[There are so many things wrong with what the man—Simon—is saying. So many piece that don't fit. Special? Sure. He was special. He had achieved impossible things. Done things others couldn't have possibly dreamed of. He was brilliant and creative, a dangerous combination. He was so special he ruined everything he touched. So unique, so arrogant as to believe he had the ability to control forces never meant to be controlled that his hands were stained with blood that could never be washed away.]

Wei Wuxian. [He answers that question because it's the first thing he can wrap his mind around. Then he pauses and continues.]

I'm not scared. I don't want to have a blast. I don't want friends. I want to be where I'm supposed to be. [His hands are shaking now and he steps to the side, leaning against one of the walls and taking another shaky breath. This isn't right. None of this is right. There's a pressure building inside of him, something like fear compressed with stress. He shouldn't be feeling this because he shouldn't be feeling anything.

It was supposed to be over.]

Why isn't it over?