#fsotm

He had been speaking with the children for about two months now.

L randomly clicked through the file names on the screen.

In the beginning, he would call whenever he had time. Or to be more precise, whenever he pleased, he would interrupt classes and send the manager into a flurry. Bad taste, in hindsight. It was only after Watari’s reminder — and Meredith convincing him — that they settled on Sundays, after the children returned from church, to avoid disrupting lessons.

Most conversations began with silence: the children staring at the laptop, he observed them unilaterally through the webcam. He’d been given ranking scores. Exam scores. Reports from the instructors sent to Watari. But he hadn’t looked. That wasn’t what he was interested in. Some candidates were in his mind, but Watari suggested picking two.

“Two,” he said, stirring his coffee.

Meredith tilted her head. “Then what about the others?”

“They’ll return to their respective classes,” L replied, taking a sip. “They don’t need to participate.”

“Mandatory? Or optional?”

He set down the cup. “I suppose… they will be excluded.”

In the empty coffee shop, they were the only customers. As usual, he booked the whole shop.

“Could you—” she shifted closer to him, their eyes locking. He stiffened slightly as their shoulders touched, her body leaning into his. “Talk to all of them…?”

She was getting better at making him listen, L thought. He wasn’t sure if she was naturally good at seducing him, or if he was simply backing down.

“It’s cruel to ignore the ones who aren’t chosen.”

He dreams in red static.

The noise of a broken TV was what he watched while the adults fought. He’d plug in the cable and switch on the channel-less machine, long broken during one of their stupid fights. B would stare at the screen, the old TV’s harsh static drowning out the shouting, the smashing of wine bottles, the sickening thud of someone’s head hitting the wall, and the endless screaming that followed.

And in the background of those static, he would hear A's voice, as if A were sitting beside him.

“What are those sounds?” A whispered.

“I’m used to it,” hummed B. “Wait for a while, you’ll hear one of them storming down the stairs, and run away. He’d kill her.”

“You talk like you know it will happen.”

B followed the voice. All he saw was still red static. He answered anyway.

“I know. I’ve known for a long time. Since the day I became conscious. When they stand together, she falls. When she runs away, the numbers pause. She should’ve escaped for good.”

“And why didn’t she?”

“She’s fucking retarded,” B replied flatly. “No place would take her in. She ran, came back, stole money, but she was too idiotic not to get caught.”

“Did she return just for the money?”

“I’d rather believe that,” B muttered. “‘I’ll come back for you’—if you buy into that, you’ll be insane.”

“But you stayed in that house until it was empty.”

B didn’t change his demeanor, remaining expressionless.

“If I don’t wait, the fault is on me,” B rested his chin on his bent knees. “No one can. No one, A.”

"Call me Adrian," A spelled it out for B. "It's my father’s name."

“Adrian," B repeated, then gave a sidelong glance. "Sounds like you had a father tolerable enough to take his name as your own. If I took my father’s name, I’d reek of alcohol like it was cologne.”

A chuckled. "What's yours?"

 "Me?"

 "Your name."

“You have to promise you won’t do anything stupid,” B pursed his lips. “Or I won’t tell you.”

 "I can't promise. You already know that, don't you?"

 B didn't respond.

The place he carried beneath his dull, round eyes was like standing alone at the highest point, looking down into hell—watching souls suffer, able to save only a handful with a single spider’s thread. A place one would rather remain in solitude, as sunny days were never guaranteed after rain. A place that would haunt him in dreams, depriving him of peace and sleep, etching dark circles beneath his eyes.

This part has mortifs to ch..18 & 36. L confesses his moral burden and self-perception as a “monster,” while Meredith quietly confirms that she does understand that moral burden. In ch. 36, L sensed her world might also be broken and not as full as he imagined. Here, I wanted to show that Meredith knew very well of what the landscape of L's inner world is, yet still chose to step into it.

The “spider’s thread” is reference from 蜘蛛の糸, Kumo no Ito, a short story by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, evoking Buddhist imagery of salvation in hell.

Those bells were not rung for them, as the ceremony they were attending was little more than a private procedure. It must have been someone else’s wedding, or a funeral—perhaps both. Did funerals ever take place on the same day as someone else’s wedding? He was unfamiliar with such rituals.

Ties to rooftop scene "I wonder if it's a church—maybe a wedding, or perhaps a—"

I wanted the bell scene to be in parallel with the rooftop dialogue. Doing a side by side comparison, with the rooftop scene in red and my own in blue:

“Aren’t you heading in?” Meredith walked up beside him, trying to follow his gaze. “What are you looking at?” Light: What are you doing standing out there by yourself? “No, nothing in particular,” L replied, lowering his gaze and turning to her. “Just the bells. The pitch should have been identical, but today I find them… cheerful.” L: [Staring at the ground] Oh, nothing worth mentioning… It's just…I hear the bell. She stood there, listening for a moment. “Yes. They do sound cheerful,” Meredith said. “As if the bell ringer is in a good mood. The ringing itself is energetic.” Light: I don't hear anything. (...) Most of the things you say aren't true. There'd be no end to my troubles if I actually took you seriously all the time… I probably know that better than anyone.

While L stands alone during the rooftop scene, she walks toward him.

Where Light couldn’t—or wouldn’t—hear or engage with the bells, Miru does. She steps into his space without hesitation, validates what he notices, instead of dismissing it as something that doesn’t make sense.

I want L to have that moment of knowing what honest connection feels like, because he has experienced it: someone who walks to him, stands beside him, hears what he hears, and responds without games. So when he later probes for truth and honesty in Light during the rooftop scene, he is drawing from that experience with M—which makes Light’s refusal feel like a kind of tragic self-sabotage.

In this interpretation, L would pity Light. Light is brilliant enough to have built something real, but chooses another path. And L knows Light would have said the same things—because that is who he might have been if he had never met M.

Therefore, when he later says, “It’ll be lonely, won’t it?”, the line takes on another meaning. Because L has experienced the opposite, it becomes less self-pity and more a quiet, almost compassionate verdict: you will be lonely.

Light—who had every chance to step closer, to drop the mask—will end up alone because he chose that path.

“Let me offer you a ride, Townley,” Watari said. The registrar nodded in appreciation. (...) “We’ll be back in half an hour. Wait for the car outside,” Watari added. Roger exited the room stiffly, followed by Townley. Watari held the door open for them, stepping out last before closing it quietly behind him.

The pattern first appeared in Chapter 4, when Watari stepped out for a “phone call,” leaving the two children in accidental privacy for their first meeting. Here, he repeats the gesture with intention, creating space for the newlyweds to be alone.

Watari creates conditions for L to connect.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. There was no clock to tell how much time went by. They stood beside each other, facing the door, the stillness lingering between them.

These were the few moments they had for themselves. Beyond the door, compromises and resignation awaits them.

I personally like Roger as a character. There’s a lot to explore with him since he’s a side character we barely know much about, leaving plenty of room for interpretation. Whether he’s caring, indifferent, or simply exhausted, I think all interpretations are valid.

Personally, I think Roger is more responsible than Wammy — or maybe, despite disliking children, he still has the skill to manage the institution properly and face them with patience. At least in the manga panels, I don’t see any signs of impatience toward the kids, even when he is handling Mello, he stops Mello from bullying another kid, and did nothing much to Mello's aggression.

Even though he knows Mello dislikes Near, he still offered them to work together. (Roger...you are courageous...)

As for Wammy, I believe he dedicated most of his energy and patience to L and the earlier students. It’s understandable, considering Wammy not only had to handle the institution’s operations but also, after L became the top detective, had to focus more on detective work, taking care of L, carrying out his orders, and dealing with governments, police, intelligence agencies, and even the underworld.

(Watari talking to the ICPO members and representatives)

Not that Wammy wasn’t capable, but it would have been too much for him. And perhaps Roger also had to learn all of this when he became the second Watari, serving the next L (Near). I wonder if Roger is Watari's successor, too.