[...It's almost funny. He, the Devil, should have been the one tempting Ayumu. And yet, somehow, the situation has been reversed.

But he has to remain adamant. As much as he'd like to give in, to continue to live on happily...

He can't.

He looks up again, his gaze not meeting Ayumu's. It isn't that difficult to see that he's been crying.]

Only "if I lose myself"--

What a cruel thing to say.

[Not even given the dignity of a human death. He just can't agree with that.]

But, you know... even this world is affected by it. There are people here who were dead in their own worlds - coming here miraculously healed isn't so strange.

But death... should still be permanent.

[His hands close into fists once again, but only for a second. It's then that slowly, he begins to move, pushing up the sleeve on his left arm and exposing his flesh to the cold air of the warehouse.

But once that is achieved, his movements quicken. He reaches for the blade at his right side, unsheathing it and discarding the case. The blade itself is soon placed near vertically against his skin, hovering just over the artery, and before he can hesitate--

He draws the blade over it, slicing deep into his own arm. Even though his teeth were gritted at the time, a sound of pain escapes his mouth, and almost instantly the sword falls from his right hand as it moves to grasp the shoulder of his newly injured left.

Forget ten minutes - a wound of this size should kill him long before then if left to bleed out.]