POV: Ren – Home, Evening
I had barely closed the front door before I heard my name.
"Ren," my father's voice called calmly from the living room. "Come here for a moment."
The usual quiet warmth of the house felt heavier than usual. Familiar scents — cooked rice, faint detergent, and the lingering incense my mother liked to burn — hung in the air, but tonight, they sat oddly on my senses.
I stepped into the room.
My parents were on the couch, sitting close together. My mother held a small velvet box on her lap. Across from them, Astraea sat silently in one of the side chairs, arms crossed, legs tucked under her. She didn't greet me. She just watched.
Something in her eyes warned me: Don't smile too much. Don't pretend too well.
I stayed quiet and folded myself neatly into the space beside my mother, playing the quiet, dutiful son I always was.
The Conversation
"You've been with Airi for nearly two years now," my mother said gently. "Longer than we ever thought someone could hold your attention." She chuckled, brushing her fingers over my hair.
"She's a sweet girl," my father added, not unkindly. "She brings balance to you. And we see how she looks at you."
"She adores you," Astraea said flatly. There was no smile on her face.
I didn't turn to her. I simply kept my gaze lowered and gave the faintest nod, the kind a shy boy gives when talked about.
"I care about her," I said softly. "You know that."
"You do," my mother said warmly. "Which is why we wanted to talk to you… about the next step."
She opened the box.
Inside, two silver promise rings glinted under the room's soft lighting. One was slender with a tiny engraved line around its band. The other — mine — was slightly heavier, smooth and polished.
"We spoke with Airi's parents," my father said. "And they're open to discussing marriage after you both graduate. But we want to start with this — a gesture, something personal between you and her."
"A promise," my mother added. "To stay true through university… and build toward something lasting."
I stared at the rings. So simple. So small. Yet each carried a weight neither of them could fathom.
Airi would be overjoyed.
She already saw a future where we belonged to one another. Where I was hers completely.
The Mask Tightens
I smiled — hesitant, sweet, the smile I had perfected since childhood.
"I… I'd like that," I said softly. "If she wants it… then I want it too."
"She'll say yes the moment she sees it," my mother said, touching my shoulder. "We'll go together to visit her parents soon. We'll make it official after graduation."
My father gave a satisfied nod. "She's a good match. Kind, patient, loyal. We're proud of you."
They didn't know I flinched inward at every word.
They didn't know about the kingdom beneath my feet, or the goddesses who bore my mark, who waited endlessly for my attention.
They didn't know that Airi's love — bright and overwhelming — often scraped against the walls of my other self.
Astraea's Quiet Watch
When the conversation ended, my parents moved to the kitchen, content.
Astraea remained seated.
She didn't speak right away. Just looked at me with a stillness too sharp to be casual.
"You didn't even hesitate," she said finally.
I looked at her then — met her eyes for the first time that evening.
"That's what they wanted," I replied, voice low.
"And what about what you want?"
I didn't answer.
Astraea stood, brushing past me as she whispered just loud enough to hear:
"She'll wear your ring. But she'll never know your crown."
Then she left the room in silence.
POV: Astraea – Midnight, Her Room
She couldn't sleep.
She never did when he smiled like that. That soft, shy smile he gave to everyone but her.
The house was silent, save for the sound of wind slipping between the trees outside. But inside her chest, there was a storm. Always had been—since the moment she met him, since the moment she saw him standing alone, quiet and kind, like he didn't belong in the world everyone else lived in.
Because he didn't.
The Lie She Accepted
To everyone else, she was his sister.
To him, she was just another layer of the mask. Another piece of a carefully arranged life that he performed to keep everything hidden.
But she had never believed it.
Not since that first night, when she heard him whisper something in a language this world didn't speak.
Not since she saw the way his eyes dimmed when no one was looking.
And not since she first dreamed of blood and stars and a voice echoing in her skull:
"Run."
The Past She Remembers
Astraea clutched the sheets to her chest and stared at the ceiling. Her body still tingled with the memory of his breath, his mouth against hers. But that wasn't what made her heart ache.
It was the space between them.
The thing inside him—the one he never spoke of—wasn't just pain. It was distance. An unfathomable chasm carved by something ancient, something she could feel but never touch.
She remembered standing beside a boy in another life. Not here. Not now.
The boy who didn't smile. The boy who stood at the edge of a crumbling world while a girl—she—screamed for him to run.
And then the light swallowed everything.
And he disappeared.
The Man He Became
She knew what he was now—partially. The name whispered in shattered realities, the shadow that walked between universes. Worldwalker.
She had pieced together fragments. Unexplained absences. Moments where time around him bent. Her own inexplicable memories—of places she'd never been, feelings she shouldn't have had.
But he never told her.
He couldn't.
Because the Ren he pretended to be—the shy, fragile boy everyone adored—wasn't him at all.
She didn't love that mask.
She loved the thing beneath it. The thing that remembered a girl, a voice, and a dying world. The one who had run.
The Root of Her Obsession
She rose from bed and walked to the mirror, staring at herself like she might find the answer in her own reflection.
Why did she love him?
Because she remembered losing him.
Because she remembered screaming as the sky shattered.
Because no matter how many worlds he walked, no matter how many goddesses bowed or slaves worshipped him, she had been there when it all began.
He was her ruin. Her only truth.
Even if he never spoke it, he remembered too.
She saw it in his eyes when he looked at her—not as a sister.
But as a ghost from the past.
A Truth She Can't Say
"I know who you are," she whispered to the empty room. "Even if you never say it. Even if you hide behind her… behind Airi. Behind that kingdom of silence."
Her hand pressed to her chest, trembling.
"You don't need to love me. You just need to remember."
Because he was never meant to stay.
He was always the boy who left.
And she was always the girl chasing after his fading shadow.