Fates Supports/Silas Beruka
Silas: Beruka...can we talk?
Beruka: About what?
Silas: I...no, never mind. I must have been imagining it. There's nothing bothering you, is there?
Silas: Right...just my imagination, then. Sorry to bother you.
Beruka: Why did you ask?
Silas: Oh... I don't know, you just looked a bit...gloomy.
Beruka: I get that a lot. People ask me if I'm angry, or if something sad happened, and so forth. But I'm not. My emotions are just kind of...dead. That's why people think that.
Silas: Wait, what do you mean, "dead"?
Beruka: It's hard to explain.
Silas: ... That's a problem. I'm even more worried about you than I was before...
Silas: Beruka, this is serious. That's no way to go through life. I can't let a friend stay like this. I'm going to help you do something about it!
Silas: Are you ready to get started? I'm going to tell you a story. Just relax and listen.
Silas: Wait until you hear this... Hahaha... So the other day, Arthur walks in, and...
Silas: *sigh* This isn't working...
Beruka: ... No good, huh.
Silas: I just told you about a hundred classic Arthur stories in a row! I asked everyone—these are the funniest stories we all came up with. I could hardly breathe as I was telling some of them! Weren't they funny to you?
Beruka: ... I don't know what "funny" feels like. I was just thinking about how rough Arthur's got it. That's all.
Silas: You don't know about humor? What on earth happened to you? Were you born this way?
Beruka: I don't know for sure. When I was growing up in the slums... I was told my parents were to blame for my emotions being dead.
Silas: Your parents? Do you want to talk about that?
Beruka: ... No.
Silas: Yeah. I'm not surprised. It's fine, though. These things are hard to open up about. In the meantime, I'll keep thinking of our next step. Hmm...what might work?
Beruka: Silas. I'm ready to tell you about my parents.
Silas: What? Just like that?
Beruka: It seems like a good time. My parents...probably didn't love me.
Silas: What makes you think that?
Beruka: They abandoned me very early on. I have no memories of them. After that, I lived by myself in the slums. The first time I killed for money, I wasn't yet 10 years old.
Silas: How can someone so young be a hardened killer?
Beruka: I had a mentor in the slums. He taught me how to support myself. How to kill.
Silas: Where is he now?
Beruka: I killed him.
Silas: You what?!
Beruka: Someone wanted him dead. The contract went to me.
Silas: But...how could you?
Beruka: The money was good.
Beruka: Are you crying? Why?
Silas: Because what I'm hearing is horrible... I had no idea what your upbringing was like.
Beruka: I envy you, Silas.
Beruka: It must be nice to laugh and cry. If I could feel sad about things, maybe I wouldn't have killed my mentor.
Silas: Beruka... I'm going to help you! Even if it takes years and years!
Beruka: ... Thanks, Silas.
Silas: Oh, hello, Beruka. I was waiting for you. I got you a present. Here, open it.
Beruka: What is it?
Silas: Why don't you open it and see?
Beruka: No. Tell me.
Silas: It's an engagement ring.
Silas: Marrying you is step one. That way, we'll have the rest of our lives for me to teach you about emotions. Someday, you'll learn how to cry and laugh for yourself.
Silas: Um... Beruka...?
Silas: Are you...crying?
Beruka: I don't know. Is this what crying feels like? Am I sad? Is that it?
Silas: Could be. But people also cry sometimes when they're happy.
Beruka: Is that true? Hmm. Yes, Silas, I will marry you.
Beruka: Honestly, I still can't tell what these tears mean. But maybe with your help, someday I'll get it.
Silas: That's my hope.
Beruka: If I learn to laugh and cry like you... Could I cry for my mentor? Can I shed tears of regret?
Silas: Someday. And when you do, I'll hold you until the tears run dry.
Beruka: Thank you, Silas.