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Caleb's boot struck the elevator floor in a sharp, impatient rhythm as the capsule climbed toward the uppermost level. He gritted his jaw as he checked the watch on his wrist. He hated coming home late—especially when she was waiting for him.
Ever could reshape human beings into efficient killers, but apparently still couldn’t design an elevator that didn’t take five minutes just to reach the top. They could at least grant him clearance to use his Evol inside the facility—he could launch himself upward in seconds.
The doors slid open and Caleb strode out, movements brisk and purposeful. He stopped before a security door that flashed a request for a pin, tapped the screen, and stepped through as it unlocked. The main hall was a maze of advanced robotic arms, shimmering holographic schematics, and scientists with blank, augmented faces.
Like him, everyone here had been modified by Ever—reshaped into hands and limbs engineered to work without the burden of emotion. Day after day, they pushed the boundaries of progress by discarding the weaknesses humanity was born with.
Caleb crossed to Professor Lucius’s private lab. He stood before the eye-scanner and let the red beam sweep across his violet iris.
“Colonel Caleb, welcome to Ever’s main laboratory,” said a robotic voice as the door clicked open. He stepped inside, and the door sealed behind him with a crisp finality.
The professor’s lab was stark compared to the hall outside—sterile white, sparsely furnished with only a few desks and banks of computers. But Caleb knew better than to underestimate them. Those machines held the lifeblood of Ever itself.
Professor Lucius stood at the center of the chamber, bathed in the cold blue glow of a towering holographic projection. The light clung to the folds of his lab coat like frost, but he didn’t turn when Caleb entered—far too absorbed in the construct hovering before him.
His violet eyes moved to the projection, and the moment he understood the diagram, his breath went still.
The diagram showed an anatomical reconstruction—limbs, organs, neural pathways, all labeled with efficiency ratings and integration percentages. The detail was surgical, comprehensive. When his eyes found the measurements—his exact proportions—a chill swept through him, sharp and incontrovertible.
This wasn't theoretical. This was a blueprint. For him.
“It’s complete,” Professor Lucius said, still studying the projection. “We’ve found a way to fully unlock your potential, Caleb.”
Caleb went still. He had resigned himself to the idea that it could never be done—not while he carried the lingering seven percent of himself he refused to surrender. Yet here it was: a blueprint that claimed otherwise.
A path to becoming Ever’s perfect weapon. Retaining his memories of her. Staying by her side. Protecting her.
But he knows well. Every miracle demands a price.
Caleb’s voice came low. “What’s the catch?”
The professor didn’t look away from the projection. His answer landed with unfeeling indifference.
“You might die.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened. Of course. Payment, presented plainly.
“What’s the timeframe?”
“Preferably soon. We can’t afford delays.” At that, Professor Lucius finally turned to him. “But I’ll allow you to choose the exact moment.”
A choice. How generous.
Caleb’s right arm—more of a machine than flesh—tightened into a fist “I’ll give you my answer tomorrow.”
“Very well.” Lucius’s gaze sharpened. “But Colonel… you understand the stakes. If the procedure fails, we’ll have to secure the Aether Core by other means.”
Did he mean… her?
Heat surged through Caleb’s chest, too bright and sharp, but he forced it back. He moved toward the door, his stride measured, his voice steady even as his remaining hand tensed at his side.
“I don’t fail, Lucius.”
A piece of classical music drifted through the cabin, soft strings threading into the quiet as Caleb guided his personal aircraft along Skyhaven’s winding airspace. He relied on melodies like this—steady, elegant—to keep his thoughts from spiraling. His left thumb found the necklace at his throat, tracing the familiar shape she'd given him. The metal warmed under his touch as he held it there, a steadying point in the turbulence that churned beneath his composed exterior.
Caleb had survived countless moments when death nearly claimed him. Every time he sensed that danger rising, a suffocating fear rose with it.
But he wasn’t afraid for himself. He was afraid for her.
If the procedure failed… would Ever get to her? Would they drag her into some sterile chamber and break her apart piece by piece, like they did to him? Or would she be forced into a life spent running, hunted across the world she’d once trusted?
Another thought struck harder:
Would she cry when the news reached her?
She’d have no one left to turn to. No anchor. No Caleb.
Caleb exhaled sharply and shook his head, dispelling the image.
He was spiraling again. He always did when it came to her. He needed to remember who she was: a capable hunter, sharp as a blade, bright as a sunrise. An optimist to her core. If he told her he had a long “mission” coming up, she’d probably just flash that brave smile and say, “Good luck, Caleb!”
Raindrops pattered against the windshield, drawing his eyes upward. The sky hung low and grey, heavy with something he recognized. He flicked on the wipers, the sweeping rhythm joining the music.
Of course the skies would rain now. They always seemed to understand him.
Caleb stepped into the apartment, slipping off his hat and setting his keys onto the first flat surface within reach. After locking the door, a faint snipping sound drifted through the quiet. He glanced at his watch—it’s nearly midnight.
Why is she still awake?
He followed the rhythm of scissors and found her in the living room, bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp. Colorful papers fanned across the carpet like petals, ribbons curled in loose spirals, glue tubes lay uncapped beside her knee. A neatly wrapped box sat waiting on the table. Of course—she was pulling an all-nighter for someone’s present.
Caleb moved closer and caught her in the middle of cutting a heart-shaped piece before pressing it gently into a scrapbook. Photos were already arranged across the pages: her and another girl, their smiles bright, their cheeks pressed close. They looked—well, undeniably tight-knit.
She was too absorbed to notice him, so Caleb cleared his throat.
The girl spun around, eyes wide and bright, a look that never failed to soften something sharp inside him.
“Caleb!” She got up immediately, wiping glue residue onto her shirt before wrapping her arms around him. He returned the embrace, the knot in his chest easing the moment he felt her warmth.
She tipped her face up at him, a tiny frown forming. “How long were you standing there?”
Caleb shrugged. “I mastered how to play the claw machine while waiting for you to recognize me.”
She pulled back, pouting. “Bully.”
He chuckled and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Just teasin'. Now—who’s keeping you awake at this hour?”
“My best friend, Tara. Her birthday’s next week.” Her voice softened into a proud little smile. “I want to finish everything early so I can spend her actual day having fun with her, not stressing over gifts.”
Caleb’s gaze drifted back to the scrapbook. Tara seemed sincere enough. They’d taken photos everywhere together. Pictures at arcades, the academy, the mall—there was even one beside a wanderer’s remains, both girls grinning like they’d just survived something thrilling. Their bond tugged something deep inside him—a quiet ache he quickly shoved aside.
“Best friend, huh?” Caleb narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “How’d you manage to snag one of those?”
She gasped as if deeply offended. “I may not be as popular as you, Caleb Xia, but I do have social skills.”
He laughed and gently pinched her nose, earning a stubborn shake of her head.
“I believe you, pipsqueak.” He turned to leave. “Don’t stay up too late. It’s almost midnight.”
He’d barely taken two steps before a tug on his sleeve stopped him. She watched him intently.
“Did you eat already?”
“Yes,” he answered, smoothing the lie with a practiced smile.
But she saw it instantly. Letting go of his cuff, she folded her arms, unimpressed.
“Did you genuinely think you could fool me with that weak lie?”
Caleb mirrored her stance. “If you want me to cook for you, just say so.”
She scoffed, wagging her index finger left and right like his windshield wipers earlier that night.
“Underestimating me again.” She raised her chin proudly. “I cooked something earlier. I’ll reheat it for you.”
There it was again—that sting he hated, sharp enough to make his chest tighten. Relief should’ve been the natural response, but instead the idea of her not needing him anymore twisted like a knife. He masked it fast, forcing a smirk before she could read him like she always did.
“You probably ordered something and decided to claim it as your own cooking.”
“I cooked it myself!” she snapped, though the flare of annoyance only deepened his smile. “Talk carefully while I’m handling your food.”
Caleb tilted his head, feeling lighter now that she was flustered again. “Or what?”
“Or…” She paused, thinking hard before her eyes lit with wicked triumph. “Or I’ll add cilantro to your food!”
Caleb lifted both hands in immediate surrender. That one was an actual threat—no point in teasing her further.
“Alright, alright. I’ll get changed. I trust the kitchen to you.”
She gave him a confident thumbs-up. “Got it, boss.”
Caleb changed into his usual navy t-shirt and white shorts, the familiar fabric grounding him for a moment. On his way back to the living room, his gaze drifted to his right arm. Beneath the skin, cold metal lay dormant—an unfeeling replacement he’d carried ever since the incident that almost claimed his life.
His eyes moved to his left arm. A quiet thought followed, heavy and unwelcome.
What happens if this one loses its sense, too?
He wouldn’t feel her fingers lacing through his. Wouldn’t feel the softness of her hair when he ruffled it, or the warmth of her skin beneath his touch.
A dry scoff escaped him. That was assuming he even succeeded in the process—assuming he got to come back to her at all.
And if he failed…
A hollow certainty settled in him.
She would be heartbroken—yes—but she would recover. She was a big girl now; she didn’t need him to hold her hand all the time anymore. She had Tara. She could cook, and she’d never let herself starve. She’d be protected by many, and her life would keep moving forward.
And he would simply… be gone.
Caleb’s lips curved into a wry smile.
No use sinking deeper into that dark corridor of thought. Not tonight. Not when she was in the kitchen reheating food she made for him, proud and determined.
He wanted to savor this moment, etch it into whatever memory he might have left.
When Caleb stepped into the kitchen, a warm, savory aroma drifted toward him, drawing a quiet smile to his lips. She was at the stove, gently stirring the soup in the glass pot while humming a soft tune. He watched her for a moment before moving to the cabinets.
“Do you need serving bowls?”
She turned, then quickly switched off the stove. “Yeah, two of them, please.”
Caleb reached up for the ceramic bowls just as she lifted the pot from the stove. He was about to carry the bowls to the table when, in the corner of his eye, he saw her grip slip.
The world sharpened.
In a heartbeat, Caleb's Evol flared—he pulled her into his arms and turned his body toward the danger. The pot crashed against the tile with a sharp shatter, hot soup splashing over the floor. A sting bit into his calf where glass and heat grazed him, but he barely registered it. His instincts always moved in one direction first.
It had been to protect her.
“Caleb!” She pulled away, eyes wide as she took in the mess. Guilt washed over her face. “I—I’m so sorry. I ruined dinner. I’ll clean it up.”
He sighed, looking at her—frazzled, apologetic, soft in all the ways he knew too well. She was still his chaos to manage, his little disaster to protect. And he wondered, not for the first time, how she’d fare fixing her own troubles without him.
“Don’t worry, it’s okay. I’ll make something else.”
With a wave of his hand, his Evol swept into motion—glass gathering itself, soup lifting off the tiles, everything righting into order. While the kitchen reset, he began cooking, moving with efficient calm. Cleaning and preparing dinner became a single seamless task; it didn’t take long.
Soon, Caleb brought two freshly made omelettes to the table. She was already seated, head lowered, shoulders small—embarrassment clinging to her like a heavy cloak.
“Let’s eat up while it’s warm,” he said, sliding into the seat beside her. He picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. From time to time, he felt her eyes flick to him, their glances soft but searching.
“Caleb…”
He turned. Her omelette sat untouched. Worry shadowed her face.
“Is… everything alright?” she asked with a small voice.
Caleb wiped his mouth, trying to put on a convincing ease he didn’t quite feel. He wasn’t sure what she’d picked up on, but she was sharper than he’d given her credit for.
“Yeah. What’s the matter?” His gaze drifted to her plate. “You don’t want the egg?”
She lowered her chopsticks—gentle in motion, firm in intent. She wasn’t going to eat, not until he gave her the truth.
Her eyes locked on his with an unwavering gaze.
“Did something happen at work?”
Caleb scoffed, lifting another bite to his mouth as he replied with practiced nonchalance, “Work is fine. Why’re you asking these things?”
“I know when you’re trying to hide things from me,” she said quietly. “You’re doing it now.”
He looked at her—really looked. The girl he once thought would cling to him forever had grown into someone steadier, perceptive enough to see through every flimsy veil he tried to pull over her eyes. He softened his expression, feigning a hint of unseriousness. Maybe she’d let this one slide.
“I’m not hidin' anything.” He took another piece of egg and, still chewing, asked, “Why’d you think I was?”
“You didn’t bully me after I broke a whole pot of soup,” she said, tone flat.
Caleb’s grip tightened around his chopsticks.
She thinks I’m acting shady because I didn’t bully her? What is with this girl?
He exhaled, long and resigned.
“I’ll tell you after we eat, okay?” He nudged her plate with the tip of his chopsticks. “And you better finish that quickly, because I want to rest.”
She seized her chopsticks and inhaled the omelette in three seconds flat.
Caleb stared, jaw unceremoniously dropping.
“Misshion acchomplishef,” she declared through a mouth full of egg.
He couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped. “At least swallow it first, pipsqueak.”
She forced the rest down and grabbed her water, triumphant. As Caleb smiled and cleared his plate, something inside him tightened.
She’s not letting this go.
Sliding closer, she tucked her hair neatly behind her ears as if preparing for a briefing.
“Now,” she said softly. “Tell me everything.”
Caleb sat on the dining chair, the two empty plates still on the table, cooling with the room's silence. His hand found the table's rim, left thumb brushing along the marble edge. The surface felt cold beneath his touch—smooth as glass, pristine.
Soon, he wouldn’t feel any of it. Cold, smooth, warmth… sensations that would turn into language only, untethered from memory. A fading vocabulary.
“I received a mission,” he said, lifting his gaze to her, “I’ll be leading an exploration through an uncharted section of the Deepspace Tunnel.” His throat tightened. “It might… take a while.”
She arched a brow. “An exploration mission? You’ve had plenty of those already.”
Caleb narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to read the gears turning in her head. “Yeah. I did.”
“Then why do you look so troubled?” She crossed her arms, shoulders tightening. “Don’t even try to lie to me, Caleb. You’re hiding something else.”
He pressed his lips together. He couldn’t tell her that Ever was involved. If he did, she’d storm the HQ with nothing but stubborn bravery and a reckless plan. He knew it.
“That’s all I can tell you,” he said softly, hoping gentleness would make her relent. “The mission is critical to the fleet. I can’t give you the details.”
Her arms loosened, sliding down to her lap as her gaze followed—heavy, resigned, as if she’d just been handed bad news.
“Ever’s involved, isn’t it?”
Caleb didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He only took her hand and forced a smile he hoped would pass for reassurance.
“It’ll be over before you know it, pipsqueak.”
She lifted her head. The somberness that had nearly swallowed her retreated, replaced by a flicker of hope—small, fragile, reaching for him.
“How long will you be gone?”
It was the one question he couldn’t bear. How could he answer when the truth was that he wasn’t even sure he’d come back? Caleb swallowed hard, doubt scraping raw against his throat. The splinter in his chest twisted, cruel and insistent, as he fought to keep the smile steady.
“Just a few months.”
Her eyes narrowed again. She saw right through him.
“And what if you don’t?”
He felt the tremor rising in her hands. Her eyes glistened, tears gathering faster than her breaths. She'd always been tender-hearted—it was one of the things he loved about her—but right now, watching her break over something he couldn't promise made his chest ache.
Caleb stood instinctively, then sank to the floor, kneeling before her with both hands holding hers.
“Hey,” he murmured, “I’ll be back, okay? Like I said—it’s just another exploration mission.”
She pulled her hands away from his, and the dam finally broke. She crumpled forward, covering her face as sobs wracked her. As if she didn’t want him to see her unraveling like this. The sight of her breaking so suddenly, so deeply, sent a spike of confusion—and something heavier—through him.
What did she know? What did she fear? Why did it seem like she was already mourning him—like she sensed a goodbye he hadn’t spoken yet?
“Why are you—”
“I don’t want—” Her words broke apart between sobs. “I don’t want you to go.”
Caleb exhaled softly. He rose halfway, one knee still on the floor as he pulled her into his arms. Her face buried itself in the crook of his neck, his hand stroking her hair with gentle, aching care.
“You can’t say that—”
“I know you don’t want to go either.” She cut him off, her hands refusing to return the embrace.
“But I have to.” Caleb pulled back, coaxing her hands away from her face with careful fingers. “I’m sorry.”
Her face snapped upward—and the anger in it made his chest tighten. She surged to her feet and shoved him back, hard.
Caleb staggered. He nearly lost his footing. When he looked up, she was already walking away.
"Hey—" He lunged forward and caught her hand.
She tried to pull free, but he drew her back against him. Her resistance lasted only a heartbeat before she broke, collapsing into his chest with a sharp, wrenching sob.
Her breath came in shattered bursts between cries. Caleb wrapped his arms around her, one hand cradling her head while his thumb brushed away tears. She didn't even know the full extent of what awaited him, yet the grief already hollowed her from the inside.
“It’s not fair…” she managed between sobs, a feeble fist thudding against his chest. “It’s not… fair.”
Caleb took her trembling hand, his Evol gently uncurling her fingers before she hurt herself. She shouldn’t be breaking over him. He wasn’t worth this. He lowered his head, lips brushing near her ear.
“Don’t worry, pipsqueak,” he whispered. “It won’t hurt. I’ll be gone, and life will keep moving. Everything will stay the same.”
Caleb liked to think he excelled at everything—including bedside manners. But the moment she shoved him, hard enough that he nearly lost his footing for the second time, he realized he’d miscalculated. He stared at her, stunned, a flicker of hurt rising in his chest. Yet the fury trembling through her made his throat tighten.
“Life will keep moving?” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Everything will stay the same?!”
She pointed at herself—a sharp, trembling gesture. Caleb felt his breath lock.
“You think I can just keep going after losing you twice?”
Caleb swallowed hard. “Honey—”
“I wouldn’t know how to face the day if you were gone,” she cried, her voice splintering. “I wouldn’t know how to breathe, how to eat, how to talk to my friends without thinking about you.” Her breath hitched, collapsing mid-sentence. “I wouldn’t even want to go on living, Caleb. Because…”
Her arms wrapped around herself, nails digging into her skin. Caleb felt his chest grow heavy with a guilt he had no defense against. Seeing her hurt like this carved into him in ways he hadn’t prepared for. He was on the verge of regretting ever telling her anything, but then—through her sobs—her next words came out small and trembling, yet sharp as a clear morning bell.
“Because I love you.”
Caleb moved before the thought even formed. He reached her, gathering her into him with both arms, holding her as if she might dissolve if he loosened his grip. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her fingers clenching at his waist hard enough to leave crescents in his skin. He didn’t flinch.
He pulled her in closer—closer still—as though he could fuse himself to her with nothing but sheer will.
"Forgive me. I was wrong." Caleb kissed her forehead again, voice unsteady. "I knew you loved me, pipsqueak. And I love you too.”
His chest felt too tight, like something inside him had cracked open and wouldn't close again. He'd said it. She'd said it. And now there was no pretending this goodbye would be anything but unbearable.
Her grip slackened. Caleb cupped her cheek with trembling tenderness and murmured, “Honey… look up.”
She shook her head, burrowing deeper into his chest. He slid a finger beneath her chin and guided her face upward.
“Look at me, love.”
Her gaze finally rose to his. Eyes red and shining, nose flushed, breath uneven—but she looked. Caleb brushed away her tears, each one heavier than the last. He had been terrified to say it earlier, but now—seeing her break like this—he understood with sudden, aching clarity what he needed to say.
“No matter what happens,” he said, voice quiet but resolute, “I promise I’ll come back to you.”
Her lips quivered, but she held his gaze and drew a breath that seemed to take everything she had.
“And I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it takes.”
Caleb managed a wry, pained smile. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to wait, that she should live freely—but after what he’d witnessed, saying so would tear something inside her. So instead, he cupped her face, thumb resting beneath her eye.
“Can you stay with me tonight?” he whispered. “Let’s just pretend we argued, and I was the foolish one who ruined everything.”
She pressed her hand over his, voice soft but firm. “You are. You’ll always be the foolish one.”
He leaned in, breath warm against her lips.
“I am,” he murmured, “for you.”