Koro's presence changed everything. The ninth staircase was no longer a solitary structure of punishment, but a path I walked with a friend. With every step I took, he trotted beside me, his claws making a soft scratching sound on the gray stone. On the steeper sections, when my aching legs faltered, he would move ahead, turn, and look at me with his intelligent eyes, as if saying, "Come on, you can do it. I'm here."
The fire in my chest had calmed, replaced by a deeper, constant warmth—the warmth of a silent loyalty. We didn't speak, of course, but it wasn't necessary. The simple fact of his companionship, the solidity of his body beside me, was a language more eloquent than any words. For the first time, the ascent didn't feel like a descent. It felt simply like a journey.
During the climb, I found myself thinking not of my failures, but of him. I remembered details my lazy mind had overlooked for years. The way his ears would twitch to catch the slightest sound. The unique pattern of white markings on his chest. The way he would sigh, a deep sigh of contentment, before falling asleep at the foot of my bed. These small memories, once buried beneath the weight of my own self-pity, now emerged like precious jewels. They were the gifts he had given me every day, and which I was only now, in the midst of this hell, learning to unwrap.
The guilt for my neglect had not disappeared, but it had transformed. It was no longer a paralyzing self-flagellation. It was a debt. A debt of love I couldn't repay him in the past, but one that, if I got out of here, I could repay to the world in his honor. I would live with the loyalty he taught me. I would love with the simplicity with which he loved me. I would be the man Koro always believed I was.
We reached the top of the staircase, to a stone archway that now seemed less an entrance to the next hell and more simply a door. I looked at Koro. He looked back at me, his tail wagging softly. He panted, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air. Together, we crossed the threshold.
The world on the other side was nothing.
Not the oppressive blackness of my previous voids, nor the infinite whiteness of the cleansed landfill. It was, literally, nothing. A space without color, without form, without dimensions. There was no up or down. No ground beneath our feet, yet we stood. It was a gray, neutral, absolute void. The end of the road.
I looked around, confused. There were no levels. No purgatories. Just this endless silence. Was this it? Was this the end? An eternity in nothingness?
Koro barked softly. I looked down. He was looking straight ahead. I followed his gaze.
About a hundred meters away, floating in the center of nothingness, there was a door.
A simple wooden door. Of dark oak, with a familiar grain. It had no frame, no wall, it just was, suspended in the void. It was identical to the front door of my house. The real door, not the perfect replica from the fake suburb. I could see the scratches at the bottom, where I had propped my bicycle as a child. I could see the small dent in the wood, from when I'd hit it in frustration in my adolescence.
The exit.
A wave of emotion so powerful it almost knocked me over washed through me. It was a mix of relief, disbelief, and a hope so fierce it hurt. It was there. The exit was real. My oath in the void, my struggle in the forest, my pilgrimage through pain... it had all been worth it. I could go back. I could fix it.
I took a step towards the door, my heart pounding with renewed strength. And then I realized.
Koro wasn't moving.
I turned. He was sitting exactly where we had crossed the threshold, watching me.
"Koro?" I called, my voice tinged with a new anxiety. "Come on. It's the exit. Let's go home!"
He wagged his tail, but didn't stand up. He cocked his head, his eyes looking at me with a depth I had never seen before. It was a look of love, of pride, and of infinite sadness.
And I understood.
A chill spread through me, a coldness that had nothing to do with the void around me. The truth dawned on me with the weight of all the staircases I had climbed.
He couldn't cross.
He was part of this place. He was a memory, a spirit, a guardian. His purpose was not to escape with me. His purpose was to lead me here. He was the last gift, the final lesson. He had come to guide me through my grief for him, to walk with me when I needed it most. But his journey ended here. The world on the other side of the door was not his.
"No," I whispered, the word breaking. "No. No, no, no. You're coming with me. I need you!"
I walked back towards him, my footsteps echoing in the nothingness. I knelt in front of him. "Don't leave me. Please. I can't do this alone."
He whimpered softly, a low sound in his throat, and rested his head on my shoulder. I felt the warmth of his body, the solidity of his presence. And in that gesture, I understood his message.
You've never been alone. And you won't be now. Take me with you, not in body, but here.
And I felt his head rest not just on my shoulder, but in my heart.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his neck, breathing in his scent one last time. It was the embrace of the final farewell. The one I hadn't truly given him in life. I was saying goodbye to my friend, to my guardian, to the purest part of my own past.
"Thank you," I whispered into his ear. "Thank you for everything, Koro. Thank you for waiting for me. Thank you for bringing me here."
I gave him one last squeeze, and then, with the hardest decision I had ever made, I let him go.
He remained seated, watching me as I stood up. His eyes never left mine. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to stay with him. Staying here, in the nothingness, with his silent companionship, seemed infinitely preferable to crossing that door alone and facing a world of wounds I myself had created.
But the memory of his sacrifice, the memory of the unconditional love he represented, gave me strength. Staying here would betray his last gift. His purpose was for me to go forward. To go back. To live.
With a shattered heart, I turned. I turned my back on my friend and began to walk towards the door.
Every step was agony. Every step took me further from the only creature in all the universes that had loved me unconditionally. I felt his gaze on my back, an anchor of love and loyalty. I didn't dare look back, because I knew if I did, my resolve would break.
I reached the wooden door. The familiar grain, the scars of my own life. It was real. It was here.
I placed my trembling hand on the brass doorknob. It was cold, solid. I hesitated one last instant. I glanced over my shoulder.
Koro was still there, sitting at the entrance to nothingness, a silhouette of loyalty in the void. He wagged his tail one last time. And then, slowly, like smoke dissipating into the air, he began to fade. His form became translucent, then transparent, until all that remained was the echo of his presence in my heart.
He was gone.
I was truly alone. But I was no longer afraid. His love was a warm ember within me, a companionship no door could shut out.
I took a deep breath. The air of the void had no smell, no temperature. It was the air of before the beginning.
And I turned the doorknob.