sophia? Sophia Monad? You killed Lady Sophia?!” Romeo interrupted. 

He was genuinely surprised, but also couldn’t help teasing the poor puppet in front of him.

And said puppet panicked even more. “I… I… she asked me to… she was suffering and hurting. It hurt my heart because I didn’t want to, but—”

He grabbed at his vest, right where his P-organ was, the memory of that moment rushing back; how it felt to reach her too late, the pain and desperation still raw.

Romeo saw the anguish in his expression and gently stopped him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you distress or bring back painful memories.”

The puppet who carried Carlo’s ergo looked at him, a single tear falling from his eye. Romeo met his gaze with a calm, relaxed expression. There was no judgment or fear.

“You know, Carlo used to cry a lot too,” he said softly.

And in that moment, he realized—this puppet had also endured a rough journey. Whatever Geppetto had forced upon him, whatever happened with Sophia’s ergo, it hadn’t been easy.

The silver-haired puppet didn’t know how to react at first. But Romeo’s presence helped him settle. Slowly, he regained his composure.

“It’s… okay. Sophia is here too. I was able to give her ergo back.”

“Oh. I see.” Romeo nodded, relieved—and genuinely happy for her.

“This is her place, and there’s no one else on the island. You can stay as long as you need. Also… there’s no covenant on you anymore. You’re free to do as you please. If you want any repairs or modifications, I can do them. I just wanted to give you a second chance… and let you decide what to do with it.”

Romeo tilted his head thoughtfully. “Is there a special reason you left my arms… uncovered?”

“I just… wanted that decision to be yours,” the puppet said quietly.

“If you want them to look like human arms, I can fix that quickly. But it felt wrong to decide that for you. Especially after…”

He trailed off, unable to voice what he had witnessed in the past he was able to visit..

But Romeo knew. Somehow, he knew that when the other puppet said he knew what had happened to him, it included that as well. And that gave him the certainty, now, that the one who had saved him—and their teacher—that day had been him .

There was so much he wanted to ask, so many mysteries still unsolved, but he decided to wait. For now, he wanted to focus on the present, on what all this meant for him.

He walked over to a thick brick wall at the edge, slipped off his shoes, and sat on its edge, legs dangling over the side, facing the ground far below. He looked at his toes as he wiggled them, feeling each subtle movement. Then, curiously, he peeked into the inside of his shirt and pants—happily surprised to find a whole, functional body beneath.

It was almost like looking at his human self again. But the truth was, he was no longer human. He was a puppet. 

And more than that: he was changed .

Carlo’s death had changed him.

What Arlecchino had done to him had changed him.

Dying and being brought back by Geppetto’s hand had changed him.

He was not the same Romeo he had been when he was made of flesh. That Romeo had died. But his soul still lingered—weathered, hardened, and enduring.

He looked down at his hands, still prosthetic, yes, but these were nothing like the twisted limbs that blood-soaked artist had once forced upon him. Even sturdier than what Geppetto had first designed, these arms felt light . They had been built with care, and love. They were not meant to harm or survive. They were meant to protect.

And they could feel . He was certain of that.

He touched his hair. His face. He could have sworn he felt the ghost of a beard there.

The breeze swept by and gently kissed his skin again.

Was he free? Yes, he was.

He was free… in a shattered Krat. Free in a broken world where his family no longer existed.

Well… that wasn’t entirely true.

Carlo— through this puppet —was still there, sharing this space with him.

Carlo— through this puppet —had brought him back to life.

Carlo— through this puppet —had given him a second chance. And freedom .

He could go now. Explore the world. Help others. Live again.

But whatever he did, he wanted to do with him by his side.

Even if this puppet wasn’t Carlo anymore… he was . Even if he had no memories, his heart was still the same. The essence of who he was still lived inside him.

It didn’t matter if it took months or years to truly be close again. He was worth that time.

“I think I like my arms the way they are,” Romeo said as he turned to face the puppet who had brought him back. “They’re a testament to what I endured. So… thank you, for leaving them as they are.”

The silver-haired puppet simply nodded, quietly relieved.

“Also… I think I’d like to keep my ergo,” Romeo said softly. “I want to live. I want to keep helping people.”

Geppetto’s puppet hummed in response, nodding as a warm feeling spread through him. He was happy—truly happy—that Romeo wanted to live.

“Why don’t you come sit here with me?” Romeo prompted, patting the ledge beside him.

The silver-haired puppet hesitated for a moment, but eventually accepted. He didn’t take off his shoes, but he let his legs dangle freely off the edge, sitting quietly beside him. For a while, they both just stared at the sea.

“Thanks for the second chance, Carlo,” Romeo said after a moment.

The puppet with Carlo’s face tensed slightly at the name. His expression turned sad, but he nodded nonetheless.

Romeo noticed and felt a pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “It seems… you don’t go by Carlo anymore. How should I call you?”

The other puppet turned to him with a confused expression. No one had ever asked him that before.

Sophia always called him by affectionate titles. Venigni used “compagno” or “friend.” Gemini simply called him “Pal.” Even Geppetto had never called him by name—he just called him son .

“I… don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think I have a name.”

The sky was beginning to change—its deep blue shifting into warm hues of amber, as the sun sank closer to the horizon.

Romeo looked at him and felt a gentle ache in his chest. The idea that no one had ever given this kind, brave soul a name— his own name—felt deeply wrong.

He thought about suggesting Carlo , but he could tell that name still carried sadness for his friend. And it seemed the idea of having a name at all had never crossed his mind.

“Can I suggest something, then?” Romeo asked politely.

The freckled puppet nodded.

“There was this story I loved as a child,” Romeo began, his smile growing faint but fond. “It was about a wooden puppet who lied, and every time he did, his nose grew longer.” He chuckled softly.

“I shared it with my best friend—the boy whose ergo you carry—and we both loved it. Would it be okay if I called you Pinocchio ? Just like the protagonist of that story? Or maybe… Pino ? P ?”

Romeo couldn’t help smiling at the memory. Carlo had always shortened his name to just “C.” Somehow, he felt like Pinocchio would like that too.

Geppetto’s puppet smiled softly and touched his chest. His ergo pulsed warmly.

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Perfect,” Romeo replied, smiling. “You can call me Lampwick , by the way, if you’d prefer! I share that nickname with another character from the story.”

P’s heart pounded with joy—but something held him back from fully embracing the moment. It wasn’t a reaction from Carlo’s ergo. It came from him . His own thoughts. His own mind.

His eyes began to twitch, his hands fidgeting.

“P?” Romeo asked gently, using the name for the first time. “Are you okay? Did you not like it?”

P pressed his lips together, frustration building inside him. Was he even allowed to express how he felt?

“No, I did like it. It’s just that…” He trailed off again, biting the inside of his lip.

“You can tell me,” Romeo said softly. “You don’t have to hide what you’re thinking. But it’s okay if you’d rather not share.”

“It’s just that…” P hesitated, then pushed through. “I don’t know if I deserve this. To be called after one of his favorite characters. I don’t know if Carlo’s memories will ever come back. I don’t know if I’ll ever be him. And I don’t want it to feel like I’m taking his place—as if I…”

His voice cracked. His breathing grew shallow and strained.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Romeo gently placed a hand on his shoulder and scooted closer, his left knee resting against P’s right. If he could, he would have embraced him—but given everything, this felt like the right distance.

“It’s okay if you’re not Carlo,” he said, voice steady and kind. “You don’t have to be. You’re Pinocchio . Your own being. A combination of Carlo’s heart and your experiences. And that’s okay.”

P’s breathing slowly steadied, though uncertainty lingered in his eyes.

“You might have Carlo’s heart, but that doesn’t mean you need to live as him,” Romeo continued. “But carrying his ergo means you can live for him—for all the moments, feelings, and experiences he never got to have.”

“And also live for the ones who love you , now, as P . Because they would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

Romeo knew that feeling deeply. Too deeply.

“But most of all, live for yourself . For what you want to experience and see. Live for your tomorrow.” Romeo withdrew his hand but kept his knee gently pressed against P’s, relieved that he hadn’t pulled away from the contact.

When Romeo finished speaking, P placed a hand over his chest, where the P-organ pulsed with overwhelming emotion. It wasn’t dangerous—just a reaction from his ergo, his heart trying to process this moment.

Yes, he wanted to live. He knew his friends would be sad if something happened to him. He wanted to give Carlo a second chance too.

Even if he couldn’t bring Carlo back in full, something deep within told him… it would be okay.

He closed his hand over his heart, and a moment later, he heard something. A sound that wasn't there. And then, in the back of his mind, a vision.

Another place. Romeo was there. Not as a puppet—but human. Younger. Laughing.

And with the laughter came a familiar song: Far East Princess . 

They were in the Red Lobster Inn, in the Malum District. Romeo had a beverage in one hand and a pen in the other, standing beside a wall with a poster P recognized. He had seen it before.

“ I will be the best stalker in the whole world! – Romeo ”

The blond boy wrote it proudly, smug smile and all.

And just like that, he was there too. He couldn’t see his own face, but he knew it was him. He grabbed the same pen and wrote beneath Romeo’s message:

“ Then I will be better than Romeo, and I’ll be the strongest stalker in the world! ”

He laughed, turning to Romeo to bask in his beautiful face.

It was a memory. Carlo’s memory. From the time they left that message in Malum District.

He knew the memories were there, but he’d thought they were sealed off forever. Apparently… not.

He still didn’t feel like he was Carlo . He didn’t feel as if he, Pinocchio , had lived these things directly. But he could see them. Feel them. Watch the echo of his heart reacting as Carlo’s once did.

Maybe he would never fully become Carlo. Maybe he would .

But it didn’t matter, because Carlo was undeniably a part of him. And he, of Carlo. And from now on, he would make sure this heart—the one they now shared— lived life to the fullest .

He hadn’t noticed at first, but he had started crying. Both of his eyes shed quiet tears.

“P? Are you okay? Did I say something that upset you?”

“On the contrary,” he replied with a smile and flushed cheeks, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “You made Carlo very happy… and you made me happy as well.”

He directed the smile at Romeo, his expression warm. Slowly, he placed his hand down on the ledge—careful not to touch Romeo’s, even though it was so conveniently close.

He wanted to. He really wanted to.

It felt like his heart, his entire body, was urging him to reach out. But he didn’t. Even though he was at peace with who he was and what he felt, he didn’t want to rush.

Romeo blushed. It had been so long since he’d seen Carlo’s face make those kinds of expressions.

He couldn’t help but be captivated by P.

He understood—perhaps better than anyone—that P and Carlo were parts of the same whole, even if they were separate now. Just like he himself was once the Romeo who was a stalker… and now the King of Puppets.

But that didn’t mean their feelings had to change. And he didn’t want them to. Their hearts had endured.

And this time… he wouldn’t let his heart slip away like it had in the past.

“You make me happy too, P. I’m glad I could reunite with you,” Romeo said softly.

Then, carefully, tentatively, he closed the distance between their hands. He brushed his pinky finger against P’s. Testing the waters.

To his delight, P accepted the touch—letting their pinkies gently link. And Romeo’s heart soared.

He smiled, soft and tender, as the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of gold and a deep orange.

And P—watching him—felt just as Carlo had in that memory. But this time, it was his own heart, his own body, his own moment.

He melted inside. His mechanical muscles around his lips betrayed him—he couldn’t help but smile. He looked at Romeo as if he’d just found paradise.

They held each other’s gaze for a long, sweet moment, savoring the warmth of pinkies and knees touching.

“You’re so handsome, P,” Romeo whispered.

And just like that, the magic cracked—just a little.

P’s already pink cheeks turned scarlet. He broke eye contact and looked away, completely flustered and unsure where to look.

“Ahmm… I think I should introduce you to Gemini! And Sophia!” P blurted, clearly flustered.

Romeo laughed internally. “ Yeah, same as old Carlo when he was younger, not able to handle flirting when it was directed at him.”

And that made him happy.

Even without memories, he knew this heart—this soul—was the same. The one he had loved. The one he would love forever.

Even if he now bore a different name, this was his Pinocchio. And Romeo’s heart would always belong to him.

“You mean Master’s companion assistant, and Master’s sister who I’m already familiar with? Since she helped raise child Romeo at the Monad Charity House?” he teased, grinning.

P blushed deeper, realizing his slip. “I meant… I… ugh—”

Romeo would have loved to keep teasing him forever, but decided to have mercy.

“It’s okay. I’d love to see them. But before that, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Sure.”

“I know it might sound weird but… do you think you could give me a scar? On the face?”

P looked at him, slightly confused.

“Just like these arms,” Romeo continued, “the fight I had with you… it's part of who I am now. Romeo, the King of Puppets—who went down in flames. That’s a part of me I want to remember.”

Guilt gnawed at P's heart. But it wasn't his place to decide what parts of Romeo should remain or fade.

Their fight and his ignorance at the time, was something he had to learn to live with.

“…Of course,” he said softly. “Whatever you wish. I can make it happen.”

“Thanks.” Romeo smiled warmly at him.

They talked for a while after that. Romeo kept teasing, and P remained unsure how to deal with it—flustered, but undeniably fond. 

They didn’t go down to meet Sophia and Gemini until the sky had turned a clear blue, the sun high in the sky.

Of course, Romeo already knew them, but many years had passed, and tragedy had touched them all.

None of them were the same as when they’d last stood together at the Rose Estate in its prime.

They had all changed.

They had all been reborn.

And now… it was time to reconnect.

But that didn’t erase the bonds they’d once shared.

They spoke, laughed, and rediscovered one another. Romeo and P kept stealing glances the whole time—eager to return to their shared space. They had so much to say… so much more to feel.

They had endured pain.

They had endured loss.

But they would face everything that came together.

Romeo would always be there for Carlo . He would never let him suffer again. In this life—and in any life that came after—he, the King of Puppets, would always be the Lampwick to Pinocchio.

Always by his side. Always lighting his way. Always protecting the love they both shared.

And whatever the future held, P knew that with Romeo by his side, the horizon ahead would be bright.