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He wasn’t quite sure why he chose to go around the asylum, rather than into it.

((Jeremy Frasier, continued from 人生の曲))

Maybe it was because he felt like it. Maybe it was because of the deep set contrarian beliefs that happened to reside in his head. Maybe it was because part of him believed that this was the direction that Clarice would have gone. Probably not the third one though. As much as he wanted to find her again he doubted that it was going to happen, at least not immediately. He wanted to find her now but he wouldn’t and that would make him super sad but then when he was down for other reasons and he wasn’t thinking about it she’d appear and he’d be super happy because it was something he genuinely wasn’t expecting. It was like the Seneca thing, except honestly not at all. It was close enough. The actual theory was more to do with anger in when things didn’t go the way people wanted them to but the happiness part was definitely something in there.

Well, probably, at least. He couldn’t check. That was probably the downside to getting kidnapped by terrorists and being told that everyone in your school had to kill each other until only one was left standing. You couldn’t just google things if you weren’t able to remember them. You just had to… try to remember them harder, or something. He didn’t know. He just hoped that he was right on this one.

But anyway, back to what was right in front of him. That being a church. Pretty cool looking. He couldn’t really say much more than that but he couldn’t really fault it or anything. There were people inside it too, he was pretty sure. Voices. Not ones he could recognise easily. Could be people he knew about. Could be people he didn’t- honestly they were probably all mostly people he knew about, was more of a matter if they were people he cared about or not. Well, the more casual friends were cool too. Basically, if it was anyone he liked in there? He’d appreciate it.

And really, he would. If it was a friend or somebody else that mattered, and he actually got that chance to say whatever came to his mind as a good farewell? He wasn’t quite sure how he’d feel about that, but it’d be good in some capacity. A little bit of penance, for what had happened earlier with Clarice. Not redemption or anything, but something in the vein of that.

So he walked up to the church, barrel of his gun stuffed in his right pocket, and stared at the doors, for a few seconds. They were big. Brown. Seemed light, though. Easily pushable. Just hit those doors with your hands and-

Hah. That would actually make a good entrance. Risky, though. If the person in there had a gun and was taken by surprise he probably wouldn’t survive very long, and if that happened, everything he had done and said so far would have been a waste. It’d be cool, yeah, but honestly making sure he stayed alive so that he could give what he wanted to give and see his friends for the last time would probably be more important. It wasn’t exactly a very hard choice for him.

He stood in front of the chapel for a couple of seconds, thinking about it.

1. Have fun, above all else.
2. Find friends, give last goodbyes.
3. Pursue hopeless venture of survival, if first two options are no longer applicable.

Guess that settled it, then.

He walked forward, barging open the door, raising-

Oh, nobody was here. Guess the people must be in the room beyond.

...He walked forward, barging open the door, raising his hands into the air as a wooden cannonade announced his entrance to the Peaceful Meadows Crematorium Chapel.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”
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Two Mules for Sister Sara. · Crematorium Chapel