A faint breath escapes Eroan as his eyes flutter open. The world feels blurry, as if someone smeared the edges of reality with trembling hands. For a moment, he doesn’t move, still lying where he fell. His chest rises and falls slowly, painfully, each inhale fighting its way back into his lungs.

  “Aagh!… what happened to me?” he mutters tiredly, placing his palm on his forehead.

  As he recalls everything, his eyes widen, frozen like a statue. Pain kicks in. He gradually pushes himself up. The pavement beneath him is cold. His fingers brush against dust, gravel, and the dried smear of blood on his sleeve.

  A few images strike him—

  flashes of red, screams with no mouths, bones collapsing, someone nailed to a cross wearing a hollow smile as if

  the memories hit him as if they were his own—too vivid, too real.

  His heartbeat spikes. Shock steals his breath, and he starts suffocating. After a moment of restless patting on his chest, the panic finally fades. He sits there for a while, waiting for something only he knows. Eroan looking at his broken watch, nodding his head while slightly smiling "Huh! What's wrong with me? Even at this moment I'm still thinking about her". Said in disbelief.

  The mansion gates creaked open as the group stepped out - Crest leading casually, Kause walking beside him, and two others following with quiet, uneasy steps.

  As they entered the forest, The late-evening air felt heavier -thick, like it was waiting for something

  They moved down the stone path, scanning their surroundings. One of the men suddenly froze, pointing toward a metal pole at the edge of the walkway.

  A *caution sign* hung there, swaying slightly in the breeze.

  “Hey… what’s that?” he asked, voice trembling just a bit.

  Crest barely glanced at it.

  “Relax. Probably nothing serious,” he said, waving it off.

  Kause’s eyes flicked toward the sign for a second longer than necessary but he said nothing.

  As they continued walking, Crest stretched his arms behind his head.

  “It’s been a while since all of us went out together,” he commented, tone light and teasing.

  “Yeah,” Kause replied with his usual calm, calculated voice. “It has been.”

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  “So,” Crest shot him a sideways smirk, “where’ve *you* been? Haven’t seen you around at all.”

  Kause’s jaw tightened for a split second.

  *Brat knows damn well where I’ve been,* he growled silently in his mind, clenching his fist just enough to feel his nails touch his palm.

  But outwardly, he gently smiled.

  “Well… it’s complicated,” he said smoothly. “Still, I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”

  Before Crest could reply, one of the two following them tugged lightly at Kause’s sleeve.

  “Sir Kause… what is that?” the man whispered, voice shaking.

  Everyone turned.

  This time, it wasn’t a sign.

  It was the silence.

  A deep, unnatural stillness that wrapped around the trees, the path, the mansion behind them; like something had smothered all sound in an instant.

  The group tensed, instincts snapping awake.

  A rustle.

  A shift in the shadows.

  Then-

  A scream ripped through the air.

  Sharp.

  Short.

  Cut off.

  They froze, blood running cold.

  And just like that…

  It began.

  Eroan inhales sharply and forces the memories back down.

  “This isn’t the time… I have to go.”

  His voice cracks.

  He looks around there's nothing but an empty street, a fading orange sky, and the lonely stillness of late evening.

  His wrist tingles.

  He lifts his arm.

  His watch—the one he chose so carefully, tied to memories he cherishes is cracked straight through the center. Frozen. Completely dead. A shard of glass reflects his own exhausted, frightened eyes.

  He clenches his fist.

  “What time is it…? Dammit.”

  He was supposed to be somewhere.

  With someone.

  Staggering to his feet, he spots a small convenience shop down the road, its lights still on. He half-limps, half-rushes inside, ignoring how the bell above the door rings too loudly.

  The shopkeeper looks up, eyes widening instantly.

  "Kid, what on earth happened to you?"

  Eroan glances down at himself—torn shirt, dusty sleeves, dirt streaked across his face, messy hair, uneven breathing.

  He forces a shaky laugh.

  “Uh… long story. Really long.”

  *Damn, I can’t be chatting around at a time like this,* he whispers to himself.

  Then he sees the clock on the wall.

  Eroan’s heart drops.

  He mutters a quick, “Thanks, Uncle,” and rushes out before the shopkeeper can question him more.

  The wind stings his face as he runs. His shoes scrape against the ground, the air burns in his lungs. Sweat mixes with dust on his skin, weighing him down as if the world itself were dragging at his shoulders.

  But he doesn’t stop.

  Not once.

  Because somewhere ahead, she’s waiting.

  By the time he slows, his chest is heaving and his clothes cling to him. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and looks up at the small house across the street.

  Behind the window, Shina still sits.

  Her eyes, once bright with expectation, now dimmed with the kind of tiredness that only waiting can create. She has waited long enough for doubt to creep in. The sky outside her window dims. The wind nudges the curtain gently, lifting it with a softness that mirrors her sigh.

  She closes her eyes.

  Maybe he isn’t coming.

  The thought hurts more than she expected.

  She pushes herself up slowly, ready to step away, ready to let the disappointment settle—

  when a voice calls out desperately from outside.

  “Shina!”

  Her breath stops.

  For a second, she doesn’t turn. She’s afraid it’s just her mind playing tricks on her. But the voice rough, breathless, real cuts through her hesitation.

  The curtain shifts again with the breeze as she gives one last glance outside.

  And she freezes.

  There he is.

  Dust-covered, clothes half-ruined, chest rising and falling as if he ran for miles. His hair sticks to his forehead, his hands trembling slightly. But he’s standing there alive, exhausted, looking straight at her with eyes carrying something fragile and warm.

  Her lips part. Her heart softens. A small, stunned smile breaks through the disbelief.

  The world seems to brighten around her.

  The fading evening light reflects in her eyes as if someone reignited the sun just for that moment.

  Eroan straightens, breath slowly steadier, his gaze locked on hers.

  And for that one quiet second--

  after pain,

  after fear,

  after a world filled with darkness

  it feels like the universe breathes again.

  Hope returns.

  Because someone waited.

  And hope only comes when patience stands long enough for the will to rise.