Just like that, another two months gone by.
A lot of Vergil's time was spent at the spike for the most part, doing nothing but watching the days pass, trying to find a sense of purpose beyond what he was now.
He rested his body on the spike, reminiscing about all that happened with half-lidded eyes. His thoughts drifting back to a memory he made a few days ago.
My hair had gotten long again.
Mother decided my hair had gotten too long again. She didn't even ask — just scolded me that it was necessary. I agreed, mostly because it started to get in my way.
My hair was naturally messy, a bit wild no matter how much I tried to keep it under control. But it got to a point where it was just a problem.
I barely had time to doubt her before she took the sword, shearing through the black hair with cold precision.
I didn't want to disappoint. After all this time, it was as though she raised me. I knew her methods… but watching months of hair fall away still felt odd.
