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Ebenholz lifts Kreide up. The Originium crystals inflict more wounds on him, but he pays them no heed.

He carries his friend, even as he feels the body cooling, as though embracing a short but sweet dream.

We're almost there, Kreide.

Just a little longer.

Thank you.

You're—You're still alive!

I'll take you to Hibiscus—

Lay me to rest in this building.

If you return to The Afterglow someday, you'll remember that you once had a good friend, with whom you've laughed and argued here...

And at the last, put on a duet to remember.

No. You're not Kreide. You're—

Isn't this what you wanted?

Shut your mouth. I won't allow you to defile his memory.

Kreide gave his life to cleanse the Voice of Mundane, but it's still in my head?!

I warn you... don't think I'll hesitate to blow my own head off, if you dare imitate him one more time.

(Sighs)

My foolish bloodline.

Ebenholz no longer hears the voice.

He walks toward the lounge in Afterglow Hall, Kreide's body growing heavier in his arms with each step.

We're here.

I'll seal the room. Lie down on the sofa.

It's soft. It'll feel nice.

Sofa, soft...

You've never slept on one at home...

Looks like I've been infected.

Arts that once took so much effort now feel so simple. Maybe getting infected isn't so bad after all.

That should do it. I'll seal the door from the outside.

Anything else?

A token... yes, a token.

I'll take the cello.

Look at me, taking back something I bought for you.

Ebenholz's lips tremble.

He stands wordless for a moment before laying his flute at Kreide's side.

You said you wanted a coin with a hole, but the only thing I have left is this flute...

I'm sorry.

So sorry...