Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kiana leans back against the couch in Bronya’s apartment, stretching her arms dramatically as if shaking off invisible fatigue. “Man, it’s been a while since I just chilled like this!” she exclaims, flashing a grin that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, displaying a bright voice, effortlessly cheerful.

Bronya, sitting across from her with a tablet in hand, barely glances up. “Your statement is inaccurate. You were ‘chilling’ yesterday when Mei forced you to take a break from training.”

Kiana lets out an exaggerated groan, flopping sideways onto the couch. “C’mon, Bronya, don’t be so technical about everything! I mean, this is different… it’s like… hanging out with a friend!”

Bronya’s gaze flickers toward her for a brief second before returning to the screen. “I see. Then, the words you used are just a way of expressing yourself.”

Kiana laughs, a gentle sound—crisp and warm. “Exactly! See? You get it!”

After the silence returns, she yawns as she stretches on the couch like a lazy cat, letting out a soft sigh once she finds a comfortable position. A strange trace of peace floods her features while she closes her eyes for a moment, betraying the unkempt appearance she presents. Bronya raises her eyes from the screen, glancing at her for a moment, examining her from head to toe.

The thought had crossed her mind the moment Kiana showed up, casually announcing she was hanging around the block and decided to stop by for a quick visit—there’s something off.

Kiana’s skin is paler than before, the usual glow faded into something dull. The dark circles under her eyes linger, despite the way she beams; her shoulders, usually squared with the confidence of a fighter, droop ever so slightly when she talks, carrying a weight she seems to refuse to acknowledge.

Bronya notices. Of course, she notices. She has always been good at catching everything—the small details. She was trained for it, and by now, it has become second nature. Yet, she says nothing, her fingers merely swiping across the tablet, her expression neutral.

Kiana doesn’t acknowledge it either. If she does, the mask might slip; so, she keeps smiling, keeps talking, keeps pretending. It’s tiresome—forcing the smile, forcing the bubbly attitude that now feels foreign to her. But that’s what everyone expects, what they know. It’s her best weapon so far.

“So! What’s on the menu tonight? Let me guess… nutritionally optimized meal substitute, version 3.0?” she jokes, shifting in place to rest her cheek on one hand while lying sideways on the couch.

Bronya raises an eyebrow. “Incorrect. Version 4.2.”

Kiana bursts into laughter—a rare, real one this time—before exhaling and sinking further into the couch. The room settles into a silence that is both comfortable and heavy. Kiana’s smile doesn’t waver, yet her gaze drifts slightly, unfocused.

For a brief moment, she wonders if she stays quiet long enough, will Bronya ask? Would she become an annoying presence in her home? She did say she was just passing the time, but how long is she allowed to pass it here?

The silence of the room breaks when the main door opens gently, followed by a soft voice announcing its presence. Bronya straightens in her seat and puts the tablet aside in just seconds. Seeing this, Kiana instinctively mirrors her, sitting up properly on the couch. She glances at her friend, whose gaze seems to have softened in a tender way, showing a quiet light flickering behind her eyes, though her expression remains neutral.

Kiana deadpans. Yep, she’s whipped.

Stifling the knowing smile threatening to creep onto her lips, she shifts her focus to the person entering the living room. Seele, always so bright, always so kind, chatting casually while recounting some brief encounter she had while running errands. Kiana doesn’t catch everything she says, yet her voice turns into a pleasant hum in the background; Kiana finds herself focusing on her soft smile, the eager glint in her eyes. There’s something about it that makes her stare a little longer than intended, watching as Seele steps closer, greeting Bronya with a loose hug and nuzzling her cheek against hers.

A tiny smile finds its way onto Kiana’s lips. She doesn’t realize it at first, but the moment feels… warm. Endearing, despite everything.

“Mm? Kiana?”

The gentle voice snaps her from her thoughts. She blinks, momentarily dumbfounded, before her focus shifts entirely to Seele—for real this time.

Seele’s smile widens, turning into a bright and familiar grin. “I didn’t realize you were here too! It’s good to see you!”

The warmth in the greeting prompts Kiana’s own smile to widen, though there’s a shy, almost uncertain quality to it. She scratches her cheek. “Yeah… It’s nice to see you too. How have you been, Seele?”

“Pretty great, actually. I’m helping Rita cover some shifts at the coffee shop. Now that the wedding is coming up, she’s getting busier by the day... I’m actually starting to enjoy it. Maybe I’ll ask for a permanent position there.”

“I see…”

For just a moment, Kiana’s brows knit together. The wedding. Of course. Her sister’s engagement party was just a few weeks ago. She was invited and actually went. But the realization feels distant, like something that happened in another lifetime.

That’s something she needs to correct. Maybe keeping a small notebook for things like this would help.

The thought lingers only briefly before another realization strikes—she’s been silent for too long. But before she can blurt out a question to pull herself back into it, she notices that Seele’s attention has already shifted to Bronya, who is asking something about the errands Seele ran earlier. A quiet sigh escapes Kiana’s lips, she hadn’t even realized how tense her shoulders were until they dropped just now.

“Is Seele home?”

The question pulls Kiana’s focus back to the couple’s conversation, her ears instinctively tuning in.

“She mentioned going out but did not specify her destination” Bronya answers while she absentmindedly reaches up to hold one of Seele’s hands draped over her shoulders, drawing a soft smile from Seele.

“Is that so?” Seele hums, chuckling softly as if entertained by some private thought. “She seems to have found a new hobby. I’m glad she’s going out by her own accord more often.”

Then, as if the question had been resting on the tip of her tongue the entire time, Seele turns toward Kiana with an easy smile. “By the way… are you staying for lunch, Kiana?”

The unexpected invitation catches Kiana off guard, and for a brief second, she hesitates. There’s something about the way Seele looks at her—not just expectant, but genuinely hopeful. Straightening her posture, she clears her throat before shaking her head, offering an apologetic smile in return.

“Not really… I was just passing by. I was actually planning to leave before you arrived.” She forces a lighthearted tone, as if brushing off any weight behind the words, and pushes herself up from the couch without giving herself the chance to reconsider.

Seele’s smile dims ever so slightly, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face before she schools her expression again. It’s barely noticeable, but it still sends a faint, nagging pull through Kiana’s chest. She knows that look—it’s not disappointment in the dramatic sense, nothing meant to guilt-trip her into staying, but it still stirs an uncomfortable awareness that she’s turning down something she might have once welcomed without a second thought.

Even so, she tells herself that staying longer doesn’t feel right. It’s not that she dislikes their company, far from it, but something about being here, sitting in the warmth of their shared space, makes her feel like an intruder in a moment that isn’t hers to claim.

“You could stay a little longer. Your presence is not unwelcomed” Bronya chimes in, her voice even and measured, with no insistence behind it or some kind of pressure.

For a split second, she considers it. The idea of sitting down again, of sinking back into the conversation, of letting herself exist in this space without overthinking it… But the moment passes as quickly as it came. Her decision was already made the moment she stood up.

“I really appreciate it, girls… Maybe next time.”

She searches with her gaze for her phone and pats at her jacket pocket only to realize she already has it with her. A brief, amused snort escapes her at the absentminded mistake, but she doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, she flashes them both a final smile, one that she hopes is convincing enough, before making her way toward the door. Even without turning around, she can feel their eyes lingering on her back, watching as she steps out into the hallway.

The door clicks shut behind her, and only then does she exhale, the breath leaving her in a quiet sigh of relief she hadn’t realized she was holding. The shift is immediate—outside, away from that cozy little apartment, she suddenly feels lighter. Safer.

She stands there for some seconds in complete silence before she steels herself to move and walk down the hallway of the apartment complex.

////////

"She looked… like a ghost."

Seele's voice breaks the silence after a while, quiet but thoughtful as she moves to sit beside Bronya on the couch. Without hesitation, she rests her chin on her shoulder, seeking the familiar warmth she always finds there.

Bronya exhales, a slow, measured sigh as her gaze lingers on the closed door. Her expression is unreadable at first, but the slight furrow in her brow betrays her thoughts. Seconds pass in silence before she leans into Seele, pressing her forehead gently against hers while closing her eyes.

"Sister Mei said we should just let her be" she murmurs at last with a subdued voice "But I don’t think ignoring it is the right choice either. It’s like she’s fading a little more each day."

Seele’s fingers brush along her cheek before cupping it in her palm, a tender, grounding gesture. "Maybe this is what she needs for now. Once she’s ready to acknowledge it, we’ll be there for her."

Bronya sighs again, but this time, there’s a hint of something softer in the breath she releases. Not quite relief, but not as heavy as before. She opens her eyes, meeting Seele’s gaze, and after a brief pause, she offers the smallest of smiles—just enough to reassure, even if only a little.

"Yes… let’s hope she will."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Wandering aimlessly through the streets, Kiana finds herself disconnecting more than once, her body moving on autopilot while her mind drifts elsewhere. She barely registers the poles and people in her path, sidestepping just in time to avoid most collisions, yet she still bumps into one or two strangers along the way. Their annoyed complaints and irritated glances barely register in her; once, that kind of thing would have bothered her and turn on a slight guilt withing her. Now, it doesn’t even stir the faintest discomfort. It’s just noise—just nothing.

She stops at the edge of the sidewalk alongside a crowd of pedestrians, waiting for the light to turn red so they can cross. Her gaze drifts to the road, where cars blur past in swift streaks of color, their motion reduced to abstract flashes in her tired eyes. The streets are alive with movement, filled with people hurrying to their destinations, caught up in the endless rhythm of their daily routines. And yet, she is just… here. Wandering with no purpose, no reason.

It’s pitiful.

The thought surfaces without warning, curling in the back of her mind like a bitter whisper. A sharp taste lingers on her tongue, and something uneasy twists in her chest, expanding slowly, painfully, like creeping thorns. Is this what her existence has become? So insignificant that she can’t even find a reason to be here?

She blinks, forcing her gaze back to the pedestrian signal, watching the countdown of remaining seconds. Her eyes shift to the road again, to the ceaseless flow of traffic. There’s something oddly hypnotic about the way the cars pass—one after another, their motion rhythmic, almost soothing. A strange sensation stirs in her, a subtle pull, a fleeting tingling at the edges of her limbs. And then, without warning, it morphs into something sharper, more urgent.

A quiet, irrational impulse to step forward.

But the light hasn’t changed.

The thought flickers through her mind like a distant warning, barely cutting through the haze. And yet, the urge lingers, shaping into a morbid curiosity before she can stop it—what would happen if she just stepped forward?

The realization of her own thoughts jolts her back to herself, her eyes widening as she instinctively takes a step back, breath catching and pulse spiking. She bumps into someone, earning a quiet grumble, but she barely hears it. Muttering a vague apology, she shifts out of the way just as the crowd starts moving when the light finally changes.

Dazed, she blinks, scanning her surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Her chest rises and falls in uneven breaths while her pulse hammer in her ears. Only now does she acknowledge the frantic rhythm of her own heartbeat, an unsettling dissonance against the numbness that has settled so deeply in her bones. Slowly, she presses a hand against her chest, as if that might be enough to steady it.

What…just happened?

Kiana squeezes her eyes shut, drawing in a deep breath before shaking her head, as if the motion alone could rid her of the lingering thoughts. Once she feels somewhat steady, she glances back toward the road, barely registering that the light has already changed again while she remained motionless. This time, though, a deep, cold fear slithers through her bones, coiling tight enough to make her instinctively step away from the edge of the sidewalk. Without a second thought, she turns on her heel and walks away from the intersection, away from the road, away from whatever that was.

She only stops after putting several streets between herself and that certain corner of the street, the flow of traffic noticeably thinner here. A small store catches her attention, and without thinking, she heads toward it, desperate for something—anything—to ground herself. The distant chime of the bell above the door rings as she steps inside, and the moment she crosses the threshold, her body slumps ever so slightly, as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

A quiet breath escapes her as she glances around. There are a few customers browsing the aisles, their movements unhurried, the air filled with the soft murmur of distant conversations. At the front, a bored-looking cashier leans against the counter, idly tapping at the register. Kiana hesitates before taking a slow step forward, then another, letting herself drift aimlessly through the aisles, not really looking at anything. Her focus sharpens on the rhythmic sound of her own footsteps against the porcelain floor, the muffled chatter blending into a distant hum—something steady, something grounding.

Minutes pass, and gradually, the weight in her chest eases. The anxiety that had nearly swallowed her whole fades into something quieter, something familiar. Numbness. But now, it feels almost… comforting.

Still, her mind circles back to the thought, playing the scene over and over again, dissecting every second, every impulse, every shiver that ran down her spine. What if she had actually stepped forward? A chill spread through her at the thought, and her fingers twitch slightly at her sides. This is getting out of hand. It’s no longer just a vague heaviness in the back of her mind—now it’s turning into actual impulses she has to be wary of.

She clicks her tongue, an annoyed frown settling on her face. Should she tell Mei about this? The idea flashes in her mind, and almost immediately, she shakes her head. No.

Mei would panic on the spot.

And Kiana really doesn’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

Exhaling slowly, she shifts her focus to the shelves around her, forcing herself to actually look at the products this time, not just the floor beneath her feet. Chips, muffins in different flavors, rows of energy drinks—nothing really piques her interest, but a certain thought lingers in the back of her mind.

Has she eaten today?

Her brows furrow slightly as she tries to recall. Besides Mei’s breakfast, nothing comes to mind, and that’s assuming she actually ate it. Well, she needs to eat something. Would a muffin and a small bag of BBQ-flavored chips be enough? Maybe she should grab a milk or a yogurt to make it more of a meal.

Her fingers hover over one of the shelves, but she hesitates. Why does it feel like even the simplest decisions are starting to weigh her down?

After settling on a couple of snacks, Kiana makes her way to the dairy aisle to grab something to drink. Just as she turns to join the checkout line, a sudden realization stops her in her tracks—did she even bring any money?

She stands motionless for a second, eyes drifting down to the items in her arms before quickly shifting them to one side to free up a hand. Frantically, she pats down her pockets, fingers fumbling over fabric in search of her wallet. A quiet sigh of relief escapes her the moment she feels the familiar shape pressing against her palm. It’s a small thing, but it feels like her soul is returning to her body.

After paying for her things, she steps out of the store and scans her surroundings for a place to sit. A bench catches her eye not too far away, tucked near the store’s entrance. Wandering over, she settles down, placing the snacks beside her before unwrapping the muffin first. She’s not particularly hungry, but the knowledge that she should eat is enough of a reason to at least try.

She promised Mei she’d take better care of herself. Even if everything feels like it’s crumbling, she still clings to that promise.

Halfway through the muffin, her phone buzzes with a notification, the cheerful ringtone she chose for said contact unmistakable. A faint smile tugs at her lips before she even reaches for her phone in her pocket—she already knows who it is.

‘Have lunch already?’

A short message, simple but familiar. A daily habit and one of the few things Kiana still find encouraging. Without thinking, the half-eaten muffin is momentarily forgotten as she types out a response to Mei’s question.

‘What are you having?’

The second message makes her pause. Normally, she would reply on autopilot, sending a half-truth to avoid any concern, but this time, she hesitates. She could lie and say she’s eating something proper… or she could be honest. With a sigh, her promise comes to mind again, nagging at her. Begrudgingly, she opts for the truth.

As she waits for Mei’s response, she unconsciously holds her breath, chewing slowly on the muffin still in her mouth. The reply comes quickly—a discouraged emoji followed by a simple ‘At least you’re eating something.’

Kiana blinks, taken aback for a moment, then exhales in relief. But before she can pocket her phone, another message appears.

‘Still, next time eat something that’s actually a meal, please.’

A little reminder. A silent, gentle plea.

‘Will do.’ She types back, staring at her own message for a moment.

Kiana doesn’t need to see Mei to picture her expression—eyebrows faintly furrowed, lips pursed ever so slightly, the subtle crease of worry she always tries to hide. The mental image sends a wave of guilt crashing over her, heavy enough to settle a knot in her stomach. Nausea creeps in, dulling whatever appetite she had left.

But she’s not giving in.

Gritting her teeth, she forces herself to take another bite of the muffin—then another, shoving what’s left into her mouth all at once. It’s too much, too fast, making it difficult to chew, and the nausea only worsens. She washes it down with a few gulps of milk, making the sensation of it settling in her stomach more uncomfortable than satisfying.

Still, at least it’s done.

Now that her stomach is full, what should she do? Go back home, collapse onto the floor, and stare at the ceiling until her mind inevitably drifts into nothingness? Or should she stay out, letting her feet carry her aimlessly through the streets until the sky is painted in hues of orange and pink? Neither option feels particularly inviting, but it’s not as if she has a third, more compelling choice.

Just as she’s about to resign herself to wandering, the familiar chime of her phone breaks the silence, pulling her from her thoughts. Blinking, Kiana reaches for the device, the soft glow of the screen displaying a new message from Mei.

‘Is it okay if I call you right now?’

The request is simple, but for some reason, it makes something in her chest stir—a brief flicker of curiosity, or maybe even anticipation. Without hesitation, she types back a quick ‘yes’ and, almost immediately her phone vibrates with an incoming call. She stares at the screen for a moment, as if needing to process the action before her fingers move on their own, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hey, are you busy right now?” Mei’s voice comes through, carrying that gentle warmth Kiana has always found soothing.

“Not reall—” The words catch in her throat, her voice cracking unexpectedly. The momentary betrayal of her own body startles her, and she clears her throat quickly, her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment. When she speaks again, she makes sure her tone is steady. “N-Not really… what’s wrong?”

There’s a small pause on the other end, one that stretches just long enough for an uneasy sensation to settle in Kiana’s chest. Her body tenses before she can stop it, her grip tightens slightly around her phone. Then, finally, Mei speaks quietly.

“I’m actually in need of some help…”

The words send an immediate rush of tension through Kiana’s body, the chill spreading from the base of her spine to the tips of her fingers. Her mind jumps to the worst-case scenarios before she can even think to stop it, images flashing through her head at an alarming speed.

“What is it?” she asks, her voice sharper now, carrying a note of urgency that she can’t suppress.

For a moment, there’s only silence. Then, to her surprise, a quiet chuckle reaches her ears.

“Relax, it’s nothing serious, dear…”

Kiana blinks, her lips parting slightly in confusion. Did she just—misread the situation? The sudden shift in tone throws her off, making her feel foolish for jumping to conclusions so quickly.

“You see, I offered to help clean up one of the classrooms they’ve been using as a storage room, but I might’ve… underestimated just how crowded this place actually is. I was thinking that if you’re free, maybe you could come by the Academy and lend me a hand?”

“Yes!”

The answer leaves her mouth before she has a chance to process it, her voice louder than she intended. A couple of people walking by glance in her direction, some with mild amusement, others with vague annoyance. Realizing her mistake, Kiana cringes in place, heat rushing to her face as she hurriedly averts her gaze. She quickly clears her throat, shifting her grip on her phone as she lowers her voice.

“I-I mean… I’d love to. I’m on my way!” she announces with as much confidence as she can muster, already reaching for her bag of chips and the empty muffin wrapper she had placed beside her.

On the other end, she hears Mei hum in approval, her voice carrying the kind of fondness that makes Kiana’s heart stutter for half a beat. “Thanks, honey. Be sure to send me a message when you get here—I’ll come meet you outside. I don’t want you getting lost again in the hallways.”

Kiana scoffs, rolling her eyes even though Mei can’t see it. “Hey! That was just one time…” she protests, but even as the words leave her mouth, she recalls the reality of the situation.

‘One time’ was a severe understatement. She had gotten lost multiple times in the Academy’s maze-like corridors, doubling back and turning around so often that even the students passing by had started to glance at her with confusion.

After agreeing to meet at one of the entrances of the huge Academy, Kiana ends the call and takes a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the small journey ahead. Getting there should be simple… in theory. In practice, she barely remembers which bus to take.

Gathering the rest of her snacks, she makes her way toward the nearest urban transport stop, all the while trying to piece together the best route in her head. It doesn’t take long for her to realize she has no idea what she’s doing. Frowning, she glances at the posted schedules, attempting to decipher their complicated symbols and routes, but they all start blending together the longer she stares. With a resigned sigh, she decides to ask for help.

A quick scan of the area leads her to a particularly friendly-looking stranger—a middle-aged woman waiting for a bus herself. Mustering up a polite tone, Kiana inquiries about the best way to get to the Academy, and much to her relief, the woman is more than happy to explain. After some quick instructions and a thankful nod from Kiana, she finally boards the correct bus.

Paying for her ticket, she moves toward the back, choosing a seat by the window. As soon as she sits, her gaze drifts outside, watching as the vehicle starts its slow journey through the city streets. She lets herself get lost in the movement, the passing scenery providing a quiet, numbing sort of distraction. The rhythmic hum of the bus, the occasional chatter of passengers, the way sunlight flickers through gaps between buildings—it all blurs together in her mind.

At some point, the passing buildings start to feel familiar. Her gaze sharpens slightly as recognition settles in while she realizes the bus is nearing the Academy district. The roads curve in ways she remembers, leading toward the main campus, where towering gates and pristine walkways mark the institution’s grounds.

When the stop signal finally lights up, she instinctively checks for her stuff in her pockets, standing before the doors open with a soft hiss. Stepping off, she’s immediately met with the usual midday bustle of the Academy grounds. Students flood the area, some in groups, some alone, all heading toward their next destinations. Teachers and faculty members weave between them, their postures carrying the ease of routine.

It’s… overwhelming.

She hadn’t thought much about it before coming here, but seeing the sheer number of people makes her chest tighten slightly. The crowd, the noise, the way everyone moves with purpose while she remains still—it’s enough to make her feel like an outsider, like a misplaced piece in a puzzle. Shaking her head, she forces the feeling down, pushing her focus onto the task at hand. Mei. She needs to find Mei.

Her eyes scan the area, darting between faces, searching for that familiar figure. Minutes pass without success, and just as a tinge of discouragement starts to settle, she spots her.

Leaning against one of the columns near a hallway, Mei stands with her phone in hand, her delicate brows slightly furrowed in concern.  A relieved smile blooms on Kiana’s lips. Without a second thought, she moves forward, quickening her pace into a jog as she weaves through the crowd. A playful idea sparks in her mind—maybe she could take Mei by surprise, catch her off guard just for fun.

Unfortunately for her, Mei’s senses are as sharp as ever. Even after retiring as a Valkyrie, she’s still alert, highly perceptive. Right as Kiana is about to reach her, Mei’s eyes lift from her phone, meeting hers with an almost instinctive ease.

Kiana freezes mid-step, caught red-handed.

“Oh, hey…” she greets, trying to play it off as casual, though the awkward smile on her face betrays her.

For a moment, Mei's expression is unreadable, but then, like the sun breaking through the clouds, her features soften with a complete warmth. She straightens from her relaxed posture and steps forward, closing the distance between them without hesitance.

Kiana doesn’t think—she just moves, her fingers naturally reaching for Mei’s. It’s a simple touch, light and unspoken, something instinctive rather than deliberate. Given the crowd around them, she can’t greet her in an explosive gesture like she’s used, but this is enough to feel grounding.

Mei exhales, not quite a sigh, but something close. “I thought I told you to send a message when you arrived.”

Kiana flashes a sheepish grin. “I just got here. I didn’t really have time before I spotted you.”

Mei hums in response, her grip shifting ever so slightly before she fully intertwines their hands and without another word, she starts leading Kiana toward their destination. Her hold isn’t forceful, but steady—like a quiet reassurance, or maybe a silent tether, as if making sure Kiana doesn’t drift away. Kiana huffs in mock exasperation but makes no effort to pull away. She doesn’t say anything either, simply falling into step beside Mei as they walk through the empty hallways.

After a while, Kiana glances at Mei, watching the way she moves with effortless grace—focused but relaxed as her hand keeps a steady hold in Kiana’s. Then, curiosity nudges at Kiana’s thoughts, prompting her to break the silence.

“And why did they suddenly decide to clear out this storage room, anyway?” she asks casually while she shifts her gaze forward again, making their hands swing subtly with each step.

Mei hums in thought before answering. “I heard they’re planning to set up a new lab, though I’m not sure what kind. Something about modernizing the equipment, maybe.” She doesn’t look away from the hallway ahead, expertly guiding Kiana around a corner and toward a door at the far end. “Either way, they need the space, so here we are.”

Stopping just outside the designated room, Mei finally lets go of Kiana’s hand to push the door open, stepping aside so Kiana can get a good look inside.

“Here, take a look.”

Kiana blinks and peers into the room, her expression shifting as she takes in the sight before her. Mei had called it a storage room earlier, but that description hadn’t fully prepared her for the chaos inside. The place is packed—shelves overflowing with old equipment, tables cluttered with forgotten materials, and stacks of boxes piled precariously high, some coated in a thick layer of dust.

Her eyebrows raise slightly. “Okay… yeah, that’s a lot.”

Mei steps in beside her, exhaling softly. “It’s been used as storage for years, so it’s no surprise.”

Kiana steps forward, scanning the mess with mild incredulity before her gaze lands on a particularly unstable-looking tower of boxes. She nudges one lightly with her foot, watching as a small cloud of dust puffs into the air. “And, uh… how come none of your coworkers are here to help with this?” she asks, voice quieter, as if speaking too loudly might send something toppling over.

Mei sighs, crossing her arms. “Originally, there were supposed to be three of us. But one had a sudden family emergency, and the other…” She shakes her head. “Well, she nearly collapsed earlier from a high fever, so they sent her home.”

Kiana frowns, straightening. “Jeez… so that just leaves you?”

Mei nods. “The others weren’t notified in time to step in.”

Kiana hums at the explanation, lips pressing into a thin line. It makes sense, but still… it seems a little ridiculous to leave Mei handling this alone. She doesn’t voice her thoughts, though. Complaining won’t make the mess disappear any faster.

With a small sigh, she rolls up the sleeves of her jacket and steps further inside, already bracing herself for the task ahead. The quicker they get this done, the quicker they can leave.

“So, where do we start?”

Mei doesn’t hesitate, quickly outlining a plan that makes the most sense—sorting through the smaller items first to clear up space, then tackling the heavier boxes in pairs. Kiana listens and nods along, letting Mei handle the thinking while she readies herself to do the lifting. It’s a dynamic that’s always worked well between them.

Minutes pass as they work together, clearing pathways, shifting old equipment, and redistributing the weight of unstable stacks. The air fills with the occasional sound of shifting cardboard, small coughs from disturbed dust, and the quiet rhythm of their efforts. After dropping a particularly heavy box into the corner, a cloud of dust bursts into the air, making both of them instinctively step back, but unfortunately for Mei, she isn’t quick enough to fully avoid it.

She turns her head to the side and sneezes sharply, the sound echoing in the cluttered room. A second sneeze follows almost immediately, and she barely has time to stifle a third. Kiana watches with mild amusement while a small smile tugs at her lips.

“Sending the one with a dust allergy to clean the dustiest place in the Academy… yeah, that checks out.”

Mei groans, pressing the back of her wrist against her nose in a futile attempt to suppress another sneeze. “Ugh… tell me about it” she mutters, sniffling.

Kiana chuckles but still reaches into her pocket, fishing out a slightly crumpled tissue and handing it over. Mei takes it with a grateful nod, dabbing at her nose while Kiana watches with a tender glint in her eyes.

Just as the dust begins to settle and they were preparing to keep their work, a voice suddenly calls out from the hallway, sounding lightly breathless.

“I’m here! I’m here—”

At this, both Kiana and Mei turn toward the doorway, catching the image of a woman as she stumbles inside with hurried yet unsteady movements, as if she had been running across campus just to get there. She pauses just past the threshold, doubling over with her hands braced against her knees, struggling to catch her breath.

Kiana arches an eyebrow, flicking her gaze to Mei, silently asking for some kind of explanation. Mei, however, doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. instead, she simply lets out a quiet sigh, a small yet knowing smile forming on her lips as she shifts her weight to one side. With a practiced motion, she places a hand on her hip.

“Controlled emergency at home?” Mei asks, carrying a hint of mild amusement.

The woman, still slightly breathless, straightens up at last. She presses a hand to her chest, inhaling deeply to steady herself before giving a tired nod. With an exasperated roll of her eyes, she runs her fingers through her slightly disheveled hair, combing some stray strands back into place.

“Y-Yeah… Turns out it wasn’t nearly as catastrophic as my husband made it sound” she admits, letting out a long sigh. “So, I came back to lend a hand. Sorry for the delay, though, afternoon traffic is absolute hell.”

She finally turns her full attention toward Mei, offering a small, apologetic smile. But then, as if just noticing Kiana’s presence, her gaze shift, and the moment it does, something changes. Her eyes widen instantly as recognition flashes across her face like a switch has been flipped. She remains motionless, expression frozen in place, and before Kiana can react, she suddenly rushes forward with an excitement practically radiating from her entire being.

Kiana instinctively takes a step back, caught off guard by the sheer energy directed at her. The woman’s expression is one of sheer delight, her eyes practically shining as she points at Kiana with absolute conviction.

“Wait a minute! You’re—” she blurts out, filled with enthusiasm in her tone. “Mei’s girlfriend—I mean, wife!”

She snaps her fingers once, as if confirming her own thoughts, before pointing again with unwavering certainty.

“Your name is… uh… Kiana, right?”

As she speaks, she unconsciously takes another step forward, closing the already shrinking space between them. The expectation in her eyes only grows, as if she’s waiting for Kiana to validate her assumption.

The sheer suddenness of it all makes Kiana instinctively lean away, her muscles tensing as she tries to process the overwhelming enthusiasm. She forces an awkward chuckle, unsure how to handle the situation.

“Oh, I… uh…” Kiana stammers, trying to find the right words. “Excuse me, but… you are…?”

Before the woman can respond, Mei steps in at just the right moment, placing a firm yet casual hand on her coworker’s shoulder and gently pulling her back. It’s not an aggressive motion, but it’s enough to create some much-needed space between them—something Kiana is more than a little grateful for.

“Her name’s Michelle” Mei states plainly, her voice calm but tinged with clear annoyance. “I didn’t think I needed to introduce her, considering she supposedly knows basic manners.”

The deadpan stare Mei gives Michelle is sharp—pointed enough that even Michelle, despite her enthusiasm, has the decency to look a little embarrassed.

“Hehe… Sorry, sorry” Michelle concedes quickly, raising her hands in a half-hearted gesture of surrender. There’s a sheepish chuckle in her voice, though it does little to hide the excitement still lingering beneath her demeanor.

After a brief pause, she clears her throat and composes herself, finally offering a proper introduction. “Like Mei said, I’m Michelle—I teach physics here at the academy.”

Then, with a renewed spark of excitement, she gestures toward Kiana again, grinning widely. “It’s really nice to finally meet you! I’ve actually heard a lot about you—not just from Mei, but also from some of the ex-Valkyries of Schicksal I know.”

That catches Kiana’s attention. Her interest piques, and she tilts her head slightly.

“You know ex-Valkyries?” she asks, her tone shifting from hesitation to genuine intrigue.

“Absolutely!” Michelle nods enthusiastically. “I actually tried to become one myself, but… well, I didn’t quite make the cut.” She sighs before letting out a small chuckle. “Didn’t have the right qualifications. Some of my friends did, though, and they managed to get in.”

For a brief moment, a nostalgic look crosses Michelle’s face, her expression softening as she remembers. Then, with a note of admiration, she continues, “They always spoke so highly of you—the ‘Goddess of Earth’ the one who helped seal away a huge part of the Honkai.”

Something shifts in Kiana’s chest at those words. Something subtle—like a quiet, almost imperceptible weight lifting, just a little. She isn’t sure why hearing those words gives her… a faint sense of relief.

A shy, almost hesitant smile tugs at her lips, the corners curling just slightly.

Michelle, clearly taking that as encouragement, immediately launches into a flurry of questions—most of them centered around Kiana’s time at the moon base, her experiences, the things she saw and did. The conversation stretches longer than Kiana expects. But much to her mild surprise, she finds herself engaging with it more than she thought she would.

At some point, Mei gently reminds them of the task at hand, steering the conversation back on track. With that, they resume their work, their chatter continuing in a lighthearted rhythm, punctuated by some occasional laughter. The three of them fall into an easy flow: moving boxes, wiping down surfaces, shifting furniture to make space. Despite the dust clinging stubbornly to every surface, the atmosphere remains pleasant.

That is, until Michelle—still stacking boxes in the corner—throws out a question that catches Kiana off guard.

“So, what are you up to these days, Kiana? Helping out with research? Training for some unknown threat to humanity?” she asks with an amused lilt, flashing an easy grin before continuing her work.

Kiana blinks, stopping mid-step with a couple of boxes in her arms. For a moment, she simply hums in thought, though she already knows the answer. It’s simple, but somehow, saying it out loud, or rather, admitting it in front of someone else, sends an unpleasant pressure tightening in her chest.

“Well…” She forces a small chuckle, adjusting her hold on the boxes as if that might somehow make the words easier to say. “I guess I’m just… enjoying some vacation time?”

It’s a lighthearted answer, one that should be easy to say. And yet, the moment the words leave her mouth, something about them feels wrong, in a way she can’t quite place. Michelle, having turned around by now, raises an eyebrow at the response before exhaling softly and crossing her arms with an approving nod.

“Vacation, huh? Yeah, that makes sense. After everything you’ve done, you deserve a break. You and everyone else who made the end of the Honkai possible, don’t you think?”

She throws a glance at Mei, who meets her gaze with a small, appreciating smile.

Kiana mirrors the motion, nodding along, but her smile feels tight. The words settle oddly in her chest, pressing against something she doesn’t want to acknowledge. It’s not that she disagrees. Resting is the natural thing to do after years of fighting, of surviving. But the way Michelle says it so casually, so certainly, stirs an unease deep in her stomach.

It reminds her of the questions she keeps running from—the ones that linger in the quiet moments, creeping up when there’s nothing left to distract her.

What now?

What comes next?

Does she even want this break? Or is it just something everyone assumes she should take?

“Yes” she mutters, more to herself than anyone else. “A break…”

Her voice barely rises above a whisper, her smile faltering before she turns her attention away, refocusing on the clutter still waiting to be cleared. She should move. Keep working. If she lets herself think too much, this nagging feeling will only grow worse.

Pushing aside her thoughts, she rejoins the others without another word. The conversation continues around her, but she keeps her participation minimal with short responses, a nod here, a hum of acknowledgment there. It’s easier this way. If she focuses on the task at hand, she won’t have to think too hard about everything else.

The minutes stretch on, blending together into an indistinct blur of movement and dust-filled air. The room gradually empties, the stacks of boxes shrinking until, finally, they clear the last of the clutter. Kiana steps back, putting her hands on her hips as she surveys the now-spacious room. It looks much bigger without the mountains of dust-covered boxes piled up against the walls. It should feel satisfying to finish the task. It should feel good.

Yet, it doesn’t.

“Ugh, man, that was exhausting…” Michelle’s voice comes from behind, breaking the lingering silence in the now-cleared room. Kiana turns her head just in time to see the woman lean against the broom’s handle, resting her chin on the wooden end with a drawn-out sigh. “I really hope they actually follow through with that new lab. If we did all this for nothing, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Mei lets out a small chuckle as she dusts off her shirt, only to grimace when a stray puff of dust floats up into her nose. “Well, at least it’s over now” she remarks, shaking her head as if that might rid her of the remaining dust particles clinging to her clothes.

“Yeah… Oh! Have you two heard about that rumor going around?” Michelle suddenly perks up with an almost conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “Apparently, Human Resources is planning to hire new teachers soon! Finally! It’s about time they started fixing that mess our schedules are insane. Some of us are practically drowning in work!”

Mei snorts, shaking her head in amusement. “It is indeed rough.”

As the two continue chatting about the rumor, exchanging small grievances about the academy’s workload, Kiana remains quiet, simply listening as she absently runs her fingers over the hem of her jacket.

New teachers, huh…

She isn’t sure why that particular piece of information makes something twist in her chest. Maybe it’s because, for a brief moment, she wonders what it would be like to be useful in that way—to have a concrete purpose again, a defined role that others rely on.

Would she even qualify to be a teacher? It’s not like she hasn’t had a proper education. She knows how to fight, how to strategize in battle, how to survive in conditions most people wouldn’t last a day in. But none of that applies to a normal, peaceful school schedule. The world doesn’t need warriors anymore… and she still sucks in History and extensive theory things.

The thought lingers even as they finally wrap up, deciding to close up the classroom and head out. The three of them make their way down the halls, stopping briefly to check out from work and gather their belongings. Outside the academy, Michelle waves them off before jogging toward the curb where a waiting car idles.

Kiana watches as she slips into the passenger seat, the car pulling away soon after. She isn’t sure why she keeps staring even after it disappears into the distance, but there’s something oddly grounding about watching someone move forward, going about their life with a clear destination in mind.

“Kiana?”

She blinks, turning her head to see Mei standing beside her, holding two cold cans in her hands. “I got a peach iced tea and an orange soda” Mei says, tilting them slightly in offering. “After all the work you did, you must be thirsty. Which one do you want?”

Kiana glances between the two before reaching for the orange soda. “Thanks” she mutters, popping the tab with a quiet fizz. She takes a sip, feeling a sudden relief down her throat as the cold bubbling liquid makes it way.

Mei takes a sip of her own drink before nodding toward the parking lot. “Come on, let’s get home” she says gently, gesturing for Kiana to follow.

Kiana exhales softly, lowering the can from her lips. With one last glance at the academy behind her, she finally steps forward, walking beside Mei as they make their way toward the car.

::::::::::::::::

The drive home is quiet but comfortably so, the steady hum of the engine blending with the faint noise of the city’s busy streets. The occasional flash of headlights and the blurred outlines of buildings pass by Kiana’s window, but she doesn’t pay much attention to them. She finishes off her soda as they near their neighborhood, the familiar route making it easy to relax into her seat. A quiet sigh leaves her nose as she leans her head slightly against the headrest, eyes lazily scanning the passing houses in search of their own.

Mei remains focused on the road with her hands steady on the wheel and her expression calm. There’s something reassuring about the way she drives—confident, practiced, like she knows exactly where they need to be. Kiana watches as Mei makes the final turn before pulling up in front of their house, parking just outside the garage.

The soft click of the handbrake is followed by Mei’s voice. “Alright, we’re home.” She turns off the engine, giving Kiana a small glance before reaching for her bag.

Kiana moves with equal familiarity, unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out with ease. She absentmindedly crumples the empty can in her hand as she waits for Mei to do the same, her ears picking up the faint chirping of crickets somewhere in the distance. As Mei closes the car door behind her, she finally breaks the comfortable silence.

“Any requests for dinner tonight?” She asks casually, but there’s an underlying warmth to it, the kind that makes Kiana always feel like she’s being cared for.

Kiana hums, pretending to think for a moment before blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Uhm… pasta?”

Mei raises an eyebrow, clearly amused as she glances at her. “Again?”

Kiana blinks, caught off guard. Wait… did I already eat pasta recently? Was it yesterday? The realization she totally forgot something so trivial sends a small ripple of unease through her. She scrambles to think of an excuse. “W-Well, I… really like your pasta, Mei.” She forces a grin, hoping it’s convincing enough.

But Mei only chuckles softly, stepping aside to unlock the front door. “You don’t have to lie, Kiana” she assures gently, giving a light tone. “If you don’t remember what you ate last night, it’s okay.”

Kiana feels her shoulders tense slightly. It’s not like she meant to forget—it just happens sometimes, quite a lot lately. The days blur together more often than she’d like to admit, and small details slip through the cracks of her mind before she even realizes it. It’s frustrating, but she doesn’t know how to explain that without making it sound worse than it is. She drops her gaze to the ground, scratching the back of her head with an awkward expression.

Mei, as always, seems to pick up on her discomfort. She offers an easy way out of the conversation. “How about some BBQ chicken? You still like that, right?”

Kiana exhales, feeling the tension in her chest loosen just a little. “That sounds… good.”

Mei gives her a soft smile before stepping inside, switching the topic to something trivial—their days, the errands she ran, a funny encounter Kiana had earlier. Kiana delves into the conversation, letting the warmth of their home settle around her like a familiar embrace. She follows Mei into the kitchen, helping with small preparations before trailing after her to the bedroom.

As Mei changes into more comfortable clothes, Kiana sits cross-legged in the middle of their bed, idly playing with her thumbs before recalling something from earlier.

“Oh, right! Bronya said her new project is almost finished” she says, glancing at Mei. “She even offered to give me a free copy of the game once it launches. I think it’s something about farming simulation or medieval stuff… can’t really remember the details.”

Mei, now in a loose sweater and shorts, tilts her head in interest. “That sounds great. Does it have a multiplayer mode?” She walks over and takes a seat beside Kiana, close enough that their shoulders nearly brush.

“I think it’s still in beta, but they’ll probably add one after an update” Kiana answers, unconsciously shifting a little closer.

Mei hums thoughtfully. “Hmm, sounds fun. Maybe we could play together once it’s out.”

Kiana blinks in surprise before turning to face her properly. “Oh, really?”

Mei usually sits with her when she plays, sometimes watching, sometimes just keeping her company while reading or working on something else. But it’s been a while since she actively joined in. The idea of playing together again feels… nostalgic. Almost like something from another life.

“Of course” Mei replies, holding a gentle sincerity. “It’s been a while since I played with you guys. I just hope I’m not too rusty.” She smiles slightly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of Kiana’s hair behind her ear before letting her fingers comb through the rest in slow, absentminded strokes.

Kiana’s lips curl into a small, genuine smile. “I don’t mind carrying you.”

Mei chuckles. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The moment feels light, familiar even, like the kind of comfort Kiana has been grasping for without realizing. She closes her eyes for a brief second, simply basking in the quiet warmth between them.

But then Mei falls silent, her fingers slowing until they settle against Kiana’s cheek. The shift is so subtle that Kiana almost doesn’t notice, but when she opens her eyes, and catches it—the faint trace of worry in Mei’s features, the way her thumb barely lingers just beneath Kiana’s eye, as if tracing something in her skin.

Kiana’s breath stills. She glances from Mei’s hand to her face, searching for an explanation in her expression.

Mei must notice, because she blinks and quickly smooths her features into something softer, tilting her head slightly as if to brush away the moment. She smiles like she always does, gentle, unwavering. But still, Kiana wonders what she saw before she decided to hide it.

“Is… something the matter?” Kiana asks quietly, barely above a whisper, as if fearing that speaking too loudly might unravel some chaos between them.

Mei exhales softly, closing her eyes for a moment before shaking her head. It’s a small, measured gesture, an attempt to brush off whatever is weighing on her mind. But Kiana doesn’t look away, doesn’t fill the silence with anything else. She simply waits patiently until Mei finally complies.

“You… have eyebags” Mei murmurs, her eyes flickering over Kiana’s face while her brows knit slightly. “They’re becoming more noticeable.”

Kiana blinks, caught off guard by the observation. Mei’s tone isn’t accusing, nor is it laced with disappointment, it’s just… concerned.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” Mei continues, softer now. “I always find you sleeping soundly whenever I leave for work, but there have been nights when your tossing wakes me up.”

“Oh, that…” Kiana mutters, her gaze slipping away for a second.

She catches herself before the excuses start forming, before she gives Mei some half-hearted reassurance that she knows won’t hold up. Again, she thinks to herself, a quiet sigh leaving her lips.

Instead, she tries to be honest. She promised to try, right?

“Some nights I just… can’t sleep” she admits in a quiet murmur. “I just lay there and wait for it to come. Sometimes my eyes close when it’s already morning”

Mei watches her carefully. “Have you figured out why?”

Kiana shakes her head, sighing with some defeat “I don’t know…”

A moment of silence passes, and Mei sighs again, but this time, instead of saying anything else, she leans in, pressing her forehead gently against Kiana’s temple. The warmth of the touch quickly becomes a grounding feeling, and soon after, her hand glides down from Kiana’s hair to the curve of her neck before settling on her shoulder, pulling her close in a loose yet encompassing embrace.

Kiana tenses for a split second at the unexpected contact that caught her off guard. But then, the warmth, the quiet reassurance in Mei’s hold seeps into her, and she finds herself leaning some of her weight against Mei, relaxing with ease.

“Thank you for telling me the truth” Mei whispers, her breath fanning softly against Kiana’s hair. “I know it’s still hard for you, and I really appreciate it.”

The words sink in, something in Kiana’s chest tightens before she can fully process it. Mei can notice the truth in her words, like she always does.

Unknowingly, her shoulders feel just a little lighter.

“I… can try to help you” Mei murmurs, tinged with a quiet hesitance, as if unsure whether Kiana would accept the offer. She nuzzles gently against her temple, an affectionate gesture that draws a small, almost involuntary giggle from Kiana.

Kiana lets her arms slide lazily around Mei’s waist, her fingers grazing the fabric of her sweater as she buries her face against her neck. “I wouldn’t want to bother you” she mumbles against her skin, and she doesn’t miss the subtle tremor that runs through Mei at the contact.

“It’s not a bother” Mei reassures her without hesitation, tightening her embrace around her shoulders.

“You will never be a bother” Mei continues with a firm yet soft voice. “I wish for your well-being as much as I wish for the sun to rise every day, for the skies to remain clear, for things to simply… be okay.”

Kiana closes her eyes, letting Mei’s words settle deep within her. She doesn’t respond right away, nor does she feel the need to. Instead, she simply holds Mei closer, as if grounding herself in the warmth that, despite everything, has never once left her. No matter how much her own thoughts try to push it away, no matter how many times she’s felt undeserving of it, Mei never leaves.

That knowledge brings both comfort and guilt, tangled together in her chest like opposing forces refusing to let go. She deserves better, a small voice in her mind insists. Yet, here Mei is, holding her, promising her that she is not a burden, not a bother.

“In case I accept your help…” Kiana pries in a small voice, lifting her head slightly from the crook of Mei’s neck to glance up at her. “What exactly… do you have in mind?”

Mei hums in thought, her eyes flickering to the side for a brief second before returning to Kiana’s. At this, her expression softens and a tiny, reassuring smile form on her lips.

“I had some insomnia too, a few years ago” she begins, absentmindedly extending her fingers as she counts down each point. “Something that helped me was establishing a sleep routine, doing some light yoga before bed, and—oh! I even tried aromatherapy for a while.”

Kiana tilts her head slightly at hearing that word. “What’s that?”

Mei blinks before chuckling lightly. “Oh, right. Hmm, well, it’s when you use certain scents…like flowers or plant-based oils, to help relax your mind and sleep more peacefully. I think I still have my diffuser somewhere…” She trails off, straightening up with the clear intention of getting up to search for it.

Kiana watches as Mei moves towards the closet, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a small, sleek device with a triumphant expression.

“What kind of scents do you like?” Mei asks, glancing back at her while holding up the diffuser in both hands like a prized possession. “If I remember correctly, I have a few essential oils with floral scents, but we can order some that fit more your liking”

Kiana hums, shifting slightly as she watches Mei return to the bed, showing her the device proudly. She opens her mouth to answer, but then realizes—she doesn’t really know.

What kind of scents do I like?

Her mind draws a blank.

Her eyes wander to Mei’s face, tracing the delicate curve of her features, the way her eyes always seem to hold that quiet, steady warmth no matter the circumstance. She’s beautiful, Kiana thinks absently, though it’s not a new revelation. She’s always known it. And then, without meaning to, her focus shifts—past the warmth in Mei’s gaze, past the soft way her lips curve in patient expectation. The faint scent of her lingering shampoo, the delicate, almost imperceptible notes of her perfume, the same one Mei has worn for years. Kiana doesn’t know its exact name, doesn’t even think to place it among the usual floral categories Mei just mentioned.

She just knows it’s her.

A thought flashes through her mind, completely unfiltered as it slips past her lips before she can even think twice.

“…You” she mumbles out.

A short silence follows.

Mei blinks, her brows arching slightly. “Excuse me?”

Kiana’s eyes widen slightly as she processes what she just said. Feeling an awkward heat rush to her face, she tightens her lips into a thin line and squirms in place.

“I—I mean, I like your scent?” she clarifies, though the way her voice lilts at the end makes it sound more like a question than a statement. She shrugs, offering an unsure smile in an attempt to salvage the situation.

For a brief moment, Mei just stares at her, before a soft, amused chuckle escapes her lips.

“So… you like lavender?” she teases, clearly holding back a full laugh, though the tenderness in her eyes remains.

“Uh… I guess?” Kiana mutters, rubbing the back of her neck.

Is that what Mei’s usual perfume is? She can’t really tell. She’s never thought about it in terms of a specific scent. To her, Mei just smells like… Mei.

“Okay, we can work with that” Mei says, sounding more relieved, and the subtle shift in her tone makes something in Kiana’s chest loosen, as if an invisible weight has momentarily lifted.

“We can start by trying tonight. You still want my help, right?”

“Of course” Kiana answers almost without thinking. There’s something reassuring in the way Mei smiles at her, it makes her stomach flutter and a small warmth settle there.

For a moment, neither of them speaks, falling into a comfortable silence. Then, with a stretch of her arms, Mei announces that she’ll go prepare dinner, gently placing the diffuser on the bed before heading out. Kiana watches her go, her gaze lingering on the door even after Mei disappears through it. The room feels different now—quieter, somehow hollow.

Slowly, she shifts her attention back to the diffuser resting on the sheets, eyeing the small device as if it holds some kind of secret. She hesitates before picking it up, running her fingers over its surface. Can something this simple actually help me sleep? The idea feels almost ridiculous, like trying to mend a shattered mirror with just a piece of tape.

But still… what if it does help? What if all the nights she’s spent staring at the ceiling, trapped in her thoughts, could be eased by something as small as this?

And if something this minor could be a solution—then what about the rest of her?

Her grip tightens slightly.

For so long, she’s felt like a mess too big to fix, like every piece of herself was either missing or jagged, impossible to smooth out. The idea that her problems could have solutions, ones that don’t require grand sacrifices or impossible feats, makes her uneasy. Because if that’s true, then maybe she’s been the one holding herself back this whole time. Maybe she’s been drowning in something that was never meant to be so deep.

The thought sends an uncomfortable twist through her chest, and she grimaces. No… that’s not it. It’s not that simple.

She’s not overreacting. She knows what she’s been through. The weight she carries isn’t something that can just be waved away with a breath of lavender-scented air. But still, she can’t ignore the way Mei’s words, without having bad intentions, make her wonder if she’s been looking at things the wrong way.

Her mind drifts back to earlier in the afternoon, to the conversation she overheard in the classroom. Michelle had mentioned the rumor about new teachers being hired. She had complained about the workload, how exhausting everything had become. It was casual talk, nothing meant to be profound, but it stuck with Kiana more than she expected.

What was she supposed to be doing with herself?

For months, she’s just been existing, letting the days pass without direction. She’s kept herself afloat, but that’s all it’s been, no real purpose, no real goal. Could she really just keep going like this, letting life drift past her without ever reaching for something more?

She’s always been the type to be called impulsive; the girl who acted first and thought later, who threw herself headfirst into danger without hesitation, trusting that she’d figure it out along the way. But now… now she hesitates with every step, second-guesses every choice. It feels like she’s walking on eggshells around everything, as if one wrong move will shatter the fragile balance she’s trying to maintain. It’s frustrating.

The Kiana of the past would be furious if she saw her like this. That old self, the one who was reckless, filled with determination, showing with every move she’s alive—would be shaking her shoulders, urging her to do something, to move forward instead of lingering in place.

The thought stings more than she expect.

Her fingers toy with the edge of the diffuser as her mind drifts back to something that’s been circling around for a while now. The idea of becoming a teacher at St. Freya. At first, it had been a fleeting thought, something she entertained only briefly before pushing it aside. But now, it lingers. The more she turns it over in her mind, the less impossible it seems. Maybe it isn’t such a ridiculous idea after all.

Maybe… it could be a start.

A first step.

She lets out a slow exhale, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease just a little. It’s still daunting, uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, she feels like she’s found something to reach for. Something that isn’t just getting through the day, but actually moving forward.

With that thought settling in her chest, she finally slides off the bed, letting the diffuser rest back against the sheets. Her feet hit the floor with quiet resolve as she stretches slightly, then turns toward the door, where Mei has left.

This time, she feels like talking a little more.

::::::::::::::::::::

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind.

Between the constant studying, the pressure of relearning things she should have mastered years ago, and the sheer weight of finally taking a step toward something meaningful, life has felt nothing short of hectic. But despite the exhaustion, despite the overwhelming flood of information that sometimes leaves her head spinning, Kiana can feel herself slowly piecing things together.

For the first time since she arrived to Earth, she has a goal, one that gives her a direction to follow.

Most of her days are now spent tied to a desk, nose buried in textbooks and notebooks, struggling to cram knowledge she barely remembers from her school days back into her brain. It’s a tedious process, one that has her groaning in frustration more times than she’d like to admit. If left unchecked, she knows she’d probably work herself into exhaustion, but thankfully, Mei has been there every step of the way, reminding her to take breaks, preparing meals to keep her energy up, and sometimes even dragging her away from her notes when it becomes clear she’s pushing herself too hard.

If it weren’t for Mei’s support, Kiana’s body might have given out by now.

The news about St. Freya officially looking to hire new teachers spread out like a wildfire. It happened only a few days after the classroom cleaning afternoon, and for Kiana, it’s like a ray of light piercing through the thick, unrelenting clouds that have shrouded her for so long. A chance arriving at the exact moment she needed it most. Mei’s reaction when Kiana confessed her intent to apply was nothing short of enthusiastic, offering endless encouragement and unwavering support. And that alone only pushed Kiana to dive in even further.

Now, with just a couple of weeks left before the official application process begins, she has poured everything she has into preparing. Every single document, every certification—she’s ensured they’re all in perfect order. That once-dreaded diploma from her intensive course under Einstein and Tesla’s supervision, the very same training she once considered absolute hell back on the Moon Base, has now become her greatest advantage. Mei often reminds her how lucky she is to have undergone such prestigious tutoring, something that not just anyone can claim.

Beyond the paperwork and academic preparation, Mei has taken on the role of her personal coach, helping her prepare for the nerve-wracking interview she’ll need to pass. Countless practice runs, simulated Q&As, and helpful feedback sessions have become part of their daily routine, all in an effort to make sure Kiana can walk into that room with confidence. Day by day, anticipation builds. The closer she gets to the application day, the more the nervous excitement coils tight in her chest.

And then, finally, it arrives.

The night before, Kiana finds herself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to so much as think about sleeping. Despite following Mei’s carefully instructed nighttime routine, despite the lavender-scented air meant to lull her into rest, her thoughts refuse to quiet down. Her heart pounds with a mix of exhilaration and nerves, emotions swirling inside her like an untamed storm.

This day marks the beginning of something new. Something she’s choosing for herself, and no matter how uncertain the future still feels…She’s ready to face it.

The first step is submitting the application folder.

She double-checked every document, scanning each line with meticulous care before finally handing it over to the staff member in charge. It feels surreal, like she’s truly setting something into motion, stepping into a world she hadn’t even considered for herself until recently. And now, all she can do is wait.

A few days later, as she’s casually sipping a glass of water, her inbox pings with an official email. She doesn’t think much of it at first, opening it as she continues drinking, but the moment her eyes register the words confirming that she has passed the first filter, she nearly chokes. A rush of disbelief and excitement surges through her chest as she stares at the screen, rereading the message to make sure she’s not imagining things.

In just another week, she is summoned for the next stage: a series of tests before the final interview: one theoretical, one psychological. This time, her nerves betray her during the process. The moment she steps into the exam hall, it feels as if she’s about to face down another world-ending calamity. A familiar anxiety claws at her chest, the kind she thought she had long since learned to suppress; but this is different. She isn’t fighting for survival or against some huge deity that wants to exterminate humanity.

When she finally exits the testing room, all the confidence she had built up beforehand is gone. It lingers only as a faint whisper at the back of her mind, barely noticeable beneath the heavy weight of uncertainty. Days later, the results arrive, and the moment she sees them, her stomach drops. She barely scraped by on the theoretical exam while the psychological test is a complete failure.

The dull ache of disappointment settles in her bones, her thoughts spiraling as she stares at the report in her hands. It feels like confirmation of what she’s feared all along—she isn’t entirely ready for this. She should have known this was coming, yet somehow, it still stings. Just as she’s beginning to accept that this is the end of the road, another email follows, and she finds herself staring in shock at the screen once more. Against all odds, she has been given a second chance, an invitation to the interview, along with an opportunity to retake the psychological evaluation.

Another chance, a thing to feel grateful about, even determined; but the truth is, the same drive that had carried her forward before is nowhere to be found. Instead, a suffocating uncertainty clings to her, weighing down every step she takes toward that interview room the next day. She tells herself to focus on the goal, repeats it in her head like a mantra, but as she watches other applicants leave, some looking shaken, others visibly discouraged, her stomach twists into knots.

Then, finally, it’s her turn. The moment she steps inside, she knows she’s in trouble, the judges’ gazes are sharp and unrelenting, scrutinizing her every move. Mei had warned her they would be tough, but nothing could have prepared her for the suffocating pressure of sitting under their watchful eyes. The words she had practiced, the answers she had rehearsed over and over, all slip away the second she opens her mouth. She stumbles. Her hands shake. Her voice trembles. And no matter how hard she tries to regain control, she can feel herself spiraling, floundering under the intensity of the panel’s attention.

Minutes stretch endlessly as she struggles to keep herself together, but by the time the interview ends, she knows it didn’t go well. Still, there’s one more hurdle to clear. She retakes the psychological test, hoping, almost praying that, this time, things will be different.

Hours pass before the results are finally announced. One by one, applicants are called forward. And then—

“Miss Kaslana.”

She stands, forcing herself to move despite the heaviness in her limbs, and steps forward to face the judges once more. The head judge, a stern-faced man who has barely reacted to anything throughout the process, delivers the verdict in a calm, impassive tone. “I’m afraid you have failed the interview and the second chance at the psychological test. This officially disqualifies you from the selection process.”

The words land like a direct hit to her gut. Another judge, a woman with a softer expression, speaks next. “Please, don’t be discouraged by these results. Your resume and letters of recommendation were truly exceptional. We sincerely hope you have better luck in the future, whether with us or in other applications.”

The words are meant to be comforting, but they barely register. They slip past her like a distant echo, meaningless against the numbness settling into her chest. Kiana exhales slowly, lowering her gaze as a small, empty smile forms on her lips, which doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I see…” she murmurs, forcing the corners of her mouth up a little higher as she meet their gazes with something resembling composure. “Thank you for your time.”

With that, it’s over.

Everything blurs together after that. She doesn’t remember leaving the office. Doesn’t remember how she ended up wandering the academy halls, aimless and detached, until eventually, she finds herself in a small park tucked away within the sprawling campus grounds. At some point, her body moves on its own, seeking out the nearest bench, and she sits down.

And then… nothing.

She just stares ahead, unseeing, lost in the haze of her own thoughts. The weight of failure presses down on her, like a silent and suffocating weight on her shoulders. This was one of the possible outcomes. It’s part of the process, part of life—something that shouldn’t be this shocking. People fail all the time. She’ll be fine, truly.

Drawing a deep breath, Kiana leans against the bench and closes her eyes, letting the sun's warmth settle on her face like a gentle embrace. For a moment, she tries to pretend that it helps, that it soothes the ache inside her. But the empty, hollow feeling in her chest only tightens further, curling into a painful knot in her throat, stinging at the back of her eyes. She realizes where this is heading; the weight in her chest, the burn behind her eyelids, the shallow way her breath leaves her.

She sucks in a sharp inhale, forcing herself to straighten up. No. She must not cry. Not here. It doesn’t matter if there’s no one around, or if this park is tucked away from the main academy buildings where no students or staff would see her. It would still be pathetic, quite the depressing sight.

She’s a grown woman. Things like this happen all the time to grown people… right?

“It’s okay… It’s fine” she mutters under her breath, voice quivering as she blinks rapidly the tears threatening to gather, refusing to let them fall.

The buzzing of her phone against her pocket pulls her attention for a second, but she doesn’t reach for it. It could be anything—an official email confirming her failure, some generic rejection letter phrased in a way that tries to soften the blow, but she already knows the outcome. What’s the point of reading it? She doesn’t need to see it spelled out for her. Instead, she remains motionless with her gaze unfocused, ears tuned to the distant chatter of students and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by the wind.

She waits until she’s sure she has her emotions under control before standing up. Her legs feel heavier than before, but she forces them to move. She doesn’t rush toward the exit, doesn’t feel the need to hurry home just to rot away the rest of the day on the couch or bury herself under the covers. Her mind drifts aimlessly as she walks, watching students pass by, some chatting, others hurrying to wherever they need to be.

It’s strange. For a second, she feels like she’s watching another life entirely, one that she used to belong to but is now foreign to her. She remembers when her biggest concerns were coming up with plans to sneak out of class without Aunt Teri or Principal Himeko catching her.

Himeko.

The name flashes through her mind, and her feet falter for a split second before she forces herself to keep walking. Her chest tightens as if the mere thought of it is enough to weigh her down, but she ignores it, focusing on the path ahead. Yet the name doesn’t fade—it lingers, and with it, the memory of a wide grin, of a confident, unwavering voice, of vivid red hair that burned like fire against the night. Her eyes… what color were they again?

She searches for the answer in her mind and comes up empty and then, a bitter, humorless laugh escapes her lips.

This is the life you wanted me to live… Sometimes, I still think you should’ve just struck me down when you had the chance.

The image of a tired, lifeless gaze flickers across her mind, so quick that she barely catches it, yet it’s enough. Enough for the knot in her throat to become unbearable, enough for the weight in her chest to crush the breath from her lungs. The walls around her feel closer, the space around her constricting, turning suffocating.

She needs to leave. Now.

Showing urgency in her steps, Kiana actually tries to find a way out this time, glancing around the hallways that seem more familiar in an attempt to locate the exit. She really needs to make a map of this place, the academy is far too big for her liking, and in her current state, every second she spends wandering through its halls feels suffocating, like she’s trapped in a maze with no clear way out.

The need to leave claws at her, pushing her forward as she quickens her pace. Her mind fixates on nothing but getting outside, letting her body move on autopilot. Just as she thinks she has found the right path; she halts abruptly at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Kiana?" Oh, this is just…great.

Her breath hitches, and her lips press together in a thin line. She should turn around, it’s the normal thing to do. But instead, she freezes while the sound of her heartbeat is drumming loud in her ears in a chaotic rhythm. She doesn’t move an inch, as if remaining motionless could somehow make her unseen.

"I tried to call you after you didn’t answer my messages… How did things go?" Mei’s voice sounds hopeful, softer as she steps closer cautiously. It just makes a knot form on her throat.

Closing her eyes, Kiana takes a deep breath, forcing herself to move, then, she turns her head, wearing her best-practiced neutral expression, but the moment her eyes meet Mei’s, she feels the mask crack before she can hold it in place. It has always been harder to hide things from Mei, probably being one of her weakest points despite the years. Despite the tables being turned, she tries to steel herself, showing a small smile that falters as her shoulders sag ever so slightly and defeat seeps into her posture.

Mei notices. Of course, she does. Her expression shifts instantly from a hopeful smile to a shocked expression before her gaze softens with sadness and sympathy, and it makes something inside Kiana curl up in protest. That’s the last thing she wants to see right now, it only makes her feel smaller, more defeated. Her eyes dart to the side, unable to hold Mei’s gaze for long.

"Hey, maybe things didn’t turn out well, but that doesn’t mean this is the end of the road" Mei says gently, carrying the same warmth and reassurance that Kiana usually clings to. But this time, the words feel distant in her ears.

"I know" she mutters weakly. She doesn’t look up from the floor while a faint frown settles on her face. "I couldn’t pass the interview… or the second test." The words taste bitter on her tongue, as the weight of failure is laid the moment she says it aloud.

Mei steps closer, cautiously lifting a hand toward her in a familiar comforting gesture meant to soothe her; but before she even thinks about it, Kiana takes a step back in an automatic reaction she doesn’t even know where it came from. Mei’s hand stops mid-air, her expression flickering with something unreadable—surprise, maybe hurt—but she doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she exhales softly, lowering her hand in silent understanding.

"You’re heading home, right?" Mei asks after a beat of awkward silence, shifting slightly as she tucks her hands behind her back.

Kiana hesitates before nodding, glancing around the academy grounds where students and teachers pass by, caught up in their own conversations, their own routines.

"I could drive you home if you want. It’s almost leave time—I can ask to leave early today, just give me a minute and—"

"It’s fine." The words come out sharper than she intends, and Kiana immediately notices the slight stiffening of Mei’s posture. She clears her throat, forcing her voice into something softer. "I’m fine… You don’t need to leave early. I just wanna be alone. Please."

There’s a subtle tightening in Mei’s jaw, a fleeting darkening in her gaze, but she doesn’t push. Even though her body language betrays her reluctance, she simply nods, offering a quiet "Be safe" before turning around and walking away.

The moment Mei is gone, a long sigh escapes Kiana’s lips, her shoulders dropping and her entire body feeling unbearably heavy. It takes her far too much effort to get her legs moving again, each step toward the bus stop feeling like trudging through deep waters. She doesn’t rush, there’s no reason to.

By the time she reaches the bus stop, the world around her blurs into background noise—idle chatter from passersby, the hum of engines, the occasional laughter of students discussing their day. It all feels distant, like something happening in a different reality as she boards the bus without much thought, dropping herself into the nearest empty seat by the window.

The city moves past in a wash of colors, buildings and streets blending together, but she doesn’t really see any of it. Her mind remains blank, while exhaustion starts weighing down on her, different from physical fatigue, this one it’s something deeper, ingrained in every part of her while dragging her down like an anchor.

Everything feels quiet, too quiet. Usually, she would have her phone out, scrolling through messages or listening to some music to fill the silence, but right now, she doesn’t even reach for it. The device sits in her pocket, vibrating occasionally, but she ignores it just as she ignored it earlier.

At some point, the bus makes another stop in a place she recognizes, and she forces herself up to get off the bus, starting her walk down the familiar path home. The streets are not as lively here, only a few people passing by, heading to their own destinations; the closer she gets to home, the more suffocating the quietness becomes and the moment she reaches the front door, she hesitates. The thought of stepping inside and being completely alone in the dark house, unsettles something inside her.

But there’s no avoiding it.

She steps in, locks the door behind her, and stands still in the dimly lit entryway. The place feels cold, lifeless. She exhales slowly, moving on autopilot as she drops her bag, kicks off her shoes, and heads straight for the couch; without turning on the lights, she sinks onto it, curling into herself.

Against her will, her mind starts retracing the past weeks, as if a cruel hand is flipping through the pages of her failures one by one, forcing her to relive each moment in painful clarity. She remembers the long days spent studying without rest, the restless mornings trying to convince herself that she had a real shot. The quiet, nagging doubts she ignored when she sat in waiting rooms, trying to steady her breathing and appear composed. The way she had carefully prepared answers, rehearsed them in her head, only to find them slipping through her fingers like dry sand when the moment of truth came.

She tried. She put her whole being into this attempt, summoned every last ounce of strength to reach for a goal she thought was within her grasp.

And in the end, none of it mattered.

She clenches her fists against the fabric of the couch, her nails digging into her palms as a familiar tightness coil in her chest, growing like a thorned vine that wraps around her ribs and digs deep. A dull ache pulses in the pit of her stomach, twisting in rhythm with the self-loathing thoughts that whisper just beneath the surface of her mind.

I … am worthless.

The moment the thought forms, something inside her crumbles further. The knot in her throat returns, heavier this time, pressing against her windpipe with an unbearable pressure. Her eyes burn and, this time, she doesn’t stop it. A broken sob rasps through her throat, the first of many. It feels foreign, wrong, as if she’s listening to someone else breaking apart in the dim glow of the streetlight filtering through the window.

She draws her legs closer to her chest, curling into herself as quiet cries escape her trembling lips. Her body shakes in shallow waves, not from cold, but from the exhaustion of holding everything in for far too long. Every breath is an effort, every inhale feels like inhaling shattered glass.

Crying over a failure—this isn’t her. It never has been. Kiana Kaslana doesn’t break over a single lost battle. She’s the one who stands back up, who grins even when she’s bleeding, who fights no matter how hopeless things seem. But right now… she can’t. She doesn’t want to.

Because deep down, she knows this isn’t just about today.

This comes as the weight of everything she has tried to suppress since the moment she returned. Since the moment she was finally given a chance to live a quiet life but realized she had no idea how to live it. She has fought endless battles, faced death, endured solitude beyond human comprehension, and yet… she can’t even pass a simple interview. She can’t even take a single step forward without tripping over herself.

Time ceases to exist in the hollow quiet of the house. Minutes blur into hours, or maybe it’s just seconds stretched painfully long. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. She just stays there, lying motionless on the couch, her damp eyes staring past the ceiling into some undefined void.

What now?

Try again somewhere else? Keep chasing opportunities only to be met with more rejections? Pick up a hobby? Try to enjoy time with friends?

The mere thought makes her stomach churn. It all feels exhausting. Meaningless.

She exhales shakily, dragging herself deeper into the couch, letting the numbness settle into her bones. The familiar walls around her seem to darken, their edges losing sharpness, like ink bleeding into water. The house she shares with Mei, once a space of quiet respite, now feels distant, blurred and unreal, as if she’s slipping out of reality itself.

Her eyelids grow heavier, the world dulls further, fading into an almost dreamlike haze. She sighs, deep and ragged, surrendering herself to the silence.

Then, she hears something.

Faint at first, just a ripple in the stillness. But then it sharpens into a laugh, a distant and unmistakable one.

Her breath catches in her throat. The fine hairs on her arms rise as a chill creep up her spine. The laugh isn’t warm, neither kind or soft. It slithers through the air, tainted with amusement and something far more sinister.

“Now this is a pitiful sight… rather fitting for you.”

Her body locks, every muscle tense like a coiled spring as her pulse starts hammering in her ears. A foreign pressure grips her chest, squeezing tight, urging her to run. Slowly, her gaze drags across the room.

And then—she sees her.

Perched effortlessly on the coffee table, legs crossed in an easy, elegant manner, sits a figure draped in white and black. The bodysuit clings to her like a second skin, intricate in its design, adorned with gold and violet accents that catch the dim light. Long, silver hair cascades past her shoulders in waves, eerily familiar yet unnervingly pristine.

Then there are the appendages. Four ethereal limbs unfurl behind her like languid serpents, their ends forming into shapes that resemble unblinking, predatory eyes; shifting idly, as if waiting for something. But none of it—not the armor, not the appendages, not even the impossible presence—sends the blood draining from Kiana’s face.

It’s the smirk. The glint in those golden, slitted eyes, brimming with cruel amusement and something darker, because Kiana knows that expression.

She has worn it before.

“W-What…?” Her voice barely escapes her lips, weak and breathless, denoting an increasing edge of panic.

She pushes herself up on the couch, hands gripping the fabric beneath her as if grounding herself in reality will somehow erase the figure in front of her. The other her tilts her head, the smirk widening just enough to send another shiver down Kiana’s spine. One leg swing lazily over the other, radiating a confidence so effortlessly suffocating that Kiana feels herself shrink under its weight.

The figure leans forward ever so slightly, silver strands of hair catching the dim light as she places an elbow on her knee and rests her chin against her palm.

Her voice is smooth, rich with condescension and cruel delight, charging an echo that makes it sound like some distorted signal.

“It’s been a while… Human.”

Chapter Text

Mei left the school without her usual composed and relaxed stride. Instead, her steps were hurried, bordering on a light jog as she weaved through the hallways, offering rushed goodbyes to coworkers and students alike.

A heavy weight pressed against her chest, making every second feel wasted, every polite exchange being just an irritating delay. By the time she reached the parking lot and slid into the driver’s seat, her hands were already gripping the wheel tightly, her patience stretched thin with every second. Traffic was unbearable. Red lights stretched endlessly, and the sluggish pace of the cars ahead only fueled the restlessness clawing at her insides. Her fingers drummed anxiously against the steering wheel, her jaw tightening with each wasted minute. The thought looping through her mind was relentless, unwavering.

Kiana.

She noticed the emptiness in her eyes — the way they had lost their usual spark, appearing almost lifeless. The sight had chilled her to the bone, but Mei hadn’t pushed, despite the urge to do so being so overwhelming, especially when Kiana had stepped away from her touch, both physically and emotionally. She was withdrawing, slipping away to a place Mei couldn’t reach, and that terrified her more than anything.

At every stoplight, she glances at her phone, but the screen remained the same—unread messages, unanswered calls. There was no way to know if Kiana is home, but Mei is prepared to search every inch of the city if necessary. She had done it before.

Ignoring a few traffic laws and taking the quickest routes, Mei arrives home in record time. Her hands tremble as she fumbles with the keys, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The second the lock clicks, she exhales sharply, barely realizing she had been holding her breath. She pushes the door open just enough to peer inside, finding only darkness and absolute silence.

An uneasy chill runs down her spine. The house feels lifeless, eerily still. Kiana isn’t the type to sit alone in the dark—unless something is terribly wrong. Mei steels herself with a slow breath before stepping inside and shutting the door behind her.

“Kiana?” she calls out, her voice firm yet carefully measured, though the tightness in her throat betrays her. “I’m home… Are you in the living room?”

No response. Not even the slightest shuffle of movement.

The silence stretches on, gnawing at her frayed nerves. She takes some cautious steps forward, and just as she is about to call out again, a sudden thud from the living room shatters the quiet. Her heart leaps into her throat. The sound is loud, sharp—something heavy falling. In an instant, all pretense of composure is gone.

“Kiana!” Mei’s voice cracks as she bolts toward the noise, moving before her mind fully catches up.

Panic surges through her veins, drowning out all rational thought. She rounds the corner into the living room and freezes at the sight of one of the couches overturned, its frame awkwardly tilted against the floor. A brief wave of confusion floods her, but it is quickly shoved aside as her eyes find Kiana amidst the darkness.

She is slumped against the wall, her body rigid, chest rising and falling in short, uneven gasps. One hand clutches at her shirt as if trying to hold herself together, her skin ghostly pale, damp with sweat. For some reason, she is staring straight ahead with wide eyes filled with terror.

Despite having more questions than answers, Mei doesn’t hesitate to drop to her knees beside her, reaching out with careful hands.

“Kiana” she calls softly, though her voice trembles. “Hey, I’m here. Look at me.”

But Kiana doesn’t blink, doesn’t react. Her gaze remains fixed on something invisible, while her breath comes in shallow and erratic gasp.

“Kiana” Mei tries again, this time placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. The touch, however small, seems to break something. Kiana flinches violently, her breath hitching, and then her eyes shift, finally meeting Mei’s.

Mei’s heart clenches painfully at seeing them unfocused, still holding a sheer terror flooding them. Mei’s lips part as if to ask what’s happening, but decides against it in the last second.

“It’s okay” Mei murmurs, forcing her own breath to steady. “I’m right here. You’re safe.” She says gently, cradling Kiana’s face in her hands.

Kiana’s eyes flick back to whatever has her so on edge, her breathing still erratic, body rigid with tension. But finally, she lowly lifts her trembling hands, grasping onto Mei’s, which are still cradling her face. Her grip is weak at first, uncertain, as if grounding herself through touch; noticing this, Mei immediately responds with a soft squeeze, her thumbs stroking Kiana’s cheeks in soothing motions.

“Breathe with me” Mei murmurs with steady voice despite the unease gnawing at her.

She demonstrates, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, guiding Kiana through each breath. It takes time – a long, agonizing time – where Kiana’s breath still hitches and her chest rises and falls unevenly, but little by little, she begins to match Mei’s rhythm. The tremors in her hands lessen, the frantic rise and fall of her chest steadies.

Finally, after one last deep, shuddering breath, Kiana closes her eyes with her posture sagging as if the weight of whatever gripped her has momentarily loosened. A quiet, defeated exhale leaves her lips as she slumps forward, drained.

Mei watches her carefully, searching her face for any lingering panic before softly asking, “Are you better now?” Her thumbs continue their gentle motions, brushing along Kiana’s skin in an effort to comfort.

Kiana blinks her eyes open, and for the briefest moment, a flicker of surprise crosses them, as if she’s just realizing Mei is there.

“Mei…?” The whisper barely reaches Mei’s ears, fragile and uncertain.

“Yes, yes… it’s me. I’m here.” Mei feels something in her chest unclench at the recognition in Kiana’s voice, a relief so sudden and overwhelming that it nearly makes her eyes water. She forces a weak smile, blinking quickly to hold back the sting. “Are you alright? What happened, dear?”

At her question, Kiana’s brows furrow, confusion flickering across her features. She glances to the side, eyes following something unseen, and for a split second, Mei catches something—some emotion flashing in Kiana’s expression, something deep and unreadable. Before Mei can question her further, Kiana snaps her gaze back to her, looking more unsettled than before, her fingers tightening around Mei’s wrist as though holding onto a lifeline.

“You… you can’t see it?” Kiana’s voice is strained, barely above a breath while her grip tightens just slightly.

Mei’s frown deepens. “See… what?” she asks cautiously, following Kiana’s gaze to the side. But there’s nothing. Just the darkened room, the overturned couch, the quiet hum of the house.

Kiana’s breath hitches sharply, her whole-body tensing. Mei watches as her eyes widen, pupils dilating as she turns back toward whatever she’s seeing. The sheer terror that washes over her expression sends a chill down Mei’s spine.

A sudden, irrational sense of dread creeps into Mei’s own mind. She’s never been one to get spooked easily by ghost stories or paranormal stuff, but watching Kiana now… it makes her skin crawl.

“K-Kiana…” Mei swallows, trying to keep her voice steady. “What… what is it? What can’t I see?”

Kiana doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating. Then, slowly, she darts her eyes to the corners of the room, scanning them anxiously.

“You… you really c-can’t see it…” she whispers, her voice barely a thread. Mei can’t tell if it’s meant as a question or a realization.

Maybe there’s something in the room I can’t see in the darkness? I should turn on the lights, Mei thinks to herself, trying to calm her own scared thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Mei straightens slightly and moves to stand. “Hold on a sec, let me turn on the light first and—”

“No!”

Before Mei can fully rise to her feet, a forceful yank on her wrist pulls her back down. Kiana grips her with both hands, her fingers clutching so tightly that her knuckles turn white and her wide, fearful eyes lock onto hers, filled with something Mei can only describe as sheer, unfiltered terror.

Mei blinks, stunned by the sudden desperation in Kiana’s grip. Her heartbeat stutters at the intensity, but she doesn’t fight against it. Instead, she lowers herself back onto her knees, scooting a little closer to Kiana.

“Hey… what’s wrong?” she asks softly, trying to keep her voice calm despite the creeping unease worming its way through her. She places her free hand atop Kiana’s, fingers brushing lightly against hers, offering warmth and reassurance.

“I’m just turning on the lights” she explains, keeping her tone gentle. “Nothing else.”

But Kiana is no longer looking at her. Her gaze is fixed on their joined hands, lips slightly parted, as if something has just dawned on her. The tension in her fingers wavers and the iron grip started loosening little by little, until finally, the strength drains from her hands. Mei watches carefully as she hesitates, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Then, at last, her fingers slip from Mei’s wrist, falling limply onto her lap.

Taking this as permission, Mei exhales and slowly rises to her feet, careful not to move too suddenly, as if afraid any abrupt motion might startle Kiana further. Her hand glides along the wall, searching for the light switch. She pauses for a brief moment, casting a final glance over her shoulder at Kiana, who remains frozen on the floor, her eyes darting anxiously across the dimly lit room.

The moment the light flickers on, Mei sweeps her gaze over the space, scanning for anything out of place, no matter how small. But there’s nothing. No open windows, no shifting shadows, no lingering traces of something that shouldn’t be there. Still, a cold shiver trails down her spine. She suppresses it, pushing the feeling aside as she turns her focus back to Kiana.

Mei kneels down, leveling herself with her wife, to speak with a soft voice. “See? It’s just us here.” She reaches for Kiana’s hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

Kiana blinks rapidly, as if trying to clear some unseen fog from her vision. She inhales shakily, forcing herself to take slow, measured breaths. Mei watches patiently, rubbing gentle circles over Kiana’s knuckles with her thumbs. Eventually, some of the tension leaves Kiana’s body, a bit of color returning to her face, but the unease in her eyes lingers.

“Kiana?” Mei coaxes gently, drawing Kiana’s gaze back to hers.

“Ah…” Kiana stammers, quickly shifting her expression into an awkward, forced smile. She straightens her posture, pulling her hands away—one moving to scratch at her neck in a restless gesture, the other gripping the hem of her skirt.

“I—I think I got a little flustered over a nightmare, hahaha…” She laughs weakly, but the sound is thin, unconvincing. Her eyes flicker toward the overturned couch, then settle on the coffee table, her gaze lingering there with something closer to worry than embarrassment.

Mei arches a brow, skepticism threading into her tone. “A nightmare? That’s why you looked like you’d just seen a ghost?”

“Uh… well, it was a really bad one…” Kiana mutters, clearing her throat before hastily rising to her feet. She offers a hand to help Mei up, though her movements feel too deliberate, as if trying too hard to appear unaffected.

Mei accepts the hand but keeps her eyes fixed on Kiana’s face. The tense smile, the flickering unease behind her eyes—she’s hiding something. It’s written all over her.

“What was this ‘nightmare’ about?” Mei presses, her voice quieter now, laced with careful scrutiny.

Kiana visibly swallows. Silence stretches between them for several seconds before she finally exhales, shoulders slumping in surrender.

“I… I dreamed of a face I didn’t want to see” she admits, her voice so faint Mei barely catches it. But the weight of those words unsettles her all the same.

Mei’s expression tightens. “And whose face was that?” She steps closer, reaching out to touch Kiana’s arm cautiously. When Kiana doesn’t pull away, she takes another step forward, her eyes searching for answers in the way Kiana refuses to meet her gaze.

A long, tired sigh escapes Kiana’s lips. Then, barely above a whisper she answers.

“…The Herrscher of the Void.”

Mei stiffens. The name alone is enough to send a ripple of understanding through her.  Her expression softens, and she exhales quietly through her nose. Slowly, she reaches up, cupping Kiana’s cheek, feeling her heart easing a bit when Kiana instinctively leans into the touch.

“It’s okay” she murmurs, pressing their foreheads together. She strokes her thumb over Kiana’s cheek in soothing circles. “It’s over now. She’s been long gone, remember?”

Kiana closes her eyes tightly, drawing in a deep breath through her nose. When she opens them again, a faint smile tugs at her lips—fragile and fleeting. But within her gaze lingers a shadow, troubled and unfathomable, leaving Mei struggling to grasp its true nature.

“Yeah…” Kiana murmurs, tinged with quiet resignation. “She’s gone now.”

Mei offers her a tender smile, tilting her head to place a gentle kiss on Kiana's forehead before straightening up. "How about we whip up something quick to eat? You call the shots" she suggests, her tone light as she gently leads Kiana out of the living room.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mei catches Kiana casting uneasy glances back at the coffee table—a flicker of discomfort flashing across her features.

For now, she chooses to let it slide.

A few weeks have passed rather quickly, or at least, that’s how it feels. Time has started to blur together, slipping through her fingers like sand. She lost track of the days a long time ago, though she supposes it doesn’t really matter. Her failure at the interview was a hard blow, leaving behind a bitter sting that refuses to fade. But she’s getting over it.

Truly.

Determined to keep her mind occupied, she had thrown herself into new hobbies apart from her usual activities, searching for something that might spark a sense of comfort. She had tried her hand at various pursuits outside her usual routine, even attempted to find a new part-time or full-time job. Unfortunately, luck hadn’t been on her side.

Through it all, Mei kept encouraging her every step of the way, comforting her with soft words and unwavering support. It’s warm and reassuring. And yet, deep down, Kiana feels exhausted to deal with it.

The thought unsettles her, twisting in her chest like a thorn. It’s not Mei’s fault. If anything, she should be grateful. Mei is just trying to help, to be there for her. But somehow, the constant patience, the careful way Mei tiptoes around her emotions—it feels suffocating. Like she’s something fragile, something Mei is desperately trying to hold together even as the cracks widen.

The guilt hits immediately. She shouldn’t feel this way. She can’t.

With a sharp exhale, she shakes her head and smacks her cheeks lightly, not hard enough to leave bruises, but enough to snap herself back to reality. She’s supposed to be jogging. That’s why she put on her running shoes, why she stepped out of the house in the first place.

Focus. Just focus.

Taking a deep breath, she squares her shoulders and starts forward, breaking into a steady jog as she follows the familiar path leading to the sidewalk. The rhythmic sound of her footsteps against the pavement, the crisp air biting at her skin, the slow but satisfying burn in her muscles, everything seems in order.

A few neighbors greet her as she passes, offering casual waves and polite smiles. She nods in return, barely registering their faces. Everything is in order. The world keeps moving, just as it should. Maybe she can push herself a little further today and add a few extra laps, run until exhaustion drowns out the noise in her head.

Maybe if she runs far enough, long enough—

"Do you think running will solve your problems like a magic trick?"

The voice comes suddenly, slicing through her thoughts like a blade, cold and familiar.

Kiana blinks, raising her eyes from the steady rhythm of her feet against the sidewalk, only to find the uncanny figure waiting ahead. She stands with her hands clasped behind her back, posture unnervingly straight and a smug smile playing on her lips.

Kiana’s steps falter, nearly disrupting her steady pace. But the moment she realizes it, she clenches her jaw, shakes her head, and pushes forward. Turning strides become firmer and increasing her speed as she forces herself past the figure.

Behind her, a loud, mocking laugh rings out, echoing in her skull like a dreadful melody. She keeps her gaze locked straight ahead, using it as an anchor or something to focus on, something to pull her away from what she just saw.

"What’s wrong? So focused on your futile attempt that you can’t even greet an old acquaintance?"

Kiana grits her teeth and quickens her pace. Without hesitation, she veers right, stepping off the sidewalk and into one of the small parks in the neighborhood. Thankfully, it’s the middle of a weekday. There aren’t many people around. A perfect excuse to change her route into an escape inside the cover of the trees surrounding the park.

Don’t listen. Don’t listen.

She repeats the words like a mantra, clinging to them as if they can drown out the unwelcoming presence, she can feel her lurking nearby. But no matter how much she tries to ignore it, she knows that it’s still there. That she is still watching her every move.

Then, something feels wrong.

Her breathing grows erratic, making each inhale sharp and uneven. A tight pressure coils in her chest, making every breath she takes burn. Her legs feel heavier and weaker, turning her movements sluggish, her vision blurs at the edges, giving the effect the world is slowing down as her heartbeat drums in her ears.

A wave of confusion washes over her. She just started jogging. There’s no way she should feel this drained already. No way she should be feeling like the has been running for days without a rest.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

"Aw, got tired of running?"

The mocking voice drips with amusement, punctuated by a heartful laugh. Kiana hears the sharp clicks of cold footsteps drawing closer, stopping just in front of her.

She cracks one eye open, her vision settling on a pair of dark heels accented with orange details. Slowly, she lifts her gaze, meeting a face eerily similar to her own—except for the small, knowing smile and those golden eyes, staring down at her with the detached curiosity of someone observing an insect. Kiana glares back before letting her head drop forward, trying to steady her ragged breathing.

"You know, this angle suits you quite well. On your knees, completely drained of the will to stand."

"Why are you here?" Kiana hisses through clenched teeth, her voice trembling as she battles the growl of frustration rising within her. A sharp pang pierces her chest, twisting her grimace into one of pain.

The only answer she receives is laughter—light, cruel, and infuriating. It boils Kiana’s blood like a pot left too long on the stove. The Herrscher crouches to her level, resting an elbow on her knee before lazily propping her cheek against her hand. She watches Kiana intently, as if savoring the sight of her struggle.

"What do you mean by that?" she asks, feigning innocence. But her golden eyes remain ice-cold, staring into the deeps of her core. "Aren't you happy to have company? You hate being alone, don’t you?" she coos, her lips curling into a sinister grin.

"I don't want your company" Kiana mutters dryly, forcing herself upright. She stumbles away, desperate to escape that loathsome stare.

"Pretending I'm not here won’t make me disappear. You know that, right?"

Kiana clenches her jaw and raises her hands to her ears, trying to block out the voice, but it's useless. The frustration coils tighter around her chest, a serpent constricting with every breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, quickening her pace, not even watching where she’s going. She just needs to get away.

Yet, no matter how far she moves, that presence lingers, gnawing at the edges of her mind, like a thorn pressing deeper into her skull.

"All this act of yours, is pointless. Exercising, trying new things… What’s the point? You’re still the same worthless girl."

Like a scratched record, the words loop in her head, growing louder, suffocating. She forces herself forward, fixing her gaze on the end of the tree-lined path where the distant glow of the street flickers like a light at the end of a tunnel. But each blink brings brief, disorienting flashes, her vision starts flickering, growing more erratic with every step.

The moment she finally stumbles onto the open street, it feels like escaping a maze. She steadies herself, quickly scanning her surroundings, recognizing the familiar road after a few seconds of disoriented searching.

Out of instinct, she glances back, but finds nothing. No haunting figure lurking among the trees, no piercing golden eyes watching from the shadows, just the rustling leaves. She exhales, relieved, until she turns forward and meets that gaze, waiting for her with all the patience in the world. Kiana flinches, feeling an involuntary shudder rippling through her as her breath catches in her throat.

"Do you really think any of this will give you purpose?"

The Herrscher’s voice is almost sweet, dripping with mockery as she strides toward Kiana with slow, measured steps. Her hands clasp neatly behind her back, her chin tilting up ever so slightly.

"Going outside, smiling at strangers… trying to fit in. Haven’t you learned by now? There’s no place for you here anymore."

Kiana grits her teeth as the words burrow under her skin like barbs. She shakes her head, as if she can shake them loose. Her body reacts before her mind does, stepping back, unwilling to let her get any closer.

"Shut up…" The words come as a whisper, strained, while her body trembles under the weight of that cold, golden stare.

The Herrscher merely chuckles.

"I thought you adored honesty" she taunts, a smirk curling at her lips. "The oh-so-great, selfless hero who cherishes everything beautiful in this world… A world doomed by its own actions. Just like you."

Kiana squeezes her eyes shut. "No. Quiet." She turns away, stepping back again, until the rough bark of a tree halts her escape.

"Why keep lying?"

The Herrscher presses in, closing the distance in a single, deliberate stride. Kiana barely has time to react before she’s leaning in, invading her space and leaving her no choice but to gaze back at those piercing eyes.

"An honest hero never lies. Not even to themselves." She murmurs, holding a hint of disdain in her words.

Kiana stares into the golden eyes, feeling like they see straight through her. Fear grips her tightly, making her body freeze. Her muscles are so tense it hurts, her breathing speeds up, and her heart pounds loudly, as if it might break through her chest. Every nerve in her body feels like it's on fire, overwhelming her senses and worsening her state.

Out of reflex, she throws a punch at the menacing presence, only to hit nothing but air. The force of the strike nearly sends her tumbling forward, and she barely manages to steady herself. Dazed, she blinks rapidly, scanning her surroundings in a frantic sweep, but there’s nothing, no one.

Only the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of nature filling the silence. She stands frozen for a moment, her mind sluggishly piecing together what just happened. When she’s sure it’s over, she exhales shakily and crouches down, burying her face in her hands while a long, tired sigh escapes her lips, leaving her body heavier with exhaustion. It’s only now that she realizes the cold sweat clinging to her skin, the faint tremble in her fingers as she lowers them to inspect them.

It’s getting worse.

At first, it had been just that isolated incident in the living room, gone the moment Mei walked in. After that, it was nothing more than an annoying voice whispering in the back of her mind. But lately, it has become this… a haunting, infuriating vision of the one being she both despised and feared the most. Mocking and taunting her until she breaks.

The fact that only she can see her is both a relief and a cruel kind of loneliness. She wonders, for just a fleeting second, what Mei would say if she tells her a ghost from her past is tormenting her almost daily. But no. It’s better if she doesn’t know.

Once she feels steady enough, she gets to her feet, giving her clothes a quick once-over to make sure everything is in place. She decides to head straight home, those extra laps can be forgotten, she’s had enough.

Later that night, once both are settled in bed, Mei is leaning against the headboard, idly scrolling through social media videos to pass the time. Kiana, meanwhile, rests against her chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. The distant hum of Mei’s videos blends into something akin to white noise, and the occasional chuckles or quiet giggles Mei lets out only add to the warmth Kiana finds in her embrace.

With a deep breath, Kiana shifts slightly, adjusting her position to ease the soreness in her neck. In doing so, she instinctively takes one of Mei’s hands and places it on her shoulder, loosely holding onto it, as if to anchor herself, just in case she drifts too far. The faint scent of lavender clings to her senses with each slow inhale, lulling her further into drowsiness as Mei’s familiar nighttime routine works its quiet magic.

But just as sleep begins to take hold, an unwelcome presence slithers into the back of her mind. Her drowsiness falters. A faint frown crosses her face as she stirs, shifting closer to Mei’s warmth and her arms unconsciously tighten around her waist. Then, a sinister chuckle echoes in her ears, making a chill runs down her spine.

Goosebumps prickle across her skin, tearing her from the peaceful haze she was slipping into. She knows what’s coming. Swallowing hard, she squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face against Mei’s chest, trying, almost pleading, to block it out.

Sensing her restlessness, Mei moves her hand to Kiana’s head, gently stroking her hair in slow, soothing motions, which eases some of the restlessness flooding her; bit by bit, the tension in her body unravels, and as Mei begins to massage her scalp with her fingertips, a relieved sigh escapes her lips.

For a moment, just a moment, she feels safe again.

"You just need to start purring, and you’ll be a full-fledged cat." The cold voice slices through the fragile comfort like glass splintering in her chest.

"Just when I thought your existence couldn’t be more pitiful."

Every muscle in Kiana’s body locks up. The warmth of the embrace vanishes, replaced by ice curling around her bones. Her breathing stutters. Hesitantly, she shifts her gaze to the corner of her vision and, to her disdain, she’s there.

Perched at the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, golden eyes staring ahead as if lost in thought. Her presence is casual, indifferent, yet suffocating. A frustrated whine escapes Kiana as she clenches her eyes shut and buries herself deeper against Mei, desperate to make it go away. This time, her movement pulls Mei’s attention from her phone.

“Something wrong, Kiana?” Mei asks, her voice soft as she continues combing through her hair with gentle fingers.

Kiana doesn’t answer. She just presses herself further into Mei’s warmth, hiding from the world, from her.

"Don’t you feel ashamed? Clinging to her like a lost, frightened child." The Herrscher’s voice cuts through the fragile silence, laced with reproach.

The words slither into Kiana’s chest, tightening around her ribs like a vice. "Act like an adult for once."

Kiana grits her teeth, finding the accusation striking deeper than she wants to admit. Heat flares behind her eyes, not from anger, but out of shame. Without thinking, she pulls away from Mei, pushing herself up on her arms in an abrupt motion that makes Mei startle, her confused gaze locking onto her.

Realizing what she’s done, Kiana quickly averts her eyes, feeling self-conscious under Mei’s curious gaze. Her shoulders slump and she let herself fall back onto her side of the bed, turning away, as a final action, she yanks the blankets over her head, shutting herself off from everything Mei.

A beat of silence passes. Then, Mei’s voice reaches her with a gentle tone.

"Well, that certainly tells me something’s up."

Kiana tenses under the covers, shrinking further into herself.

"Mind telling me what it is? Hm?" Mei’s warmth inches closer, arms looping around her from behind in a quiet embrace.

The simple gesture makes Kiana’s throat go dry. The uneasiness in her chest swirls, rising like a tide, pressing against her ribs. She wants to answer. She really does. But no words come. After another moment of silence, she hears a resigned sigh before Mei pulls away.

The loss of warmth is immediate, and, despite her initial actions, a quiet pang of disappointment flickers in Kiana’s chest. She shoves it down, forcing herself to endure it. A soft click breaks the silence, and the subtle glow of light filtering through the blanket vanishes, plunging her into darkness; she exhales slowly, trying to focus on sleep.

Then, she feels the mattress dips behind her and soon a gentle tug at the blanket lets in a cool wisp of air, sending a slight shiver down her spine. Blinking in surprise, she glances out of the corner of her eye, just in time to see Mei slipping under the covers beside her and wrapping an arm over her waist to pull her into a tight hug that fills the hollow ache inside her chest.

“Mei?” she murmurs, turning her head, but the darkness keeps Mei’s face just out of reach.

“It’s a cold night” Mei whispers, pressing in closer, burying her face against her shoulder with a quiet sigh. Her hold tightens just slightly, secure but unintrusive.

“Don’t leave me out in the cold, will you?”

Kiana swallows, still feeling her throat dry. She turns her gaze forward again, falling into silence. Slowly, she moves a hand to rest over Mei’s, using her fingers to trace light, absentminded strokes against the back of her hand. The warmth and softness of it feels lulling, almost safe, as the minutes pass slowly between them.

Mei stirs behind her, shifting just enough to pull her in a more comfortable position and resting her chin against her shoulder. A slow, deep breath fans against Kiana’s ear, making her instinctively shrink into herself. Then, after a long pause, Mei finally speaks, in a quiet and hesitant voice, barely a whisper in the darkness.

“I didn’t want to pressure you, but…I’m worried about you.”

Kiana stills, her body turning rigid.

“Are you sure you’re okay about the job application?” Mei continues, her voice barely above a murmur, as if afraid pushing too hard might make Kiana slip through her fingers. “I know how much effort you put into it. And…I know it’s still hard for you to talk about things, but you promised me you’d try.”

The words tighten something painful in Kiana’s chest. A lump rises in her throat, thick and suffocating, and no matter how many times she blinks, the sting in her vision refuses to fade. She squeezes Mei’s hand, not quite a grip, but firm enough.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Mei pleads weakly, her tone faltering midway as she’s having difficultly to keep her voice afloat.

The words hit like a strike to the ribs. Kiana suppresses her reaction—mostly. But her breath catches for just a second, barely perceptible. Remorse pools bitter on her tongue. She exhales, slow and controlled, biting her lower lip as frustration knots tighter in her chest. The words are right there, teetering on the edge of her tongue. Her lips part, anticipating it, but nothing comes. Everything gets caught in the lump in her throat.

The seconds stretch unbearably. She clenches her jaw and presses her lips into a thin line, blinking against the sting in her eyes. Warm tears gather, blurring her vision, and when she tries to suck in a breath, it escapes as a trembling, quiet sob.

This is all so infuriating. And the only one to blame is herself.

“I-I…”

A single word makes it past her lips, but it’s frail and raspy, nothing like she intended.

Mei doesn’t push. She only holds her closer quietly. Then, after a moment, she finds Kiana’s hand and laces their fingers together, bringing a reassuring yet firm touch; and for a moment, it feels like enough. Kiana exhales shakily, letting herself sink into the embrace, anchoring herself to Mei’s closeness as she fights to quiet the chaos in her mind. Slowly, clarity returns, and she reconsiders her next words.

Confessing about the visions… doesn’t feel like a good idea.

She doesn’t even understand them herself. Are they some remnant of her time as the Herrscher of Finality? A side effect of something she inhaled, something she ate?

So far, they’ve done nothing but torment her. No one else reacts, no one sees what she sees. Would telling Mei about them actually help? Or would it only make her worry—make her look at her differently?

She needs to say something else. Quickly.

“…I really wanted it to work out.” The words leave her lips in a hushed murmur, slightly slurred but passable. She hopes it’s enough.

Mei exhales a quiet sigh, loosening her hold just enough to shift. Her arms move from Kiana’s waist to her shoulders, pulling her in gently. Kiana stiffens, blinking rapidly to clear the tears gathering in her eyes, but a few manage to slip free, trailing down her face.

Mei’s voice breaks the silence, filled with an unmeasurable warmth.

“Sometimes life gets harder than you expect… but that doesn’t make it any less worth living.” She presses a soft nuzzle to the side of Kiana’s head, tightening her hug in a gentle squeeze. “There are ups and downs. Times when you succeed, and times when you feel like you’ve failed in the worst way possible.”

Her voice lowers, but keeps carrying that gentleness that makes Kiana’s heart flutter.

“But that’s the charm of life. You stand up after you fall. You laugh after the storm clears. Nothing is permanent, things change, people change, and that’s not a bad thing.”

Kiana exhales shakily, trying to ease the heaviness pressing against her chest, but the tears keep coming, trailing freely down her face.

"What if I don’t… want things to change?" she murmurs weakly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Her fingers reach out, finding Mei’s arm around her shoulders, clutching it in a weak grip.

"What if I don’t even try to look up at the sky anymore?" Her voice barely rises above a whisper. "If all I ever see are clouds and grey… what’s the point?"

Silence follows, the kind that lingers too long. Regret tightens in her stomach. She shouldn’t have said that. She’s only making things worse by souring the mood. Before she can scramble for a way to take it back, Mei shifts beside her, propping herself up slightly. Hesitantly, Kiana shifts her head, meeting Mei's eyes. In the dimness, the barely can spot the faint contour of her face, finding her expression calm and tender.

“Kiana.”

Her name is called out with such quiet tenderness that she freezes. Mei reaches out, cupping her cheek and brushing away a stray tear with the pad of her thumb.

"It’s okay to be exhausted. It’s okay to feel sad and frustrated… It’s okay to feel, my dear."

The words strike something deep inside her. A fresh wave of tears wells up, and this time, Kiana doesn’t have the strength to stop them. Her breaths turn uneven, shuddering past her lips, raw and unfiltered. Mei only sighs softly, fondly, before leaning in, resting their foreheads together in a gentle touch.

“No one will look down on you for feeling this way. You’ve lost, you’ve suffered… but that never stopped you before.” Mei’s voice remains calm, holding a certain warmth that wraps around Kiana like a shield.

“Maybe it’s time to take things a little slower. There’s no right way to heal, no flawless schedule to mimic what others have done” she murmurs gently, leaning closer to brush the tip of her nose against Kiana’s, managing to draw a soft smile from her at the light, ticklish touch.

“And you don’t have to go through it alone.” Mei’s voice is steady, unwavering as she conveys her words with intend. “Everyone is here for you. I am here for you… please don’t forget that.” She continues as she buries her face under Kiana’s chin for a moment, breathing her in, before slowly pulling back and uncovering them both from the blanket.

Kiana blinks, adjusting to the dim lighting of the bedroom. Her gaze flits around, searching, though for what, she isn’t sure. When she finds nothing lurking in the shadows, she exhales softly, shoulders easing just a little.

“Let’s get some sleep, okay?” Mei suggests, already settling down beside her.

She smooths out her pillow, adjusting it with careful movements before tucking the blankets around them while Kiana watches in silence, tracking every small motion, until Mei finally rests on her side and extends an arm over the pillow, patting the space beside her in invitation. Kiana hesitates, only for a second, before sliding closer, fitting herself against Mei’s front and resting her head on the offered arm.

Mei wastes no time in wrapping her up in a protective embrace, tucking her in against her chest as she buries her nose in the crown of her head. Kiana can smell the faint scent of lavender coming from Mei, it lingers with every breath, turning in something calming and familiar. Kiana exhales, letting her body relax instinctively into the comfort.

But sleep doesn’t come.

Minutes pass, stretching endlessly. She shifts slightly, adjusting her position. Nothing. Her mind remains restless, stirring like a storm even as her body remains still. A frustrated sigh escapes her nose and she closes her eyes tightly, trying, almost forcing herself to will away the insomnia. But there’s no use.

Then, as if on cue, a soft humming fills the silence. It takes Kiana a few seconds to register it. She blinks and recognition dawns, before tilting her head up slightly and propel herself up to sit on the bed, looking down at Mei’s face in the dark. At this, the humming stops slowly.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly, a frown tugging at her brow as she meets Mei’s carefree smile once she meets her gaze.

“Humming.” Mei answers easily, patting the space beside her in silent encouragement to lay back down.

“I know that. But… why?”

“It helps you calm down, doesn’t it?” Mei’s voice holds a quiet playfulness, tinged with unmistakable fondness.

Kiana presses her lips into a tight line, feeling an odd mix of irritation and reluctant appreciation. Humming her a lullaby—like a child afraid of the dark. She isn’t sure what annoys her more: the action itself or the fact that it’s working.

She exhales sharply, dropping her head forward before straightening again, resolve flickering in her eyes. “You don’t… need to do that. It feels childish.” She grumbles, darting her gaze to the side as if embarrassed by the admission.

Mei chuckles softly. Without warning, she loops an arm around Kiana's neck, gently pulling her closer. Kiana offers only a faint huff of protest, but she doesn’t resist. Instead, she lets herself be drawn in, resting her cheek against Mei’s collarbone and draping an arm loosely around her waist.

“Then, why not think of it as me enjoying a little humming to myself?” Mei muses with playful ease.

Kiana exhales, resigned, pressing closer as she burrows into Mei’s comforting warmth.

Taking that as silent agreement, Mei resumes her soft melody, her fingers gliding slowly through Kiana’s hair. A fleeting thought flickers in Kiana’s mind—that she’s being fussed over like a child. But it’s quickly drowned out by the soothing rhythm of Mei’s touch and the gentle tune weaving through the quiet.

Before long, the tension in her body unravels. Her thoughts drift, sluggish and unfocused, as the steady strokes and Mei’s calming presence carry her into the depths of sleep.

“Kiana, have you finished your bath?”

Mei’s voice carries through the quiet home as she leans against the kitchen doorway. The faint sound of bubbling broth on the stove fills the space behind her while the comforting scent of warm spices and simmering vegetables linger in the air. But despite the domestic tranquility, a shadow of concern flickers in her chest when no answer comes.

She sighs, glancing toward the hallway that leads to their bedroom. Adjusting the heat on the stove, she wipes her hands on a dish towel before making her way toward the dimly lit corridor.

“Kiana?”

The lack of response only amplifies the unease curling in Mei’s stomach. Her steps are measured as she pushes open the bedroom door, scanning with her eyes the space. The room is shrouded in darkness, spotting a faint glow slipping out from beneath the bathroom door.

Mei flicks the switch and her gaze sweeps over the slightly rumpled bed, the tossed sheets suggesting Kiana had been there recently. Frowning, she approaches the bathroom, knocking gently. “Kiana?”

For a moment, there’s nothing, just silence thick enough to make her heartbeat quicken. But then, a sudden rustling comes from inside, hurried and clumsy.

“I—I’m on it! I’m on it!”

The words come out rushed, almost tripping over themselves, and Mei’s frown deepens. Kiana’s voice sounds strained, as if she’s scrambling for something more than just an answer.

Mei presses her lips together before speaking again, keeping her tone light but firm. “Hurry up, dinner is almost ready. Bronya said she’s on her way.”

She listens carefully. There’s a brief pause, then the abrupt sound of water splashing—too hastily, as if Kiana is moving without real coordination.

Mei exhales slowly and steps back, flickering her gaze around the room once more. Instinctively, she moves to the bed, smoothing out the covers, pressing out the wrinkles with practiced ease. A simple task, but it gives her something to do and focus on while an odd sense of unease lingers in the air.

Then, when she’s finishing her task and admires her handiwork briefly, the bathroom door swings open.

Kiana steps out abruptly, padding with her bare feet against the floor and the towel barely secured around her body. Her skin glistens with droplets of water as damp strands of silver-white hair cling to her shoulders. But Mei barely has time to take in her appearance before Kiana moves toward the closet in a hurry.

Mei watches from the corner of her eye as Kiana’s fingers flick through the clothing, her movements sharp, almost restless. The closet is full, neatly arranged, yet Kiana continues searching with a growing tension in her shoulders. She pulls out a hanger, hesitates, then shoves it back. Another piece is considered, then discarded just as quickly.

Something isn’t right.

Mei crosses her arms, leaning subtly against the edge of the bed, observing quietly. There’s something erratic in Kiana’s motions, an agitation that doesn’t belong in a simple search for clothes. She watches the way Kiana’s fingers tighten around the fabric, the way her brows furrow deeper with each passing second, and then, she stops.

A sharp sigh escapes her lips, signaling a growing frustration curling at the edges. She rakes a hand through her damp hair, eyes locked onto the open closet. Yet, there’s something distant about her gaze, like she’s looking at something that isn’t really there.

Mei pushes off the bed and steps closer, stopping just beside Kiana, close enough to feel the warmth still radiating from her skin. But Kiana doesn’t react. She doesn’t acknowledge her, doesn’t even shift at her presence. It’s only when Mei gently touches her shoulder that Kiana flinches.

The reaction is slight but immediate, her muscles stiffens before she quickly turns, eyes flickering with a brief flash of something unguarded. Then, as if realizing who it is, her body relaxes, and she forces a small, uneven smile.

“O-Oh… is something the matter?”

Her voice carries a practiced ease, but Mei isn’t convinced. Kiana’s eyes flick away too quickly, darting back to the closet where she shifts on her feet, fingers gripping the edge of her towel.

Mei tilts her head slightly, studying her with quiet scrutiny. Something about this feels… off. There’s an unease rolling off of Kiana in waves, a hesitation that doesn’t fit her usual nature.

She breathes in and lets her gaze follow Kiana’s. “You seem to be looking for something.” She comments casually. “I thought I could help. What are you searching for?”

Kiana blinks at her, as if caught off guard by the offer. There’s a spark of relief in her eyes, but it’s fleeting, giving way to something far more uncertain. Her fingers tighten slightly around the towel’s edge, gripping the fabric in a way that betrays her discomfort.

Then, finally, she murmurs, “…I can’t find my clothes.”

The words are quiet, but the weight behind them makes Mei pause. She blinks, glancing at Kiana’s expression before shifting her focus back to the closet. The statement doesn’t make sense. Right in front of them, hanging neatly, are some of Kiana’s most frequently worn clothes—her favorite hoodies, her go-to T-shirts, the sweaters she always pulls on when the nights get colder.

They’re all there.

A small, confused crease forms between Mei’s brows as she turns back to Kiana, expecting some sort of smirk, some sign that this is just one of her bad jokes. But no laughter comes, instead, there’s just silence.

Kiana’s eyes remain lowered, brows slightly knitted together, while a shadow of frustration lingers on her features. Not the kind born from carelessness, but something deeper and genuine.

Finally, Mei reaches out, her fingers brushing against the fabric of a familiar hoodie. She carefully lifts it from its hanger, feeling the softness of the worn material between her fingertips before turning toward Kiana. With deliberate gentleness, she holds it up, presenting it as if offering something fragile.

"This one is yours." Her voice is soft, yet there’s a quiet weight behind it as her eyes fix on Kiana’s face, expecting for her reaction.

Kiana blinks and her gaze drops to the hoodie in Mei’s hands. There’s a flicker of curiosity in her expression, but it’s quickly subdued. Slowly, as if testing its reality, she reaches out, brushing her fingers against the fabric before fully grasping it. She says nothing at first, merely running her thumbs along the material and pressing it lightly as if gauging its texture.

Mei watches in silence, finding the actions a bit alarming.

Then, Kiana squints, brows drawing together as an odd expression overtakes her features: confusion, deep and tangible. Her eyes shift past the hoodie, moving to the closet and then something clicks as recognition fills her eyes.

Her lips part slightly, taking an almost imperceptible intake of breath before a quiet, weak "Oh…" escapes her.

Kiana clutches the hoodie against her chest, fingers curling into the fabric as if grounding herself, but there’s still doubt clouding her eyes. Her frown deepens, her posture stiffens, and for a fleeting moment, she looks utterly lost, standing there in complete stillness.

"Right…" she whispers as she flicks her eyes back to Mei.

Then, out of nowhere, she snorts.

The sound is abrupt, unexpected, and before Mei can fully process it, Kiana’s shoulders shake and her body starts trembling as laughter erupts from her lips. It starts off quiet, a bit strained, but quickly escalates to a nervous, almost breathless fit of giggles spilling into the space between them. In one point, she throws her head back, allowing the laughter to roll through her in waves, though it’s anything but lighthearted.

It’s too sharp, too forced, stretching the corners of her mouth into a wide, tense grin.

Mei stiffens, eyes widening at the sudden shift while an uneasy feeling creeps down her spine. After a solid minute, Kiana finally meets her gaze again, a spark of something unreadable flickering behind her amusement as she struggles to compose herself. "I—I… it s-slipped my mind, hahaha… I was too focused on…O-On—"

The words stumble out between giggles, and Mei notices how she clutches the hoodie tighter, as if seeking reassurance from it. Her eyes flicker toward the closet once more, her expression a mix of disbelief and something Mei can’t quite put a name to.

"Man, I feel so dumb…" She exhales a shaky breath, muttering the words more to herself than anyone else while lifting a hand to cover her face.

Mei remains frozen, uncertainty knotting in her chest. Normally, she would have laughed along, teased Kiana for her forgetfulness, maybe even nudged her playfully. But right now, she can’t find it in herself to smile. The laughter, the forced levity, it doesn’t feel right. Instead, all she feels is concern.

Her lips part, feeling the words rest on the tip of her tongue, but something in the way Kiana avoids her gaze keeps them from escaping. Mei exhales quietly through her nose, the frown on her face deepening.

Is this… supposed to be funny?

Kiana has always been forgetful, prone to misplacing things when in a rush. It was a trait Mei had long since grown used to, something that had never truly been a cause for worry. But lately… it’s been different. It’s happening too often, stretching far beyond harmless lapses of memory.

A few days ago, Kiana had forgotten her house keys, leaving her locked out for almost an entire morning until she returned from work. Then, there were the times she left her phone behind, only realizing hours later when someone tried to reach her. Small things, little moments of forgetfulness that should have been insignificant, except they weren’t.

Forgetting to put on shoes before stepping outside.

Losing track of the date, unsure of what day it was.

Standing in the middle of a room, looking around as if she had no idea why she was there.

And now she can't recognize her own clothes, even when she's looking right at them?

Mei bites the inside of her cheek. This isn't a one-time thing. The little things are piling up, stacking into something heavier. And the worst part? Kiana keeps brushing it off, pretending it's 'not that serious’.

“Uhm, Mei?”

Kiana’s voice pulls her from her thoughts, and she blinks, realizing she had been staring.

“Hm? You said something?”

Kiana shakes her head, but the smile she offers feels faint, almost distant. She steps toward the closet again, plucking out a few more clothes without the same uncertainty as before.

"It’s nothing. I’ll be done in a minute." Her voice is quiet, hinting at a certain causality, as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened. She walks over to the bed, neatly placing the garments on the sheets before glancing at Mei again. "You still need help in the kitchen?"

Mei watches her carefully, searching for something in her smiling expression. But after not finding something clear, she exhales and lets it go, at least for now.

“No, I’m mostly done” she says casually. Then, with a deliberate pause and a wary look, she adds “By the way, when you’re dressed, come over. I made extra chicken for you” she remarks, throwing the comment out there, hoping for even the smallest spark of excitement.

Yet it never comes, all she gets is a hum in acknowledgment, while Kiana is already preoccupied with drying her damp hair, too focused on something she doesn’t even cast her a glance. Taking that as her signal to leave, Mei turns, stepping out of the bedroom with slow, measured steps.

The weight in her chest doesn’t ease as she heads back toward the kitchen, her mind lingering on the moment that had just passed. She doesn’t want to push, not yet.

But as she moves to check her phone, scrolling to see if Bronya has sent another message, Mei can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the last time she’ll find herself watching Kiana and wondering just how much she’s keeping to herself.

"Hey! You’re always picking the safe ones at the bottom! That’s not fair, Bronya!" Kiana’s exasperated voice cuts through the comfortable quiet of the living room, accompanied by a pointing of her finger toward Bronya.

The wooden tower between them wobbles precariously from the force of her movement, but Bronya doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she remains as composed as ever, her sharp gray eyes glinting with the faintest trace of amusement as she sets the wooden piece she took aside.

"You could pick them too" She replies smoothly, not sounding apologetic in the sightliest. "But you never do."

She delivers the statement with the usual calm confidence, not even looking at Kiana as she leans back slightly, arms folding over her chest. The smug tilt of her lips is barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make Kiana scowl deeper as she shrinks in place while grumbling under her breath.

Mei watches the exchange with tender eyes, reaching to take one piece of wood from the tower and barely managing to do so without making the structure wobble. There’s a certain familiarity in the whole atmosphere—Kiana complaining lightly, Bronya needling her with calculated precision, the playful tension that always seems to exist between them. It’s something that always feels so natural, so constant.

"Ugh… that’s because I don’t want to make it difficult for everyone else" Kiana finally mutters under her breath, as if trying to justify her actions.

Mei exhales a soft chuckle, shaking her head.

"It’s alright, Kiana. We’re having fun regardless, don’t you think?" She says as she tilts her head slightly, offering her a small, reassuring smile.

For a moment, Kiana hesitates, her expression flickering between frustration and something more subdued. But then, as if surrendering, she sighs, the tension leaving her shoulders as she slumps forward with a dramatic groan.

"Yeah, yeah…" she grumbles, giving Bronya one last glare before finally leaning back, folding her arms in a similar way Bronya does.

It’s such a small thing, just a minor complaint over a simple game, but even moments like this feel significant now. Because Kiana is here, engaged and present, laughing, arguing, even sulking, just like she used to. For the first time in what feels like forever, they’re not separated by distance, by a screen, by work obligations or time zones. They’re here, together, in the warmth of home.

Mei had looked forward to this night, had planned it carefully. A simple dinner, followed by games, nothing too grand, just something to make Kiana feel at ease, to maybe lift the weight she’s been carrying, if only for a little while. And for the most part, it seems to be working.

Kiana has been actively participating, teasing Bronya, laughing at her own losses, groaning when the game doesn’t go in her favor. The atmosphere is warm, comfortable and almost nostalgic. For a while, it feels like things are normal.

But then there are the cracks. Small, almost imperceptible if she weren’t looking for them. The way Kiana sometimes hesitates, as if her mind is grasping for something that isn’t quite there. The way she laughs, a little too loud, a little too forced. The moments where she zones out for just a second too long, blinking as if trying to anchor herself back to the present.

Mei notices. She’s been noticing for a while now.

"I’m going to make some snacks" she says suddenly, pushing herself to her feet.

The clock on the wall reads just past 9:00 PM—early enough for a few more rounds before they’d call it a night.

"Bronya, you’re staying over, right? I’ll set up the guest room while I’m at it."

At this, Bronya turns from the game and gives a nod while smiling. “Yes, thank you for it, Mei”

Mei smiles pleased, watching as they both focus on the game completely, she glances at Kiana once more, taking in the way she leans forward, elbows propped on her knees, her blue eyes locked onto the game. She’s smiling, nudging Bronya’s arm in playful protest at whatever move she just made.

She looks… happy. She looks fine.

She turns away before the thoughts can settle in too deeply, making her way toward the kitchen. As she steps out of the room, she can still hear them, Kiana’s voice rising in mock protest, Bronya’s calm but sharp rebuttals, the occasional sound of a wooden piece sliding into place. It’s a good sound.

As she moves around the kitchen, gathering ingredients for the snacks, she finds herself slowing down, her mind replaying moments from earlier in the night. The way Kiana laughed. The way she hesitated. The way, sometimes, she looked so lost without even realizing it.

She grips the edge of the counter, exhaling softly.

She wants to believe that this is enough. That just having nights like these, playing games and sharing meals, will be enough to bring Kiana back to herself. That little by little, things will get better. But deep down, she knows it isn’t that simple.

Healing isn’t linear. It isn’t about one good night or one moment of laughter. Kiana can still slip through her fingers, no matter how tightly she tries to hold on. She shakes her head, forcing herself to focus on the present. The night isn’t over yet, and for now, she’ll cherish this time they have together. Even if the worry remains, lingering in the back of her mind like a shadow.

By the time Mei returns to the living room with the tray of snacks and drinks, she finds Kiana and Bronya already focused on setting up a gaming console. She glances at the sleek black device sits on the floor in front of the television, its cables neatly arranged as Bronya adjusts a few settings.

Oh, right. She had mentioned this earlier—something about a new game they’d play together tonight.

Kiana, already seated on the couch, leans forward eagerly, resting her hands on her knees as she watches the screen light up with the game’s opening menu. Mei allows herself a small smile at the sight. There’s something inherently pure about Kiana in moments like this—eyes bright with anticipation, fingers already twitching in excitement. It’s a reminder of how easily she finds joy in the simplest of things, how something as small as a video game can momentarily lift the weight on her shoulders.

Setting the tray down on the coffee table, Mei takes a quiet moment to observe them. Bronya, as always, is methodical in her approach, navigating the menu with ease while Kiana reaches over to grab a handful of chips, crunching on them without a care in the world. The sight is almost amusing in its familiarity.

"Here." Bronya extends a controller toward Mei, giving her a quick glance before returning to the screen to continue adjusting the settings. "You’re playing too."

Mei blinks in mild surprise before hesitantly taking the joystick, turning it in her hands as if inspecting an unfamiliar device. It’s been a while since she last played anything, she vaguely remembers Kiana convincing her to try a fighting game some time ago, only to get effortlessly destroyed within minutes. Hopefully, this won’t be quite as chaotic.

As if sensing her thoughts, Kiana lets out a soft chuckle, leaning against her side as she makes herself comfortable on the couch.

"It’s a racing game" she says, carrying that familiar teasing lilt. "Just stay on the road and try not to crash into everything."

Mei hums, eyeing the buttons as she tries to recall their functions. Seems simple enough.

The first match starts soon after. Then the second. Then the third.

As expected, Bronya and Kiana quickly fall into a heated competition, their usual banter filling the space between rapid button presses and the flashing colors of the racetrack on screen. Mei plays along, though she mostly focuses on keeping her car steady, staying in her lane while the other two pull every trick possible to outmaneuver each other.

Every so often, she hears Kiana let out a triumphant cheer when she lands a successful drift, or Bronya scoff when Kiana gets too reckless and spins out. It’s lively and energetic, just like the old days. But then, something shifts.

At first, it’s subtle, Mei notices how, in one match, Kiana lets Bronya get ahead almost too easily. In another, she barely reacts when her car gets hit by an obstacle, while her fingers barely moved to correct her path. By the third match, Mei turns slightly and sees Kiana sitting unnaturally still, staring ahead at the screen but not truly seeing it, while her hands hover idly over the controller, barely pressing the buttons, it’s like her once-competitive energy suddenly got drained away into an eerie silence.

Mei frowns and without thinking, nudges Kiana lightly with her elbow.

The touch is enough to pull her back. She blinks once, as if surfacing from deep water, and quickly returns her focus to the game, gripping firmly the controller again. But the damage is already done, Bronya has taken the lead of the match, and Kiana barely manages to scrape by in second place.

But this time, Kiana doesn’t complain dramatically and gives any kind of comment about it, she just watches the screen and lowers her gaze for a moment, quickly brushing it off with some hasty comment of how she will get her next time.

A noticeable tension settles in the room after that. The once-lively competition dies down, replaced by a quiet unease. The sound of the game continues to fill the silence—engines roaring, tires screeching, the occasional announcer calling out results—but none of them speak. The easy banter from before is gone. Even Bronya, ever perceptive, doesn’t make a comment, though Mei catches the brief glances she casts toward Kiana, as if silently noting the same thing.

Match after match, the atmosphere grows heavier. The silence stretches longer. Until, finally, Bronya is the first to put down her controller after the end of a match, stretching and letting out a quiet relieved sound at the soft crack of her joints.

"I think that’s enough for tonight" she says casually, giving the other two a glance.

Mei doesn’t protest and she doubts Kiana will either. She glances toward her wife, watching as Kiana blinks at the screen, as if only just realizing the game is over. There’s a distant look in her eyes, something unreadable that just upsets Mei more and more every time she can’t catch what it is.

The quiet hum of the television fills the room, its faint glow casting long shadows against the walls. The remnants of their game still linger on the screen—flashing colors, victory banners, a looping melody that has long since faded into background noise. None of them are paying attention to it anymore.

Mei notices Kiana has barely moved since they put the controllers down. She’s still slumped on the couch, one leg tucked underneath her, arms lazily resting against the cushions. There’s something distant about her gaze, though not entirely gone. It’s a look Mei has grown familiar with, one that makes her insides twist.

"You’re still on Earth?" Bronya breaks the silence at least.

Mei blinks, momentarily confused, until she realizes that Bronya isn’t addressing her. Her gray eyes are fixed on Kiana, sharp yet unreadable, studying her with an intensity that seems to cut through the air itself. Kiana, caught off guard, turns toward her. She blinks once, then twice, as if surfacing from a daydream. Her brows furrow slightly, lips parting as she tilts her head.

"W-What do you mean?" she asks, smiling nervously. "I never…"

She shifts in her seat, fidgeting with her fingers. It’s a small thing, but Mei catches how Kiana’s hand lingers a second too long at the hem of her sleeve, how her smile feels a fraction too forced. She’s trying to play it off.

Bronya stares at her for a lingering moment, turning the air between them tense with something unspoken. Then, with a quiet sigh, she pushes herself up from the couch.

"I’ll help with the cleaning" she says, this time directing the words at Mei. There’s no trace of the previous question in her voice anymore, as if she has already filed it away, deciding there’s no use pushing further.

Mei straightens up, nodding before following her lead. Kiana hesitates, then quickly stands as well, her usual cheer returning—or rather, forcing its way back onto her face. She cracks a joke, something lighthearted, something to steer the atmosphere back to where it was before. But it doesn’t land the way it should. It’s not enough.

They continue cleaning in silence, wiping down the table, picking up empty cups, putting away stray controllers. Eventually, when everything is back in order, they begin preparing for bed. Kiana helps without complaint, chatting idly about the game, about their scores, about anything that isn’t the suffocating quiet Bronya’s question left in its wake.

But Mei can feel the tension thick in the air. It clings to them, lingering even as they move through the motions of their routine. When she follows Bronya into the guest room to help set up, the silence only grows heavier.

The two of them move efficiently, their hands working in practiced ease, Mei passing Bronya the folded blankets, Bronya smoothing them over the mattress. Neither of them speaks, but every so often, their eyes meet in brief, fleeting glances, as if waiting for the other to break first.

And then, Bronya exhales deeply, closing her eyes for a moment before gripping the blanket tightly between her fingers.

"How long are you going to let her believe she’s doing a good job pretending?"

The words are spoken calmly, but the weight behind them is devastating. Mei freezes, fingers curling at her sides. She swallows, feeling the impact of the question like a knife straight through her chest.

"I’m trying—" she starts, but Bronya doesn’t let her finish.

"She’s getting worse."

The words are harsher this time, sharper, letting some frustration bleed through the cracks of Bronya’s usual composure. Her jaw tightens, her brows draw together in a rare display of raw emotion.

Mei’s breath catches in her throat. She wants to argue. Wants to say something, anything to counter it. But she can’t. Because it’s true.

She drops her gaze, staring at the floor as if it holds the answers she’s too afraid to voice. She can’t meet Bronya’s eyes, not when they hold the same frustration she feels gnawing at her bones every single day.

"I can see from the look in your eyes that you’re aware of it too" Bronya mutters quieter now. Her fingers tighten around the fabric in her hands. "We need to do something."

Mei lets out a shaky breath, a bitter smile tugging at her lips as she reaches for her own arm, gripping it as if grounding herself.

"I wish it were that easy…" she murmurs weakly. "But it’s messier when you actually try to reach her. When you try to make her acknowledge it."

She squeezes her arm tighter, feeling the frustration coiling in her stomach, tightening in her throat, threatening to spill over.

"I’m running out of options, Bronya" she admits, voice trembling under the weight of her own helplessness. "I don’t want to make things harder for her. I can see it’s already hard for her. She’s trying, she tries so hard, and I—"

Her voice falters.

She lifts her eyes, meeting Bronya’s gaze once more. And for the first time in a long while, she sees the same hopelessness reflected back at her. It makes the lump in her throat tighten painfully, makes her eyes burn with unshed tears.

"Have you thought about taking her to get professional help?"

Mei’s eyes widen as the words snap her out of the storm in her mind. Her lips part slightly, but nothing comes out for a moment.

"…A therapist?" she finally manages, though the word feels foreign on her tongue.

"You remember that doctor who helped us back then?" Bronya says, studying her reaction carefully. "Maybe… we can give it a try. Encourage her to try it."

Mei exhales shakily, falling deep in thought. Could it really be that simple? Could this be the step Kiana needs to move forward? A part of her resists the idea, stubbornly whispering that nothing about Kiana’s situation is simple. Therapy won’t miraculously fix everything overnight, nothing could. But another voice, softer yet insistent, urges her to try. To hope.

Because at this point, what else is left?

She knows they’re running out of options. Every passing day, she watches Kiana slip further away, sees the way she struggles to hold herself together while pretending she’s fine. Mei has wanted to believe that if she gave her time, if she let her heal at her own pace, things would get better.

Kiana just needed space to find her own way. But that was a naïve thought, wasn’t it? The reality is far harsher, Kiana is lost, sinking, and she doesn’t know how to reach out for help. Mei has known this for a while now. She just hasn’t known what to do about it.

“Do you still have her contact number?”

Bronya’s voice is steady, cutting through the heavy silence. When Mei lifts her head, she finds her standing straighter now, watching her expectantly.

“I do—”

“Hey, Meeei… Bronya!”

The sudden, drowsy call makes both of them freeze for a split second before instinct takes over. They move quickly, feigning normalcy as Kiana steps into the room. Her hair is a little messy, her oversized t-shirt hanging loosely over her frame. She scratches lazily at her stomach as she yawns before blinking sleepily at them.

“What’s taking you guys so long?” she mumbles, rubbing at her eye with the heel of her palm. “It’s almost midnight.”

Mei doesn’t have time to come up with an excuse before Bronya smoothly steps in.

“I was asking Mei for blankets” she says without hesitation. “We took time because I couldn’t find one with the right texture.”

The glance Bronya casts her way is brief but meaningful. Mei catches on immediately and nods, turning toward Kiana with a small, reassuring smile.

“I see…” Kiana drawls, tilting her head slightly, arms crossing as she narrows her eyes in mild curiosity. “What’s the deal with the blankets anyway? Why do you need a specific one?”

Bronya exhales in a way that somehow manages to sound both exasperated and unimpressed, her expression shifting into something that resembles a bit of smugness.

“Kiana Idiotka wouldn’t understand the necessity of choosing the perfect blanket” she states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You always tossed yours away when you slept in the dorms.”

Kiana immediately puffs up at that, her lips pulling into a slight frown with a familiar flicker of playful indignation in her expression. “Well, it’s not like I can help it” she mutters, shifting her weight onto one leg. “I get hot during the night.”

There’s no real bite to her voice, though. Mei watches their interaction with quiet amusement, feeling the tension in her chest ease just a little. Even if the weight of everything still lingers, these moments remind her of how things used to be. A little light she wants to hold onto.

Before the conversation can drift any further, she steps in, using a gentle voice as she faces Kiana “I was just about to say goodnight to Bronya before you came in. Shall we go to sleep?”

Kiana turns to her at that, her gaze lingering. For a second, her expression softens, but then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, her entire demeanor shifts. Her posture straightens, her expression brightens with unexpected enthusiasm.

“Oh! What if we sleep all together? Like a sleepover!” she suggests excitedly, leaning in slightly as she looks between them.

Mei blinks, momentarily taken aback by the burst of energy, but she can’t bring herself to dismiss the idea outright. There’s something about the way Kiana looks at them, eyes alight with a rare eagerness, that makes it difficult to say no. It’s been a while since she’s seen her like this—genuinely animated, even if just for a moment.

She turns to Bronya instead, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

Bronya, already looking like she regrets everything, sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping in reluctant surrender. Still, she squares her stance before directing a pointed look at Kiana.

“I have one condition” she states firmly, drawing both Mei and Kiana’s attention.

Kiana blinks, tilting her head in confusion. “Huh?”

Bronya exhales slowly, closing her eyes as if bracing herself for whatever comes next. Then, in a quieter, resigned voice, she mutters, “No cuddles or kisses with Mei in my presence… please.”

For a beat, there’s silence, but then, Mei stifles a laugh, pressing her knuckles lightly against her lips to keep it from escaping, while Kiana groans dramatically.

“Oh, come on” she whines, shooting a deadpan at Bronya. “That’s so unfair…”

But there’s no real protest in her voice. Instead, she huffs, throwing up her hands in exaggerated defeat.

“Fine, fine” she concedes, though she still grumbles under her breath, casting Mei a sideways glance that clearly says ‘I don’t like this rule at all’.

Despite everything, the air between them finally feels lighter. The tension that had loomed over them for most of the night lifts as they start preparing to sleep. It’s not much, but for now, Mei clings to it.

First, there’s the scent of ashes and dust, dry and bitter, swirling in the air like the remnants of a long-dead fire. Then comes the heat, heavy and consuming, pressing down on her skin, wrapping around her like an invisible force. It’s not the comforting warmth of sunlight nor the flickering embrace of a campfire, it’s suffocating, searing, an unnatural heat that makes the air feel warped and wrong.

And then, the sound. It comes in waves, distant yet piercing, creeping into her awareness like a sickness. Screams—hundreds, maybe thousands, layered over each other in a distorted chorus of agony. Some are faint, barely more than whispers, while others are raw and shrill, echoing in the distance as if they belong to ghosts lingering in the ruins.

Kiana winces, her brows furrowing deeply as she lifts her hands, pressing them against her ears in a desperate attempt to block it out. The action is instinctive, a futile attempt to shield herself from the noises clawing at the edges of her mind. She shrinks into herself, curling in slightly, as if making herself smaller would somehow make it stop.

But it doesn’t. She isn’t going back to sleep.

She exhales sharply as she forces her heavy eyelids to open. At first, everything is a blur, the world swimming in her vision as she tries to make sense of where she is. The first thing she registers is the ground beneath her, dirt, uneven and rough against her fingers. She blinks, head throbbing as her sight slowly sharpens, little by little revealing a landscape that feels odd.

Debris surrounds her. Fragments of broken buildings jut out from the earth like the skeletons of a lost civilization. The remnants of what were once roads are cracked and jagged, overtaken by the destruction. Smoke rises in thick, curling tendrils, blotting out the horizon. The sky above is painted in shades of deep crimson, heavy clouds swirling as if mirroring the chaos below.

The air is thick with an unsettling stillness, yet the sounds of terror remain, ever-present at the edge of her senses. Something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Kiana looks down at herself, eyes scanning her body with growing confusion. Her clothes are intact, her hands unscathed. No injuries, no blood, nothing to indicate she’s been harmed. And yet, her chest feels tight, her pulse erratic, her entire being overwhelmed by an unshakable sense of dread.

Where is she? The question lingers, unanswered, as she forces herself to move.

She walks, slow at first, then quicker, calling out into the ruins. Her voice wavers slightly, with uncertainty bleeding into her tone. There are screams, cries of despair and suffering, but no response to her own calls. The deeper she goes, the more suffocating the atmosphere becomes, the air is thick with something unexplainable.

Then, she hears it. A voice, so weak but unmistakable.

“Help…”

Her breath catches and without hesitation, she turns toward the source, reacting before her mind can fully process what’s happening. She moves swiftly, feeling her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she rushes past the broken remains of structures, searching desperately. And then, finally, she sees him.

A man—trapped beneath a massive slab of concrete.

His face is pale, streaked with dirt and sweat. His limbs tremble, his body weak from exhaustion. He’s pinned, his lower half crushed under the weight of the debris, yet he still struggles, still claws weakly at the ground as if sheer desperation alone could free him.

“Sir! Are you alright?! Hold on, I’ll help you!”

The moment her voice reaches him, he lifts his head, his bleary eyes locking onto hers. For a fleeting second, there’s something in his expression similar to relief, but then, in the blink of an eye, it vanishes.

His face twists, eyes going wide with something primal and raw. His breathing quickens, turning erratic, and suddenly, he begins to struggle violently against the debris. Kiana stares, taken aback.

Why… why does he look so terrified?

“S-Sir, it’s okay, I’m going to—”

“No… No, no, no!”

The man’s voice is strangled with panic, his entire body trembling as he forces himself to move. His hands claw desperately at the ground, his arms shaking as he tries to push himself free. But he’s stuck, his leg is pinned beneath the concrete. Each motion sends fresh waves of agony through him, his grunts turning into whimpers, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down.

“Wait—don’t move too much, you’ll—”

“STAY BACK!” The raw, visceral fear in his voice makes her stomach drop.

She halts, frozen in place while staring in disbelief.

He’s afraid of her.

“Sir, I just—” She takes a step closer, but the second she moves, his eyes widen further. A sob rips from his throat as he begins thrashing violently, his desperation reaching its peak. And then, with a sickening, wet tear, he manages to rips himself free.

Kiana gasps as the man collapses forward, his leg—or what’s left of it— is left behind under the debris. A pool of blood quickly spreads beneath him, soaking the dirt, but even in his weakened state, he doesn’t stop. He crawls, arms trembling, dragging himself forward with sheer terror propelling him onward.

He doesn’t even look at his wound. He only looks at her.

“No… No, please!!” His screams are desperate, as his fingers claw at the ground.

“Wait—!” Kiana steps forward instinctively, but the sheer hysteria in his eyes makes her falter.

“Stay away from me, you monster!!”

Any words she might had have die in her throat, as she stares helplessly at the man crawling away.

Monster?

Kiana feels her breath catch, her body going rigid. Before she can even begin to process what just happened, another voice cuts through the air.

“Stay away, you dammed Herrscher!”

Her head snaps up and she spots a figure standing a few meters away, another man, wounded, but his hands are firm, gripping a weapon, aimed directly at her. Kiana barely has time to react before his grip tightens and she hears the gunfire. She flinches, instinctively squeezing her eyes shut, bracing for the impact, but it never comes. Instead, all she hears is the sharp clang of metal and then a series of strangled gasps.

When she finally dares to open her eyes, the world crashes down around her in a single instant. Right in front of her, there’s two bodies, still and lifeless. The scene is wrong, grotesque in its stillness. But what truly makes her stomach churn are the jagged, ethereal shards of energy impaling them.

Space cores.

Her space cores.

Her breath catches, horror seizing her chest in a vice-like grip as realization slams into her with brutal force. Her hands, trembling violently, slowly rise to cover her mouth, as if the gesture could somehow stifle the scream clawing at her throat. She can feel it, the erratic pounding of her heart, the unbearable tightness in her lungs as she fights to breathe.

No.

No, no, no—

She takes a frantic step back, then another. Her pulse roars in her ears, drowning out everything else. The scene before her blurs as her vision wavers with tears threatening to spill. Her foot catches on something she’s not looking and she stumbles, losing her balance and the next thing she knows, she’s falling.

The impact knocks the air from her lungs, but she barely registers the pain. She lies there for a moment, sprawled on the cold, uneven ground while her chest heaves with ragged breaths. The world around her spins, her mind struggles to process the weight of what she’s done. Because there’s no denying it.

She did this.

These powers… there’s no mistaking them. She knows exactly where they came from, exactly who they belong to. And she had used them, without thinking… and now, two innocent people are dead.

She squeezes her eyes shut, as if doing so could somehow erase the horrifying image from her mind. But it’s burned into her, seared into the deepest part of her consciousness. She feels her body tremble violently, her hands clenching into fists as she curls into herself. A thick, suffocating wave of guilt crashes over her, threatening to pull her under.

This isn’t real.

This isn’t real.

I would never—

A laugh rings out through the silence, sharp and mocking. Kiana’s breath catches, her entire body going rigid as the sound slithers into her ears like poison. It echoes unnaturally, reverberating in the empty air, carrying with it a cruel amusement that makes her blood run cold.

Slowly, her head turns, her wide, tear-filled eyes locking onto the figure standing beside her. Tall and imposing, while the golden glow of her eyes cuts through the darkness, piercing at her soul. A wicked smile curves her lips, turning her expression into one of twisted delight, like she’s reveling in the scene.

"Very well done..." The voice is smooth, lilting with satisfaction. "You managed to take down the last two rats all on your own. Aren't you proud?"

The words strike Kiana like a physical blow.

Proud.

Proud?!

A violent surge of emotion wells up inside her, an unbearable mix of horror, anger, and something even worse—something she doesn’t dare name. Her body moves before she can stop herself, her fists gripping tightly at the fabric of the Herrscher’s cloak, yanking her closer with a force driven by sheer anguish.

"You..." Kiana’s voice comes out raw, strained, shaking with barely restrained fury. "What’s the meaning of this?! What did you do to this city?!"

The Herrscher merely chuckles, tilting her head slightly as her golden eyes gleam with amusement.

"What did I do?" she repeats, as if the very notion is absurd. "It seems you’re a bit confused."

Before Kiana can react, the Herrscher moves with unnatural speed, her cold fingers wrapping around her wrists in a constricting hold that sends a sharp pulse of pain through her skin. Then, with slow, deliberate ease, she leans in, pulling their faces mere centimeters apart.

Kiana’s breath stutters, and a sudden wave of unease washes over her. The Herrscher smiles, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"You did this yourself."

The words are spoken so softly, so sweetly, like a secret meant only for her ears. Yet it makes a shiver run down Kiana’s spine.

“…What?”

The Herrscher’s grin widens, her gaze darkening, reveling in her reaction.

"This city… its inhabitants… every single one of them." She speaks with quiet certainty, her tone almost gentle, as if comforting a child. "It was your doing."

Kiana’s stern expression fills with fear as her mind reels, feeling the world tilting beneath her.

No. No, that’s—

"You killed them."

Her breath catches in her throat and she shakes her head violently, feeling her entire body reject the words. But deep inside, something cracks.

No, she didn’t. She wouldn’t—

“Stop lying!” she shouts, voice laced with raw despair. It cracks at the edges, trembling under the weight of everything crushing down on her.

The Herrscher does not flinch. She does not argue. Instead, she lifts a hand, cupping Kiana’s face with a gentleness that feels like a cruel joke. Kiana stiffens, instinctively trying to pull away, but the grip is firm, unrelenting. Then, the Herrscher leans in even closer, her lips brushing near her ear to whisper once more.

"Even if you refuse to acknowledge it... deep down, you know the truth."

Kiana’s breath shudders, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

"You did this" the Herrscher murmurs, each syllable drenched in honeyed venom. "Every one of these lives ended by your hands."

Kiana's vision swims, her entire body trembles as the words carve themselves deep into her mind, seeping into the very marrow of her being.

"You carry their blood in them."

A strangled gasp tears from her throat as Kiana’s eyes snap open. For a brief, agonizing moment, her vision remains hazy, her mind sluggishly clawing its way out of the lingering grasp of sleep. Darkness surrounds her and the silence press down on her like a suffocating weight. Her body is trembling, drenched in cold sweat, while her heartbeat pounds erratically in her chest, loud enough that it drowns out any other sound.

Slowly and with caution, her eyes trace the ceiling above her, its familiar patterns anchoring her to reality as recognition creeps in, sluggish but certain. This is the guest room. This is her home.

The knowledge should bring her some comfort, but an unnamed dread still grips her like a vice. Hesitantly, almost afraid of what she might find, she turns her head to the side, but as her gaze lands on the sleeping forms beside her, a shallow breath of relief leaves her lips. Mei and Bronya lie in quiet slumber, their peaceful silhouettes untouched by whatever nightmare had just ensnared her.

She remains motionless for a moment, waiting for the residual fear to fade and for her body to realize that there is no immediate danger. Her skin crawls, every nerve in her body still alight with an instinctive, unshakable feeling of danger. Her chest rises and fall in an uneven rhythm, and the tremor in her fingers only worsens when she lifts her hands to her face. The touch of her own palms against her skin should be grounding, but it doesn’t. Something about the air feels thick, as if the entire house is holding its breath.

Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, she forces herself to sit up, the blanket slides from her shoulders, pooling at her waist, and her hands instinctively clutch at the fabric, twisting it between her fingers. She presses her palms against it, grounding herself in its texture, trying to focus on the small sensation instead of the nameless dread clawing at her insides.

Exhaling shakily, she leans forward, resting her elbows against her knees as she buries her face in her hands. Her breathing is still unsteady, but she forces herself to inhale deeply, then exhale, again and again, until the frantic pounding of her pulse dulls to something almost manageable. A wave of exhaustion washes over her, while the aftermath of adrenaline leaves her limbs heavy. Her eyelids flutter shut for a moment, and she sits there, curled in on herself, waiting for the last remnants of fear to fade.

Then, she realizes it.

The silence. It’s too quiet.

The kind of quiet that isn’t natural, not the simple stillness of a sleeping house. It’s suffocating, absolute, as if something has swallowed all traces of life from the air. Her breath catches in her throat, and she straightens, flicking her gaze toward Mei and Bronya once more. They haven’t moved, not an inch.

The unease returns tenfold. Something about the way they lie there feels wrong; the stillness feels unnatural. Her stomach coils with unease, but she forces herself to move, shifting closer to Mei with careful movements.

“Mei” she whispers, reaching out with a trembling hand to brush against her shoulder.

No response.

Her fingers press a little firmer.

Still nothing.

A frown creases her brow, but she doesn’t panic. Not yet. Maybe Mei is simply in a deep sleep. Maybe it’s nothing.

She calls her name again, a little louder this time, glancing toward Bronya, expecting some sort of reaction. Bronya has always been a light sleeper, surely, she would stir at the sound of her voice, but the younger woman remains unmoving.

A sharp pang of alarm strikes through her chest, and her hands move instinctively, pressing against Mei’s torso, shaking her more insistently now. “Mei” she calls again, her voice edged with urgency. “Wake up.”

There’s no reaction and her pulse spikes, her breathing turning uneven again. She presses down harder, sliding her palm across Mei’s chest to get to her shoulder, but then she feels it… It’s warm and sticky, climbing to her hand as it freezes in place.

A slow, sinking horror begins to take hold of her, dread creeping up her spine like ice-cold fingers. Her breath stutters as she lifts her hand, and even in the darkness, she can see the faint glisten of something wet, clinging between her fingers. At first the realization is slow but then the metallic and sharp scent hits her.

Her stomach twists violently, making nausea crawl up her throat as recognition slams into her all at once. Her fingers twitch as they hover before her face. The blood feels like it’s burning into her skin, like a grotesque stain that she cannot erase.

A choked sound escapes her lips, half a sob, half a strangled breath, as her vision sways, narrowing at the edges. But in the middle of the mess taking place in her mind, there’s a sudden low chuckle that slithers through the still air, curling around her ears, sending an unbearable chill through her bones.

Her body stiffens, every muscle locking in place. She doesn’t need to turn around. She already knows who is there.

“What a clean job you’ve done with these ones” the voice hums, laced with sickening amusement. “I wonder… what was the last thing they saw before you ended them? Your face? Or just the blood spilling from their bodies?”

The words send an electric bolt of terror through her chest. Her breath stutters violently as her throat tightens until she can barely suck in air. The world around her tilts, distorting under the weight of her fear.

No. No, this isn’t—

She couldn’t have—

…Could she?

Her gaze jerks back to Mei and Bronya, desperation clawing at her as she searches for any sign of movement. A breath. A twitch. Anything. But after a few seconds of silent observation, she finds nothing.

They aren’t breathing.

They aren’t—

The scream building in her throat never comes out, chocking out and ending up as a broken sob while she feels the tears roll down her cheeks freely. Suddenly, a hand falls atop her head, stroking it in a deceptively gentle motion.

“Aw, why are you crying?” The Herrscher coos, voice dripping with mock sympathy, while her fingers stroke through Kiana’s hair as if comforting a frightened pet. “Don’t you get it? This is for the best.”

But Kiana can’t bring herself to answer or even move away from her touch, her mind is spiraling, crashing under the weight of everything.

She woke up, didn’t she?

Does that mean this is real?

Her lips part, but no sound escapes. Her lungs refuse to draw in air, her body locked in place as if caught in invisible chains, while hot tears spill freely down her cheeks, distorting her vision. The blood clinging to her trembling fingers feels heavier now, her head swims, light and dizzy, and there’s a relentless pressure crushing her chest, making it impossible to breathe. She can’t—she can’t—

“This world has no place for you anymore… So why not burn it down to ashes?”

The voice slithers into her ears, smooth yet dripping with venom, sinking into her bones. Even as her erratic heartbeat thunders in her ears, even as breathless gasps claw at her throat, the Herrscher’s words slice through the haze.

“You saved it more than once; doesn’t that give you the right to end it?” She adds with a joyous hint in her tone. “It would be kind of poetic. The hero who saved everyone… is the same who will bring the world to its end.”

A satisfied hum follows, as if savoring the notion. Then, the Herrscher throws her head back and laughs, a loud and cruel sound that drills into Kiana’s skull like nails against glass.

“Oh, that’s hilarious!” she exclaims, her laughter echoing like a chorus of phantom voices jeering at her misery.

“T-This is not real” Kiana rasps, her voice barely above a whisper, quivering between shallow, uneven gasps. “I-It’s not t-true—” The words are fragile, almost breaking apart before they even fully leave her lips.

She bends forward, curling in on herself in a futile attempt to make it stop, to block out the voice, the laughter, the suffocating weight pressing down on her chest. She wants to scream until her lungs give out. She wants to claw at her own skin, to wake up from this twisted nightmare. Because that’s all it is—it has to be. A nightmare. It’s the only explanation she can accept. There’s no way she’d—

“This is what you’re meant to do.”

The Herrscher’s voice is colder now, slicing through the fragile defense Kiana had tried to build. “Sooner or later, you will perish under the very weight you carry… And when that happens, what do you think will remain?”

The question slams into her like a sledgehammer, sending a violent tremor through her core. It forces her eyes open, her entire body going rigid as something deep within her finally snaps.

Rage.

Not the fleeting, momentary kind. No, this is searing and raw, bubbling up from a place she has buried it for far too long. It collides with the frustration, the exhaustion, the helplessness that has gnawed at her for what feels like eternity. She grits her teeth, her breathing sharp and unsteady, while she clenches her hands into tight fists.

“You…” The word comes out in a low, trembling growl, voice hoarse yet crackling with fury. “You were assimilated. I made sure your will could never take control again!” She jerks her head up sharply, meeting the Herrscher’s gaze with a glare that burns with unyielding defiance.

The Herrscher merely blinks, seemingly unimpressed, before tilting her head with a smirk that drips with mockery.

“Perhaps you did.” Her tone is almost thoughtful, playfully indifferent. Then, she leans in, closing the space between them, showing in her golden eyes a knowing gleam. “But then… how do you explain that I’m here? …Am I not the real one then?”

Kiana’s breath catches. Her nails dig into her palms as her fists tighten, shaking from the sheer force of her grip. The words sink into her, planting seeds of doubt where there should be none. She knows what she’s seeing isn’t real. She knows this is just another cruel trick, another attempt to break her.

And yet.

The Herrscher watches her closely, that insufferable smirk still painted across her lips, as if she can see right through her, as if she already knows the war raging inside Kiana’s mind.

“None are so blind as those who choose not to see” she muses quietly, and before Kiana can react, a hand shoots out, gripping her face in an iron hold.

Kiana gasps sharply, her body instinctively recoiling, but the Herrscher’s grasp is unyielding, fingers digging into her skin with enough force to leave bruises. She thrashes, hands flying up to pry the hand away, but no matter how hard she pulls, the hold doesn’t budge.

“Let—go—!” she grits out between clenched teeth, clawing her nails at the Herrscher’s wrist, but the other doesn’t even flinch. If anything, her grip only tightens.

“Soon, you’ll see” the Herrscher murmurs, voice dipping lower, carrying an almost… amused pity. She tilts her head slightly, golden eyes gleaming with something sinister.

“Soon, you’ll witness the end of this tragic story and realize that…” She leans in closer, her lips almost brushing against Kiana’s ear.

“…the time bomb is closer than you think.”

Kiana’s breath stutters, and then, the world shatters.

The next time she opens her eyes, she finds herself lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling with her breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. A sickening wave of déjà vu crashes over her, dragging dread in its wake. She shuts her eyes instinctively, forcing herself to focus on her breathing, on the air that struggles to fill her lungs, on the way her heart hammers wildly against her ribs like a caged bird.

In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

The familiar rhythm becomes her anchor as she fights the sensation of asphyxia coiling in her chest. Agonizingly slowly, clarity begins to return to her mind, though the weight pressing down on her body remains. A sudden shift beside her, followed by a low, sleepy grunt, snaps her out of her fixation.

Her eyes flutter open, blinking rapidly as she turns her head toward the sound. The dim light reveals the figures of Mei and Bronya lying peacefully beside her, their bodies relaxed in sleep. Bronya is curled up against Mei’s side with her smaller form partially tucked into Mei’s embrace. Another soft sigh escapes Mei’s lips as she stirs slightly, her arm shifting to rest loosely over Bronya’s shoulder, pulling her in just a little closer.

Kiana watches the quiet interaction, her gaze lingering on their faces before drifting lower, settling on the gentle rise and fall of their chests. The sight alone is enough to send a tidal wave of relief crashing over her, so sudden and overwhelming that her throat tightens with a knot forming deep within it.

Her eyes sting, welling up with the hot pressure of unshed tears. A whimper threatens to slip past her lips, but she bites it back with a forceful inhale, willing herself to keep quiet. She shuts her eyes tightly, sucking in another slow, steady breath, as if trying to smother the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

She doesn’t want to wake them—not like this.

Her control is slipping, though. She can feel it, and the last thing she wants is to start sobbing in place. Desperate to ground herself, she pushes herself upright and drags a hand over her face, wiping away the dampness gathering on her forehead and temples, only to realize how clammy her skin feels. A shiver runs through her as she becomes acutely aware of the thin sheen of cold sweat covering her body, making her clothes cling uncomfortably to her skin. The sensation makes her stomach churn, a grimace forming on her lips as she throws off the blanket tangled around her legs.

She forces herself onto her knees before rising, though the instant she gets to her feet, the world tilts slightly. A sharp pang shoots through her skull, making her groan softly as she instinctively raises a hand to press against her temple. The dizziness only lasts a second, but it leaves an unpleasant haze behind, making her head feel heavier than it should. She exhales sharply and takes a cautious step forward, moving toward the door with the intention of leaving as quietly as possible.

Just as she reaches the threshold, she hears a faint rustling from the large futon behind her, followed by a drowsy murmur.

“Where are you going?”

The voice is quiet, laced with sleep yet carrying a familiar hint of reproach.

Kiana pauses, turning her head slightly. A small, tired smile tugs at her lips as her eyes meet Bronya’s drowsy, half-lidded gaze. The younger woman’s sleepy frown makes her look almost comically endearing rather than intimidating, it reminds Kiana of all the times she had tried to sneak out of the dorms back in St. Freya—whether it was for a late-night training session or an impulsive kitchen raid—only for Bronya to catch her in the act every single time.

A soft chuckle rises in her throat at the memory, though it carries an undercurrent of melancholy. Those moments feel so distant now.

“I’m just going to the bathroom” she whispers, careful not to let her voice rise too much, not wanting to risk waking Mei as well.

Bronya’s frown deepens slightly, lips pressing together in a thin line, but before she can say anything else, Kiana turns on her heel and steps out of the room. She moves quietly as she makes her way down the hall, choosing to head toward the farthest bathroom.

When she reaches it, she slips inside and shuts the door behind her, letting her body rest against it for a moment. The silence inside the small room is deafening, but unlike before, her breathing remains steady. And yet, there’s a strange feeling lodged in her chest; she can feel every tiny movement of her body, every subtle shift of her weight, every flicker of tension in her muscles.

Her eyes wander absently, scanning the dimly lit space until they settle on the mirror above the sink. The sight staring back at her makes her stomach twist.

She barely recognizes herself.

The reflection in the glass is that of a woman who looks utterly drained, face pale and damp, stray locks of silver hair sticking to her forehead; Tired, sunken eyes stare back at her like a cruel joke, while the dark circles beneath them making her look even more exhausted than she feels. For a moment, she feels a flicker of frustration swell within her chest, an irritation she can’t quite place. She scowls without thinking, and the reflection mirrors her, deepening the sense of disconnect.

With a heavy sigh, she pushes herself off the door and steps toward the sink. The faucet groans softly as she turns it on and cool water starts rushing out. She cups her hands beneath the stream before splashing the water onto her face, the cold shocks her system, grounding her further and washing away some of the lingering haze clinging to her thoughts. She repeats the motion a few more times before bracing her hands against the porcelain, hanging her head slightly as she watches the water swirl down the drain.

She closes her eyes for a moment, willing herself to focus solely on the sound of running water. The steady stream fills the silence, a low hum that she latches onto, using it as a tether to ground herself. But then—a whisper. Faint, just on the edge of perception, slipping into her ears like a stray draft. At first, she ignores it, dismissing it as a figment of her exhausted mind. But it returns. Again. And again. A relentless presence pressing into her thoughts, creeping into the corners of her consciousness.

A sharp frustration flares in her chest. Her brows furrow as she exhales harshly through her nose, eyes snapping open to glare at her reflection. But the moment she looks up, her stomach drops.

The face staring back at her is her own, but the eyes, are certainly not.

Golden irises burn in the mirror, framed by a pattern in the irises she knows all too well. The sight alone is enough to make her take a stumbling step back as a cold wave of nausea washes over her.

No, no, no. This is wrong. It can’t be. Those eyes—she shouldn’t have them anymore.

A shaky breath escapes her lips as she hesitantly lifts a trembling hand, reaching up to her face. Her fingertips ghost over the edge of her eye socket, tracing the delicate skin beneath the lower lash line, as if touching it will somehow confirm or deny what she’s seeing. But the reflection doesn’t change. The golden irises remain, gleaming with an unsettling familiarity.

Her mind races. The last time she had these eyes…

Nothing ended well. Not for her. Not for anyone.

A sharp ringing noise fills her ears, and then, the whispers return, but this time, they are not whispers at all. They are screams. Distant, warped, and yet agonizingly clear, a macabre chorus of horror and despair. The cries of the dying. The terrified. The lost. She flinches violently, her entire body recoiling as if struck. A piercing cold sink into her limbs, numbing her fingertips to the point where she can’t even feel them against her own skin.

And then, the reflection shifts. The golden gaze darkens, narrowing ever so slightly. A slow, creeping smirk begins to pull at the reflection’s lips making Kiana’s insides twist with a raw, primal fear.

“Don’t you get it?”

The voice doesn’t come from the mirror—it’s inside her head, curling around her thoughts, laced with something that makes the nausea in her stomach churn.

“This is for the best.”

A surge of white-hot panic explodes in her chest.

“NO!”

The scream rips from her throat before she even realizes she’s spoken. Then comes the sound of glass shattering. The sharp, violent crack of the mirror fracturing beneath a forceful impact, followed by the distinct patter of shards scattering across the floor.

And then—the pain.

A piercing sting shoots up her arm, her senses barely catching up to the fact that her fist is pressed against the now-broken mirror with a crimson trail already pooling at her knuckles, sliding down her wrist in thin, winding rivulets. The sight of sends a fresh wave of shock through her system.

Slowly, she pulls her hand back, tightening her fist instinctively as her breath hitches in her throat. She blinks, her mind scrambling to process what just happened, what she just did, and then another, more terrifying realization settles in.

There’s no way she can hide this.

Footsteps, rushed and urgent, echo down the hallway, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of her name being called.

“Kiana? Kiana!”

Her stomach clenches painfully with a different kind of fear sinking its claws into her as the hurried steps grow closer. The door—damn it, she forgot to lock the door.

It swings open before she can move. She barely has time to react before she can feel Mei and Bronya’s gaze fall on her back, the reflection of the broken mirror confirms her they are standing there, frozen in place, their gazes darting from her to the mess of shattered glass at her feet.

Kiana exhales heavily, turning slightly to face them with her injured hand held close to her chest.

Mei’s eyes widen, stricken with horror, once her gaze immediately locks onto the wound on her hand. Bronya, though more composed, frowns deeply, her gray eyes flickering with quiet concern as she takes in the scene before her.

Oh, great…

Chapter Text

As Kiana gazes at the vast, cloudless sky, her thoughts drift aimlessly, carried by the crisp mountain breeze that occasionally brushes against her face. She inhales deeply, allowing the fresh, untainted air to fill her lungs, bringing with it a fleeting sense of tranquility. For a moment, she simply exists in the stillness, letting the gentle rhythm of nature settle into her chest.

Lowering her head, she takes in the scene around the quiet rustic bench where she waits. Towering mountains stretch toward the heavens, their peaks crowned with wisps of mist. The trees lining the slopes have begun their gradual transformation, their once-vibrant green leaves shifting into warm autumn hues. The picturesque landscape offers her a brief, yet welcome, reprieve.

Mount Taixuan.

Or rather, the outskirts of it, just before the true ascent into the ancient, secluded peaks where many secrets remain guarded. A small village now stands here, a new settlement formed in the wake of the Honkai's decline, allowing humanity to reclaim places once deemed too perilous. From what little she has seen so far, it serves as a modest trading hub, a quiet crossroads between the outside world and the mountain's mysteries. The population is sparse, but the village exudes a certain charm, an ideal retreat for those seeking a slower, simpler life.

As Kiana takes in her surroundings, lost in quiet observation, the sharp blare of a horn breaks the silence, pulling her from her thoughts. She turns her head in time to see a small, old white pickup truck pulling up near the road leading toward the mountainside. It only takes her a second to recognize it, and with that, she remembers why she came here in the first place.

Pushing herself to her feet, she strides toward the vehicle, her steps steady but unhurried. As she reaches the passenger side, a familiar face greets her with a warm smile and silent nod of acknowledgment.

“Hey there!” Kiana greets, leaning down by the open window to peek inside. Her eyes land on the tiny, sleeping form of the ELF nestled between the two front seats, its soft breathing barely audible over the hum of the engine.

“Kiana, good morning” Fu Hua’s voice greets her warmly, accompanied by the small yet unmistakable kindness in her expression. She tilts her head slightly, wordlessly inviting Kiana to climb in.

Without hesitation, Kiana pulls open the door and settles into the passenger seat. As she shifts in her seat and closes the door, she settles and wait for the vehicle to move, but then Fu Hua clears her throat, a subtle cue. Taking the hint, Kiana reaches for the seatbelt and puts it over her front, just after hearing the click of the lock Fu Hua nods in satisfaction before shifting the truck into gear, guiding it onto the winding road that leads higher into the mountains.

Kiana leans against the window, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery as the truck moves steadily along the rugged path. The outside world blurs into a quiet expanse of trees, rocks, and sky. Her mind remains blank, unbothered by the silence that fills the vehicle, save for the ELF’s occasional sleepy murmurs and the low hum of the radio.

It isn’t until much later that Fu Hua finally speaks, gentle yet tinged with curiosity.

“So, is there a particular reason you decided to visit us?”

Kiana blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the question. She turns her head, meeting Fu Hua’s calm gaze, though the older woman keeps most of her attention on the winding road ahead.

“It’s not that you’re unwelcome, of course” Fu Hua continues, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “It’s just… unexpected.”

Kiana offers a smile in return, but it never quite reaches her eyes.

Kiana hesitates, her fingers idly twisting together in her lap as she searches for the right way to explain herself. The weight of her thoughts sits heavy on her shoulders, pressing down with an unrelenting force. How does she even begin to put it into words?

Ever since that night, she has seen it in Mei’s eyes, the constant worry, the quiet terror buried beneath her composed demeanor. Mei no longer sleeps soundly. Even in the rare moments when exhaustion forces her to rest, her slumber is restless, shallow, plagued by the fear that if she closes her eyes for too long, she’ll wake up to something far worse. Kiana knows this because she feels the same. Sleep has become an unbearable torment, a gateway to an abyss where she is never alone.

She is always there.

Lurking in the recesses of her mind, smiling as if savoring every second of Kiana’s suffering. The haunting presence that refuses to let her be. She sees her when she closes her eyes, hears her whispering between the static of her thoughts, senses her watching from the edges of her perception. There is no respite. No peace. Not when she eats. Not when she rests. Not even when she is surrounded by those who care for her.

And so, after countless sleepless nights spent agonizing over what to do, Kiana arrived at this conclusion, her last resort.

If she has returned, manifesting so vividly, so intensely, then there can only be one explanation. She is trying to break her, to push her past the point of no return. And once she does… she will take over.

Kiana doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if that came to pass.

A shift in the air pulls her from her spiraling thoughts. She blinks, only to realize that Fu Hua has been watching her. Their eyes meet for the briefest moment before the older woman glances back at the road, her expression unreadable yet perceptive as ever.

Kiana exhales slowly, steadying herself while closing her eyes for a second, she finally gathers the resolve to speak.

“I… need your help, Fu Hua” she mutters, barely above a whisper.

Fu Hua remains silent, keeping her hands firm on the wheel as she navigates a rough patch in the road. “For what reason?” she asks calmly, giving her a quick glance.

Kiana sighs through her nose, her shoulders sinking under the weight of what she’s about to admit.

“I think I might have another issue with the Herrscher of the Void” she finally confesses, leaving out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Her muscles tighten in anticipation, as if bracing for a reaction. And yet… a strange lightness settles in her chest. Saying it aloud makes it real, but it also lessens the burden, just a little.

Fu Hua does not answer immediately. Instead, she falls into thoughtful silence, her expression neutral, though Kiana catches the way her eyes shift ever so slightly with a flicker of contemplation.

“What makes you say that?” Fu Hua finally asks, carrying a hint of something deeper, concern, perhaps.

Rather than continuing along the main road, she turns onto a narrow detour, guiding the truck off the beaten path and into a secluded clearing nestled among the trees. As she parks the vehicle, Kiana notices the long wooden bridge stretching across a steep cliffside, connecting this hidden spot to the other side.

With practiced ease, Fu Hua shuts off the engine, then reaches for the small, sleeping form of Little Book, cradling it carefully before stepping out of the driver’s seat. Taking the cue, Kiana follows suit, opening her door and stepping out into the crisp mountain air.

Recalling their conversation, Kiana steels herself once more, her gaze seeking out Fu Hua as they approach the wooden bridge. The older woman moves with her usual composed grace, cradling the small, sleeping ELF in her arms. Kiana, following the silent invitation of a glance, quickens her pace to catch up, falling into step beside her. A brief silence settles between them, broken only by the quiet rustling of their footsteps against the crisp, fallen leaves scattered along the path.

Kiana exhales slowly, gathering the courage to speak. “It’s becoming constant… and unbearable” she admits, barely above a murmur as they step onto the bridge. “I can’t sleep in peace. Mei can’t either.”

As she walks, her eyes drift toward the edge of the bridge, drawn to the sheer drop below. The cliffside stretches downward into what seems like an endless abyss, the jagged rocks at its base barely visible. A thin, meandering river winds through the bottom, its surface shimmering faintly under the light, deceptively calm.

A voice pulls her back to the present.

“What exactly is becoming constant?” Fu Hua asks, her tone measured but inquisitive. “Are you experiencing dreams? Visions of the Herrscher? Is she speaking to you directly?”

Kiana tenses slightly. “Uhm… Everything?” The words leave her lips in an uncertain tone, and she lifts a hand to scratch the back of her head.

Fu Hua slows her pace, finally stopping once they reach the other side of the bridge. She turns to face Kiana fully, raising a single brow. “Everything?” she repeats, her frown deepening slightly. “Kiana, how long has this been going on?”

Kiana averts her eyes, shifting uncomfortably as she debates how to answer. Should she sugarcoat it? Pretend it’s not as bad as it really is? But what would be the point? Fu Hua would see right through her.

“…A few months” she finally admits, her voice subdued. “It started off subtle, barely noticeable. But it’s been getting worse. Harder and harder to ignore.” She swallows, feeling her throat suddenly dry as her next words slip out before she can stop them.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

She meets Fu Hua’s gaze then, and in doing so, something inside her cracks.

The exhaustion she’s tried so desperately to suppress, the quiet but ever-growing sense of desperation, they both bloom in her chest, pressing against her ribs with suffocating force. Fu Hua’s eyes widen just slightly, her brows rising in muted surprise. For a brief moment, her carefully composed expression shifts, softening with something Kiana doesn’t want to see, sympathy.

Her stomach twists uncomfortably and she lowers her gaze quickly, afraid that if she looks at Fu Hua any longer, she’ll break down right then and there.

“So, I n-need your help… please” she whispers, curling her hands into fists at her sides. She clenches her eyes shut, willing herself to hold it together. “The lessons you taught me back then… they aren’t working. I’ve tried everything.” Her breath trembles slightly.

“I’ve been keeping this to myself because I don’t want them to worry. I don’t want Mei to go through this all over again.”

Her chest tightens painfully, guilt sinking its claws into her ribs.

“I-I can’t do that to them… not again.”

A heavy silence settles between them, while Kiana keeps her gaze lowered, gripping the hem of her jacket as she waits for a response with the weight of her confession pressing down on her chest. Then, Fu Hua exhales softly, stepping closer.

Her expression is calm, as if to silently reassure her that she’s not alone in this.

“Let’s get to the hut first” Fu Hua says gently. “I’ll make you some tea, and we can talk properly there.”

The quiet kindness in her voice manages to ease some of the tension in Kiana’s shoulders. She lets out a slow breath, nodding in response.

“We’ll figure something out” Fu Hua adds, her voice turning softer. “Don’t worry yourself too much.”

With that, they resume their journey, beginning the long trek up the ancient Taixuan steps, the endless ascent winding through the mountain.

By the time they near the top, Kiana is barely keeping pace. It feels like an eternity has passed; each step more grueling than the last. Her breaths grow heavier, her legs aching with exertion. The thin mountain air burns in her lungs, and despite her best efforts, dizziness starts creeping in.

At some point, she finally caves.

“Wait–just a sec…” Kiana mumbles, stumbling toward a nearby tree and leaning against its sturdy trunk. She presses a hand to her forehead, feeling the lightheadedness intensify.

Fu Hua stops a few steps ahead, turning to regard her with a knowing gaze. A small, understanding smile tugs at her lips, but she says nothing, just waits.

Kiana exhales sharply, frustrated. It’s true that she hasn’t been taking care of herself these past few months, but was she really this out of shape? Back in the day, she could’ve run for miles, pushed through harsher conditions without a second thought. Now, she can’t even handle a simple climb without feeling like she might collapse.

Once her breathing steadies, Fu Hua gives her an encouraging nod, silently signaling that they should continue. Kiana forces herself upright, swallowing her pride, and follows.

_______

The faint scent of tea lingers in the air as Fu Hua pours steaming liquid into two cups, placing one in front of Kiana before taking a seat across from her. After taking a sip from hers, Kiana sighs and, for the first time in what feels like forever, lets herself speak freely.

She tells Fu Hua everything.

The hallucinations. The nightmares. The whispers that never cease, lurking in the corners of her mind like a shadow she can’t escape. Every single thing she’s been struggling to suppress, she lays it bare, hoping, desperately, that Fu Hua might have the answers she’s been searching for. That maybe, just maybe, she’ll be able to teach her some ancient technique or method to push this fight of wills issue.

Because that’s what this is, right?

This has to be a Honkai problem. Just like before.

…That’s the most logical explanation.

Once she finishes explaining, a heavy silence settles between them, stretching longer than she would have liked. Fu Hua remains deep in thought, her usually composed face now shadowed with contemplation. A faint crease forms between her brows as she lowers her gaze to the wooden floor, fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic surface of her cup.

Kiana, on the other hand, finds herself gripping her own cup a little too tightly, her knuckles turning pale from the pressure. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until now, when every nerve in her body feels as if it’s waiting for some kind of verdict.

The warmth of the tea has long faded, and though she knows it was meant to soothe her, the nausea curling in the pit of her stomach makes the thought of another sip unbearable. She swallows thickly, trying to push past the unease, but the longer the silence drags on, the harder it becomes to keep still.

Finally, Fu Hua exhales softly, her face softening slightly.

 “This certainly raises all the alarms” she begins, her voice careful. Yet there’s a weight behind her words that makes Kiana’s breath hitch slightly, then, after a brief pause, Fu Hua’s expression shifts, her brows knitting just a little deeper, her gaze sharpening with a trace of something close to skepticism.

“But… there’s something about this that feels off.”

Kiana blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

Fu Hua’s eyes lift to meet hers, reflecting a serious gleam in them. “If she’s really back… Don’t you think we would have noticed by now?”

Kiana's thoughts falter under the weight of the question, taking a moment to grasp Fu Hua's implication, but before she can fully wrap her head around it, Fu Hua shifts in her seat, adjusting her posture as she rests her chin lightly against her knuckles, locking her blue eyes into Kiana’s.

“The Herrscher of the Void was never subtle” she explains in a calm voice. “She didn’t just torment you from the shadows, she actively sought control. She was dominant, aggressive, a force that refused to be ignored. Her goal was never to merely haunt you. She wanted to seize your body, use the Void powers, and complete her goal of wiping out humanity.”

Kiana swallows, feeling a cold torrent creeping up her spine. She remembers all too well the overwhelming presence of the Herrscher, the suffocating force that had once drowned her in despair; that entity had never been one to lurk in the background back in the time, when she wanted something, she took it without hesitation.

Fu Hua tilts her head slightly, watching Kiana’s expression shift as realization begins to settle. “So why hasn’t she tried to take over?” she asks quietly, as if guiding Kiana toward a truth she hadn’t considered.

Kiana’s stomach twists at the question. “M-Maybe she’s too weak right now?” she suggests, though even to her own ears, the words sound uncertain. “I-I don’t know, it’s just–”

Fu Hua doesn’t let her finish before throwing in her next question.

“Has she tried to taunt anyone besides you?”

The question hits Kiana harder than she expects, her lips part but no words come. She freezes, her mind scrambling through the countless encounters she’s had, the whispers, the visions, the nightmares clawing at her relentlessly for months.

But that’s just it. It has all been directed at her.

The realization crashes into her, sharp and unforgiving. She had been so caught up in her own fear, so convinced that she was spiraling toward something inevitable, that she had failed to recognize the very pattern in front of her.

A deep hum escapes the older woman, and she leans back slightly, covering her mouth with her fingers in thought.

“This is certainly enigmatic” she murmurs, her voice carrying a note of intrigue, though there’s still caution layered beneath it. “But it seems to be far from what you initially suspected.”

Kiana’s fingers curl into the fabric of her pants, her nails pressing against the material.

"You're living with a former Herrscher" Fu Hua remarks, straightening up to cross her arms over her chest. "If what you’re experiencing truly were the signs of a Herrscher awakening, Mei would have sensed it by now. There's no way she’d overlook something this significant."

Fu Hua hesitates for just a second before continuing, this time with a question.

“Has she told you anything directly?” she asks, leaning forward slightly. “Has Mei or Bronya sensed anything unusual?”

Kiana feels her throat tighten, her heartbeat drumming loudly in her ears with an unsteady rhythm. She suddenly feels restless and, without thinking, she darts her eyes to the side, avoiding Fu Hua’s gaze.

“I… I haven’t heard anything from them” she finally admits, her shoulders sag slightly, and her expression dims with quiet sorrow. “But… I know they’re worried about me. I’ve tried to act like I’m fine, but sometimes… I feel like they already know the truth.”

Fu Hua watches her intently, her sharp gaze softening just a little. With a slow, deep breath, she sighs audibly, relaxing her posture as a quiet understanding settle in her expression.

“Sometimes” she says gently. “it’s okay to ask for help, Kiana.”

“I-I know!” Kiana blurts out, almost too quickly, as if trying to convince herself as much as Fu Hua. “That’s why I came here… I need your help–”

“You came after months of enduring it alone.” Fu Hua’s words cut through her sentence like a blade while her expression shifts, hardening her features ever so slightly while a subtle concern flickers behind her grey blue eyes. “I don’t need to think much to know that the only reason you’re here is because you’re afraid of ‘losing’ control, not because you truly want to understand why all this is happening.”

Kiana’s mouth opens slightly, but no words come out. She hadn’t expected such a direct response, and was certainly not prepared for the weight behind it. A shaky laugh escapes her lips, half-hearted and disbelieving. “Of course I do!” she says quickly, nodding as if trying to reaffirm her own words.

Fu Hua doesn’t respond immediately, instead, she studies Kiana’s expression, her eyes searching for something beyond the surface. Her frown deepens slightly, as if weighing whether or not to push further, but after a few moments, her expression softens again.

“Alright” she says at last, her voice calm yet unwavering. “If we’re going to do this, first things first.” She straightens in her seat, fixing Kiana with a firm, serious glance.

“You should stop pushing everyone’s help away.”

Kiana stiffens. “What? I–”

"You are" Fu Hua interrupts smoothly, but there’s no harshness in her tone. "You minimize what you’re going through, you hide it, and you convince yourself it’s not that bad. But tell me this, Kiana…if you saw someone you care about acting like this, would you think it was ‘not a big deal’ too?"

Kiana opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, her eyes lower to her lap, while her eyes fill with hesitance.

Fu Hua sighs softly, shifting in her seat. "I know what it’s like to think you can handle everything alone. I thought that for a long time, but shutting people out didn’t make me stronger, at some point I was close to lose myself among the years."

For a brief second, something flickers in her usually composed expression, then, she straightens again, giving her a gentle gaze.

"You don’t have to tell Mei everything at once… or Bronya, or even me. But you need to start somewhere; because the longer you pretend this doesn’t matter, the harder it will be to come back."

Kiana swallows hard, feeling her throat impossibly dry, and a strange, suffocating discomfort creeps into her chest. She lowers her head, fixating her gaze on the wooden floor as if it holds the answers she so desperately seeks. Her lips press into a thin line, and for a long moment, she says nothing.

Telling them… telling Mei… telling everyone what’s happening?

The mere thought sends a rush of unease through her, a deep-rooted shame tightening its grip around her ribs. Confessing that she’s seeing things that aren’t real? That she hears whispers from a presence that shouldn’t exist?

They’ll think she’s crazy.

Her hands curl into fists on her lap, her nails digging into her palms.

“I’m not trying to push you to do something.” Fu Hua continues, her voice softer now. “I am your friend, and I’m worried for you as well… Admitting what’s happening won’t make it worse. Hiding it and bottling it up, that will.”

Kiana barely reacts. She keeps her head down, her shoulders tense, the weight of it all threatening to crush her. Fu Hua exhales quietly, recognizing the resistance for what it is. Shifting her approach, she leans forward slightly, her voice taking on a gentler tone.

“Times have changed” she says. “There’s no war on the horizon, no Honkai… and I know how unsettling that must feel for you.” She pauses, dropping her eyes to her lap for a moment. “You’ve spent your entire life always looking for the next battle and always moving forward. It’s what kept you going.”

She pauses, watching Kiana carefully.

“But Kiana, you don’t need to live that way anymore. And you don’t need to figure everything out right away.”

At the reassuring words, Kiana swallows hard, her fists tightening slightly while she closes her eyes for a moment.

“Take your time” Fu Hua adds gently. “See the world as it is now, not as something that needs to be saved, but as something worth experiencing.” She tilts her head slightly.

“And don’t make it your mission to search for a problem just to fix it.”

Kiana remains still, fingers twitching slightly while her thoughts are a tangled mess of emotions she can’t quite name. The weight of Fu Hua’s words lingers in the air between them, pressing against the very walls Kiana has spent months building around herself while a tense silence stretches between them, as if the air in the small hut has grown denser. Kiana can still feel a lingering pressure in her chest like an ache she can’t shake.

Then, the stillness is abruptly broken by the sound of a casual, almost lazy voice that cuts through the air like a blade through paper.

“Well, well… What do we have here?”

Kiana’s head snaps up, instinctively tensing as her eyes dart toward the newcomer. She recognizes her immediately, the sharp red eyes, the playful smirk, and the unmistakable presence that seems to radiate an almost tangible confidence. The Herrscher of Sentience strides into the main room, unhurried, exuding her usual air of self-assured mischief.

She pauses just a few feet away, crossing her arms as she tilts her head, her gaze sweeping over Kiana with blatant scrutiny.

“To what do we owe the honor of a visit from our once-divine lady?” she asks with a harmless sarcastic tone, arching an eyebrow before narrowing her eyes slightly. A moment of silence passes before she adds, in her ever-careless tone “…Gosh, you look terrible.”

Kiana exhales through her nose, rolling her eyes at the unnecessary remark, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite ignore the way Senti’s gaze lingers on her, examining her like she’s a puzzle waiting to be solved.

“I came to… talk with Fu Hua” Kiana finally mutters, reluctant to elaborate. She shifts her posture slightly, turning her head away, refusing to meet the Herrscher’s piercing crimson eyes.

“Hm.” The Herrscher makes a small sound, a hum of mild disbelief, as if she doesn’t entirely buy the explanation. But Kiana is past the point of caring.

Talking to her has always been exhausting, there’s something about her that drains Kiana in a way she can’t quite describe; maybe it’s the endless teasing, the unpredictable nature, or simply the fact that her presence is too intrusive. Either way, she doesn’t have the energy to engage right now.

Instead, she lets her focus slip away from the conversation, allowing the distant murmur of Fu Hua’s voice to fade into the background. Her thoughts, however, refuse to be so easily ignored. They loop back to the conversation she just had, to Fu Hua’s words, to the way they sink into her, deeper than she expected.

Was she truly here because she wanted help?

Or was she just afraid of what would happen if she didn’t?

She doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it for long.

“Hey, you.”

The sudden call yanks Kiana from her thoughts, and before she can even react, something presses firmly against her forehead.

A foreign sensation crashes over her like a wave, stiffening every muscle in her body. It’s as if an invisible force has reached into her very core, gripping something deep within her, prying it open without permission. Her breath catches in her throat, her nerves igniting in a way that makes her stomach lurch.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it vanishes.

The pressure lifts, leaving her dazed with her mind swimming in the sudden absence of intrusion. Blinking rapidly, she refocuses her vision, her eyes land on the Herrscher of Sentience, who is now watching her intently. Her posture is relaxed, but her gaze is sharper than before, filled with an unreadable curiosity. Two of her fingers hover just inches from Kiana’s face, slowly pulling away as if peeling back from an invisible thread connecting them.

For a moment, Kiana can only stare, her sluggish mind struggling to catch up with what just happened, until realization dawns.

She got into my mind.

A flash of irritation surges through her, snapping her out of her stupor. Her expression darkens, brows furrowing into a sharp scowl as she glares at the Herrscher, who, to Kiana’s growing frustration, seems entirely unfazed. Instead, the Herrscher merely hums thoughtfully, tapping a finger against her chin, lost in her own world of musings.

“Senti” Fu Hua’s voice cuts through the moment firmly, carrying a familiar edge of scolding. “I’ve already told you about this habit of yours.” She narrows her eyes slightly. “It’s rude to enter people’s minds without their consent.”

The Herrscher barely spares her a glance before waving a dismissive hand in her direction.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, old-timer” she replies with practiced ease, as if she’s heard this lecture a hundred times before. “But this time, it was necessary.”

Kiana clenches her jaw, glaring daggers at the Herrscher, but she’s ignored entirely.

With a triumphant puff of her chest, she declares, “If what you two are fussing about is whether this is some kind of ‘Herrscher problem,’ then you can rest easy now.” She tilts her chin up slightly, her expression smug. “Because I, the mighty Herrscher of Sentience, can confirm that it’s not.”

She crosses her arms, clearly expecting some kind of praise or awe-struck reaction. But instead, she gets a confused look from Kiana and a skeptical one from Fu Hua.

“What… do you mean?” Kiana’s voice cuts through the still air, uncertain and low. Her eyes narrow slightly, scanning the Herrscher from head to toe.

“I mean exactly what I said” Senti replies, her tone laced with a playful mockery, she waits for a reaction, as if expecting the usual back-and-forth, but none comes, only silence; a beat passes and then she sighs, clicking her tongue in mild irritation.

“Look, airhead” she continues, resting a hand on her hip as she steps forward with a languid sort of confidence. “What you’ve got, whatever’s been whispering in your skull at night, crawling under your skin, feeding you all this crap about being a danger, none of that is Void residue. It’s not some remnant of Finality lying in wait. This isn’t some Herrscher thing trying to hijack your brain.” She pauses, signaling at her with her hand. “This… is entirely yours.”

She says it like she’s pointing out something obvious, like the answer’s been sitting in plain sight all along, but Kiana just stares at her, eyes wide and mind blank.

Entirely mine?

…So, this is me? I’m doing this to myself?

The thought creeps in like fog under a doorframe, slow and unwelcome, it slithers around her chest, heavy and suffocating, turning something cold in her gut. Her brow furrows as she lowers her gaze to the wooden floor beneath her feet, suddenly unable to meet anyone’s eyes. She searches for something there, but finds only silence and the weight of her own spiraling doubt.

Fu Hua’s voice breaks through the haze like a soft chime.

“Are you saying… this is some kind of psychological issue?”

It’s not confrontational, if anything, it’s hesitant, but it’s enough to bring Kiana back to the moment and snap her out of the whirlpool of her thoughts. She lifts her head just as Fu Hua approaches, arms crossed in front of her chest while looking at the Herrscher with a silent concern in her features.

The Herrscher huffs out a small laugh, the kind that carries more knowing than humor. “Weren’t you already thinking something like that?” she asks, tilting her head with a smirk that borders on smug.

Fu Hua’s shoulders tense, just slightly, but enough for Kiana to notice. She doesn’t reply, just looks away.

That’s when something inside Kiana breaks.

She stands so suddenly that her chair scrapes against the floor, a sharp sound that slices through the room. Her fists clench at her sides as she takes a step toward the Herrscher, who straightens ever so slightly, alert, before melting back into her usual mask of calm indifference.

“There has to be a mistake” Kiana says tightly, her voice strained like a frayed wire stretched too far. There’s a tremble in it, subtle but unmistakable.

At this, something shifts in Senti’s crimson eyes.

“A mistake?” she repeats, the word rolling off her tongue with the beginnings of a bitter smile. “Did you forget who I am?” Her voice rises just a touch, enough to echo against the walls of the quiet cabin. “I’m the Herrscher of Sentience! I walk through the human mind like it’s my playground. You think you understand this better than me?”

There’s a flicker of offense in her voice now, Kiana hears it, knows she’s struck something, but she doesn’t back down.

“I know this is her” she retorts, louder now, the heat in her voice growing. “You’re wrong! This… this is her fault. Don’t tell me it’s not a Herrscher problem. You don’t know what it’s like to have that thing in your head, whispering, waiting, turning every quiet moment into a nightmare!” Her voice cracks on the last word. But the damage is already done.

Senti’s face darkens, her smirk disappears, being replaced by a narrowing of eyes, a deepening line between her brows. From one second to the other, the fire in her gaze is not playful, it’s sharp and blazing.

Fu Hua tries to interject, stepping forward with a calm voice. “That’s enough–” Yet neither listens.

Senti steps forward, her voice turning in some kind of growl with barely restrained fury. “I’m telling you this because someone has to! You think it’s fun seeing you like this?” Her tone hardens. “You have no idea what kind of mess you keep tangling yourself in! But sure, keep blaming the shadows instead of looking at the cracks.”

Kiana takes an instinctive step back.

“Oh, right!” Senti continues, arms outstretched in theatrical exasperation. “Good old Kiana, always pointing fingers. First it was the Honkai, then the Void, and now, what? Are you going to blame the moon next? Is that how far you’ll go to avoid looking in the damn mirror?”

She steps closer again, closing the gap. Kiana retreats, step by step, until her back hits something solid, and her breath catches.

“You. Are. Not. Fine.” Each word lands like a hammer. Senti’s voice isn’t yelling anymore, but carries a cold calmness. “And for your own sake” she adds, her voice dropping to a chilling hush “you’d better stop pretending that you are.”

Kiana flinches, barely able to breathe, her entire body frozen in place. The fire from before has gone out, leaving only ashes and the quiet ringing of truth in her ears.

“Senti!” Fu Hua’s voice pierces the tension like a blade, carrying a commanding tone Kiana barely recognizes.

The Herrscher blinks, and something shifts in her again, like a curtain falling over a stage, the fire in her eyes dim, her jaw tightens, and her shoulders stiffen. Without another word, she steps back, retreating in one fluid movement that breaks the invisible tension pressing down on the room.

The air left in her absence is heavy, leaving Kiana trembling.

Not visibly, but inside, something is quaking. Her thoughts spiral as Senti’s words echo over and over in her head, relentless and sharp; the fragments don’t connect, don’t form a cohesive picture no matter how many times she tries to assemble them. They crash into each other like broken glass, leaving her mind in chaos.

Fu Hua’s voice continues in the background as she scolds Senti. The Herrscher snaps back with half-hearted defiance, but none of it reaches Kiana, her ears filter out everything except for the pounding of her heartbeat and the shallow, trembling breaths that escape her lips in uneven intervals as a silent voice in the back of her mind whispers a realization it only pulls her deeper into the spiral.

Senti wasn’t lying.

She wasn’t trying to mess with her. Not this time.

And that… shakes something deep inside.

This isn’t an enemy she can fight. There’s no Herrscher hiding in the dark corners of her mind, no wicked alter ego to blame. No divine force to battle against, no monstrous thing to seal away.

This is hers.

But how do you defeat something you can’t even see clearly? Something that lives within you, that is you, and yet feels foreign all the same? How do you name the enemy when it wears your voice, thinks with your thoughts, and buries itself in your chest like a second heartbeat?

She doesn’t know where she ends and where this begins. There’s no line, no boundary.

And that’s what makes it so terrifying.

Because if Senti is right, then this is her reality. Not a nightmare. Not an infection. Not a possession. This quiet, unbearable weight pressing down on her soul is not someone else's curse, it’s her life, her truth.

And no one had dared to say it aloud.

They’d tiptoed around it. Mei, Fu Hua, Bronya, even herself. Always skirting the obvious, dressing it in soft words and gentle suggestions, but this prideful herrscher had ripped the veil clean off with the brutality only truth could offer… And now there's nothing to shield her from it.

“Kiana.”

A voice, soft and careful, draws her back to the surface.

She blinks, startled, as if awakening from a trance. Her eyes dart upward and find Fu Hua looking at her, with a quiet concern written all over her blue gaze. She begins to reach toward Kiana, slowly lifting a hand to touch her arm in comfort, but stops halfway when she notices the way Kiana flinches ever so slightly at the movement.

“You should sit down for a moment” Fu Hua says gently, keeping her voice low. “You look a little pale.”

Kiana doesn’t respond right away. The words take a second to register, as though they were spoken from the other end of a long tunnel, slowly, she gives a faint nod, and with sluggish steps she moves toward the closest chair. Her legs feel stiff, her knees weak and there’s a hollowness in her chest, like something important has been carved out, and now there’s only a cold, echoing cavity left behind.

As she sits, her body folds into itself. Her shoulders hunch slightly, and her hands find each other in her lap, fingers locking tightly like she’s afraid they’ll slip away if she lets go. Her eyes fix on them, on the way her thumbs rub together, back and forth in a slow, nervous rhythm.

“I’ll make you some tea” Fu Hua offers kindly, voice shifting into that calm, patient cadence Kiana finds comforting. “It’s a personal blend that helps with the nerves.”

Kiana barely nods, her lips press together but don’t form any words. She stays hunched, unmoving, her entire world narrowed down to the space between her palms and the ghost of harsh words still haunting the room.

In the distance, just barely audible, Fu Hua speaks again, this time addressing the other person in the room.

“Senti, come with me.”

“Huh? Why–”

“Just come.”

There’s a beat of hesitation, followed by an exaggerated groan and the sound of reluctant footsteps. Kiana doesn’t lift her eyes, but in her peripheral vision, she catches a glimpse of Senti being gently but firmly led out of the room, the two of them disappearing into the small kitchen tucked behind the main room in the hub.

Their voices fade into the background, swallowed whole by a silence that falls like a thick, suffocating curtain.

It settles over her like a weight on her chest, dense and oppressive. Kiana shifts in her seat, restless. One leg cross over the other, then switches again, her heel taps anxiously against the wooden floor in an uneven rhythm, faster and faster, until even that small sound feels too loud in the heavy quiet. She's trying to breathe normally, to convince her lungs to cooperate, but each inhale feels thin and ineffective, like drinking air through a straw.

A cold sweat trickles slowly down her temple, and her entire body feels chilled despite the warmness of the room. Tremors begin at her fingertips and spread through her arms and shoulders, subtle but unrelenting. Her chest tightens, constricting painfully, and she curls in on herself slightly, arms instinctively folding across her stomach as if trying to hold something inside from spilling out.

An abrupt, inexplicable urge rises in her, to stand, to move, to escape. She clenches her jaw and squeezes her eyes shut, forcing herself into long, controlled breaths.

In… out… in… out…

But it doesn’t help. The pressure in her chest grows worse, not better. The air feels thick and tasteless, no matter how much of it she tries to draw in, her hands shake and her heartbeat drums in her ears. She raises a hand to her temple, pressing her palm against her forehead as if she could force the sensation away through sheer will.

A breath catches in her throat and escapes as a choked, fragile sound, a half-whimper, half-sob, uttered before she can swallow it down. And then it’s too much.

Kiana stands abruptly, nearly knocking the chair over as she stumbles forward, her legs unsteady, the room tilting slightly beneath her feet. The floor seems to ripple beneath her like water, distant and unreliable; she sways in place, blinking through the dizziness.

She has to get out.

This place it’s choking her.

With hurried, unsteady steps, she makes her way to the exit. Her boots clatter down the wooden stairs outside the hub, and when the fresh air hits her lungs, it’s like a crack opens in the storm. She inhales sharply, as if surfacing from underwater, and for a moment, her vision clears, and her chest expands properly for the first time in what feels like hours.

But it’s not enough.

She stares at the trees, the path, the sky, hoping something will feel familiar or safer, yet nothing does. It all looks like pieces of a painting that someone scrambled, abstract and disorienting; without realizing it, her feet start moving on their own, guided by something less like purpose and more like panic.

She walks and walks, having her mind too scattered to register where she’s actually going. The paths twist, the trees blur past as she stumbles more than once, scraping her shoulder in some bark or her boots catching on uneven roots. The brief jolts of pain anchor her for a second at a time, but only that, since the frenzy always returns.

Words echo in her skull, over and over again, fragments of countless of voices play back like broken tape, skipping and repeating without mercy. Then come the images, memories she hasn’t summoned, flooding in waves, every glance, every hesitant smile, every veiled concern in their eyes.

The silences, the careful questions that always meant to dig deeper in places she doesn’t wants to acknowledge. It’s too much, her mind can’t hold it all.

It’s driving her mad. She’s losing control, of her thoughts, her breath, her body that keeps walking but has no idea where to, her knees are trembling with each step, but she can’t stop moving. She wants to scream. She’s so tired.

Why can’t she just press a button and make it all vanish? She doesn’t want to think anymore, doesn’t want to feel.

“The solution to that is easier than you think.”

Kiana freezes at hearing the piercing voice. Her entire body goes rigid, breath caught mid-inhale. For a second, her mind blanks completely; and that silence should be a relief… yet it’s not. The calm feels wrong, too quiet.

Then comes a fear.

A presence is behind her. So close she can feel it, like a cold breath grazing her neck, she doesn’t dare turn around, her fists clench at her sides, her nails dig into her palms, hard enough to hurt. Her eyes squeeze shut as she tries to ground herself, heart hammering against her ribs.

“This isn’t real” she whispers, like a prayer. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real–”

Senti said it was all in her head, didn’t she? Just her mind playing tricks, some stupid illusion that can’t hurt her if it’s not real.

It can’t hurt her. It can’t…

“Is that what you’re choosing to believe now? How adorable.”

The mocking comment shakes her to the core, shattering what little control she had managed to hold onto as her composure fractures once more.

“Why won’t you leave me…” Kiana murmurs, her voice hoarse and small. She clutches her head with both hands and leans heavily against a nearby tree, the bark rough against her back. Every breath feels heavier, her strength seeping out of her body like sand through a sieve.

This time, there’s no answer, just a hollow silence. No cruel chuckle, no whisper, only the suffocating stillness left behind by something that enjoys watching her unravel. The absence is louder than the voice.

A moment of clarity flickers through her haze. She lifts her head and blinks through the blur, finally registering her surroundings. Trees stretch endlessly around her, tall and unmoving. Beyond them, the majestic silhouette of Mount Taixuan looms in the distance, its familiar peaks touched by light and mist. But that doesn’t help, she still has no idea where exactly she is. The forest is quiet, too quiet, as if the usual sense of life within it dulled to a lifeless echo.

She walks forward with leaden steps, and eventually her eyes catch on something familiar, the wooden bridge. The same one she crossed earlier. Her eyes fix on the shape of the parked truck on the far side. It draws her in like a lighthouse in fog. But she doesn’t step onto it right away, instead, she stops at the edge, staring at the wooden and rusty floorboards, while her mind remains blank.

…Should she go home now?

How far was the settlement? Could she even make it back on foot? Every part of her aches. Her bones feel soaked in fatigue, her limbs heavier with each passing second. Her eyelids droop like weights hung from threads.

With a long, resigned exhale, she finally steps onto the bridge. Her boots thud softly on the wood as she walks slowly, one step at a time. Her fingers brush the rope railing out of instinct, gripping it without even thinking. Her pace is sluggish, almost mechanical, like her body is moving on its own.

The forest’s noises return, but faintly, distant chirps, rustling leaves, the wind weaving through the trees, none of it feels real. It’s like she’s hearing a recording, played from somewhere far away. Midway across the bridge, she pauses. The planks shift slightly beneath her feet with the breeze, causing the entire structure to sway just a little. Her gaze drifts to the side, unbidden, below her lies the ravine.

The drop is deep, a hollow chasm of jagged rock and scattered tree trunks. The cliff walls descend sharply into shadow, where sunlight barely reaches and a thin, silver stream glides quietly along the bottom. The air is colder here. The wind brushes past her face, tugging strands of her hair loose, as if trying to pull her attention.

The view is hauntingly beautiful, drawing her gaze with a quiet, magnetic pull. She watches in silence, and slowly, unexpectedly, a strange sense of peace begins to seep in, softening the tension in her shoulders, loosening her grip on the rope. Her muscles unclench. She blinks slowly, eyes fixed on the faint glint of the stream below.

And it makes her wonder.

Would it be so bad… to fall?

A heartbeat.

Kiana blinks, startled by the thought her own mind has conjured. Her gaze rises to the mountain skyline, vast and unmoving, while the wind dances through her hair with tender fingers. Her mind empties again, but this time, not in panic. This time, she grips the rope with both hands, needing something to hold on to as her thoughts dissolve into the stillness of the view.

This is the lightest she’s felt in weeks. The quietest her mind has been. No pounding pressure in her chest, no spinning chaos. Just stillness and… clarity.

It’s comforting. Soothing, even. If only she could stay like this forever…

“Like I said, you can.”

A velvety voice reach her ears out of the sudden, and she blinks slowly. Now, in front of her, suspended just above the chasm, float the same golden eyes that have haunted her for so long, yet her mind remains still, unshaken as she looks back at them. The Herrscher of the Void stares at her with a strange familiarity, a calmness that disarms her.

She hovers with effortless grace, her hair and garments moving with the wind like threads of silk woven into the landscape. She looks perfectly placed, like she belongs here, as much as the mountain itself. And her smile… it doesn’t feel performative this time. Not smug, not cruel.

It’s warm and enticing.

Like sunlight on skin after an eternity in the cold.

Gone is the judgmental gaze, the condescension. What replaces it is something softer, gentler. It makes her look younger, almost harmless. Kiana doesn’t remember her like this. It feels alien… but impossibly alluring all the same.

“Think about it, no more pain…” the Herrscher says gently. “No more noise. No more searching eyes or sleepless nights. Just like you wanted. It can all go away in an instant.”

She smiles wider, golden irises glowing with warmth, making Kiana’s breath stutter and her perplexed eyes widen with disbelief.

“What…?” she whispers, her brows furrowing ever so slightly, voice fragile.

“Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” the Herrscher coos, extending her arms. “You can have it. Just come here.”

The voice wraps around her like silk, sweet, soft, and impossibly easy to believe. And for the first time… Kiana doesn’t know if she wants to say no.

Had the actual Herrscher of the Void ever smiled at her like that?

...Had she ever held even a trace of warmth or humanity in her eyes?

The answer suddenly feels irrelevant and the arms reaching out to her, so inviting, so alluring, are far too tempting to resist. A strange, uneven smile tugs at the corners of Kiana’s lips as one of her hands slowly extends toward the Herrscher’s, trembling with hesitation. But before she can reach, the figure floats slightly farther away, her gaze softening with something almost fond, a playful chuckle escaping her lips as amusement glints in her golden irises.

“Come on~ Just a little more…”

The teasing tone draws a faint breath from Kiana. Her heart quickens as she shifts her grip on the rope, leaning her body forward to reach out again.

But the Herrscher keeps drifting out of reach.

What the hell?

Kiana huffs in frustration, leaning farther, arm outstretched as far as she can go, but it’s never enough.

Why won’t she just stay–?

“Kiana!”

The sudden shout jolts her.

In a blink, her balance shifts. Her body pitches forward over the rope. Her eyes snap downward, locking onto the dizzying chasm below. Her breath catches in her throat, her stomach plummeting with the realization, and for a moment, her mind can’t even process what’s happening.

Then, without warning, a firm grip yanks her backward by the collar of her jacket.

The sensation of falling is replaced by the impact of solid wood beneath her, a pair of arms wrapping around her just in time. The bridge sways violently beneath them before settling again, groaning under the tension. She keeps her eyes shut, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. When she finally dares to open them, she catches a glimpse, those golden eyes, now cold and expressionless, staring down at her.

The Herrscher’s expression twists into a grimace of annoyance. And just like that, with a single blink from Kiana, she vanishes.

Kiana lies there, stunned, her breath still uneven. Her gaze drifts back to the edge of the bridge, and this time, the chasm below doesn’t offer peace, but dread. The sight of it, the height, the sheer drop… it’s like common sense finally slams into her, jarring and heavy, as if her body is only now registering just how close she came and a brief, irrational urge to slap herself flickers through her mind.

But then she hears another ragged breath, only now aware of the arms still holding her. Slightly shaky, but tight, Kiana turns her head, eyes landing on the profile of an unusually shaken Fu Hua, who stares ahead with a rare mixture of relief and fear painted across her face. She's still catching her breath, just as Kiana is.

“Fu Hua?” she mutters, her voice tinged with skepticism at the sight of her.

Fu Hua blinks and turns to look at her. Her breathing begins to steady, though there’s still a trace of tension lingering in her eyes. After a brief moment of silent eye contact, she exhales deeply, her shoulders sinking as she tilts her head forward, like a soldier returning from a battle she hadn’t expected to fight. Her grip around Kiana loosens, giving her space to sit up on the wooden planks.

Without exchanging a word, both silently agree to get to their feet, rising slowly and carefully. Fu Hua’s hand gently, yet firmly, takes hold of Kiana’s jacket sleeve and leads her across the rest of the bridge. When they reach the other side, where the clearing and the parked truck wait, Kiana lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The grounding sensation of solid earth beneath her boots is oddly reassuring. She casts a brief glance toward Fu Hua, now standing a few steps ahead.

Despite her composed stance, there’s a clear stiffness in Fu Hua’s shoulders. Her expression remains neutral, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance, but Kiana doesn’t miss the subtle signs, a flicker of darkness behind her gaze, the way her jaw clenches.

This is where she’s supposed to explain herself, isn’t it?

But how could she, now?

How do you explain something so painfully obvious to someone like Fu Hua—a woman who reads silence like scripture? Trying to lie to her would be like telling an astronomer that the vast universe is white. Pointless.

Kiana bites her lower lip, blood running cold as dread coils tightly in her gut, creeping toward her throat. She takes a deep breath, parting her lips–

But Fu Hua speaks first.

“Are you hurt?” Her voice is soft and calm. Not the anger or disappointment Kiana had been bracing for. No reprimand or scolding, just concern.

Kiana blinks, stunned, meeting that steady, gentle gaze, feeling like watching the sun rise from the wrong horizon.

“...Huh.” It’s all she can manage, eyebrows arching in disbelief.

“You didn’t get hurt back there, did you?” Fu Hua repeats, giving her a quick visual scan—eyes darting over her limbs, checking for signs of injury.

Kiana shuts her mouth and gives a silent shake of her head. That seems to be enough. Fu Hua exhales quietly, then walks to her side, but turns away, keeping her gaze focused on the wooden bridge behind them. The quiet lingers between them, suspended like dust in the morning air.

“I got worried when I didn’t find you in the chair after returning with the tea” Fu Hua says casually, but the weight of her words lands heavy. Guilt creeps up Kiana’s spine and settles bitterly on her tongue.

She sneaks a glance at Fu Hua, but her friend’s eyes are still fixed ahead, something that gives her just enough courage to respond.

“I… I just needed some air. To think.” The words feel hollow as soon as they leave her lips. “I… started walking and I… well…” she trails off, her excuse unraveling before it even finishes forming.

Fu Hua sighs again, this time glancing down at her feet while still avoiding eye contact.

“I never expected things to escalate that quickly with Senti’s arrival…” she says softly, with a bit of remorse threading through every word. It almost sounds like she believes she caused the damage, but instead of angering Kiana, the sentiment pulls a small smile from her lips.

“I understand it was sudden and harsh for you to hear all that, but please, don’t hold it against Senti. Believe it or not, she didn’t mean to hurt you. She was–”

“Blinded by rage, yeah...” Kiana cuts in gently, a small huff of genuine amusement slipping out. The whole thing feels oddly familiar. “I didn’t exactly walk in with the best attitude either, to be honest. I guess it was on both of us.”

Fu Hua hums in acknowledgment, finally turning to look at her with a silent emotion behind her eyes—one Kiana doesn’t want to fully acknowledge. Instead, she lets the silence stretch between them as a gentle, fresh breeze passes through. Her mind is still reeling from the flood of emotions and thoughts lived in such a short span of time. It almost feels unreal, like some comically timed drama.

Did she really intend to reach over and probably fall to her tragic death?

What exactly was she thinking, reaching out of all things? Did she lose her mind for a second back there?

…What if Hua hadn’t appeared to pull her back? Would she be lying at the bottom of that ravine by now?

The questions make her clench her jaw, her eyes darkening as she focuses on a random patch of leaves on the ground, getting lost once again in her thoughts for who knows how long. A part of her knows this is a turning point. Things won’t be the same again, no matter how much she tries to fool herself into thinking otherwise. Yet, that small and foolish part inside still hopes this might just get buried away like some random, meaningless “accident”, like that time she tripped over a fence at St. Freya and got stuck in the bushes for hours.

Maybe, with just a little bit of luck–

“Kiana.”

Fu Hua’s firm voice cuts through that last flicker of hope. Luck isn’t enough this time.

“What just happened… that wasn’t—” The older woman cuts herself off, her gaze filling with something akin to sorrow, a sight that seems to fracture Kiana’s composure.

Forcing herself to form a tight, tiny smile, Kiana sighs before flicking her eyes up to Hua’s, letting the heavy silence linger between them. They stare at each other with a quiet understanding.

“I guess there’s no way of talking my way out of this” Kiana finally says in a thread of voice, her gaze lowering once more.

“…It was… what it probably looked like” she admits quietly, her shoulders sinking, making her posture see smaller.

Fu Hua doesn’t say anything, which somehow prompts Kiana to add more to her explanation, feeling the anxiousness rising up her throat like a tide.

“I k-know it looks bad, but it wasn’t a–”

The words die in her throat as she locks eyes with Hua, finding only a quiet, saddened sympathy flooding the woman’s gaze.

“…It wasn’t deliberate” she mutters weakly, as if saying it out loud might somehow erase the weight behind it.

The silence now feels suffocating. Kiana swallows with difficulty, her eyes scanning Hua’s face for any kind of reaction, yet unexpectedly, the woman smiles softly at her. It’s faint and doesn’t reach her eyes, not enough to touch the sadness still lingering there.

“Today was an exhausting day for you, I suppose” Fu Hua finally says, sighing heavily before her eyes flick briefly toward the wooden bridge. “I hope you’ll remember our talk. At the very least… reconsider your stance on all this.”

Kiana takes a quiet breath and nods weakly, reaching one hand to hold her own elbow in a mindless gesture. Somehow, this brings a bit of relief, as if the moment didn’t escalate into the emotional outburst she had feared.

Still, a part of her, small and weird, feels disappointed for some reason.

“You think this is the end of it? Really?”

A sudden voice, chuckling, low, and dripping with wicked delight creeps into her ears. Kiana tenses instinctively, her vision unfocusing as the rising drumbeat of her heart floods her head.

“Oh no, this is just the beginning”

“What do you think will happen once you leave this mountain and return home? Do you truly believe this will be just another little secret buried among the trees?”

Kiana’s eyes widen with growing horror, her breath catching in her throat.

“They’ll know. All of them. And then there’ll be no escape from the pitiful gazes, the worried voices, the stares that say how pathetic you’ve become. Oh, it will be delightful!”

A creeping, sickening fear sinks into her bones as the images bloom behind her eyelids, each more vivid than the last. Her blood runs cold, sweat slowly building at her temples. A subtle movement in her periphery makes her blink and glance back at Fu Hua, who now looks more concerned, her eyes squinting ever so slightly.

“Are you okay?” Hua’s voice cuts in, sounding oddly distorted, like it’s coming from far away. Kiana struggles to focus, her body too frozen to breathe properly.

“Y-Yes! Of course!” she chirps out in a high and shaky voice, sounding squeakier than she’s ever heard herself. Embarrassed, she clears her throat and tries again:

“W-Why are you asking?”

“You look pale” Hua says plainly, scanning her face with a slight arch of one brow. “…And you’re sweating. It’s like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Kiana scoffs and gives a dismissive hand wave. “It’s n-nothing, just got a little hot for a moment.”

“On an autumn evening?”

“We Kaslanas are hot-blooded, what can I say?” she jokes with a quiet, awkward laugh that doesn’t last long, falling into a tense silence.

“Truly a character, aren’t you?”

The mocking voice echoes again, making her flinch slightly. Her jaw tenses, and her gaze drops toward the dry leaves scattered across the ground.

“Joking, after nearly falling to your death by your own feet…”

Kiana inhales sharply and closes her eyes, letting out a long breath through her nose as she tries to slow the pounding inside her ribcage. Her hand drifts unconsciously to her chest.

“I wonder… what would your dear father and sister think of all this?  Or your aunty~?”

Kiana’s brow furrows deeply, her face turning somber as she clenches her teeth hard enough to make her jaw ache.

“Hua sees how broken you are now, as well as that peculiar Herrscher. Hmm… Would your friends be surprised? Or just quietly disappointed? Maybe little Bronya will look at you with that silent heartbreak gaze she carries so well.”

A shiver runs down Kiana’s spine at the image of their faces distorting into shadows, blurring and bleeding together in her mind.

“Oh, and what about your poor little wife? Always worrying over your well-being just for you to wander around bridges instead of talking to her?”

That one hits like lightning, the fear strikes deep and seizes her like a vice. Kiana freezes. Her arms fold tightly across her chest as she hugs herself, trying to suppress the tremors now crawling over her skin. Behind her eyes, Mei’s tear-streaked face flashes with brutal clarity, and Kiana swears she can feel it—her throat closing around it like a scream she can’t release.

“What a pitiful woman… Waiting so long, only to end up with a pathetic excuse of a lover.”

No.

Shut it.

Shut it.

“I’m not broken” she mutters under her breath, feeling the warmth swelling in her eyes, fighting back the urge to let out a strangled sob as even breathing becomes a struggle.

“I know you’re not” Fu Hua’s voice cuts through the noise, soft and grounding.

Stunned, Kiana drifts her gaze back to her, slowly recognizing the sympathy in Hua’s eyes through the blurring in her vision. Her patient presence feels like a quiet relief, helping her grip on the present and try to pull herself out of the mess inside her head. The realization that Hua has been here the whole time, quiet and watching while she kept slipping further away hits her hard. It makes her feel exposed… but strangely comforted.

A tiny, weak smile tugs at her lips as she hurriedly wipes away the tears with both hands, sniffling.

“Sorry about that… I’ve been drifting over and over in such a short span of time” she mumbles, casting an apologetic glance at Fu Hua.

A new silence stretches between them before Kiana finally takes a deep breath and turns fully toward her, her eyes quietly pleading.

“Can you… not talk about this to the others? Please?” she asks, already knowing the answer by the subtle hardening in Hua’s expression.

“You know I can’t do that, Kiana,” Hua replies gently, her gaze lowering while a solemn shadow hides behind her eyes. “This isn’t something that should be hidden any longer… It’s dangerous for you.”

That sounds so irritably like Hua.

The thought flashes through Kiana’s mind with a hint of bitterness, but this time, she doesn’t fight it. She accepts it like a heavy sentence already passed.

“I understand… truly, I do. But…” she trails off, her lips tightening into a thin line as her eyes flick to her left hand, focusing on the ring gracing her finger, a silent reminder that her life is tied to someone else’s now.

“Can I be the one to tell Mei?” she asks weakly, not yet brave enough to lift her eyes.

All she hears is a quiet sigh while, in her periphery, Hua shifts her weight slightly.

“I’m not going to voice it to the four winds, if that’s what you’re afraid of” she says at last. “But I won’t stay silent if they bring it up. That’s all I can offer.”

Kiana huffs faintly, a resigned and sad smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

“That’s good enough for me” she whispers with sincerity, finally meeting Hua’s gaze in silent understanding.

“Thank you” she adds with a smile, not the bright, charming one everyone expects from her, but something quieter, smaller, yet genuine this time.

Something shifts in Hua’s gaze at that, a brief and somber flicker of emotion that creeps into the depth of her eyes. Is it pity? Guilt? Or sadness?

Kiana isn’t sure, and maybe she doesn’t want to know.

Feeling suddenly drained to the core, yet strangely lighter, Kiana turns her head toward the path leading back to the main road down the mountain. There’s a heaviness in her limbs, a dull ache building behind her eyes.

This is it. The cat’s out of the bag. She can’t keep hiding behind the illusion of normality.

The thought is… liberating, almost. Like a storm finally breaking after days of tension in the air, or maybe the last ray of light vanishing, surrendering the world to the dark.

Whatever it is, she can only brace herself for what comes next.

__________

By the time she finally distinguishes the familiar porch and façade of their house, the sky has already begun to turn orange, the daylight fading into dull shadows. Her phone remains buried in her pocket, buzzing endlessly now that the signal has returned, notification after notification, messages and missed calls piling up. They could be from anyone, but she already suspects whose name holds the greater number.

Fu Hua had been kind enough to drive her back to the bus station, leaving her with a silent, worried look in her eyes. She had tried to talk, to coax something out of Kiana, to offer space for her to “open up.” But after the bridge incident, all Kiana feels is a dull numbness in her chest and a heavy fatigue in her limbs that makes even the smallest movement a burden. The details of what led her to that edge blur in her mind now, but the core of it remains, an echo crawling under her skin, a dread that won’t stop buzzing.

She had promised she would tell Mei. At least, that’s what she told Fu Hua.

And she knows it’s only a matter of time before word spreads among their friends. Honestly, she can’t blame Fu Hua for “snitching.” If the roles were reversed, Kiana would want to know if one of them was falling apart, she’d even be grateful, yet despite that understanding, a small, bitter resentment festers in the back of her mind, uninvited but impossible to shake.

Would Mei already know? Did Fu Hua send her a text, or maybe call her, while Kiana was on her way back? She had been too focused on the passing landscapes and her own drifting thoughts to care about her phone, left silenced in airplane mode. If that’s the case… then she needs to brace herself, for the storm she’s about to walk into, for Mei’s pain, for the collapse she herself has caused.

Taking a deep breath, Kiana gives her cheeks two firm slaps, forcing herself awake and her legs to move. Her gaze settles on the front door, the door she has passed through countless times, yet now it feels almost like that door that sealed her destiny as the Herrscher of Finality all those years ago. Step by step, counting each one as if walking to her own judgment, she climbs onto the porch of the house, her home. Hers and Mei’s.

Her hand hesitates on the handle, keys dangling loosely in her grip. For a moment she freezes, caught in the weight of her own indecision, seconds pass before she exhales sharply, shakes her head, and forces her body to move. The lock clicks open with a quick twist of her wrist, and the door swings inward, revealing a faint light and soft echoes of a cozy life waiting inside.

The sounds drifting from the kitchen spark a small, unexpected lightness in Kiana’s chest. For a brief moment, the weight pressing on her mind dulls as she steps inside and shuts the door behind her, the entryway is dim, shadows stretching across the walls. Her eyes flick to the side, and there they are: a pair of neatly arranged shoes set carefully out of the way, an umbrella perfectly aligned, a coat hung with precision on the wall rack.

The sight makes a faint smile tug at her lips. It’s so Mei, that quiet ritual of order and care, carried out day after day like breathing; even now, with everything else crashing around her, Kiana finds it endearing. One of the cutest things about Mei.

Oh, right. She almost forgot…

“Meeei~” Kiana calls out, dragging the name with playful whine, doing her best to sound casual. She toes off her boots, lining them neatly beside Mei’s shoes, and continues down the corridor. “I’m home!” she announces, sing-song, like usual.

She doesn’t have to wait long. A warm voice answers from the kitchen, just as she predicted. Satisfaction flickers through her chest, small and fleeting, as she gets closer, a savory aroma drifts into her nose, and she inhales deeply, following it like a trail until she reaches the doorway.

Peeking inside, she spots Mei at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled, knife in hand as she chops vegetables with steady precision.

“You’re finally back” Mei greets her, glancing up with a small, widening smile. “I was starting to get worried since you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls…” she comments as her hands finish the last few cuts before setting the knife down with practiced ease.

“Oh, that. The signal on the road wasn’t the best…” Kiana mumbles, fumbling for an excuse as she steps reluctantly toward the kitchen island. Her gaze stays low, though she can still feel Mei’s eyes settle on her.

A quiet chuckle escapes Mei, soft enough to loosen the knot in Kiana’s chest just a little. It gives her enough courage to lift her head, meeting that familiar, gentle gaze as Mei closes the distance between them.

“I expected something like that” Mei says warmly, lips curving into a smile. “So I’m not surprised. Still… I’m glad you’re back safe and sound.” Her hand rises to cup Kiana’s cheek, and she leans in to press a tender kiss against her temple.

Kiana shuts her eyes and takes in a shaky breath, but instead of soothing her, the gesture only tightens the knot inside her throat. It coils lower, heavy and sharp in her stomach… Is this guilt?

“So, how did your day go?” Mei’s voice pulls her back, gentle as always. Kiana blinks at her, caught off guard, as her brain scrambles to follow the thread of the conversation.

“Ah, it was… fine” she manages after a pause, her eyes darting briefly to the side before forcing themselves back to Mei’s.

Mei arches a brow, amused, while her smile quirks playfully. “Just fine? You sound like one of my students when they’re asked about a museum trip.”

The remark catches Kiana so off guard her brain stalls completely. She just stares at Mei blankly.

Why is she acting like she doesn’t know?

She… doesn’t?

Kiana’s frown deepens as her gaze drops again, while the inner confusion starts spiraling. She had braced herself for judgment, for the eruption she was sure would be waiting at the door, but instead… nothing. Mei’s warm smile is still there, waiting, expectant, and …fragile, far too precious to shatter with the truth.

“Kiana?” Mei tilts her head slightly as her smile falters, showing a confused expression.

“U-Uhm, I mean–” Kiana blurts, straightening her back with an exaggerated puff of her chest, as if she can force conviction into her words. “It was great, actually! I forgot how refreshing the mountain air is. And the settlement on the lower side has grown so much! Really impressive.”

You liar.

“Is that so? Sounds really nice. Maybe we can visit Fu Hua together sometime.” Mei’s smile returns and her gaze warms, giving Kiana a fleeting breath of relief.

“Yeah” she complies quickly, flicking her eyes to the stove where a pot simmers on low heat. “Maybe sometime…”

For a moment, only the faint bubbling of the pot fills the silence. Kiana’s smile falters just slightly, never reaching her eyes, but still, Mei seems satisfied with her vague answer, brushing her thumb over Kiana’s cheek in a tender gesture before she sighs and turns her attention back to the stove.

“Dinner’s ready, by the way. Perfect timing as always, right, Kiana?” Mei teases softly, reaching for the spoon to stir the pot.

Kiana lets out an amused breath and steps closer, peeking over her shoulder. The sweet, rich aroma of curry rises to meet her nose before her eyes catch sight of the generous stew swirling under Mei’s careful hand.

“Curry, huh…” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on the gentle motion of the spoon. Normally, that alone would be enough to awaken her appetite, yet now it stirs nothing.

“You’ve been a bit down lately, so I thought a good meal might cheer you up” Mei says by her side before lifting a spoonful of curry, cupping her other hand beneath it to catch any spill while she holds it up.

Kiana blinks but leans forward obediently, tasting it in silence. The sweet flavor and perfectly balanced seasoning wash over her tongue in a gentle wave, and her eyes widen slightly before she swallows.

“Mm… sweet pepper curry” she says softly with a faint smile tugging at her lips as she lifts her gaze to Mei’s, which softens in turn, pleased by the words.

“Alright, then. Let’s have dinner and talk more while we eat, what do you say?” Mei suggests, setting the spoon down before turning toward the cupboard.

Kiana watches her for a moment, breathing out softly through her nose. “That sounds great” she murmurs, stepping in to help with the plates.

For a few minutes, as they sit at the kitchen island, the air between them is calm, even soothing. They share a pleasant chat while Mei recounts the “mundane” details of her day and Kiana fills in with parts of hers, mentioning her time with Fu Hua, the antics of Little Book and the Herrscher of Sentience with the mountain’s curious wildlife. She describes some peculiar, almost comical birds the locals call “phoenixes”, though terrifying in truth, especially after Kiana witnessed them chasing the duo down a mountain path with far too much ferocity.

Bit by bit, Kiana finds herself swept along by the flow of the conversation, nibbling at her food almost absentmindedly, as if reminding herself that she has to finish the meal Mei made just for her. But when she raises the last spoonful to her mouth, a thought stops her cold; her eyes flick to Mei, who seems completely at ease, distracted as she talks about the stress of her students’ final grades.

Fu Hua kept her word.

And instead of feeling relieved, Kiana feels the weight of her own promise pressing harder on her chest.

‘Nothing better than doing things yourself’, people always say, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Kiana lowers the spoon, setting it carefully into her empty plate, feeling her throat dry, even after reaching for her glass of water. She draws a deep breath, fists tightening in her lap as she turns slightly toward Mei.

“Hey, Mei…”

“Mm?” Like a switch, Mei cuts her rambling short, blinking at the sudden change in Kiana’s tone. She sets her eyes on her, attentive.

“You… didn’t call Fu Hua today, did you?”

Mei raises an eyebrow, pausing for a second as if combing through her memory. Confusion flickers across her expression at the odd direction of the question. “Well… I did send her a text, asking if you were on your way home already, since you didn’t answer mine.” She shrugs lightly with a casual tilt in her voice.

“Why? Weren’t you with her the whole day?” Mei asks, not accusingly, but her question still makes Kiana swallow hard despite herself.

“W-Well, I just…” The sudden courage she had vanishes under Mei’s gaze. Uneasiness blooms in her chest as she scrambles for the “appropriate” words to make her great confession, but her mind goes completely blank.

Fortunately, Mei doesn’t press, simply waits for her to gather herself, yet the silence stretching between them only makes Kiana’s restlessness spike. After all, telling her loving wife, the woman who values her wellbeing above all else, that she nearly slipped off a cliffside bridge while seeing an illusion of a past enemy who once made their lives hell… is not the easiest thing to put into words.

But it has to be done.

“Something happened today at the mountain.” The words leave her lips in a mutter.

She doesn’t have the bravery to meet Mei’s eyes anymore, shifting her gaze instead to her plate. Her heartbeat hammers against her ribs, loud in her ears while she forces herself to breathe evenly, and focus on the next words.

“I– T-There’s a wooden bridge on the road to Fu Hua’s house, and… there’s a long cliff there…” Her voice wavers as she fights to keep it steady. One hand drifts to her forearm, gripping and rubbing it, as if the motion can somehow wear off the nervous clawing inside her.

A brief silence follows, but Mei stays quiet, waiting for her to continue. Kiana shifts uncomfortably in her seat, finally lifting her eyes with reluctance, only to find Mei watching her with a neutral expression, patient and expectant.

“I almost… fell from it.”

The words come out in a whisper and Kiana tenses, bracing herself for the explosion that should follow. But instead of outrage, Mei simply blinks. Her shoulders tighten, her eyes widen just slightly, and then, like a well-practiced mask, a smile curves her lips, her expression softening with reassurance. Still, Kiana can see it. The flicker of fear that fails to hide behind her eyes.

Even now, she still tries to maintain the façade of normalcy in front of her. An attempt to soothe Kiana’s restlessness? Or her own?

They are more alike than Kiana ever realized.

“Oh… Well, that’s… A-Accidents happen in these types of–”

“It was not an accident.” Kiana cuts her off before she can finish.

The silence that follows drops cold and suffocating. Mei’s smile falters, her eyes widening as she stares at her and Kiana feels a tug deep in her chest at the sight. She lowers her gaze quickly to her lap, her hands fidgeting in a nervous search for… something. Something she’s not even sure of herself.

“I… I went to Fu Hua because I thought she could help me with… this.” Kiana continues, while something pools in the pit of her stomach and tightens her throat, making her voice quiver. “I’ve been seeing things that I thought were just residue from lack of sleep or even something Honkai-related, b-but Fu Hua told me that might not be the case and I–”

She catches herself rambling, her words beginning to blur together. Which prompts her to stop for a moment, taking a shaky breath out before trying again.

“I got scared. I was afraid there wasn’t really a way to end all the visions and voices piling up in m-my head. I… I wasn’t thinking–”

“I-I don’t understand.” Mei’s voice cuts through, making Kiana stop in her tracks. She blinks, finally turning to face her.

Her heart skips at the sight of Mei’s eyes trembling, her breath shallow, her shoulders taut with barely contained tension, as if she’s holding herself together by sheer will.

“You’re saying… you were planning to jump?” Mei’s words come in a fragile thread, breaking when a shaky breath escapes her. She raises a hand to her throat, swallowing as if it takes painful effort.

Kiana’s lips part, but no words come out, only the crushing realization that makes her feel like the lowest scum alive. Unable to say it, she nods slowly, her gaze darting to the side as her body shrinks into the chair, as if staying small and still could lessen the unbearable weight pressing down on her.

Unexpectedly, a quivering half-laugh slips out of Mei, pulling Kiana’s eyes back to her. Mei has her gaze lowered, the corner of her mouth twitching in a grimace that almost resembles a smile. But then Kiana notices her eyes glazing over before she quickly raises a hand to cover them.

Kiana lets the silence stretch, not daring to speak while Mei works through it at her own pace. Or maybe she’s just one step away from breaking down. Either way, Kiana doesn’t dare risk making it worse.

Mei keeps trying to steady her breathing, but each attempt crumbles into shaky inhales or sharp exhales. Even the faint trembling of her shoulders is visible now, making guilt, and shame, creep through Kiana’s chest.

After what feels like hours, Mei straightens in her seat and lowers her hand. Her eyes are wet, shimmering with tears barely held at bay. She blinks rapidly, swallowing with effort before finally lifting her gaze to Kiana again.

“…Why?”

Kiana blinks, the single word crashing into her like a foreign language.

‘Why?’

It feels misplaced, absurd, like being told the sun will explode tomorrow. Her brows knit faintly as she searches Mei’s face for context, but finds nothing but sorrow.

“I… I don’t know” she mumbles before she can stop herself. “I-I mean, it’s–” However, any intent to speak further quiets down in her throat.

Mei’s eyes glisten, a raw sorrow spilling in them as she exhales quietly and lowers her gaze back to the table.

“I just don’t get it” she whispers, her voice carrying a helplessness that tears straight through Kiana’s chest. “Why would you even think of…” but she stops before ending her question, for a moment, a flicker of frustration draws in her features, mixing into the devastating cocktail that has become her expression.

“I tried pressing in, and we ended up fighting. I tried giving you space and time to open up on your own, and you do… this?” Mei’s voice cracks at the end, her hands moving faintly as if trying to lay something invisible on the table.

Kiana’s face falls with guilt, the knot in her throat tightening until it nearly chokes her.

“Nothing I try ever ends up well” Mei murmurs, almost to herself, but Kiana hears it too, and it stings deep in her chest.

For a moment, Kiana finds the empty bowl in front of her endlessly fascinating, staring into it as the silence thickens. The cozy warmth they’d shared minutes ago has already been devoured by the heavy, suffocating tension swallowing the room.

A quiet, resigned sigh slips out of her. Her lashes lower, and she can already feel that familiar numbness settling back into her chest.

You ruined it.

A grimace flickers across her face at the cruel thought. The corners of her eyes sting, so she forces a deep breath, blinking rapidly as if the motion could steady her. She sneaks a quick glance at Mei, praying she didn’t notice.

“I need to use the bathroom.” Mei’s voice comes out strangled and rushed, like she’s holding herself together by a thread.

Before Kiana can say anything, Mei pushes up from her seat and leaves the kitchen, her footsteps fading down the hall and leaving behind a crushing stillness. Kiana exhales loudly, letting her head fall forward until her eyes land on the spoonful of curry left behind, forgotten.

“I swear this curry has something against me and bad moments…” she mutters low and bitter, letting the silence fall harshly around her.