Nathan froze after hearing his mother's voice. Naked. Surrounded by surreal scenery. Fresh off intimate absurdity with monster girls. Annoyed by the sudden appearance of the Tower Manager.
And now— "…M–Mom?"
His voice trembled.
Shame crept in like a slow chill.
A chaotic blend of guilt, longing, and deeply rooted avoidance tangled inside him—turning into a knot in his chest.
"Y–You're still… alive?"
Emily's voice shook— choking on tears.
Knowing that her "loser" son—
whom she had never once considered a loser—was still breathing.
"Nathan… where are you? Are you okay?
Nat… Nathan…"
A tear slid down her cheek.
It carried the kind of love that never asks for anything in return— only presence.
Only breath.
"Ye–yeah, Mom… I'm alive. I… I'm f–fine… you don't have to worry," Nathan muttered, lowering his head.
Unfortunately, that was a mistake— because he ended up looking down at his private blade now shriveled from the cold.
Reflexively, he covered it with his free hand.
