I could see it.
Even though my eyes had never truly worked, I could see it with absolute clarity.
Tetsuo was returning from training with Julian. His breathing was uneven, yet he walked straight, as if exhaustion were a shame that could be punished away.
Julian did not care. He never did.
I pulled a lemon candy from my pocket. It was sticky. The future always left my clothes that way.
"Tetsu," I said. "In one of the many futures… you will be happy."
He stopped. I felt the faint tremor of his hesitation.
"But when you are," I added, "please… don't forget me."
"You ate too much sugar again, Silas," he replied.
I smiled.
Julian watched us from the back of the room, polishing his mirror. His reflection was perfect.The future was not.
Tetsuo took the candy.
That was one of the few timelines where he did.
.....
I tried to open my eyelids, but a leaden resistance held them shut—as if my eyes were sealed by two heavy slabs that refused to yield.
I was lying on something soft. Too soft.As if the mattress had been torn from a cloud.
Where am I…?
I forced my vision open, and the first thing I saw stole my breath away.
A white dress, trimmed in navy blue.
"Wha—…?" was all I managed to murmur.
I slowly turned my head.
Lyaris was asleep beside me, unaware that I had woken. A few strands of her hair brushed against my face, sending an odd sensation through me… almost like tickling.
Her breathing was calm—too steady, as if measured with care.There was a faint weariness in it, the kind left behind by someone who does not sleep, but waits.
How long was I out…?
That was when I noticed the room.
It was hers.
Beyond the window, the night stretched like a dark mist. Cold, pale moonlight poured through the glass, mercilessly marking the time I had lost.
Do not trust light that casts no shadow.
The phrase echoed in my mind.
The voice of someone I was supposed to remember.No… someone I wanted to remember.
I looked back at her. Her golden hair shimmered beneath the moonlight, an almost unreal contrast.
Is it wrong… I wondered, to want to trust?
Just then, Lyaris began to wake. She let out a small yawn and rubbed her eyes.
Am I really allowed to witness something like this right after waking up?Wait—
"I'm finished," I declared silently, accepting my cruel fate now that she was awake.
"Hm? Tetsuo?" she asked softly. "You're finally up."
She didn't kill me?Is the world finally starting to smile at me?
Lyaris stretched in front of the window, as if only then becoming aware of the time.
"Well," she exclaimed with clearly feigned indignation, "you haven't even started your first day of training and you already slept like you hadn't rested in days."
"Pathetic," she concluded flatly, not even looking at me, as if delivering an unquestionable diagnosis.
She moved to a small table, picked up a quill and an inkwell, and began to write… or perhaps draw.
The writing of this world still feels strange to me—more symbol than word.
"Sit," she ordered, tapping the chair. "Since I doubt you can train today, you'll make up for lost time by studying," she added, wagging a finger authoritatively.
"Fine, but let it be clear that I know nothing about how people write here," I replied with resignation as I sat down.
"You haven't eaten all day. I'll get something before you collapse in my bed again," she said, heading toward the kitchen and leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The flash.
I'm being watched… but by whom?
The S.E.C. is gone. No members remain alive—at least none that I know of.He said they would come for me… but also for Lyaris.
Someone from her past?
Now that I think about it, Oswin mentioned something about a royal family. I've only gone out once, just to buy supplies.Still, it wouldn't be strange for royalty to live in that castle by the river.
As these thoughts wandered through my mind, my hands moved on their own. Without realizing it, I dipped the quill in ink and traced an imperfect, yet recognizable replica of the castle reflected in the dark waters.
Lyaris returned with a steaming plate and placed it on the table without a word. Her eyes flicked to the paper for just an instant.
She didn't frown.She didn't ask.
She simply stood still for a second too long.
Then she looked away and kept walking, as if nothing had happened.
But the silence she left behind weighed heavier than any reprimand.
Two hours later—
"Well… I think that's enough studying for today. I should get some sleep," I said, both satisfied and exhausted.
"For someone who knew nothing, you progressed quite well," she admitted, in her own way. "You can already read simple words and pronouns."
"Thank you, Teacher Lyaris!" I said with a smile. "You're incredibly good at teaching."
"That's obvious. Save your energy," she dismissed lazily.
Even so, something in her eyes betrayed the remark.
She then lay down on the bed, covering herself halfway with the blankets, as if my presence no longer mattered.
I thought about how different things were. When I first met her, she barely opened the door.
Before I could ask anything, she spoke.
"You can't sleep in the shed, and I doubt you'd want to sleep next to Oswin," she explained casually. "So bring some blankets."
I laid them on the floor and lay down—something I immediately regretted, as the floor was nothing like the bed I had woken up in.
I shifted around, searching for a somewhat comfortable position. Part of the discomfort wasn't from the floor, but from the strange feeling of never having slept this close to someone before.
Lyaris, weighed down by sleep, turned over and gave me her back, as if she too were finding her own comfort.
"Stop moving so much," she murmured, half-asleep.
"I-I'll try," I replied, pulling the blankets over my head.
"Try harder," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Still, there was a faint trace of discomfort in her voice.
I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply, using a technique I'd learned long ago to fall asleep in under two minutes.
And then, I fell.
A white flash blinded me, like a lamp being lit in a pitch-dark room.
"Why did we have to stay behind?" a voice asked the void.
The figure meticulously cleaned a pocket mirror, its surface reflecting a weary gaze sharpened by frustration.
"Tell me," he continued, turning toward the person sleeping beside him. "Was it worth it?"
The young man, lying inside some kind of sleep chamber, did not answer. He wore a faintly amused expression, as if mocking the question even in his sleep.
The heart monitor let out one extra beat.
The man with the mirror sighed.
"I hope he doesn't die before we reunite… if he even manages it," he muttered, standing up.
The white space did not shatter.
It simply faded—slow and warm, like a dying sunset.