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"Lunie, have you finished decorating the cake?"

From the kitchen doorway, Grandma Josephine peered in and asked.

"Yes. Just one final step, Granny!"

The little girl replied cheerfully. In her hands was an airplane-shaped modeling chocolate embellishment with a miniature pilot figure drawn on it. She delicately placed it on top of the orange-yellow cake, adorned with fresh fruit and buttercream frosting shaped like clouds. The words "Happy Caleb's Day" on the cake was there, as a result of her meticulous work earlier.

Lunaire gazed at the cake. It was the first cake she had ever made, and it was for her brother.

Grandma Josephine came inside and asked, "Do you need me to help you carry it out?"

"That wouldn't be necessary, thank you Granny," Lunaire replied. She climbed down from the plastic stool that served as her support, to get her high enough for cake decoration purposes. "I will bring it out myself."

Lunaire took off her small apron with the calico cat on it, hung it on the rack, and tiptoed to retrieve the cake.

"Be careful," Grandma Josephine reminded the little girl, stepping aside to allow her to pass. "I'll tidy up in the kitchen and join you later."

After a soft "yes," Lunaire carried the cake outside. She went with gentleness; although the cake was not very big, it needed to be handled with utmost care. Grandma Josephine recommended getting a cake from a neighboring bakery, but Lunaire wanted to do something special for the boy whose birthday was on June 13th.

Caleb and Lunaire had only recently arrived at this home. They were orphans who had wandered the convent following The Chronorift Catastrophe until being taken in by Grandma Josephine. She adopted both of them because neither of them wanted to be separated from each other. For Lunaire, Caleb's first birthday in their new home was incredibly important. She could not remember whether they had ever celebrated a birthday together before, but this one would be etched in her memory forever as a new beginning for their future together.

With great determination to give her brother a homemade cake, Lunaire insisted that Grandma Josephine teach her how to bake. Hiding this from Caleb was impossible, as he was practically everywhere she went. So she had to confide in Granny so she could send her to a friend's kitchen to learn. Following several tries and failures, a seemingly delicious cake finally came out of the oven. In addition to apples, cantaloupes, and a few other fresh fruits, Lunaire also tried her hand at making a small modeling chocolate aircraft, of course with the assistance of Grandma Josephine at home.

The celebration took place in their yard. Grandma Josephine had set out cookies and soda there. All the neighborhood kids were invited, and their parents had sent along gifts and snacks. It was also a good opportunity for Caleb and Lunaire to make friends with the neighborhood kids, though the boy had no trouble adapting to his new home at all.

Caleb was surrounded by a group of friends of varying heights, but they all rejoiced when they watched him use Evol to elevate his model aircraft and "race" against another child with a remote control. Lunaire had kindly asked some friends to "keep him occupied" by playing games with him, to buy her time in the kitchen. The kids all liked Caleb as they were constantly clapping and cheering him on. In their perspective, he was undoubtedly cool and admirable.

Lunaire felt the same way. Her brother was the absolute greatest in the world. She was fortunate to experience his cool side on a daily basis; having him braid her hair, make her lunch, or lull her to sleep… Perhaps the past was still a hazy mist to her, but she knew for sure that Caleb had always been there for her, holding her hand tightly.

She thought, "I should do something for him too!" That was why the cake in Lunaire's hand was more than simply a present; it was also an expression of gratitude and affection for her brother. With a mischievous grin, Lunaire imagined Caleb's amazement upon seeing her cake. His grin would spread from ear to ear, and he would brag about his sister's cake to everyone day after day, until people were tired of hearing about it. It made Lunaire overjoyed, and as she was so eager to go outside, she slipped and fell on the steps.

"Ouch!"

Lunaire tumbled to the ground. The cake slid out of her little hands and landed on the lawn. She looked up, bewildered, only to hear Caleb's voice rising above the children's.

"Lu! Are you alright?"

He did not look at the cake, only at her. He helped her sit up. But Lunaire's eyes were fixed on the dessert. Almost half of it was eaten up by the green grass. Even her favorite modeling chocolate aircraft had damaged its wing.

"I... I'm sorry..." Lunaire could not find the right words. Her eyes welled up with tears as she crawled toward the cake in an attempt to scoop the remaining intact portion back onto the plate. "I'm sorry..."

Caleb got down on one knee beside his sister. He took the plate of cake from her hands and said, "It's alright! This great part is still edible!"

Having said so, he dipped his finger in the cream and tasted it. Seeing his still cheerful smile, Lunaire did not feel any better; instead, she burst into tears.

"I ruined Caleb's cake! I ruined your birthday party!"

"There, there," Caleb quickly set the cake down on the grass, wiping away her tears. "I don't want to see you crying on my birthday, Lu."

Lunaire immediately fell silent. A good little sister would not weep as loudly on her brother's special day. She pursed her lips, her plump cheeks ballooning up and getting crimson, her eyes still glistening with tears.

"Haha!" Caleb laughed and pinched her cheek. "I only wanted you to stop sobbing. Anyway, I'll eat all the cake you made."

"This isn't anything like I imagined," Lunaire muttered to herself. She wiped away her tears and picked up the modeling chocolate aircraft that had rolled onto the grass. "It's broken…" she pouted.

Before another downpour of tears, Caleb hastily scooped up the remaining modeling chocolate portion of the blue wing. He used his Evol to secure it in place.

"It is alright now, isn't it?"

Caleb's Evol had pieced the aircraft back together, but the crack was still apparent. Lunaire glanced at it with a melancholy expression.

"But… how can a pilot fly with a broken wing?"

"There will always be countless challenges for a pilot," Caleb told her. "They'll have to confront them. And they'll always find a way to get home safely. The most important thing is not to give up."

Caleb used his Evol once more, sending the modeling chocolate aircraft soaring high above the astounded children. After a loop around the yard, it returned to Lunaire in her outstretched palms.

Finally, Lunaire managed a smile. Caleb always seemed to know how to turn her frown upside down, how to make her laugh when she was crying, how to turn something terrible into an unforgettable memory.

She returned the aircraft to the top of the remaining cake that Caleb was holding. The birthday celebrations continued in the yard. As the sun went down, Grandma Josephine lit the candles as Caleb took Lunaire's hand.

"One day, I'll become a good pilot," Caleb said, expressing his wish. "And I'll always overcome challenges to come home. To you."

He patted Lunaire's head.

Lunaire gazed up at Caleb, his eyes filled with a warm, hopeful flame. Suddenly, she saw herself as a part of the future he envisioned. A future for both of them. He could soar freely in the sky, and she would be the ground to safely guide him home.

"Caleb, I know you will be the best pilot in the whole wide world!" Lunaire exclaimed. The tiny black pilot painted with food coloring on the modeling chocolate aircraft seemed to be waving at them both.

The flames on the cake flickered out like the sunset that day. A thin wisp of smoke engulfed the radiant face of the young man opposite Lunaire. Caleb's smile remained the same, still bright and sunny even after so many years. At the antipode to their old home, amidst the crowds from an unfamiliar metropolis, they had spent a truly special day together. On the ground, in the clouds, this entire expanse carried their memories. No cake was ruined. No modeling chocolate aircraft wing was shattered. That day was filled only with laughter and joy, nothing but pure blessings for this young man and the girl he loved.

Lunaire took Caleb's hand and listened to his birthday wish. Her bright face was filled with joy as all of her plans for this special event came together gracefully. Her man deserved to smile like this every day. Caleb and Lunaire sat together like two aging trees, growing side by side through the years. She grinned, surprisingly recalling old memories from their childhood. Not having a perfect memory like Caleb, Lunaire sometimes forgot things she had said before. But those memories would eventually return to her in an unexpected way; just as seeing him blow out the candles in this furthest place from home transported her back to that childhood golden yard.

The boy by her side had become the best pilot in the whole wide world. And he always kept his promise, always returning home, where she was waiting. His safe haven.

Long ago, there was a story on a floating island in the clouds called the Ninth Botanical Research Institute.

That story began when a group of botanists was dispatched there. A number of robotic aides accompanied them. Doctor Sanford was in charge of the study team, and a little robot with short legs served as his assistant. Octoday was its name.

Octoday was interested in everything that Doctor Sanford and his team worked on day and night, as well as the world around the island. Their mission was to cultivate both known and new plant species, hoping that one day they would form a self-sustaining ecosystem and blanket the sky with green. Curious, Octoday scrolled through all the data on the screen within its spherical brain, but it was unable to locate any hard proof that plants could grow in the air. All of the botanists at the Ninth Botanical Research Institute, including the robot, continued to hope that their project would be a success. Since Octoday was merely a robot, it was obvious that it did not truly comprehend what hope meant at that time. However, it always was attentive to what Doctor Sanford had to say, and whatever he said was certainly a fact.

But then, that beautiful imagination did not come to fruition. The project was canceled before the first seeds could sprout. Octoday still remembered the day Doctor Sanford broke the news to his team. And, it was certain that a downward curve appeared on the LCD screen attached to its head, representing a sadness it did not truly feel.

Two weeks later, the research team divided the last batches of tiny seeds among themselves and scattered them across the island. They sowed their hearts and minds around the island as a farewell.

Octoday stood beside Doctor Sanford on the ground where they used as an airfield. It watched as each figure in white coat departed, taking their robot companions with them as they vanished into the massive airships and soared into the sky, leaving the island barren. Finally, only the robot and Doctor Sanford remained.

"It's time for me to leave, Octoday," Doctor Sanford said to the robot.

"You have not updated my duties for tomorrow, Doctor," Octoday said in the familiar, monotonous voice of any other robot, though it believed it had added a somewhat more human-like intonation.

Doctor Sanford gave the robot a grin. He had filled his briefcase with all the required documents. "From tomorrow on, your sole duty is to stay here and guard this island."

Octoday scrolled through a series of commands displayed in its head, but it was unable to locate anything that instructed it on what to do next.

"Doctor?" An expression of confusion appeared on the robot's LCD screen. For Octoday, it was one of the features that Doctor Sanford upgraded. He believed that rather than being only a machine that obeyed commands, a companion robot needed to possess some feelings, or appeared so.

"You won't be returning to Skyhaven with me, Octoday," Doctor Sanford clarified. "You'll stay here. That's all. That's an order from our boss."

Octoday trailed Doctor Sanford to the empty runway the following morning. When the doctor's airship appeared on the horizon, the robot spoke again:

"Doctor Sanford. What do I do next if there are no more orders for me?"

He stared at Octoday for a long moment. After manually optimizing the robot with a number of emotions over the course of several months, he could not bring himself to switch it off and leave it to rest here. Doctor Sanford reached into his pocket and took out the only remaining seed.

"Here. Take this seed. Your task is to plant it the way we did, and see how it grows."

Octoday watched the seed fall into the metal component that served as its "hand."

"Doctor," the robot spoke once more. "How often must I report to you each day? And when?"

For a long moment, Doctor Sanford stared at the robot. There was a reluctant expression in his eyes. However, he was unable to oppose his superior. He had no choice except to leave his hope here, entrusting it to Octoday.

"That won't be necessary, Octoday," he replied, placing his palm on the robot's round, firm head. "One day, maybe, you will be able to witness it blossom on my behalf. That will be enough."

The spaceship arrived and took Doctor Sanford away. From that day on, only Octoday remained at the Ninth Botanical Research Institute.

The robot was not alone though. It had the plant that Doctor Sanford had left behind. It was the robot's responsibility to care over this small seed till it grew and blossomed. Octoday planted the seed in a large flowerpot, watering and tending to it day by day… Occasionally, it would take the plant outside and stand alongside it, peering toward the sky, hoping to pick up any signals from nearby aircraft and hoping that one of them would bring Doctor Sanford back.

Day after day, month after month, the last seeds which the research team had scattered on the floating island began to sprout. They began as delicate green shoots, but eventually developed into enormous trees, lush shrubs, and vivid blooms. Octoday's seed also slowly sprouted. The robot chronicled everything because, despite Doctor Sanford's instructions not to report, it still wanted to share this process with someone. Anyone.

Yet, as year after year passed, the island, as well as the existence of the robot and the plant, were completely forgotten.

Day xxx, the seed left by Doctor Sanford has sprouted…

Day xxx, the sprout grew ten centimeters taller…

Day xxx, the first green leaf of the plant emerged…

Day xxx, it seemed the plant would not grow any taller…

…

Day xxx, the plant appears to be missing nutrients and cannot develop further, despite following the directions provided.…

Octoday's thoughts flickered before fading away. Its report today was the same as the previous month: the plant had stopped growing for some time.

The robot had reviewed all the remaining records on the island. Octoday tried everything, but the plant remained the same, unable to grow larger or bloom like the other seeds on the island. The robot wished to consult Doctor Sanford, but there was no means to communicate with the outside world. Its internal network could not download data outside the island's boundaries. Octoday had several possibilities, but the most logical reason was the same as why Doctor Sanford's project was canceled: once plants leave the earth and enter the air, they can no longer thrive.

But the fact that the seeds his team left on the island years ago had flourished proved otherwise, even if they only developed to a certain extent before stopping. They did not grow any larger once they had spread across the island. It was as if time had bypassed this place, the plant, and Octoday. Yet, the robot faithfully carried on the studies of its former owner. It often reread the botanists' files from years ago and said to the plant:

"I will find a way to help you bloom."

Despite the fact that plants cannot react in the same manner as people, Octoday claimed to have detected a signal from the swinging green leaves, which appeared to be a gesture of gratitude from the plant. Doctor Sanford had once said that a plant would undoubtedly flourish if you spoke to it every day. Octoday was following his advice.

"Shall we listen to some music?" the robot asked the plant. Soothing music soon began playing from Octoday's speakers. It leaned against the potted plant, watching another day end on the island at world's end.

Years later, Octoday unexpectedly picked up a signal from a strange airship crashing into Ninth Botanical Research Institute. Only two passengers were getting off the ship that had just made an emergency landing when the robot came to investigate. The ship appeared far more sophisticated than anything the robot had ever seen, so the robot could not identify it. There was no sign of Doctor Sanford either. The tall young man appeared to be the pilot, while the shorter woman accompanying him had an incredibly soft voice as she walked around and observed the plants. She seemed to have a particular fondness for the island's flora, and her eyes reminded Octoday of the researchers from years past whom it had not seen again.

As The Pilot and The Botanist explored the island, they soon discovered Octoday. The robot tried to flee, but its short legs hampered its progress. Eventually, a force considerably stronger than the ordinary human captured it. The robot quickly scanned the man holding it, and soon realized the thick metal beneath the skin prevented it from detecting any life.

He was partly like the robot. Partially mechanical. However, his grasp was a little uncontrollable, as if his arm was not quite obeying him. Octoday fought to get away from him, but it stopped fleeing. It did not need to.

The Pilot questioned Octoday about the island, while The Botanist was more gentle. She explained that they had to make an emergency landing on the island due to a problem on their aircraft and needed help. Nobody needed Octoday in a very long time. Perhaps it missed being ordered around. That was why the robot agreed to help them. In return, The Botanist asked what she could do while they were there. Octoday told them to find the hot spring on the island where Doctor Sanford had once mentioned. The soil there was excellent for gardening. That type of soil was just what the robot's potted plant was asking for.

The Botanist and her Pilot set off. She was constantly exploring and exclaiming at any plant she saw for the first time. With a smile on his face, The Pilot trailed closely behind, occasionally making remarks or saying something that made them both giggle. Octoday had not heard such lively conversation or laughter in quite a long time. And as it watched their figures disappear behind the dense foliage in the distance, the robot secretly replayed the footage it had stored in its memory, of the days when Doctor Sanford's research team was still present.

While Octoday helped the couple repair their aircraft, The Botanist wove a wreath from the island's flowers and placed it on its head. She said it was a gift for the robot's assistance. Octoday had never gotten anything other than the seed from Doctor Sanford, which it still considered a duty. But Octoday still cared for the plant even without orders, even without anyone's praise.

"Octoday," The Botanist always called it in a gentle voice. "Would you want my help? My power can make this plant grow."

Octoday looked at the girl. She had the ability to make any plant grow using a power called Evol. Yet the robot replied, "If you do that, miss, then you are the one who will help it grow. Not me. I will have nothing to report back to Doctor Sanford."

The Botanist smiled, "I guessed you'd say that." She delicately stroked the robot's head. Her palm was considerably gentler than Doctor Sanford's when he performed the same act to the robot many years ago, though the warmth felt the same.

"Then we'll help you bring back the soil from the hot spring," The Pilot said. He was pinning a flower from The Botanist into his dark locks. Her hair was likewise adorned with the same kind of flowers.

"Okay," Octoday replied. "I'll wait here."

They traveled for almost a whole day. There was a brief thunderstorm that day, but their quest for rich soil was not greatly impacted. The Botanist's cheeks were even redder than the twilight.

They piled the soil from the hot spring onto Octoday's plant. The eyes on its LCD screen lit up.

The Botanist and The Pilot's mission returned not just soil, but also Doctor Sanford's tattered, yellow notebook. The Botanist handed it to Octoday. The robot recognized it immediately.

"Doctor Sanford's notebook!"

Octoday probably understood the feeling of reuniting with an old friend that its former master had once described. Or so it thought. The robot took the notebook from The Botanist's hand as she said:

"I think you'll want to keep this."

"I'll keep it safe until Doctor Sanford returns."

After Octoday's words, the island fell silent again. The Botanist glanced at The Pilot. His hair, which she had described as "fluffy" to Octoday, was tousled and cascading over his forehead as he leaned toward it.

"If he doesn't return, what are you going to do with the plant?" he asked.

Octoday became silent for a moment. Its LCD panel featured a pensive face composed of tiny, monochromatic squares. It had been too long; the robot knew Doctor Sanford would never return, as it would never leave this island. Its former master probably would not even see the island that had been his life's work.

Finally, Octoday replied, "I will continue to care for this plant. I must see it bloom."

The Pilot delicately tapped the robot's head, which The Botanist's wreath did not fully cover. He touched it with his prosthetic arm, but with a mild, well-controlled force. Octoday could see that his arm had been mended, perhaps when they were away.

The Pilot grinned and gently squeezed The Botanist's hand. "Then I think you've found your true purpose, Octoday, and this isn't an order."

Octoday agreed with The Pilot. That night, it sat beside the plant, reliving the events of its time on this island. At dawn, The Pilot and The Botanist bid goodbye to the robot.

"Thank you for helping us," The Botanist remarked, embracing the robot. Although Octoday could not smell anything, there might be a scent of flowers detected on her.

The Pilot, however, did not appear to be as affectionate. After all, Octoday was merely a robot. Yet he patted its head gently. Before they both boarded their aircraft, Octoday called them back.

"Wait! Can you two… take this plant with you? Take it to where it belongs." Octoday looked at The Botanist. "I know you can take good care of it with your abilities."

The Botanist was astonished. She asked, "Don't you want to see it grow and bloom?"

"I would like to. But I've been considering this for a long time, even before you two arrived." Octoday appeared melancholy as its LCD screen displayed. "The plant and I are too different. You see, I am a robot, not a biological thing. I would not be able to care for it in the same way that a real human would. It would thrive better without me."

Before The Botanist could respond, The Pilot spoke up: "Okay. We'll take it."

She turned to face him, just as perplexed as she had been when Octoday told them to take the plant with them.

The Pilot approached the flowerpot, and the moment he lifted it, a sequence of beeps began from Octoday. Its expression on the LCD screen changed rapidly. After patting itself a few times, the robot stated:

"Please forgive me for what you just witnessed. This has never happened to me before. Perhaps I'm… broken."

The pilot set the potted plant down and chuckled. "I don't think you're broken, Octoday. You're just attached to this plant and don't want to leave it."

Octoday's unreal face was utterly bewildered. "Attached?"

The Pilot leaned down to be at eye level with the robot. He added,:

"You have affection for this plant. That's why you can't bear to let it go. But that's okay, don't overthink it. Your plant is stronger than you think."

"That's right,"The Botanist also leaned down beside The Pilot. "Your plant just needs a little more time to mature and show you its most beautiful flowers."

The pilot continued, "Trust me. When you can watch it grow each day, it will bring you immense happiness. You will cherish every moment spent with it. And then, you will realize that you two are an inseparable part of each other's lives."

Having said those words, The Pilot looked at The Botanist. Her eyes glistened as if tears were ready to flow. But she did not cry. She was smiling.

Octoday watched them walk hand in hand into the aircraft. The robot and the plant watched the aircraft lift off and soar through the white clouds, towards the sun.

Octoday pondered over what The Pilot had said to it for a long time afterward. Affection was something a robot should not develop for a plant. But whatever the case, what it thought of the plant would not change. The robot would continue to spend the rest of its time, as long as it was still functional, caring for this plant.

It would wait until the day the plant bloomed, as The Botanist had said, and reciprocated its feelings.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

The girl's voice stopped. She turned slightly, gently looking up at the man holding her.

"The end."

His somewhat heavy arm rested on her thigh as he drew her closer. Sitting in his lap, amidst the flower garden, she had finished reading the story of their fascinating travel. A vacation that deviated from schedule yet resulted in an unforgettable adventure.

"Next time, perhaps I could try upgrading Octoday's compliment feature," he said, tenderly caressing her hair. "He'll surely love Lunaire's story."

"Our story," she corrected. "If it weren't for our handwriting, I probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference between my writing and your additions, Caleb."

Lunaire smoothed out the pages of their notebook, crammed with their scribbled notes. His handwriting and hers intertwined, weaving a tale they had shared. Caleb held her even tighter. The wind swept through their garden, carrying a little sunshine to the flowerbeds with seeds brought from an island among the clouds.

He said, "Then there's no need to tell them apart anymore. Mine and yours are the same. This is our shared memory, just like countless other experiences we've shared together."

Caleb's bionic hand intertwined with Lunaire's, perfectly as they always had been. The wind rose again, turning to a brand-new, ink-free page in the notebook, ready to be filled with a new adventure from both of them.

In the sweltering heat of a late spring afternoon, the girl eagerly escorted Rafayel away from the bustling city, into a much more tranquil suburban area. After grumbling for a long time about the possibility of him turning into a dried fish, Rafayel finally breathed a sigh of relief when her feet stopped in front of a house with its doors closed.

"Please tell me this is the place." Rafayel stood behind her, his voice quivering hilariously as he raised his handheld electric fan, which was running at maximum power.

But in contrast to what he had anticipated, the girl merely grimaced a little as she read aloud the little sign that read, "Closed indefinitely," on the rusted old door.

"Closed indefinitely???" Rafayel repeated. He stepped forward to stand beside her, bending down to read the notice. "All those bus rides we took from Linkon to get here, and that long, burning walk just now... It was all for nothing?"

"That can't be!" She suddenly exclaimed, startling Rafayel. He glanced at her just to see how irritated she was.

"Oh, Marchie," replied Rafayel. "Looking at the state of this place, it's understandable that they don't have sufficient finances to continue the business."

But she could not accept it, that her most favorite pomelo sweet soup shop in the world was closing. She pursed her lips.

"No way. This is the most delicious pomelo sweet soup shop in Linkon. I used to queue up so long to buy it! I don't understand why this happened…"

A cool breeze reached her as Rafayel offered her his hand fan. Although tired and clearly parched, he felt she was the one who needed more of this fan.

"Should we look for another shop close by?"

Of course, she refused. She retorted, "The best pomelo sweet soup is here. There's no other place."

Rafayel chuckled. He knew her so well; once she made up her mind, she would get what she wanted. Wasn't it one of their common traits that he cherished so much? He playfully poked her cheek with his finger.

"Look. Marchie has become a grumpy little pufferfish."

Before she could reply, someone called out, "Oh, you two are here to buy pomelo sweet soup?"

At the same time, they both turned around. A middle-aged woman stood there. She added, "The old shop owner has been in the hospital for a week now. We don't know if she'll be able to come back for business. It's best if you two find another place."

After a quick and polite thank you, the girl gazed with regret as she vanished. But that kind of wallowing in remorse was not an option for her. She tugged at Rafayel's hand.

"Since we're already here, let's wander around and see if there's anything else delicious to eat, shall we?"

Rafayel rolled his eyes. He expressed a desire to return home, but his feet obediently followed her. Although they didn't get to eat the dessert they had planned, they found many other childhood snacks as a temporary substitute afterwards.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

In the days that followed, Thomas couldn't understand why Rafayel continued feeding him so much pomelo sweet soup. Every time he went to the studio, he'd be handed several cups to take home.

"I didn't know you had such a strong passion for this, Rafayel," Thomas remarked.

"Not me," Rafayel shrugged. "It's Marchie. She's obsessed with it, and I don't see why. It's not as easy to make as it seems, though. I've tried many times, but I've always failed."

Thomas glanced at the neatly wrapped cups of pomelo sweet soup that had been made for him. At that point, a shudder raced down the manager's spine. For the last few days, this dessert had been a nightmare for his entire family.

"Well, it's still a little bitter," Thomas commented.

Rafayel's expression conveyed unmistakable displeasure. He said, "I know. That's why I haven't given it to Marchie yet. If only I had the recipe for the dessert she likes so much from that shop owner…"

Rafayel halted, his eyes bright as if he'd just got a wonderful idea. Thomas had worked with this artist long enough to know what Rafayel was up to.

"Oh, don't tell me—"

"Thomas! I need information regarding the hospital where the store owner is receiving treatment. It would be ideal if you could also find the room number."

Thomas sighed. His job didn't involve doing errands for Rafayel, but he was used to being ordered around like this. Besides, if this could end his pomelo sweet soup nightmare, why not?

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The sun was still blazing when she arrived at Rafayel's house as planned. He had been locked up in one spot for the past few days, reluctant to go anywhere due to the searing heat. She had plans to invite him out for some fun. As soon as she stepped inside, she smelled the familiar scent of pomelo.

"Rafayel?" She called his name. She followed the aroma and immediately located him in the kitchen. A pot of something orange and yellow with a pomelo fragrance rested beside him. There was no doubt it was...

"POMELO SWEET SOUP?!" she exclaimed, tossing her bag aside and rushing towards the pot. "You… You made pomelo sweet soup?"

Rafayel's nose twitched slightly. He replied with a great amount of confidence, "Guess who got the recipe from your very adored dessert shop?"

Her eyes widened. "R-Really? But how did you get it?"

Rafayel's beaming eyes seemed to convey everything. Having been with him for so long, she knew he could definitely have the determination to find the shop owner, or even get the dessert recipe. But this enormous surprise affected her deeply. He was willing to go to such lengths just to make her happy.

Rafayel scooped the dessert into a small dish and presented it to her. "It's not cooled yet, but you can try first."

She stared at the bowl of dessert, a little concerned because Rafayel had never prepared it before. Seeing her reaction, he grimaced.

"Marchie, you are quite skeptical of me, aren't you? Let me tell you a fact; you are looking at the only apprentice of the old lady who sells the best pomelo sweet soup in Linkon!"

She gazed at him for a minute before laughing. The silver spoon in her hand swirled the shimmering yellow sweet soup, blended with the pure white coconut milk. A sweet, delicate aroma wafted through the air. Rafayel's expectant gaze was adorable. Before tasting the dessert, she leaned forward and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Rafayel!"

"You shall not fall as long as I am here. Release me from your ruthless grip."

The young man in front of me gave a little grimace. Even as he said this, those slender fingers that were holding my arms tightened even more.

"You better not let go, Rafayel!" I shouted as a gust of wind pushed me towards him. The waves lapped beneath my bare feet. We were standing on the surface of the water. It was the might of God of the Sea, a miracle bestowed upon a mortal like me.

Rafayel gradually released one hand. His other hand was clasped with mine.

"Come." He phrased it as a gentle invitation rather than a command from a deity to one of his followers.

I could not believe that only a few minutes ago, my body had been torn apart by a thousand raging waves, after running for my life from the guards and falling into the water. Thinking back, the current circumstance was akin to the night I first met Rafayel. And, just like that fateful night, the young man became my savior.

He was not yet fully God of the Sea, at least not until the ritual began. As we treaded the water forward, I suddenly wondered if Rafayel would still be able to come ashore freely like this once the ceremony was over. And as his most devoted follower, would I still be as free as I was at this moment? The thoughts swirled in my mind, causing me to shiver like a seasick human being.

"If you feel fatigued, let me bring you back." Rafayel gazed at me. I shook my head.

"You don't really want to go home, do you?"

"Certainly not. We came here to see the sunrise on the surface. It's not there, is it?"

After that, we both became silent. We wandered at ease together. Rafayel made the sea foam bloom like flowers beneath my every step. After a time, I brought him to a rock near the shore.

Seagulls circled over me. Rafayel must have whispered to them, as they began to swoop down. One even landed on my shoulder. I was not ready for this secret excursion to come to an end.

Perhaps we both had a vague sense of what awaited us at the bottom of the sea. Once we were bound to the Deep Sea, bound to Lemuria, we would most certainly never be able to have this kind of freedom again. I glanced up at the pale blue sky, waiting for the dawn to break. The sea listened to us confide in each other for a long, long time. Then we went silent and turned our attention to the waves.

“You’re less noisy than usual,” Rafayel’s voice rang in my ear. “I thought that after going to all that trouble to see the sunrise, you would be rambling on about how beautiful it is, and how much more wonderful it was than the sun of Lemuria.”

“There are things one can only perceive in silence.” I placed a finger to my lips and diverted my attention to the distant sky. “Look!”

Rafayel followed my gaze. The light beams broke apart the clouds that were drifting over the water into countless fragments. The golden daylight poured down over the sea, forming treasures floating around us.

I turned to Rafayel. How could I have missed the moment when the new God of the Sea glimpsed the dawning sun for the first time? It was the true sun; its rays of sunlight carrying warmth that were gilding Rafayel’s face. His eyes, resembling the depths of the ocean, opened wide, receiving each drop of sunshine as if they were a blessing from the sky.

For a while, I forgot my purpose in coming ashore. I stared in awe at the radiance in Rafayel's eyes, which shone as brilliantly as his grin when he turned to me.

“The sun is rising!”

Rafayel chanted out. I never imagined the God of the Sea could take the form of a young man like this before. Surely the Deep Sea had carved him from its most precious jewels. And now, that treasure sat on the surface of the sea, catching the first rays of the genuine sun. The sun which belonged to the land.

I could hear my heartbeat, faster than the wind, growing louder with each wave. The bright sunlight illuminated the water droplets on Rafayel's hair and torso. Luminous. I was constantly scared of what the Deep Sea had confined, of drowning and losing what was vibrating in my chest. But at that moment, when Rafayel’s image in the golden sunlight was engraved in my mind, I realized that he did not need to ask, for my heart had already belonged to him. Not because I was brought up as a sacrifice, nor because I owed Rafayel for saving my life. All because I willingly let him enter my heart, occupy my every thought, and become a significant part of my entire existence.

I willingly bind my fate to him, offer myself and everything to him, and become his most devoted follower, from now on and forevermore.

The front doorbell at Mo Art studio continued to ring like a melancholy melody. The man stood outside holding a file and eagerly checked the time on his fancy watch. When the door didn't open, he rang the bell again.

After losing patience, he pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped on a name. The beeping lasted for a long time. Finally, the other end of the line responded:

“Huh? Thomas?… You're here this early?”

"Goodness, it's already noon!" The man outside had been waiting with such impatience. "I came to discuss the new exhibition. Just open the gate for me."

"Uh... Wait a minute..." The familiar sleepy voice reverberated on the other end of the line. After roughly a minute, the enormous studio gate was opened.

Having been here many times before, Thomas had no trouble finding the gallery door. It was not closed as usual. The wind and salty sea air surged into the massive room, which had four corners filled with canvas, paintings, stone sculptures, and even fresh flowers. Despite being used to the regular clutter here, Thomas was astonished to see so many paintings scattered on the floor. All of them portrayed the same face, albeit from various angles.

"What is going on here?…"

A massive picture frame spanned more than half of the room. It included a blurry, indistinct image of a girl. Next to the still-dry painting was the great artist whom Thomas worked with. He simply laid there, face down on the canvas. His painted hands obscured the gorgeous, illusory face.

"Dear Lord! Rafayel!" Thomas quickly shook him awake. Shiny pearls rolled all over Rafayel's studio. "So this is the inspiration you've talked about?"

Rafayel brushed Thomas's hand away, smiling as if he had not woken up from his dream. He muttered, "Thomas... My friend. I found it again."

"You found what?"

Rafayel sat upright. Although he was smiling, his manner was serious, and the depths of his eyes shimmering with emotions.

"I found my muse... I found her again."

***

Somewhere amid the crowded streets, there was a constant gaze on you.

You were smiling with pride in your new Hunter uniform. You were frolicking with your pals. You were delighted to embark on your first mission. All of your emotions were written on your face. You lived your life to the fullest, as if the tragedies of past lives had no impact on you.

Is that a kind of blessing?

I always believed that I was cursed, destined to drown in the waves of the past. I would forever carry with me every memory of you, of all the lives we had together. And you would always slip away from me, in the most painful ways. Each attempt to rewrite my story ended in blood and tears, loneliness and regret. Then, every time the story reverted to the beginning, I met you once more.

I want to blame you yet I feel relieved that you no longer remember anything from the past. You have forgotten our brief encounter when we were children. But your face haunts all my dreams, even nightmares. The fire in your chest is still burning, fierce and unwavering. That is why I always find you among the crowd. How can I not feel my own heartbeat in you? How can I not see the blazing fire that once united us? Your imprint is still etched in my blood. Your mind may have forgotten, but your heart has not.

This time, we will begin again as two strangers. This time, I shall take the initiative to come before you, to greet you once more in this life.

Yet, before that happens, I am confined to drawing your silhouette on paper and carving it into each piece of stone. I am terrified and delighted at the same time. Indeed I am not sure how we will compose this tale. Yet, soon, I shall properly stand before you. When that time comes, I shall count each beat of our hearts merging together. I shall engrave your first glance at me in this world. And I will tell you,

I am Rafayel.

I have been searching for you for a long time.

The child climbed through the gap between the two rusty iron gates. Perhaps in the last hundred years at least, she might have been the only one who had set foot in that desolate area, all just to test her courage.

Her name was Irina, which means peace. But, paradoxically, peace was never found once in her life. Simply look at the bruises and cuts all over her body, hidden behind the white garment she wore from head to toe. A drunkard her father was, and her mother had no concerns for her. When the daughter begged to go out with the other children, her mother tossed her a white fabric and told her to cut two holes to create this "ghost" costume. Then she vanished into the night, enjoying the excitement of Polar Night with her lover. Irina finished her outfit within minutes so she could join the other children in the neighborhood.

All the parents in this neighborhood did not want their children to spend time with Irina. It was never the child's fault, they were well aware of that, but given her family background, they thought she was not brought up properly and would grow up to be as nasty as her parents. However, Irina was either too young to comprehend or did not want to. Companionship was the sole thing she sought. Hence, she would do whatever the other kids demanded simply to play with them. For instance:

"Do you dare go inside that spooky building at the end of the river? If you are brave enough, we'll let you trick-or-treat with us."

"Of course, I am brave!" she said with confidence despite the fact that her legs were shaking from fright. Or perhaps she was just wobbling from the cold. She was not clothed with the same warmth as the other children.

“Then we’ll wait on this bridge until midnight. If you leave earlier than the scheduled time, we won’t let you join us.”

Thus, Irina mustered up all of her courage and pursued the flowing water down the bridge, to the abandoned mansion. At that time, she did not think that even if she stayed until midnight, the festival would be over, and the children would have gone home to sleep. The fact that the children allowed her to play with them at last made her thrilled. They even stood on the bridge watching her, cheering and waving at her.

As Irina climbed over the gate and looked at the place that was rumored to be haunted, she swallowed. It was not her wish to be here, but she could not go back. Perhaps spending a night here was more tolerable than the punches and beatings she received from her parents at home. It was unlikely that they would come seeking for her. Her mother had a date and would not be home all night. And her father was probably slumped at one of the town's pubs at that time. They only remembered her existence when they needed a sandbag to vent their frustrations. And from their perspective, her undesired birth had brought even greater misery to their lives. So she deserved all that punishment from them!

Irina strolled across the garden, which had been overrun by weeds and moss. She imagined that in its heyday, the place where she stood must have had a lovely garden full of fragrant flowers and exotic plants. She had learned from the locals that this mansion previously belonged to an ancient noble family. They were fae, a race that had ceased to exist long ago. Irina was staring at a stone statue of a small fae with broken wings laying in the ruins when suddenly she noticed a blue flame flash past her eyes.

"What was that?" She jumped. Hovering a dozen meters away from her, the blue flame reappeared. Irina shuddered. “A real ghost?”

The flame appeared to be observing her. At least that was how it felt like. From it came a halo of warm and lovely light. The speck then returned to the main door.

“Huh?… Wait!” Irina chased after the flame. This mansion was the subject of many rumors, mostly to frighten children. However, several reported seeing blue flames from time to time as they passed by. It was foolish of Irina to pursue such a will-o’-the-wisp, but she did not think the ghost had any malicious intent. Instead, she believed the spirit was trying to communicate with her.

It was something she could not explain. She felt slightly impelled to pursue the blue flame that had just vanished into the mansion. Irina trembled and placed her hand on the door.

"M-May I come in?…"

She had no idea who she was saying it to, but it would be inappropriate to simply walk in. She pushed the door open, astonished to see that there was no lock to stop her. Irina expected the inside to be gloomy and menacing, but she was amazed when she saw a completely different scene.

The room was filled with bright golden candlelight. There was the sound of a piano and people speaking close. But what drew Irina's attention the most was the blue flame, which had dimmed and was dancing on the palm of a strange gentleman.

His hair was long and matched the color of the flame. His peculiar golden eyes focused on Irina, making her take a step back.

“Uh… I’m sorry… I know I shouldn’t be here…”

The blue flame dissipated as the man clutched his palm. He smiled, put his hand to his chest, and bent gently.

"Fear not, miss. I am Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins. I shall be your escort tonight."

"Kyryll… Kyryll Chudo…" Irina attempted to recite the lengthy name but failed. She had a faint recollection of hearing a similar name somewhere before.

The gentleman stood up straight and said:

"Please, just call me Flins."

"Y-Yes," she replied. "Uncle Flins… I'm Irina…" Then she shook her head so hard that the white fabric around her trembled. She was certain that she was merely in a dream. "Wait… It can't be… I thought this place was abandoned long ago?…"

"Abandoned? No. Certainly not on such a picturesque night as this. If Miss Irina does not make haste, the festivities will begin without us."

"Are you saying that we're going to a party?" Irina asked again. The bizarre mansion, the blue flame, and the man called Flins. What was happening?

"Yes. A masquerade for us."

Irina wondered why no one had ever mentioned the party at this mansion before. However, she was more concerned with the soiled white fabric and her own unkempt appearance underneath.

"I don't think they'll let me in…"

As soon as she finished speaking, Irina witnessed a ring of blue flames encircling her. The flame seized her white cloth as she cried out loudly. In the flash of an eye, the material was scorched and gone. When Irina looked down at her feet, she found a pair of dazzling shoes and a flowing garment dangling from her own body.

"Huh?…" She was dressed in a dark blue evening gown with silvery sequins that reflected light. She was unable to view her complete attire, but she could feel the small wings attached on her gown. She became a fae, sort of, much like in a fairy tale!

Flins extended his hand to her. “Shall we go, Miss Irina?”

The girl eagerly accepted Flins's hand. She preferred to be called Miss Irina rather than brat, nasty girl, or any of the other derogatory names her family and neighbors gave her. Flins led her down the long corridor and into the main hall, where the celebration had just begun.

Like a dream so beautiful that even Irina’s imagination could not have conjured it, she saw the fae in the banquet hall. They were young and old, all dancing together, conversing, or enjoying the delicious meal at the table. Irina knew nothing about the fae or the mansion's golden age, yet she was certainly witnessing something wonderful. A miracle.

"Sir Flins has arrived! And a little lady is here with him!"

The guests welcomed them. Irina glanced up at Flins. He simply nodded and grinned faintly. She was then escorted aside by a few fae of her age for a chat.

"So, you are Irina? What a beautiful name!"

"Where are you from? I've never seen your face around here before."

"Every year, on this day, our families gather here for Sir Flins's birthday."

"That's right! Almost all of the fae nobility are present. Even our Tsar is here!"

Irina was so perplexed by the questions that her brain began to spin. The vibrant fae wings of all colors floated in front of her, adding to the beautiful atmosphere. She scanned around the hall and noticed Flins speaking with an unknown person. But because of his attire and his exceedingly brilliant wings, she guessed he might be the Tsar - the King of the fae who had just been mentioned. Only then did she realize that Flins was the only one without wings.

The young fae led her out into the garden, she was amazed at how different everything was than when she first came. The trees were overgrown, the enormous fountain still functioned, and the ruined statues she had seen still stood, unmarked by the cruelties of time. Irina could not just ask the guests whether they knew what would happen to this place in the far future. Perhaps the only thing she could do was enjoy this bizarre yet delightful dream.

Indeed, Irina set her fears and ideas away. She mingled with the fae, dancing and learning their songs (in a language she did not understand at all—she had fun still!). The fae offered her a floral wreath to wear on her head. She ate everything on the table and never felt full. Irina burst into tears as she remembered the chilly, poor meals and, worst of all, the fact that she was left hungry at home. Seeing this, her new fae companions hugged and consoled her.

"Oh, dear Irina! If you like, we may welcome you to our home for a tea party."

"That's right. Irina, you ought to eat more cakes and the other foods you enjoy!"

Irina sobbed with a mouth full of food. After her spirits had been lifted, the fae drew her out into the middle of the hall to dance. Honestly, she was quite clumsy, and she had stepped on the feet of her blonde fae dance partner more than once. Yet he did not appear displeased at all; instead, he reddened and stared at her for a long time.

After a few lively melodies, it was Flins's turn to invite her to dance. Irina was too short for him, so he had to lower himself down for the entire song. He was even generous enough to let her stand on his shoes.

"Thank you, Uncle Flins!" Irina exclaimed as he spun her around. "Thank you for letting me join you on your birthday!"

"To celebrate such a special occasion with you, Miss Irina, the honor is mine."

"How courteous!" She giggled. All the fae here were like that, so gentle and kind to her.

All of a sudden, a distant bell rang. Irina immediately remembered something.

"It's midnight already? Oh… I have to go…"

The song was not yet finished, but everything had come to a halt. All the fae surrounding her remained immobile, as if they were exquisite sculptures. Irina was stunned. She and Flins were the only ones who could still move.

"They… What's wrong with them, Uncle Flins?"

Flins did not respond to her immediately. His yellow eyes gradually turned blue, like the fire the little girl had seen when she first arrived here, or perhaps the light in the lantern he was holding.

"Uncle Flins?…" Irina took a step back out of fright. "I… I have to go… My friends must be waiting outside…"

She recalled the challenge the other children had given her. It was a surprise how she had forgotten all about it while playing here! She had nearly lost track of the wicked world that awaited her when she returned. Every wonderful dream must come to an end at last.

"No one is waiting for you, Miss Irina," Flins said. The girl took another step back and by mistake clashed into the blond fae boy she had been dancing with. He crumbled into dust and vanished right in front of her.

All the other fae vanished as well. In the blink of an eye, the magnificent banquet hall was reduced to ruins. The moonlight coming through the jagged glass windows revealed Irina's reality: her elegant dress was gone, she was back to her filthy self, and even the wreath on her head disappeared.

Blue flames flashed surrounding the girl; it was all so terrifying. In tears she screamed:

"Please let me go home! I want to go home!"

"Do you really want to go home?" Flins's voice resonated like thunder. He moved past her while still holding the lantern. "If that's what you wish for, I shall take you home."

Irina's legs raced to catch up with Flins. After a few steps, she found herself standing on the bridge, gazing at the abandoned property.

“Huh?… Where is everyone?” She looked around. No one was waiting for her. In the distance, she heard the sound of children playing.

Flins turned and walked forward. She followed. This time, they arrived at her residence.

Her mother was still not home, and she would not be again. The girl overheard her drunken father curse in the kitchen. As she proceeded nearer, she noticed a scarlet stream of blood dropping down the floor.

Something made Irina's legs limp. It seemed like she had seen this precise scene before. On Polar Night, she came home after being left behind by her so-called "friends". She came across her father looking for more drinks in the kitchen. There were curses then, both for her mother and for her. When those furious eyes met her, he surged at her like a demonic being.

She remembered it now. She remembered every terrifying punch that had been mercilessly rained down on her. She remembered the kicks to her stomach that had rendered her helpless to fight back. The pain was more severe than any other time before. And when the demon in the shape of her father finally ceased, Irina felt no more pain.

But she lay there, cold on the floor, in her own pool of blood. A long, long time later, the father pulled the white cloth the girl had used as her costume to put over her motionless body. She had become a ghost.

The father wrapped her petite body in the cloth. Then Irina saw herself standing on the bridge, watching her own father throw her into the river. She felt herself floating in the cold water, isolated from the rest of the world. The river then transported her to an abandoned mansion where the blue flame found her.

Flins's light cast a warm, eerie glow on the path ahead of Irina. She was astounded by what she had just seen, or rather recalled. Flins stayed silent, waiting for her to speak first.

"I'm... I'm dead..."

That was why Flins said no one was waiting for her. Irina was no longer of this world.

But where could she go now?

"There is a place for you, Miss Irina."

Hearing this, the girl looked up at the man with the lantern. He must be a ghost like her. Or was he truly a fae? It did not matter.

"There is a place for the souls who no longer belong to this world," Flins spoke again. "If you see a light waiting for you, go forth."

Irina looked around. Besides the lantern in Flins's hand, she caught a glimpse of another light behind him. Far, far away. It resembled a lighthouse.

Flins turned his head in the direction where the girl was staring. "So you saw it," he said.

"What about you, Uncle Flins?" Irina asked. It confused Flins. She had just recognized the horrific way she had died at the hands of her father, but her main concern was what would happen to Flins.

"Didn't you come here to pick me up?" Irina added. She had accepted the fact that she was no longer alive with ease. After all, it was the existence that made her miserable.

Flins replied:

"I came to show you the way. From here on, you can walk by yourself."

Irina stared up at the distant lighthouse again with hesitation written all over her face. Then, she returned her gaze at where the bridge still stood, and further, towards her house.

"I can… go now?…" She whispered. Could she go? Had she escaped that nightmare for good?

Flins extended his gloved hand to her, saying, "If you're afraid, I can accompany you for a little longer."

Irina took Flins's hand. They started heading down a long, dark path toward the lighthouse, guided by his lantern. Irina was still bewildered. She kept looking back.

"What will happen to my parents when I'm gone, Uncle Flins?"

"That is something I cannot tell you," Flins told her the truth. "Perhaps when the sun rises, the locals will find your body in front of my residence. An investigation will be established, and I will ensure that the wrongdoer does not get away with it."

"You can do that? What are you really?..."

Flins laughed at her naive question. "Aren't you more curious about where we're going than about this?"

Irina shrugged and replied, "Anywhere would be better than staying here, I think."

She would not miss her mother that much, let alone her father. She also hoped that the children who had never truly considered her a friend wouldn't be haunted by her absence. After all, she would rather leave this life without being remembered.

But Flins would not forget her.

"If you really are the Grim Reaper, thank you for granting me a beautiful dream before I go."

Irina spoke of the party. She would never forget that brief but wonderful time. They were already near the lighthouse, and Irina was able to let go of Flins's hand.

She felt herself being lifted higher and higher. The white cloth that had covered her body was carried away by the wind, leaving her in the same beautiful dress she had worn when she had arrived at Flins's party. Irina smiled and sobbed at the same time. She had never felt the peace in her name as she did now, when she was enveloped in the magical light from the lighthouse and lifted aloft, as if unseen wings were sustaining her.

"Thank you, Uncle Flins! Happy birthday to you!" she said. Her increasingly fading arms reached out to hold his shoulders. To his astonishment, Flins received the warm present with a smile.

"I am a Lightkeeper," Flins informed her. "I cannot go with you, not yet. Though it was a pleasure to have you at my birthday celebration. Now, farewell, Miss Irina."

The blue flame in Flins's eyes flickered. That was the last thing Irina saw before plunging into the glow of the lighthouse.

* * *

The man with the peculiar dark blue lantern stood at the corner, watching as the cold body of the unfortunate child was being transported away. Not far from that place, an intoxicated father had just been convicted and would be sentenced not just by the rules of this world, but also by a mysterious authority.

On the frigid autumn morning, one could almost see the blue flames flickering within the shattered mansion grounds.

-The End-

You awoke in a familiar hospital room at Akso Hospital. The beep of the cardiac monitor was the only sound in the quiet room. The hush ended when the door opened, revealing the cherished face of the person you loved.

When he noticed you were awake, he approached to examine your indications, which were plainly shown on a series of monitoring equipment nearby. One of your arms was wired, while the other was wrapped in immaculate white gauze. The pain seemed to bring back memories from yesterday.

You had, foolishly, confronted the Wanderer alone before your backup crew arrived. You believed you did the right thing in that scenario; even though your arm was severed, you carried out your duty with some sloppy first aid. The fact that you awoke at Akso Hospital demonstrated the consequences of your risky behavior though. You would have no idea how Zayne reacted when he saw you brought into the hospital like this. The doctor in front of you seemed as calm as usual, as if he had not spent the entire night fretting about you. He sighed with contentment after he was pleased with your present health status. Then he spoke:

“Are you ready for an early lunch? The abalone porridge at the hospital is a must-try today.”

You were taken aback by Zayne’s behavior. “Doctor Zayne…” Your lips called his name, but you left the sentence unfinished.

“I'm here. Are you hurt?”

It was still the same caring expression and exceptionally kind gestures, but they hurt your heart more than the wound on your arm. He never compelled you to do anything, and when you found it difficult to express yourself, he patiently waited for you to open up.

For example, when you were so careless that you were hurt, he did not criticize you and calmly waited for you to explain why you did so. But how could you tell him that you did it just to prove your strength? The result was far from what you had expected though.

Perhaps this life was so greedy of its blessings on you. There was nothing special about you; not your appearance nor talents. Your Hunter Association achievements were simply standard. Yet you always wanted to do more, wanted to be better, to be worthy of the position next to Doctor Zayne, whom you admired so much.

Zayne was a remarkable brilliant individual from an early age. Success came to him so soon. He led a life that many others could only dream of. He radiated an aura that drew others to him. You were no exception. However, he attracted many talented individuals surrounding him. From all of them was an aura that you could never have.

You had always seen yourself as a side character, someone who remained on the sidelines while everyone else got lost in their own lives. You simply lived like that without attempting to stand out. Being noticed by Zayne, being loved by him, it was like a dream come true. And you wanted this to be more than just a fantasy, so you persuaded yourself you needed to do better in order to be worthy of him.

It had been almost a year and you just could not shake the feeling off. Even this mission was an epic failure. You were afraid for him to see you in such a miserable state.

As if understanding you were not ready, Zayne softly grasped your hand. “Rest,” he said. “Anything else can wait until you’re better. We’ll figure it out together.”

You closed your eyes. Together, that did sound pretty nice.

*

* *

Zayne released you from the hospital after your condition had stabilized. He took you home, and it was not until he saw you seated comfortably on the sofa and listing the food you were desiring that he felt relieved.

“Your arm is still not completely healed.” Zayne gently stroked your head. “You still have to abstain from a lot of things.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his phone rang. Zayne quickly glanced at the name on the screen and said, “Give me a moment."

Zayne picked up the phone. While answering the phone, he walked into the kitchen and poured you a drink of water. Observing behind him, you reasoned that the call must be from another outstanding person in his life. Sharing Zayne with someone else made you nervous, especially because they were so much more brillant than you. You felt envious, and realizing how insignificant you were made you feel even more insecure.

You never wanted to be just a shadow following Dr. Zayne.

You curled up in the sofa, pretending not to eavedrop on his call. How many times had this happened before? How many times had you told yourself to suppress this negative emotion? Yet you failed to hold it in any longer. You might erupt at any time and do something as reckless as the previous mission that led to your injury.

While you were still lost in thoughts, Zayne finished his call. He placed a glass of water in your hand, and you feigned a grin.

“Does Doctor Zayne have to go now?”

“Not really,” he replied. "There is a celebration at the hospital to commemorate a successful project. Greyson called to ask where I was.”

"I see…" You attempted to make your voice as casual as possible, but Zayne seemed to recognize how upset you were. Because you're still injured, you might be unable to join him at that celebration.

"You should get ready then," you said without glancing at him.“Don't worry. I’ll order dinner later.”

Contrary to your expectations, Zayne replied, "But I told Greyson I had an important patient to take care of."

Your eyes widened at his words. That patient must be... you?

Zayne lowered himself to your eye level. “Of course I couldn’t leave this patient alone. Who knew she would do something reckless again if I left her hungry?”

Your laughing rang loud. Zayne rubbed your hands together in his, kissing the tips of the rather cold fingers.

"Besides," he said, "she hasn't told me what's been upsetting her lately. I can't handle it properly if she keeps keeping stuff from me."

How could Zayne not notice even the smallest change in the person he loved? These previous several days had been quite difficult for him. The girl who often smiled and stood by his side appeared to have a lot on her mind of late. Despite his lack of dating experience and comprehension of a lover's temperament, Zayne appeared to know what you were thinking. Simply put, your strange behavior did not escape his keen eyes. What he was waiting for was for you to open up and share with him.

At last, you gave in and told Zayne everything you had been thinking, including the negative feelings.

"I'm sorry…"

It wasn't easy to express everything you had been holding back for over a year, but it left you lighter than ever, as if you'd just dealt with a Wanderer ready to break out. Zayne remained at your side, listening to all. When you calmed down, he rose up and approached the bookshelf.

You were astonished. Zayne returned to you a minute later, bearing the kalimba that you had given him the year before.

“Doctor Zayne, why are you taking out your kalimba?”

Could it be that he was interested in playing a song after your confession? He sat down next to you on the sofa, his fingers hitting each note, creating a crisp sound that resonated.

“I was just wondering how I could prove to you that I’m not as perfect as you think,” Zayne replied. He gently lifted the instrument.

You appeared to understand what he meant and then chuckled. Zayne's only weakness was possibly his knack to play the kalimba. You recalled how he had played the instrument like a child when he received it. However, given his accomplishments, the fact that he couldn't get a few notes perfect seemed insignificant. Knowing that this wasn't enough to persuade you, Zayne began playing the opening notes of the song you adored. His words gradually resonated with the sound of the kalimba.

“Do you remember when you gave me this kalimba? I couldn’t play any song back then. But thanks to you practicing with me, now I can play the song you like most.”

You felt quiet, just listened to Zayne's music. After that you commented:

“You played nine notes wrong.”

The corner of Zayne’s lips curved slightly, even those who were unfamiliar with his frigid countenance could tell he was smiling.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t know how to play this song. You claim to be a side character, but you don't realize how much of an impact you've had on the lives of others. Everything you do, no matter how little, has an effect on the world around you. Playing the kalimba is only one of the countless ways you've impacted my life."

For a moment, you were out of speech. You merely glanced at Zayne with a fragile voice. He put down the instrument and clutched your hand.

"You don't try to stand out, but oddly enough, my attention is always drawn to you. Maybe I don't know how to put it, but I wish you could see how wonderful you are in my eyes."

The image of Zayne in front of you became blurry. Your nose felt stinging. You tried not to cry, but eventually you broke down like a baby in his arms. Zayne placed kisses your hair as if he were consoling you, offering love and safety. Even though you might not be the main character, even though you were not one of those outstanding people, now you had more confidence to continue living your life the way you wanted it.

Because you knew that there was someone to always recognize your efforts. There was someone to always be tolerant and patient with you. He would always welcome you to stand by his side.

The position next to Zayne had always been yours.