Roland Logbook Entry

--I have nothing but my sorrow and I want nothing more. It has been, it still is, faithful to me.--


The mask fogs up at the heat of my breath. Don't think I'll ever get used to wearing this thing. But it's necessary. Can't be seen. Can't be recognized. Not in my line of work. It must become my face.

The sword weighs heavy on my belt. No matter how much I clean it, I'll never wash all the blood off.


--Why should I begrudge it, since during the hours when my soul crushed the depths of my heart, it was seated there beside me?--


A while after joining the new office, I met Her. She could light up a room, fill your head with the most angelic music just at the sight of Her. She never seems to notice me. Guess the mask is doing its job. Maybe one day we can meet and I can show Her some places to eat.

Maybe one day I can take off this mask.


--O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.--


We got sent off on a job together. Some ancient monster that could kill anything with a look. The usual fare.

But things didn't go to plan. She got hurt. I kneel down to tend to Her wounds and She reaches up, takes off my mask, my face, before I even realized what happened. She saw me. First person in a long time to see me. 

And we were fireworks. I finally got to show Her that one diner I liked so much. Had to apologize for breaking Her katana somehow.


--Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad fireside corner of my poor black heart.--


I shouldn't have taken that job. Shouldn't have taken Her gloves. Shouldn't have moved us in here. The entire district is in flames. The people in it even worse off.

I rush home. Her gloves burn like ice on my hands. I've gotta find Her. I've finally got something to fight for. To live for.

I cut that abomination down and I find what's left of Her. Stuck in a mass of flesh with the rest of the district. Her and our child.

This will not go unanswered. I will find who caused this.


--O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.--


Her gloves burn hot on my hands. My face no longer fogs up at my breath. It knows how to wear this body. It has to, there's work to be done. 

That monster may have been what took Her away from me, but someone created it. And I will kill whatever is in my way to find who did it.

She deserves that much, at least.