Chapter 40: Echoes of Normalcy
Adrian froze.
Marianne's voice carried across the café, soft but unmistakable. She stood there with her coffee, eyes bright with recognition, smile hesitant but genuine. For a moment, the noise of the city outside faded, and Adrian felt like he was seventeen again, sitting in a classroom, stealing glances at her while pretending to take notes.
"Marianne," he whispered, almost to himself.
She walked closer, her steps steady, her gaze never leaving his. "It's been years," she said, setting her cup down at his table. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Adrian swallowed hard, pendant pulsing faintly against his chest. He forced a smile. "Neither did I. I… just stopped by. Nostalgia, I guess."
Marianne laughed softly, the sound familiar, unchanged. "You always liked quiet corners. I remember you sitting by the window in class, sketching or reading while everyone else was noisy."
Adrian chuckled, though his chest ached. "And you always sat near the front, answering every question before anyone else could."
Her smile widened. "Some things don't change."
They talked awkwardly at first, fumbling through small details — old teachers, classmates, the chaos of high school exams. But slowly, the conversation warmed. Adrian found himself laughing, genuinely, scars forgotten for a moment. Marianne's presence was grounding, pulling him back into a world that felt fragile but real.
Leah's words echoed in his mind: Normal doesn't mean weak. It means human.
Adrian realized how much he had missed this — the simplicity of ordinary connection, the warmth of shared memories.
Marianne sipped her coffee, studying him. "You've changed," she said softly. "You look… steadier. But also tired. Like you've been carrying something heavy."
Adrian's chest tightened. He thought of the scars, the hunters, the relic feeding on his pain. He forced another smile. "Work does that. Long hours, deadlines. You know how it is."
She nodded, though her eyes lingered on him, sharp and curious. "Still, it's good to see you. I always wondered how you were doing."
Adrian's heart pounded. He wanted to tell her everything — the pendant, the battles, the scars that burned with every breath. But Elias's warning echoed: Attachments are dangerous. Hunters thrive on distraction.
He stayed silent, sipping his coffee.
They talked for nearly an hour, reminiscing about classmates who had moved abroad, teachers who had retired, and the silly rumors that once filled their hallways. Adrian found himself smiling more than he had in weeks. The pendant pulsed faintly, steady but calm, as if acknowledging the moment.
When Marianne finally stood to leave, she hesitated. "We should catch up properly. Maybe dinner sometime?"
Adrian's chest tightened, pendant glowing faintly. He nodded quickly. "I'd like that."
She smiled, genuine and warm. "Then it's a plan."
As she walked away, Adrian sat in silence, heart pounding, pendant pulsing faintly. He whispered to himself, voice hoarse. "Destiny never sleeps. But maybe… it waits."
The following days felt lighter. Adrian went through his routines — office work, commuting, basketball with coworkers — but his thoughts lingered on Marianne. He replayed their conversation, her laugh, the way her eyes had studied him.
Leah noticed immediately. "You're smiling more," she teased one evening, golden aura flickering faintly. "What changed?"
Adrian hesitated, then admitted, "I saw someone. From high school. Marianne."
Leah raised an eyebrow. "The crush you never confessed to?"
Adrian flushed, pendant pulsing faintly. "I… guess."
Leah smirked. "So destiny brought her back. Interesting."
Elias overheard, his expression sharp. "Attachments are distractions. Relics don't care about your heart. They care about survival."
Adrian clenched his fists, scars burning faintly. "But survival isn't enough. If I don't have something to fight for, then what's the point?"
Silence hung heavy. Elias said nothing more, but his gaze lingered, skeptical.
That night, Adrian sat by his window, pendant glowing faintly in his hand. He thought of Marianne's smile, her laugh, the warmth of ordinary connection. He thought of scars, of hunters, of relics feeding on pain.
He whispered to himself, voice hoarse. "I'll rise. I'll uncover the truth. But I'll live too. For her. For me."
The pendant pulsed again, brighter than before.
And Adrian Reyes knew the path ahead wasn't just about cultivation or history. It was about humanity — fragile, ordinary, but worth carrying alongside scars.