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Sunset cast shades of delicate pink and purple across the horizon. The calm lapping of the waves sounded like a lullaby echoing in your ears. As your eyelids parted, the familiar figure of that young man came into view.

It was him, the one who had walked beside you for more than half a life, yet his stature, his face, and that radiant smile remained exactly as they were the day he first entered your world, painting it with the vibrant colors that belonged solely to him.

"Rafayel?"

Hearing you call out, he turned back. He was standing at the water's edge, the hem of his trousers submerged. He was holding a large seashell, and beamed at you.

"You're awake?" Rafayel asked as he walked toward you. He sat down on the other end of the wooden bench and placed the seashell in your hand.

In that moment, you recognized how wrinkled your hands had gotten.

You looked over at Rafayel. His hands remained pristine, without a single wrinkle. Your gaze traveled over the contours of his face, features you had etched into your very dreams. He had not changed at all from the day you first met. Yet you changed with each passing day, growing older until, eventually, you became an elderly woman.

Looking back on the years gone by, you could smile knowing you had truly lived and loved. You have loved Rafayel more than anything else in this world, yet you were merely a human being. You know that should you be reborn, your heart would beat for him once more in a new life. Rafayel would come searching for you, just as he always has and always will throughout his immortality. The same way that waves finding the shore, you shall find each other again.

You wonder how many times you had gone through this; dying and being reborn just to meet him again. Sometimes, you felt it was utterly unfair to Rafayel. Why must he always be the one to endure the pain of losing you, time and time again? Why must he always search for you in solitude, waiting for the day you were born anew into this world? Why must he always be the one who remembered everything you had shared, only to pretend it had all been erased the moment you departed this life, so he could begin a new story with you once more? It was you. It had always been you. Was this, perhaps, the price a god must pay for falling in love with a mere mortal?

You pressed your ear against the seashell, listening as the ocean recounted the story of you and him. Long, long ago, when the human world was still in its infancy, the sea had already begun to sing of him. Then it sang of you, too, ever since the day he gave you his heart without asking for anything in return.

A tear fell, and his finger wiped it away. He asked, "Are you afraid?" And you shook your head.

You did not fear death, for you knew you would see Rafayel again. You only feared that, during that short span of time—brief, at least, to a god—he would be left all alone. His heart would be cast to the seabed, imprisoned in the sunless depths of the ocean. And when you met again, would you ever be able to love him with even a thousandth of the love he held for you?

Would you still be worthy of such love?

Rafayel’s hand interlaced with yours. A perfect fit. He could say over and over that he would always choose you, no matter how you might change; your hearts would remain forever bound. It was something the universe itself could never erase. Yet, in this moment, as he prepared to bid farewell to this version of you, he wished to ease your departure.

"Is there anything I can do for you? Another warm blanket, perhaps? Or would you like to go inside?"

Rafayel appeared composed, yet you knew he was never truly alright. No one could witness the person they loved die over and over again without feeling a shred of grief. Even the gods held no remedy for such pain. So, you would be selfish just this one last time and keep him by your side a little longer.

"There’s no need... But... what about you? Is there one last thing I can do for you?"

You watched the clouds, tinged with pink and purple, slowly dissolved. The ocean was calling me into a new cycle. The cycle of death and rebirth. Yet Rafayel held your hand tight. It was a silent vow that you would meet again.

"My dearest, your hand is in mine. That is all I need."

Amidst the bustling crowds of an unfamiliar city, you caught sight of a familiar figure of a certain doctor.

Zayne’s dark hair stood out against the gloomy sky of early winter. His eyes, a blend of blue and gold, radiated warmth the moment they found you, standing just ten paces away as you waited for the next tram.

"Hello, Doctor Zayne!" You spoke up first as he walked toward you. "I never expected a mission in a place this far away would lead me into you."

The corners of Zayne’s mouth curled upward slightly. Lately, he had been showing up by chance at the locations where you were on mission with increasing frequency.

"It's quite a coincidence," replied Zayne. "I was invited as a guest lecturer at a nearby medical university. What about you? A new mission this time?"

"Yes." You nodded.

Following that, silence settled in. Zayne and you were waiting for the tram, which was the fastest way to get around this city. But your mission was over, and you were in no rush; Zayne had finished his work at the university, too. He glanced down at his watch, somewhat restless, then turned to you and spoke:

"If you're not in a hurry, I know a really good pastry shop nearby."

You smiled. That was all it took; you no longer had to wait for the tram to return to your rented room alone. You spent that afternoon with Zayne, sampling pastries at a shop he had chosen. Between the treats, the hot tea, and the casual, rambling conversation that drifted from one topic to another, you completely lost track of the time for your dinner date with Tara—your colleague and close friend. It was not until a text message from her, urging you to hurry, popped up on your phone screen that you hurriedly said goodbye to Zayne.

He walked you back to the tram stop, even though you did not share the same route. The area was more crowded than before since it was rush hour, and a small festival was taking place nearby.

"I'm not going to make it in time..." you whispered, but Zayne heard you. He smiled and tugged gently at your hand.

"It's fine," replied Zayne. "Your next tram arrives in three minutes. We'll make it."

Thus, Zayne utilized his height to navigate through the crowd, his sturdy back shielding you from bumping into others. You reached the stop just as the tram pulled in.

Yet you were not ready to say goodbye.

Your hand lingered in Zayne’s grasp. The moment you realized your fingers were tightly interlaced with his was the very moment you had to let go. Zayne spoke gently:

"Get on now."

You took a step toward the rear entrance of the vintage-style tram, yet your mind stayed set on the warmth of Zayne’s hand, a touch you were reluctant to part.

Sensing this, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Doctor Zayne began to pace alongside the slow-moving wheels, as if the tram was waiting for you to finish saying your goodbyes.

"Zayne… I…"

I don't want to leave.

I don't want to let go of your hand.

Zayne hastened his pace as the tram began to pick up speed. He spoke rapidly before it carried you away:

"I'll see you. Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be… I’ll be at the pastry shop."

You nodded, beaming, as your fingers slipped away from his palm. Stepping onto the tram, you watched Zayne’s silhouette stand out against the lights of an unfamiliar city.

There was no need for a goodbye, just a simple "See you again" would be enough.

"… Don't go…"

In a hazy, half-asleep state, you frantically clutched the sleeve of the person who had just tucked a blanket around you. Rafayel bent down, looking at you as you drifted off to sleep on the sofa in his studio. A grin appeared on his lips, but vanished abruptly as he heard you whisper in your sleep:

"… Don't go… my paycheck…"

Rafayel furrowed his brows while staring at you, then at your hand, which had suddenly wrapped securely around his sleeve. He let out a sigh.

"How am I supposed to leave when you're like this?"

Frustrated, Rafayel sat down right on the floor. He leaned against the sofa and tried to pry your hand loose, only for you to clutch him even tighter.

"Don't go! ... My lobster! ..."

Rafayel inclined his head, looking intrigued. "So now I'm a lobster?"

"My steamed crab..."

He chuckled, softly enough not to wake you. He brushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen across your sleeping face.

"Are you exhausted to the point that you're dreaming of seafood already?" Rafayel murmured. He rested his chin against the sofa and gazed at you for a time. "Miss Bodyguard, you are going to get a pay cut. You were supposed to keep me company while I painted, yet here I am, babysitting you instead."

You responded only with a sleepy mumble. Rafayel gave your arm a gentle pat, offering a soothing touch:

"Go back to sleep. You've worked hard today."

Your schedule was always packed, and lately, things had become even more chaotic. Approaching deadlines and unanticipated challenges put you on a perpetual spin. Nonetheless, you were always there when Rafayel needed you, whether it was to do errands for him or to sit silently and watch him paint. You never found it a hassle to rush over when he called; it was just that on that particular day, you were so fatigued and drifted off to sleep without realizing it.

As for Rafayel, he simply wanted to keep you by his side, that was all.

His soothing presence worked wonders; you stopped mumbling and fell into a deeper sleep. Rafayel sat there, looking over you, till the darkness over the water outside the studio altered, transforming into the colors of dawn.

You awoke with a start, realizing how long you had been asleep. Rafayel was there, his head lying on the sofa next to you. Somehow, your hands had become tightly intertwined. It was a truly warm and comforting feeling.

Your movement stirred him. Realizing that you had been holding hands all through the night, you exchanged a shy glance before letting go at last.

Rafayel cleared his throat. "Ahem... You remind me of sea otters. You know, they hold hands while they sleep and refuse to let go... I just didn't want to wake you up, that's why I didn't pull my hand away..."

A soft pink flush spread across Rafayel's face, extending all the way to his ears. You smiled.

"You don't need to explain what I didn't ask. But, do I resemble a sea otter that much?"

Your words only left him more flustered. After all, it was the first time the two of you had held hands for so long, and even slept side by side. Did you truly not feel a thing after this?

"Of course, you do! And now my hand is completely numb," Rafayel complained, feigning grievance. "I won't be able to paint anymore today. Thus, it is your responsibility to look after me during the day."

Your eyes widened. "You can't be serious? Why didn't you wake me up so I could go home then?"

But Rafayel pretended not to listen. He rose up and headed toward the kitchen, calling back to you, "Let's start with breakfast! And for lunch, we could have lobster or steamed crab..."

You smiled as you watched him walk away. Last night was the best sleep you had had in a long time. It must have been because of Rafayel; because the warmth of his hand was still lingering around you.

Cold raindrops fell from the leaden sky onto the melancholy outskirts. A rift that had split the air slammed shut, sweeping away the growls of the Wanderers as they vanished into the void.

Far off on the horizon, the streetlights of Linkon began to glimmer to life. It was a kind of warmth that had never belonged to you. The only things that were truly yours were the cold, and perhaps the terror and rage that lurked beneath every protofield produced by the Wanderers. Your mission was to eliminate them. One after another. Nightmare after nightmare. Yet, even when you stepped out of those illusions, you found yourself enveloped by nothing more than another disturbed dream.

Back in the beautiful city of Linkon, there was no one left waiting for your return after the battle.

Yet, you were startled when your eyes caught a glimpse of a black motorcycle half-hidden amid the trees. Someone else was here, besides you. Perhaps you knew that person. Perhaps you were familiar with the warmth of their palm reaching through the freezing rain to touch your hand.

"Kitten, you look like a drowned rat."

When you looked up, you caught sight of a pair of blazing red eyes. That color was truly beautiful; it was strikingly vivid against the gloom of that day.

"I'm fine."

You tried to turn away, but his grasp held you fast. Sometimes, the hand holding your own is the only thing that connects you to this world.

"What are you doing here, Sylus? This is a solo mission," you said. You had not expected to run into the Leader of Onychinus here, but as always, he found you first.

"There was a Hunter who rushed off to handle a tough mission without a support team," Sylus replied. "She even ignored my messages."

"I can handle these Wanderers just fine."

That said, your body felt utterly drained from the prolonged battle, and you had sustained a few injuries as well. Yet, you refused to show any signs of pain or fatigue to others. Especially to Sylus.

He reached out to wipe a smear of blood from your cheek.

The rain obscured his silhouette before your eyes, but his warmth was undeniably present.

"I know you’re capable of anything," Sylus said to you in a gentle tone. "But surely you wouldn't want to walk all the way home alone in this rain, would you?"

You did not know when it started, but Sylus was always there when you needed him the most. Sometimes, it was in the heat of battle; other times it was just like this, he arrived as things wind down and pulled you back to this world, a world where he existed.

"No," you said, interlacing your fingers with his. "I don't want to go home alone..."

You no longer wanted to do anything by yourself anymore since he came along and taught you how to lean on him. To trust him.

The motorcycle headed toward Linkon through the rain. You rested your head against his shoulder from behind. On this journey, you no longer had to walk alone.

Thomas had been standing before that painting for nearly half an hour, yet he still could not fathom the secrets hidden within it. The work left him speechless, made his art-loving eyes ache, and ultimately caused him to question his entire career as a painter.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't say it," Rafayel said. He had just stepped up beside Thomas, facing the latest piece in his exhibition.

Rafayel jerked his chin toward you, the very person who had created the painting, as you busied yourself with the fellow Hunters in the corner of the room.

The moment he saw you turn toward him, Rafayel flashed a brilliant smile, while Thomas hurriedly averted his gaze to avoid offering insincere praise. You, however, beamed as you walked over to Rafayel and your painting.

"Thomas must be pretty shocked, right?" you said.

Rafayel looked at you, then back at the painting. "Well, shocked is an understatement. But your plan was a resounding success. Seeing you look so happy makes it all worthwhile, doesn't it?"

You nodded and giggled. It all began two weeks ago at Rafayel’s studio, when you had a brilliant idea for his upcoming exhibition.

A new Wanderer had lately arrived in Linkon, and it had a strong affinity for art. The Hunter Association had attempted and failed to catch it several times. Eventually, you devised a plan: lay a trap at Rafayel's exhibition using a specially formulated paint designed to trigger the mechanism when the Wanderer touched the artwork.

But for the Wanderer to notice, the painting had to be absolutely unique. Naturally, the creature adored everything Rafayel created, so it would inevitably attend the exhibition and blend into the crowd, making the task of capturing it all the more difficult. So, you pleaded with Rafayel to teach you how to paint. A week later, your midnight seascape was displayed in a quiet, secluded corner of the exhibition. You were confident that your artistic talent was enough to lure the Wanderer in. Just as you anticipated, the instant it noticed your picture, it surged forward with the purpose of destroying what it deemed a disgrace to art, then fell right into your trap.

You eventually managed to capture the Wanderer, for the price of spending days getting messy in Rafayel’s studio, listening to him grumble and criticize your work. You had never expected Rafayel to be such a demanding teacher. However, when faced with your success, he had to agree you had talent; it just was not the sort that could be neatly framed and mounted on the wall for the safety of everyone else.

"We can take it down now," you said to Rafayel in the gallery. But it seemed he had other plans for the painting.

He replied, "There’s no need to take it down. Just leave it there until the exhibition ends. It’s your first landscape painting, after all. Besides, there’s a truly captivating story behind it."

You furrowed your brows slightly. "Rafayel, I honestly can't tell if you're complimenting me or criticizing me..."

"It's a compliment, of course," Rafayel said, ruffling your hair. "To be honest, the idea behind this plan really took me by surprise! In your hands, anything can become a weapon. Even paints or art itself."

It is not every day you get praised by a renowned artist like Rafayel; you were absolutely beaming with pride. But before you could truly bask in the moment, he added:

"Now I know for certain that you have a true aptitude for painting. How would you feel about continuing our painting classes with just the two of us?"

Your eyes widened as you gazed at him. You were not prepared to face the rigorous Professor Rafayel that appeared in the studio again.

"Oh, about that... I really don't think it's necessary..."

Looking for an escape, you attempted to back away but knew you had failed as Rafayel grabbed your wrist and drew you toward him. One hand slid behind your back to steady you, while a mischievous glint played at the corner of his mouth.

"It's settled, then. Your entire next day off belongs to me and only me."

"Wanna hold hands with me?"

You extended a hand. Zayne gazed at you. His eyes, fixed on you, revealed an entire secret universe.

"I'm fine," Zayne replied. "Thank you."

However, he did not seem to be doing well. It was a drizzly autumn afternoon when he finished work just as your appointment at Akso Hospital was ending.

Then you asked him to join you for dinner. You only wanted to thank him for taking care of your health during this time. You had planned an excuse to leave immediately if Zayne refused, though he said yes. You had to suppress your enthusiasm to avoid dancing about with joy on the hospital grounds.

The restaurant you picked was not far from there. You and Zayne decided to walk, and you took the opportunity to spend a little more time with him. The rain had ceased by the time you left the hospital, but the chill remained. And Zayne did not appear as well as he had said.

You noticed that the puddles on the pavement where you had walked, or more specifically, where Zayne had walked, were covered with frost. He instantly put his hands in his pockets, although you had seen this happen in the past when you were both children. And you knew instantly what was wrong with him.

Back then, he used to hide both of his hands in the coat pockets like this. The sun was blazing, yet he was always dressed from head to toe, secluded in a corner. You found him when no one else could. And you asked him the same question.

"Wanna hold hands with me?"

"I'm fine… Thank you…"

It was the same response when he was a child. Yet with determination, you pulled his hand out of his pocket. It was freezing cold. Soon, snow began to cling to your tiny hand as well.

"Let go," Zayne told you. But you stubbornly clung on tighter. A surge of strength radiated from you, resonating with Zayne and helping him stabilize it. This continued until the snow melted and his hand warmed up again.

Years had passed, but you never forgot that boy. Never forgot Zayne.

You gazed up at Zayne. He seemed to be reminiscing about those old memories as well. Perhaps he knew what you were about to do; it had to be something similar to what the little girl had done years ago, so he extended a hand for you to see and said:

"I'm fine. Really. I can control my Evol better now."

You closely examined his hand. After that, you intertwined your fingers with his and smiled.

"Then this is your reward. Holding hands."

A hint of astonishment flickered across the doctor's face. Then he bowed his head, smiled softly, and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you."

The bustling streets rushed past the sidewalk. But you and Zayne would never lose each other's hands.

Rafayel looked at your outstretched hand and smiled with satisfaction. He took your hand and allowed you to draw him out to the center of the hall. His attention moved to the corner of the room, where your relatives were gossiping about the two of you.

"Relax," you said with a playful smile. "It’s just a dance. You don't have to ask for my hand in marriage, yet."

Rafayel looked a bit flustered, though he did not let it show on his face. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze while his other hand rested against your back.

"If you want them to believe we’re a couple," Rafayel murmured into your ear, drawing you closer to him, "You need to act a little more head-over-heels for me."

The two of you were attending a relative's wedding. After enduring endless nagging about not having a boyfriend, you had decided to bring Rafayel along. It was all just an act to convince your family to stop pressing you to find a partner and setting you up on blind dates. The thing was, Rafayel was playing the role so convincingly that everyone believed he was absolutely smitten with you.

As for you? There must be a reason why Rafayel was the one accompanying you, not anyone else. Yet, you restrained yourself from overthinking it. After all, you feared that once this act ended, if you found yourself wanting more while he did not, you would lose what you had with him forever.

"That's better," Rafayel whispered as you danced. At such close range, it was hard to look him in the eye. It was hard to pretend your heart was not racing and that you were not clumsily stepping on his feet a few times.

The music played on, while you remained lost in thoughts that you would never let Rafayel discover. Watching the bride and groom exchange their vows, you imagined the two of you standing in their place. As you danced with him, you wished that this celebration were for you. You tried to brush aside those ridiculous thoughts, hoping Rafayel would not notice your flushed cheeks. Yet, he always paid attention to the slightest things about you; so, when the dance ended and he led you away from the center of the celebration, he teased:

"Your family might just want me to tag along for the next big occasion."

You glanced back at your relatives, who were smiling and waving at the two of you from across the banquet hall. Joy radiated from your blushing face. You said to Rafayel:

"Are you sure you don't mind going along with this?"

"Going along with what?" Rafayel assumed an expression of utter innocence.

You replied, "This fake dating thing, of course."

"Who told you this was just a pretense?" Rafayel gazed at you. His expression made it impossible to tell whether he was being serious or just amusing himself.

"Relax. You don't have to ask for my hand in marriage, yet." He even mimicked your expression after seeing that look of astonishment on your face. "But I don't recall agreeing to go with you just this once. Your family invited me to dinner, after all. What would they say if you broke my heart after just one date?"

That was the moment you realized you were done for. You could only stand there and watch as Rafayel flashed a sly, knowing smile as he strolled over to your family to strike up another conversation. You realized then that there was no escaping him; and the truth was, you did not want to.

"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.