I'm adamant because it's nonsense. It's like me trying to claim you've secretly been a toaster that gained a soul this entire time. Don't tell me that you'd deny my arguments on that subject. Anyways, the village Herve lived in was small, and the only doctor who lived there was far from being a heart surgeon. He died. That's an undeniable fact.

[He shakes his head. Ah, yes. A twist. His life is merely some cosmic joke, a story, a beautiful incarnation of irony. Because that's how life works.]

[Keats feels like he's been punched in the gut. He's not going to show it. The dread he's feeling has to be because of something else. It's nonsense, nonsense, nonsense...]

[His throat feels dry.] Oh, come now, what are you saying now, ghosts can age? Mettaton, just stop before you start. You're making yourself look foolish.