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After a day full of meetings and strategy planning, Lena wanted nothing more than to relax and unwind tonight. Sitting at the warm leather chair behind her office’s mahogany desk, she heaved a sigh and brought out the book she had started reading the night before. The book was a fictional story about a man who could travel between worlds. Although Lena often read books about war and military science, books about fantasy and fiction helped distract her from the harshness and cruelty of reality. They offered her a momentary escape from the brutality she was forced to face every single day.
Vaguely, she was reminded of Shin and how similar they were in that respect. Shin immersed himself in books to drown out the incessant wails of the Legion, whereas Lena, depending on the topic of the book she read, either wanted to enrich her mind or relax it. As such, both their rooms were filled with books—both their own and the ones they borrowed from each other.
More than anything, however, reading in silence beside him gave Lena a different kind of joy; the stillness of it put her mind at ease, and his mere presence gave her comfort. She would sometimes find him reading a book alone in the library, and she would often claim the seat next to him and begin reading as well. He would glance at her and smile, and she would smile back. The act in and of itself felt strangely intimate in a way she could not describe—reading side-by-side, knees and elbows touching, the two sneaking glances at each other from the corner of their eyes. It stirred Lena as much as it made her feel calm. She wondered if Shin felt the same way.
A knock sounded at the door, pulling Lena’s thoughts away from the book—and him. She already knew who it was, and she wondered if she had summoned him somehow just by thinking. No one would come visit her this late at night except for a particularly stubborn young man with red eyes, after all.
“Shin,” Lena said fondly as she opened the door and was greeted by his tall frame. There was a tired look in his eyes, likely from the Reginleif maneuvers and test runs he had to perform late into the evening. Nonetheless, a look of relief and softness washed over him as he gazed at Lena, who had already changed out of her uniform and into her nightgown.
“Hello,” Shin replied. He, too, was no longer wearing his Federacy uniform, but rather a cotton white shirt and dark jogging pants. Lena gave him a gentle smile as she opened the door wider and motioned for him to enter.
Shin walked into the room as he did almost every night. The space was as familiar to him as his own; after all, Lena and Shin often spent their nights together, whether in his room or hers. On quiet days, they would fall asleep innocently in each other’s arms, her head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist. On other days when passion overwhelmed them, they would give love an entirely different meaning, limbs tangled and clothes discarded on the floor. Time seemed to stop whenever they were in each other’s arms.
She was his only solace at the end of an exhausting day—his calm after a lifetime of chaos. Her smile melted away all his worries, and her chime-like voice drowned out the calls of the Legion beckoning in his ears.
His gaze wandered around the room as if to check whether anything had changed, and he noted the stacks of paper organized neatly on Lena’s desk. At the very top, as though it were a paperweight, sat a hardbound book that he assumed Lena had been reading before he arrived.
“I’ve told you this already, but you really don’t need to knock,” Lena said as she leaned against the closed door, an adorable pout on her face. “If it’s you, you can just come in.”
After all, they spent all their nights with each other. She had actually been waiting for him to arrive.
“I know, but still. It’s improper, and you…need your privacy sometimes,” Shin muttered shyly, averting his gaze.
Ever the gentleman , Lena thought as she blushed lightly. Shin was always considerate of her, whether he was aware of it or not. She found this side of him endearing, and it made her feel loved more than anything.
Lena cleared her throat and spoke again in an attempt to change the topic. “How was the Reginleif test run?”
“It's easier to make risky maneuvers because of their improvements on the engine, and they added more shock suppression,” Shin frowned, “but I don’t really think those modifications are going to increase our odds against the Legion. I’ve made suggestions, but apparently they’re going to take a really long time to develop.”
Lena pondered on this. She was informed of every step the development team took in improving the Reginleifs, but it was an arduous and challenging endeavor. The Legion’s superiority in almost every aspect was disheartening to put it lightly, so the task of improving the Reginleif to give it dominance on the battlefield—or at the very least, an advantage—seemed close to impossible. They could increase its speed, but the Legion would always be faster. They were progressing, yes, but so was the Legion and its limitless army.
For a moment, the hopelessness of their predicament hit Lena like a slap on the face, as it always did whenever they were faced with those mechanical monstrosities. She thinks she should be used to it by now, but her stubborn resolve and unshakeable optimism spurred her to not dwell on those feelings of despair. Things were not hopeless. The fact that they had already made it this far was proof of that.
Lena sighed, pushing away from the wooden door. “Well, at the very least, those efforts aren’t futile. If they improve your survivability by even a fraction of a percentage, I’m thankful.”
“Ever the optimist,” Shin teased, smiling softly at Lena. “You’re right, though.”
Lena hummed in approval as she walked to her bed, Shin close at her heels. She fell onto the bed quite dramatically, the fatigue of the day catching up to her. Shin snuggled in beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
This night, like the many others before it, passed in casual conversation. Lena’s window was slightly ajar, and a cold breeze swept in, whistling through the air as if carrying the secrets of the world. The moon stood still in all its ethereal beauty, bathing Lena’s room in a shining white light. It reflected off of Lena’s hair, casting it in a silvery glow. Shin’s other hand played idly with it, twirling it around his finger and watching the soft strands slip through his rough, calloused digits. A part of him wanted to braid it, but he also did not want to remove his other arm from underneath Lena’s shoulder.
Meanwhile, Lena was talking about a conversation she had had with Annette earlier in the day about a popular clothing store in the streets of Sankt Jeder. Countless residents have flocked to it ever since its opening a week ago, and the store boasted comfortable yet stylish clothes that were very much in tune with the latest fashion. Lena said that she would like to visit it someday, perhaps during one of her (or their) day-offs. She then went on a tangent about how it would be unlikely she could visit due to the war and her duties as a commander, as well as how improper and inconsiderate it might be of her to go shopping for clothes while the world toiled against the Legion.
Lena’s bell-like voice rang pleasantly in Shin’s ears, the voice that was his source of comfort and strength. He was listening, of course, but at times like these, he could not help but admire Lena. Whenever she started talking about something, she rarely stopped; it was as if her thoughts kept running like a train on an endless track. Even so, Shin didn’t want that train to ever stop—he wanted to listen to all of her musings. To be the person she opened her heart to. To know her soul as if it were his own.
After Shin reassured Lena that the war shouldn’t stop her from doing what she wants, the two fell into a comfortable silence. Shin’s hand continued to fiddle with her hair, whereas Lena had grabbed the other and was tracing the lines of his palm, as if it were a map to an unknown destination. Later on, Shin realized her strokes had changed.
“Are you…writing my name?”
“Mhm, although I have no idea why,” Lena replied, a blush rising to her cheeks at being caught. “Maybe it’s because I like your name, Shin.”
“What’s there to like about it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
“You hate your name?”
“Well, it sounds like 'sin,' doesn’t it?” muttered Shin bitterly. “And Kaie once told me that it seems like a play on the word “death” in her homeland’s native language. Sounds like a bad omen to me.”
Back in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, when Kaie had told him this, he wanted to laugh. He was the Reaper of the Eastern Front, after all, and what a coincidence it was that his own name implied death. He had wondered if he was fated to be a harbinger of doom, to be the one always left behind as his comrades moved on ahead. Now, however, Shin no longer thought about it that way, at least actively. Rather, he regarded his name with the same indifference as he did everything else, and never gave any thought as to whether he liked or hated it.
Lena glared up at him, as if he had offended her by offending his own name. “Even so, I like your name.”
“Why?”
“You’re gonna laugh.”
“Tell me.”
A sigh escaped Lena’s lips. She leaned back and averted her eyes. “I once had a teddy bear as a child. I named it…Yakshini.”
Shin raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips. Lena hit his shoulder playfully in response, a blush dusting her cheeks.
“Don’t—I know it’s a weird name.”
“It seems you were born with bad naming skills,” Shin laughed softly.
Lena pouted, explaining that her father had given her the plushie and told her it would protect her from ghosts, so she thought of it as a sort of guardian. She then recalled a book she read about Yakshinis being guardian deities in some religions, so she gave it that name too. This made Shin laugh even harder, and Lena hit his shoulder again, a smile on her face.
When Shin’s hearty laughter subsided and he calmed down somewhat, he spoke again. “So you like my name because it reminds you of your teddy bear?”
“Well, yeah. Whenever I’d feel sad or lonely, I’d just hug Yakshini and then I’d feel better. That teddy bear was the last thing my father gave me before we…visited the Eighty-Sixth Sector.” Lena frowned, and a sad look flashed across her eyes. It disappeared in an instant. All the laughter left Shin’s face and he held her tighter as she continued. “When you first told me your name, I thought it was just an unexpected coincidence. Now, even just hearing your name gives me the same comfort, if not more.”
The sheets rustled as Lena stood and walked toward the window near her bed, resting her hands on the table by the windowsill. The vase of white lilies glittered under the moonlight, and the music box beside it reflected the light along its smooth surface. Shin felt empty at the loss of her warmth, but his keen eyes observed Lena as she stared at the moon. He was concerned that the mention of her father would lower her spirits, but she brushed it off and did not seem to want to dwell on it. Shin watched her instead and kept listening. Her gaze seemed unfocused and faraway, yet her words resounded with a tenderness that belied her own feelings.
“Besides, they say that your name is your parents’ gift to you, right? So even if you can’t recall your memories with them, you’ll always have the name they bestowed you with. The name that carries their love and hope for your future. Therefore—”
Lena stopped as a pair of arms hugged her from behind. She stiffened in surprise, but it did not even take her a second to relax into Shin’s touch. He rested his chin on her shoulder as his hands snaked around her waist.
Shin got the feeling that Lena was not only talking about his name, but hers as well. He knew the memory of her parents was not a particularly happy one, given the early demise of her father and her strained relationship with her mother before the latter passed. Both were scars Lena often hid fairly well, but he could still perceive it in the slight furrow of her brow and the clenching of her jaw. He hugged her because it was the only way he knew how to comfort her. He wanted to hold her close and never let her go.
Lena savored the warmth, leaning into him. He had seen through her after all—he always has. In the past, whenever she gave no indication that she wanted to talk about something, he would simply comfort her without words and change the topic, focusing on something else to distract her from her thoughts. Just like now. She knew she was being selfish, that she was distraught over her parents when Shin couldn’t even remember his own. But she didn’t say anything, because she also knew that if Shin heard her talking that way, he would get mad.
He was her anchor, after all, the one who keeps her steady throughout the turbulence of this storm called life. And when the skies clear as the dark clouds abate, it has always been he who guides her calmly to the shore and gives her rest.
“Shin?”
“So that’s why you like my name?” he murmured, smiling quietly. He would not mention her parents; she did not want him to. So, he focused on what their conversation was really about in the first place. Besides, if his name gave her comfort, how bad could it be? And if it were the last vestige he had of his parents, he would treasure it more than anything.
Lena nodded, looking at him from the corner of her eye.
Shin chuckled lightly. “Well, I love your name too, Lena.”
Lena hummed, satisfied. Absent-mindedly, she grabbed the music box on the table and began twisting its screw. The music box was Shin’s birthday gift for her, and she secretly considered it the most beautiful and important thing she owned. Its antique design was polished smoothly, and the tiny gemstones around the disc shined even brighter under the light of the moon. The kaleidoscope attached to it was simply stunning as well, and Lena often lost track of time whenever she watched the numerous colors move in varying, alluring patterns.
She kept twisting the screw for a while, wanting the music that would play to last a long time. Shin remained still, watching her as the music box creaked slightly. He felt his heart swell with happiness and relief at the look of fondness in Lena’s eyes, her previous frown having disappeared entirely. She seemed to really treasure the gift he had given her. At first, he had absolutely no idea what to get her for her birthday; he wanted to give her something as remarkable as she was and as profound as his feelings, yet this proved to be almost impossible. He ended up wandering the streets of Sankt Jeder aimlessly for hours, entering every shop and perusing every shelf; he had almost given up until he came across a unique antique shop in the corner of the street. When he saw the music box sitting on top of a table—a beautiful gem that looked out of place in a store full of old wooden statues and porcelain vases—he simply felt as though it was the perfect gift for Lena. He was grateful that she felt the same way too.
Eventually, Lena let go of the screw, and a beautiful melody emanated from the music box. The euphonious notes drifted into the air like a gentle stream of water, filling her soul with nostalgia. This was the sound Lena heard every day when she would stand by the window and gaze at the sky, the sweet melody easing her mind. The song reminded her of Shin, of a gentle evening breeze, of waves crashing delicately on a distant shore. The song reminded her that even in this world of relentless turmoil and uncertainty, there is peace to be found in a quiet tune and the rustling of the leaves.
“Will you dance with me, Lena?” Shin whispered into her ear.
Lena blinked, surprised at the sudden offer. Then, she nodded, smiling brightly as she turned to face him. Shin gazed at her with longing and love, and Lena admired the way his eyes reflected her own. He took one of her hands in his, wrapping his other hand around her slender waist. Lena rested her remaining hand on his shoulder, and the two swayed slowly to the tune of the music. The moon continued to watch from its pedestal in the night sky, bearing witness to their dance in silence. Lena and Shin were smiling lovingly at each other, as if both recalling the same thing—a joyous ball, an evening of dancing, and a whispered confession as fireworks bloomed in the sky.
Shin leaned his forehead against Lena’s, and he chuckled softly, as if anything louder might shatter this delicate moment.
“I’d say ‘I love you,’ but I fear you might run away again.”
In spite of herself, Lena giggled, feeling slightly embarrassed at the way she had handled things back then. But that didn’t matter—because right now, things were perfect, and they were both exactly where they should be.
“I promise I won’t ever run away again.”
Shin smiled. His feelings for Lena have only grown stronger since that night at the Alliance; in fact, he finds himself loving her more every single day, from the very first moment he heard her voice through the Para-RAID. The voice that saved him and breathed life into the deepest corners of his soul. The voice that whispered in his ear, making him feel loved and reminding him that it was okay to wish for the future. The voice that he wishes he could hear every single day of his life, until his hearing or his heart failed him.
So, with his own voice, he whispered the words that have been on his mind since the moment he met her, before he even realized the depth of his emotions. The words he was afraid to say, for fear that the world would acknowledge his feelings and then crush them underfoot.
“I love you, Lena.”
But he was no longer afraid of the world. With her hand in his and her voice ringing in his ears, nothing could stop them from reaching that sea full of promises for the future—their future.
“I love you too, Shin.”
The world could certainly try and bring them down. It could shatter their hopes and dreams under the weight of this cruel reality; it could burn their aspirations in the merciless flames of war. But that was all the world could do— try . It would not succeed. They would not let it.
Soon, morning would arrive and this euphoric moment would end. The music box would stop playing, and the warm sun would chase away the coolness of the night. Time would flow again, as it always did. But just for this moment—the night belonged to them.