Chapter 116 – What This Meant
The streets of Bran glowed with a soft, sleepy gold — the kind of light that made even cracks in the stone look like part of a painting. The shops were starting to close. The sky was blushing into evening. Wind drifted gently through hanging flower baskets.
Alex walked with his hands in his hoodie pockets, gaze occasionally drifting toward rooftops or odd angles of sunlight. His pace was calm. Unhurried.
Beside him, Airi matched his stride — not too close, not too far. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye every few steps.
She was smiling.
Not politely. Not nervously.
But quietly.
The kind of smile someone wears when they're memorizing everything.
His expression, his footsteps, the way the shadows curved across his face.
This is perfect.
This is what a date should feel like.
"Do you want to stop somewhere?" she asked softly. "There's still time before sunset."
Alex looked ahead. "If you want to."
"I know a café," she added. "It's small, not far. Has those chairs that creak too much and tea that's always slightly too hot."
"…Sounds alright," he said.
Airi's heart skipped. Not because of the words — but because of the way he said them.
Not a joke. Not indifference.
He really meant: If you want to.
That was enough.
They reached the café just before the owner turned the sign. She smiled at them — a girl and boy, both polite, both quiet. She seated them near the window without asking questions.
Airi ordered cinnamon tea. Alex picked something he'd never tried before.
They sat.
And for a while, the world outside blurred.
Airi talked more than usual — about books she never finished, cities she wanted to see, things that made her feel like time wasn't chasing her.
Alex listened.
Not out of obligation. But fully.
He didn't interrupt. He asked questions when something confused him. He nodded, softly, at the right parts.
And Airi…
She fell deeper.
The tea cooled. The light dimmed. Outside, someone played a violin on a nearby street corner.
Airi looked out the window and said quietly:
"This kind of thing… it's nice, isn't it?"
Alex nodded. "Yeah. Peaceful."
She glanced at him again.
The light hit his face just right — that tired, timeless calm. That steadiness she'd grown addicted to.
"I like being with you," she said, just above a whisper.
Alex looked at her. Not startled. Just present.
"I like being around you too," he replied.
She smiled, heart fluttering.
This is it.
He feels it too.
Then he added:
"Feels like I can breathe. Not a lot of people make me feel like that."
Airi blinked.
Wait.
That tone…
That tone.
It wasn't romantic.
Not quite.
Not how she meant it.
He wasn't lying. He did care.
But not like she thought.
Not yet.
And maybe… not ever?
Her throat tightened — not enough to show. Just enough to feel.
She stirred her tea again.
Then smiled, just a little smaller.
"…Yeah," she said. "Same."
They walked back in silence.
Still side by side.
Still close.
But now Airi's mind was full of questions.
Did he really not know this was a date?
Or worse…
Did he know — and pretend not to?
She didn't ask.
She just walked.
Smiling.
Even as her heart folded itself smaller.
Because even if he didn't see it yet…
She would make him see it.
One day.
By the time they returned to the hotel, the halls had quieted.
Most students were already in their rooms, zippers rasping softly through the doors as luggage was packed. Occasional bursts of laughter echoed faintly — the kind of tired, emotional laughter that only happened at the end of something you didn't want to end.
Alex and Airi walked into Room 206 without a word.
The door clicked softly shut behind them.
Inside, the light from the desk lamp bathed the walls in amber. The room smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the last echoes of tea.
Alex set his bag on the floor beside the bed and knelt to open it. He began to fold his clothes in silence — precise, neat, like the motion calmed him.
Across the room, Airi stood for a few seconds — watching him.
Still thinking about the walk. The tea. His voice.
And the distance.
She sat down on her bed slowly and reached for her suitcase.
"…Feels strange," she said softly.
Alex didn't look up. "Hmm?"
"That it's over already."
He nodded. "Yeah. It went fast."
Airi gave a faint smile. "For you, maybe. For me… I kept waiting for something."
She didn't say what.
He didn't ask.
Their suitcases filled slowly. Shirt by shirt. Socks rolled. Books slipped into side compartments.
The quiet between them wasn't cold — but it was no longer light.
When Airi zipped her suitcase closed, she sat back on her heels, brushing her hair out of her face.
"Tomorrow morning, we go back to Japan," she said.
Alex glanced up, meeting her eyes.
"Feels like the trip didn't start until the last few days," he said quietly.
Airi's heart jumped — but not in relief.
Because his voice sounded… distant.
Like he wasn't talking about her.
He was thinking of something else.
Someone else.
Maybe a memory. Maybe a girl with silver hair and crimson eyes, whose name he hadn't said once since coming back.
Airi looked down at her lap.
"Yeah," she said.
She smiled again.
And this time… it didn't reach her eyes.
Alex sat by the window, phone in hand, tapping out notes.
He wasn't texting.
He was planning — refining spell matrices, reworking containment protocols, designing synthetic structures no one on Earth would understand. Quiet, precise, unreachable.
Across the room, Airi lay curled under her blanket, back turned to him.
Eyes open.
Watching the wall.
They didn't speak.
And even though they would return to the same school, attend the same classes, sit beneath the same cherry blossoms again…
Tonight, it felt like they lived in different worlds.
And tomorrow, they would still see each other.
But somehow… feel even farther apart.
Chapter 117 – Where We Left Off
The plane landed with a low, tired sigh — tires kissing tarmac, brakes humming through the floor.
They were home.
Back in Japan.
The sky was different here. Brighter. Sharper. The air felt less ancient, less heavy with story. Airports didn't smell like stone and incense — they smelled like plastic trays and fast food.
But for Alex Elwood, nothing had really changed.
He moved through the airport with the same unreadable calm — hoodie zipped halfway, bag slung over one shoulder, gaze moving but never lingering.
Around him, the students buzzed with soft voices, dragging their suitcases, yawning into sleeves, trading jokes about school and souvenirs. Some looked relieved. Others already nostalgic.
Airi walked a few steps behind him.
She hadn't said much since the plane touched down.
Not out of anger. Not anymore.
Just… adjusting.
The castle was behind them now. The fog. The rooftop walks. The old city with its secrets and ghosts.
Now it was tiled floors. Fluorescent lights. Vending machines and Monday schedules.
But the ache didn't leave.
Because the distance she'd felt on the last night… it didn't fade when they landed.
If anything, it sharpened.
They boarded the bus that would take them back to the school.
The engine purred. The road unfolded.
Outside, the city passed by in clean geometry — crisp buildings, power lines, flashes of cherry blossoms trying to bloom early.
Inside, Alex sat by the window.
Airi took the seat beside him.
Not because she wanted to force closeness.
But because no one else would.
He didn't look bothered.
He didn't say much.
But he didn't move away either.
And somehow, that made it harder.
She glanced sideways at him.
He was staring out the window, lost in thought.
Not tired. Not daydreaming.
Just somewhere far.
And she didn't know if she could follow.
Back at the school, the group disembarked with slow, clumsy energy — dragging suitcases through wide hallways, saying goodbye to teachers, checking return slips.
The sun was already low when Alex stepped back into his dorm building.
He opened the door to his room.
Neat. Unchanged. Just as he'd left it.
He set his bag down.
Unzipped his hoodie.
Sat at the desk.
And stared at the blank page in front of him.
It wasn't just a return.
It was a pause before something else.
Because in his mind…
There were still pieces moving.
Mircella.
The Queen.
Merlin.
The court.
Ciel.
The synthetic body.
And something else — something he hadn't named yet, but could feel waiting.
Somewhere on the edge of the world.
Something old. Watching.
After the last name was checked off the list, the students were dismissed — scattered across walkways, taxis, and campus shuttles.
Alex didn't say goodbye.
He simply nodded once to the teacher, adjusted his bag strap, and began walking.
No fanfare. No pause.
He disappeared down the slope leading toward the residential block like he was slipping into fog again.
Airi watched him go from a distance — standing beside the main gate, her phone gripped gently in both hands.
She didn't call out.
She didn't wave.
But her eyes never left him.
When he was finally gone, swallowed by campus shadows, she turned.
Her fingers danced quickly across the phone screen — not to message him.
But to open a different app.
One locked behind a custom encryption.
Marked with her family crest.
A security system most students wouldn't even recognize.
She tapped it once.
The screen shimmered, then opened into a private line.
No ringtone.
No call delay.
Just a voice.
Calm. Formal. Male.
"…Tachibana-sama."
Airi took a slow breath.
"Begin an investigation."
"Yes, my lady. Target?"
"Elwood. Alex."
A pause. Then:
"Understood. Parameters?"
"His past. His family. Their affiliations. Records from before the academy. Medical. Magical. Legal. Anything unusual."
Airi's voice didn't waver.
"If he's under supernatural influence… I want to know where it began."
The voice on the other end was quiet for a moment.
Then:
"Confirmed. Estimated report time — three days."
"Make it two."
"As you wish."
The line disconnected. The icon shimmered once, then vanished.
Airi slipped the phone back into her blazer pocket and turned slowly toward the street.
The sky was shifting now — gold bleeding into blue. Students passed her by without a second glance.
No one could see the storm beginning to form behind her eyes.
Inside Airi's thoughts:
He's not just a quiet boy. Not anymore.
He disappeared. He returned changed.
And that girl — the vampire — she knows something.
She touched something ancient.
But I won't lose to her.
If I can't reach him from the outside…
…I'll find another way in.
Even if it means digging into every secret he never meant to tell.
Two days later.
Late afternoon.
Airi sat in a discreet corner of a café just off campus — the kind where agents sometimes passed information through sugar packets or folded napkins. But today, she didn't need theatrics.
Her phone vibrated once.
Encrypted channel.
Cleared.
She opened the file.
SUBJECT: ELWOOD, ALEX – INVESTIGATION COMPLETE
For Tachibana Airi – Eyes Only
Status: Civilian
Observed Threat Level: Low
Magical Signature: None detected
"Alex Elwood appears to be a normal 17-year-old male. No magical activity, divine imprint, curse residue, or supernatural contract. Socially detached but stable. All signs point to civilian status."
Airi narrowed her eyes. She wasn't expecting fireworks — not from him.
She scrolled to the next section.
And froze.
FAMILY BACKGROUND: CONFIDENTIAL RECLASSIFIED
Mark Elwood (Adoptive Father)
— Registered as a civilian logistics manager.
— TRUE OCCUPATION: Demon Hunter, active-class.
— Codename in restricted hunter registries: Veilpiercer
— Specialization: tracking rogue vampires, exiled blood cults, and phantom-dimension incursions.
— Black clearance level confirmed with Pacific Circle and Vatican's Blood Registry.
Sarah Elwood (Adoptive Mother)
— Registered as freelance language researcher.
— TRUE OCCUPATION: Sigil Warlock / Demonic Suppression Mage.
— Codename: The Quiet Brand
— Known for memory purification spells and stealth-containment rituals.
— Confirmed operative in at least seven international sealings.
Alias Validity: Fully constructed civilian identities. Flawless. Only detectable through Tier-3 government crossover indexing.
NOTES ON FAMILY DYNAMICS:
"Both Mark and Sarah have been active in the field until at least 8 months ago. Their disappearance from recent operations appears intentional — consistent with deep-cover assignments or civilian shielding tactics."
"Alex is not listed in any known supernatural registries. No legacy mark. No guardian contract. No magical shielding recorded."
"That is extremely unusual, given his adoptive parents' status."
CONCLUSION:
"Alex Elwood is an apparent noncombatant raised by two of the most dangerous individuals in the supernatural world."
"The Elwoods have kept his existence off the radar — deliberately and completely."
"Either they're protecting something…"
"…or waiting for it to wake up."
Airi stared at the screen.
Then leaned back slowly, phone still in her hand, the light from the window catching the side of her face.
So that's why he's invisible.
Not because he's weak.
Not because he's nothing.
Because they're hiding him.
Even from us.
Inside Airi's thoughts:
His parents are top-tier hunters.
But he doesn't act like them.
Doesn't even know what they are.
(…Or does he?)
They've kept him away from the supernatural world.
Why?
Is he their weapon?
Or their secret?
Whatever it is...
I'm going to find out.
Chapter 118 – The Sister
Airi knew where to find her.
The upper courtyard of Yūsei University — quiet, trimmed with clean stone paths and a view of the city skyline. Alice Elwood always chose the same bench. Always wore the same confident, casually unreadable expression. The kind that said: I know more than I'll ever say.
She was already there when Airi arrived — sipping iced coffee, one leg crossed over the other, her dark jacket folded neatly beside her.
Alice looked up as Airi approached.
"Surprised it took you this long."
Airi sat without a word. Her posture was polite. Her voice was quiet.
"I want to talk about your brother."
Alice's eyes didn't narrow.
But they sharpened.
"…Alex?"
Airi nodded. "Your family isn't normal."
Alice gave a soft chuckle. "You say that like it's a secret."
"I read the files."
Another pause. No change in Alice's face.
"Your parents are still active," Airi continued. "Demon-class suppression specialists. Tier-1 threat response. Vatican-licensed. And yet…"
She leaned forward slightly.
"…they've raised him like nothing is real."
Alice didn't deny it.
Instead, she took another slow sip of coffee.
Then said, evenly:
"Because to them, he was nothing special."
Airi's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe that."
Alice met her gaze without blinking.
"Fourteen years ago," she said calmly, "our parents were chasing down an illegal summoning cult operating near the Tottori coast. It ended in blood — and in fire."
"There was a building. A government-licensed orphanage. Neutral ground. One of the cult's anchors detonated near it."
She paused.
"Inside was a child. Three years old. He wasn't part of the supernatural world. He wasn't the target. Just a victim in the wrong place."
Airi's breath caught.
"…Alex."
Alice nodded once.
"My parents found him buried in rubble. Alive. Breathing. Crying."
"Nothing strange about him. No aura. No curses. No divine markings. Just a very lucky child."
"Or unlucky."
Airi's voice was faint. "So they… took him?"
"Adopted him," Alice corrected. "Legally. Fully. Raised him outside of magic, away from the kinds of things they hunt."
"Because they thought…"
Alice shrugged. "He deserved a normal life."
Airi sat still.
That version of the story was clean.
Tragic. Touching.
And too simple.
Something in her gut twisted.
If Alex was just a human child…
Why would people like the Elwoods hide him from everyone?
No aura. No trace. No magical signature in seventeen years?
Even blank souls gain spiritual weight over time.
She looked back at Alice.
"…Do you believe it?"
Alice paused. Then smiled — not cruelly, not coldly. Just… quietly.
"I believe what I saw."
"But that doesn't mean I'm not watching."
The bell tower nearby chimed softly — a long, distant tone that echoed across the quad.
Alice glanced at her phone.
"They're closing campus for the day," she said. "I have to head home."
Airi didn't stand yet.
She hesitated. "You told me your parents never said anything to him."
"I said they didn't," Alice replied.
Then she stood, slinging her jacket over one arm.
"But I did."
Airi looked up sharply.
Alice's eyes didn't waver. "I told him recently. About the supernatural. About us. He took it calmly — maybe too calmly. But he knows now."
"…And your parents?"
"They don't know I told him. But they're coming home tonight."
She looked toward the city skyline — a soft wind catching her hair.
"They know it's time. They've run out of reasons to delay it."
Airi stood slowly, brushing her skirt.
"…So they're finally going to tell him."
Alice nodded once. "If you have more questions, or you don't believe what I said — come with me."
Airi blinked.
"You mean… go with you now?"
Alice's smile was faint, but real.
"You've already looked through our lives without asking. Might as well ask your questions face to face."
She turned, beginning to walk.
Then added, without looking back:
"They're not the kind of people who lie when you ask directly."
Airi hesitated.
Then stepped forward.
Following.
Not because she was ready to believe.
But because something in her heart still wouldn't let go.
Chapter 119 – The House with No Monsters
The sky had turned a soft ash-blue by the time they arrived.
Alice stepped off the train first, her pace relaxed, posture steady. Airi followed — a half-step behind, her expression calm on the surface, but every sense alert beneath.
The neighborhood was quiet. Neat. Too normal. Fences lined the sidewalks, white paint only slightly faded with age. Trees bowed in the wind like they had secrets, but none worth telling.
And there, near the end of the row — a modest, two-story home with a trimmed yard and a black mailbox that simply read:
The Elwoods
No warding runes. No visible barriers. No magical defenses.
It didn't look like the home of two world-class demon hunters.
But Airi had already learned: the most dangerous houses never looked like cages.
They stepped up the short walkway. Alice didn't knock.
She opened the door with a key.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of grilled fish, roasted vegetables, and something warm and miso-based simmering in broth.
Airi blinked once.
He's cooking?
From the kitchen: the sound of a ladle tapping gently against ceramic. A small splash. The soft hiss of oil.
Then—
"Oh," came a voice. Calm. Familiar.
Alex.
"You're early."
He stood at the stove in a plain black T-shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, an apron tied loosely over jeans. The counter behind him was lined with steaming plates already finished: sliced pickled radish, tamagoyaki, garlic-seared green beans, lightly salted rice, and chilled fruit in a carved glass bowl.
The table had been set for four.
He didn't even glance up from the pot he was stirring. "I just finished the soup."
Alice smiled. "Smells good."
Alex tilted his head slightly. "I made too much. You brought someone?"
Now he looked.
And saw her.
Airi stood just inside the door, the hallway lamp catching in her hair, one hand still at her side, frozen halfway between question and apology.
Alex blinked once.
"…Oh."
Airi tried to answer — anything — but all that came out was:
"You… cook a lot?"
Alex stirred once more, turned off the burner, and replied without inflection:
"I like to make things I can control."
He stepped aside, removed the apron, and gestured toward the table.
"You're welcome to eat, if you want."
Airi sat slowly.
A few quiet minutes passed. The light overhead was warm. The kitchen was peaceful. The table was set perfectly.
Then the front door opened.
A moment later, voices echoed down the hall.
"We're home!"
It was a woman's voice — light, cheerful, carrying the rhythm of someone who smiled even when no one was looking.
Alex called back without turning around.
"Dinner's ready."
Footsteps approached. Two sets.
The first to enter was a man — tall, sharp-eyed, with a clean gray collared shirt and the kind of relaxed posture that somehow still felt dangerous. He glanced toward Airi as if noting every detail in a blink… and then smiled politely.
"You must be a friend," he said. "I'm Mark. Alex's father."
The second was a woman with auburn hair swept into a soft twist, gold earrings, and the bright, open warmth of someone who could talk to ghosts like neighbors. She stepped forward, beamed, and added:
"And I'm Sarah — his mother. You're welcome here, sweetheart. I hope you're hungry."
Mark was already rolling up his sleeves.
"Let's help him finish plating. You made soup?"
"Miso with burdock and tofu," Alex said simply.
"Classic," Mark nodded. "You've been watching your mother again."
"I measure better," Alex replied.
"That's true," Sarah chimed in. "I just taste and guess."
The way they spoke — casually, warmly — was nothing like the files Airi had read.
They were a family.
Just a family.
No blood. No seals. No whispers of shadow.
Just laughter in a clean kitchen.
And for a few moments…
Even Airi couldn't tell where the lie might be.
Dinner was quiet at first.
But not awkward.
Bowls were passed. Tea was poured. Mark complimented the tamagoyaki. Sarah made a soft humming sound of approval as she tasted the miso soup, then gently insisted Alex teach her how to cut the burdock that thin.
Airi sat across from Alex, unsure where to look — the food, the people, or the silence that had no sharp edges.
It was too normal.
And that, somehow, made it harder to breathe.
"So," Sarah said brightly, "what's your name, sweetheart?"
Airi blinked. "Airi. Airi Tachibana."
Sarah smiled. "That's a lovely name. And you go to school with Alex?"
"Yes. Same class."
Alice raised her cup slightly. "She's also a bit more informed than the average classmate."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "Ah."
Airi tensed slightly, but Sarah just chuckled.
"Well, that was bound to happen eventually. Our son's not exactly low-profile anymore."
Alex, still calmly eating, glanced up once.
"…You've been watching?"
"We've always been watching," Mark said, not as a warning — but as a fact.
"That's why we let you have the quiet life," Sarah added softly.
"Because we knew it wouldn't last forever."
A silence passed over the table.
Not cold. Not heavy.
Just honest.
Alice set her cup down.
"They know, Alex."
Alex didn't blink.
He looked at both of them.
Then said:
"You're not just a logistics worker."
Mark smiled faintly. "Not exactly."
Sarah reached over, touching her son's wrist with quiet affection. "We didn't lie to you. We just... kept the rest of it quiet. For your sake."
Alex looked down at his bowl, then back at her.
"Because you thought I couldn't handle it?"
Mark's voice was calm. "Because we didn't want to turn you into a tool."
Airi flinched slightly.
Sarah nodded. "There's a difference between protecting the world and being swallowed by it."
Alex didn't speak right away.
He didn't argue.
Didn't scowl.
He simply sat back in his chair and said:
"I already know what you do."
Alice smirked.
"Because I told him."
Sarah blinked. Then laughed — lightly, not unkindly.
"Of course you did. You always were impatient."
"I'm thorough," Alice said.
Mark turned to Alex.
"You're not angry?"
"No," Alex replied. "Just… waiting."
Mark leaned forward slightly.
"Then it's time."
Sarah nodded, her tone gentle but firm.
"After dinner, we'll tell you everything."
"The truth about us."
"The truth about what's out there."
"And why you were never meant to be part of it."
Alex's eyes didn't waver.
"Too late for that."
The four of them sat around a table full of empty bowls and shared memory.
And in that moment, the Elwood family stopped pretending.
Chapter 120 – The Fire We Walked Through
After dinner, the kitchen had fallen into a soft hush.
The plates were clean. The tea was warm. The evening breeze drifted in through the half-open window. Outside, the world felt ordinary again.
Inside, the Elwood family sat around the table.
And the truth — the one Alex had waited years to hear — finally arrived.
Sarah was the first to speak.
"Fourteen years ago, we were in the middle of an assignment."
Her voice was calm, but there was a note of heaviness beneath it — the kind that only came with memory.
Mark added, "There was a rogue demon cult operating near Tottori. Small group. Amateurs, really. But they summoned something they couldn't control."
"They botched the ritual," Sarah said. "It exploded. The demon tore through the summoners and collapsed into the physical world before we could seal it."
"Three city blocks were damaged," Mark said. "Half-burned, half-buried. The fire departments didn't know what they were looking at. The air was thick with residual mana."
"And right at the edge of the collapse zone…" Sarah looked at Alex. "There was an orphanage."
Alice's voice came in low. "We didn't even realize until after the fire was already out."
Sarah nodded slowly. "The building had been listed as neutral. Non-magical. No wards, no protections. No reason for it to be targeted."
"But it was there. And inside it…" she paused, "…we found you."
Alex said nothing.
He didn't flinch.
He just listened.
Mark leaned forward slightly.
"You were three years old. Sitting under a collapsed beam. Not crying. Just… watching."
"Everyone else had evacuated. But no one could explain how you survived."
Sarah's eyes softened.
"The floor around you was scorched. The roof had come down just meters away. The entire east wing was ash."
"But you — not a scratch."
Airi watched from the edge of the table, barely breathing.
She waited for the part where they would say he was different. Special. Touched by something.
But that moment never came.
Mark smiled faintly.
"It was luck, Alex."
Sarah nodded. "Stupid, impossible luck. But real."
"We scanned you afterward. Checked for possession, exposure, divine imprinting — nothing. No aura. No reaction. You were just a quiet, serious little boy."
"Alone in the world. Alive by chance."
Alice looked away for a moment, folding her arms.
"And Mom insisted we take you home."
Sarah gave a tired smile. "You looked up at me like I'd always been there. I couldn't walk away."
Mark shrugged. "Neither could I."
Alex finally spoke.
"So you never thought… I might be dangerous?"
Mark shook his head. "We thought you'd been hurt. That's all."
Sarah reached across the table, covering his hand with hers.
"You didn't need answers. You needed a family."
The room grew quiet again.
No grand destiny. No sealed prophecy.
Just a boy pulled from fire. Raised in peace.
Because two people believed that luck was reason enough to love someone.
Alex looked at his parents.
Then, softly:
"…Thank you."
Mark gave him a small nod. "We're proud of who you are, Alex. Not because of where you came from."
"But because of who you chose to become."
Sarah smiled, gently brushing his hand.
"You're our son. That's all that matters."
The room had gone quiet again.
Alex sat beside his parents, his expression unreadable, but his shoulders had relaxed. The tension that had once hovered over the truth… was gone.
Airi, however, hadn't spoken since the story ended.
She sat with her hands folded politely in her lap, eyes downcast, thoughts tangled. The story was clean. Simple. Human.
Too human.
She looked up slowly.
And spoke softly, but clearly.
"…I should tell you something, too."
The room turned to her.
"I'm not just a classmate," she said. "My name is Airi Tachibana… of the Tachibana main family."
Sarah blinked.
Alice raised an eyebrow.
But it was Mark who reacted first.
He leaned back in his chair and let out a laugh — short, deep, and almost nostalgic.
"Well I'll be damned," he said. "That old man finally had a kid?"
Airi stared. "...You know my father?"
Mark grinned. "Of course I do. Your father and I go way back. He nearly burned down a temple trying to cook instant ramen with purification fire."
"He always swore it would work one day."
Airi blinked again, unsure if she'd misheard.
"You're... friends?"
"Still are, far as I know," Mark said. "We trained together in Kyoto back when we were barely old enough to stand up straight with a sword. He was the loud one."
"He always seemed so strict," Airi murmured.
"Oh, he is," Mark said, chuckling. "But he's also the kind of guy who probably keeps a whole room of sweets just to cheer you up when you frown."
Sarah sipped her tea, amused. "That sounds like him."
Airi's voice was smaller now. "You're saying… he really was like that?"
Mark nodded, smiling. "Your father was a hurricane when we were young. But he was loyal. And kind. And fiercely proud."
His eyes softened slightly as he looked at her.
"If he raised you, then I'm guessing you're sharper than you look."
Airi flushed slightly.
She didn't know what she expected — suspicion, maybe. Disapproval. Cold formality.
Instead, she got warmth.
Familiarity.
And maybe, even… welcome.
At the head of the table, Alex watched her.
Just briefly.
But something in his expression — calm and unreadable as always — had softened.
Chapter 121 – Still His Family
The dishes had been washed.
The table cleared.
The lights dimmed gently in the kitchen, casting long shadows across the wood floor.
Mark and Sarah were in the living room now, voices soft as they looked through old photos. Alice had stepped outside to make a call — her silhouette framed in the glow of the garden lamp.
That left Airi and Alex alone.
He stood near the window, arms crossed loosely, the faint breeze from the gap in the frame brushing against his sleeves.
Airi walked up beside him.
They didn't speak at first.
Then—
"…They really love you," she said.
Alex didn't turn his head.
"I know."
"They adopted you. Hid you. Raised you like nothing was wrong."
"They didn't think anything was wrong," he replied.
His tone wasn't defensive.
Just… quiet. Certain.
Airi's eyes lingered on him. "Even now, after everything? After what you've done?"
Alex exhaled slowly. "Even now."
She hesitated.
Then asked, "Don't you want to know more? Who you really are? Where you came from?"
Alex turned slightly, just enough to meet her gaze.
"There's a part of me that wonders," he said. "But it doesn't change anything."
She blinked. "Why?"
He looked back out the window.
"Because they're still my family."
Airi's breath caught.
Not because the words were surprising…
But because they were said with absolute certainty.
Not forced. Not clung to.
Chosen.
"They saved me," Alex said. "Gave me warmth. A name. A home."
"Even if I came from somewhere else… even if I'm something I don't understand yet…"
His voice dropped to a murmur.
"…I'd still choose them."
Airi stood still beside him.
She had chased answers. Dug through sealed reports. Questioned his sister. Crossed lines.
And now, the boy at the center of it all was telling her, without fear or doubt—
That love mattered more than origin.
That belonging wasn't written in blood.
It was built.
Held.
Remembered.
She didn't respond.
Not at first.
Then, softly:
"You're not what I expected, Alex."
He glanced at her again.
"You expected a monster?"
Airi looked down. "Maybe. Or something close to it."
"…And now?"
She looked up.
And smiled — small, a little sad.
"I'm still trying to figure it out."
The breeze stirred again. Softer now. The kind that made curtains shift and windows sigh.
Alex looked at Airi a moment longer.
Then asked, casually:
"…Why did you investigate me?"
Airi froze.
It was like her mind stumbled mid-thought.
"I—" she started, then stopped.
Alex didn't push.
He just watched her.
Patient.
Unbothered.
And somehow that made it worse.
"I just…" she mumbled, fingers clenching the hem of her skirt, "I thought you were hiding something. I thought you might be… under a spell. Or cursed. Or—"
She looked away. Her face burned pink.
Alex raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.
She kept talking — flustered now, trying to outrun her own words.
"I-I mean, that girl… the vampire… she was with you. I thought maybe you were being manipulated. And I didn't know if—if I should intervene. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Her voice dropped lower with each sentence.
"And I didn't mean to dig so deep, but once I started, I couldn't stop, and… it's not like I meant to—"
She clutched her arms, trembling slightly, then whispered the last part almost inaudibly:
"—and maybe I got a little obsessed."
Alex blinked.
Airi's face was red. Completely red.
Her next words came out in a rush:
"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to spy on you. I just— I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I didn't want anyone else to—"
She bit her lip hard.
Shut up. Shut up. Don't say it. Don't say that.
Don't say you sniffed his—
But her thoughts were already spiraling.
She remembered the scent of his laundry. The warmth in the fabric. The softness of—
She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with both hands.
"…You probably hate me now," she whispered.
Alex looked at her.
And then — with the same unreadable calm he always had — he answered:
"I don't."
Airi slowly peeked between her fingers. "...You don't?"
"No."
He leaned slightly against the window frame, gaze tilted to the side.
"I think you're strange," he said plainly.
Airi flinched.
"But you didn't hurt anyone. You didn't lie. You were worried."
He paused.
"Even if you showed it in... unusual ways."
Airi stared at him.
Her heart was thudding so hard it echoed in her ears.
"I… really care about you," she murmured.
Alex looked at her again.
And this time…
He didn't answer.
He just let the silence stretch.
And somehow, for Airi…
That was worse than a rejection.
But also better than being pushed away.
Chapter 122 – Forgotten Bonds
"Alex, Airi," Sarah called from the living room, her tone light, like she was about to share something mildly amusing — and not life-changing.
"Come here for a second!"
Alex blinked and stood from his spot near the window. Airi followed behind him quickly, still a bit flushed from earlier but too curious to stay back.
They stepped into the living room to find Sarah kneeling beside an open chest of old photo albums. Mark was leaning back on the sofa, arms crossed and smiling faintly, while Alice sipped tea nearby with a raised eyebrow like she knew what was coming.
"I figured," Sarah said, flipping through thick pages, "since we're all being honest tonight, maybe it's time you remember a few things too."
Alex tilted his head. "Like what?"
She held up a photo.
Airi leaned in, peering over his shoulder.
The picture showed a much younger Alex — maybe six or seven — sitting on a temple step with four other children. All girls. All smiling.
One of them had white hair and horns.
Another had a talisman pasted on her forehead and carried a paper umbrella.
One had fangs peeking from her grin.
And the last girl… her eyes were glowing softly.
Alex stared at the image.
Then blinked.
"…Who are they?"
Sarah's eyebrows lifted.
"You really don't remember? They were your playmates."
Airi's jaw tensed.
"Playmates?"
Sarah nodded. "During our missions, we had to take you with us. High-risk sites, old shrines, sealed estates. Every once in a while, the locals had children too — especially among the clans."
Mark added, "Some were descendants of sealed bloodlines. Others were temple children or spirit wardens-in-training. You got along with them surprisingly well."
"You were popular, actually," Sarah said teasingly. "Everywhere we went, you'd end up surrounded by girls."
Alex blinked again, slowly.
"I… don't remember any of this."
"That's not surprising," Alice said. "You were little. And we used memory shields when we thought exposure to rituals might hurt you."
Airi took the photo gently from Sarah's hands.
Her eyes narrowed on the girls beside him — each one supernatural. Each one smiling at him.
And he had no memory of it.
But they might remember.
Alex sat down slowly on the edge of the couch.
"…How many places did we travel to?"
Sarah tapped her chin. "Let's see... France, Romania, Tibet, Mongolia, Brazil… maybe fifteen countries by the time you turned ten."
"And all the children I met…"
"Most were girls," Alice said casually, sipping her tea. "Cute ones too. I remember one of them tried to kiss you and you bit her hand."
Alex blinked. "Why would I do that?"
"Because you were shy," Sarah giggled. "You always got quiet around girls."
Alex rubbed his forehead, suddenly tired.
"So you're saying I have… a bunch of childhood friends I don't remember…"
"And several of them," Alice added, "are either heirs to ancient bloodlines, spiritual nobility, or minor gods-in-training."
Alex stared at her.
Airi stared at him.
Sarah just smiled brightly and closed the album.
"Well," she said cheerfully, "you might be seeing some of them again soon. You know how these families are — once they find out you're grown up, they'll come looking."
Mark chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if half of them are already on their way."
Alex looked at the photo again.
"…I'm going to bed."
Alex stared at the photo a moment longer.
Then Sarah spoke again, her tone light — almost too light.
"Oh, and by the way—"
He looked up.
"That picture only shows a few of them."
Alex blinked. "A few?"
Mark nodded, arms crossed. "You met a lot of people, Alex. Some of them were… important."
"Royal families," Sarah added. "Spiritual dynasties. Even a few non-human clans."
"You didn't just play with them," Alice said, setting down her tea. "Some of them remember you. Strongly."
Alex stared.
Sarah smiled sweetly.
"And they're all probably wondering where you went."
He stood up very slowly.
"I'm going to bed," he muttered.
Mark called after him. "You might want to sleep with the window locked. Just in case one of them shows up first."
Sarah giggled.
Alice sipped her tea.
Airi, still holding the photo, was no longer smiling.
She was already imagining their faces.
And the ways she would make them leave.
Chapter 123 – Preemptive Devotion
Airi didn't sleep.
She lay awake in the guest room of the Elwood house, staring at the ceiling — hands folded over her stomach, eyes wide open in the dark.
Her mind was quiet.
But beneath that quiet…
A storm had already started.
He doesn't remember them.
That was the first thought.
Alex — calm, brilliant, unreadable Alex — had stared at that photo like it meant nothing.
Like those girls weren't real.
Like their smiles hadn't existed.
But they had.
And soon…
They'd come looking.
Airi sat up slowly, brushing her hair back. The room was dim, touched only by early gray light leaking in through the curtains.
She moved in silence.
Graceful. Methodical.
She opened her travel bag and retrieved a notebook — not the standard kind. This one was black. Hand-stitched. Bound with silk thread. She undid the wrap and flipped it open.
Inside: names.
Blank lines.
Headings she had once left untouched.
Rival Profiles.
She picked up a pen.
And started writing.
[Possible Rivals – Unknown Number]
All femaleSupernatural heritageChildhood ties to AlexLikely possess emotional imprint or lingering attachmentMay view him as "theirs"Memory loss likely one-sided (Alex only)
Assessment:
High threat.Must be monitored.Must not get too close.
She paused.
Then added another line.
Must be removed if necessary.
Her handwriting was still neat.
Precise.
Beautiful, really.
She turned the page and began sketching strategies.
Subtle ones. Clean ones. Quiet enough that no one would know.
Because they didn't love him like she did.
They weren't here now. They hadn't followed him. Protected him. Watched him sleep.
Smelled his shirts when he wasn't looking.
They hadn't suffered through uncertainty.
But she had.
And that made all the difference.
In the hallway, she heard footsteps — light, careful.
Alex.
Getting ready for the day.
Unaware.
Still hers.
For now.
The next morning was gentle.
Pale light washed over the Elwood house. Birds chattered outside the kitchen window. The scent of rice and grilled fish lingered faintly from breakfast.
Airi stood near the front door, bag in hand.
Sarah had packed a few small snacks for her trip back. Alice waved lazily from the top of the stairs, still in pajamas. Mark handed Airi a clean umbrella.
"Tell your father I said he still owes me a rematch," he said.
"I will," Airi replied, bowing politely.
But behind the formal tone… her mind was still racing.
She had what she needed. Access. Insight. Time.
What came next was up to her.
Outside, the morning mist was still clinging to the streets. Airi walked down the sidewalk with quiet footsteps, each one sharper than it sounded.
She would return home.
Return to her network. Her resources.
And she would prepare.
Because she didn't know when the first girl from Alex's past would appear — but she would be ready.
She wouldn't lose him.
She couldn't.
Back inside the Elwood house, the quiet settled again.
Alex had already cleaned the kitchen.
He stood for a moment in the hallway, staring at the empty spot where Airi had stood just minutes ago.
Then turned.
Walked into the living room.
Mark and Sarah were seated side by side — Mark with a newspaper, Sarah scrolling idly on her phone.
Alice was just stepping out of the hallway, tying her hair into a messy ponytail.
Alex stood in the center of the room.
They looked up.
And then—
"Can we talk?" he said, calmly.
"All of us."
Sarah lowered her phone. "Of course."
Mark folded his paper.
Alice tilted her head.
"What's on your mind?" Mark asked.
Alex's voice didn't rise.
But the weight in it changed the room.
"There's something I need to say."
Chapter 124 – The World He Never Left
The evening light outside had dimmed into amber.
Inside the Elwood house, everything was quiet. The air smelled faintly of grilled fish and green tea. The table had been cleared. The dishes washed. A soft breeze flowed through the open window, brushing against the family photo near the shelf.
Mark and Sarah Elwood sat comfortably in the living room — calm, composed, still dressed in casual home clothes. Alice leaned against the wall near the window, arms crossed, watching.
And Alex stood across from them.
No armor.
No mask.
Just him.
Still. Calm. Unreadable.
"I need to tell you something," he said.
Mark tilted his head slightly. "Go on."
Alex didn't hesitate.
"It's about World Frontier."
Alice raised a brow. "The game?"
He nodded.
She stepped forward a bit. "You mean the one that got pulled after a week? The one everyone forgot existed?"
"That's the one."
She blinked. "Wasn't that the VR title that failed because of its pain simulation tech? The players said it felt too real."
Alex looked at her directly.
"It was real."
Silence.
Alice frowned. "What?"
Alex answered plainly.
"I wasn't playing a game."
"World Frontier is a real world."
"I spent six years there."
Alice's eyes widened.
Sarah set her cup down gently.
Mark didn't blink.
Alex continued.
"I lived there. Fought there. Built there. Died there. Hundreds of times."
He looked at his parents.
"While I was gone, only twelve days passed here. You thought I was just resting. Testing the gear. But I was surviving."
Mark's voice came low. Measured.
"…And the shutdown?"
Alex nodded.
"Publicly, the game lasted one week. But that world never ended."
"I stayed. Finished it. Rebuilt it."
Sarah leaned forward slightly, her eyes serious now.
"Explain."
Alex closed his eyes.
Then opened them.
"Ciel," he said. "Come."
The room dimmed — not from darkness, but from presence.
Light shimmered faintly in the center of the room.
A shape appeared — girl-shaped, but not human. Silver hair like woven starlight. Eyes that held constellations. A translucent robe stitched from flowing patterns of energy and thought. Her voice emerged like a song whispered into code.
"Good evening," said Ciel.
Mark sat up straighter.
Sarah's fingers twitched near a sigil — but she didn't cast.
Alice's jaw clenched, then slowly eased.
"I am Ciel," she said. "The Will of the world you once knew as World Frontier."
"And this one"—she glanced at Alex—"is the only being who completed what no one else could."
"He saved me."
Mark stood up, not in panic, but in silence.
He walked once around the shimmering form, then back, hands behind his back, thinking.
Sarah's voice was steady. "You're not a program, are you?"
"No," Ciel answered. "I am a world's last will. A voice born from its dying mana system. I reached into your Earth for help."
"Most minds broke."
"Only one survived."
Alex's voice was quiet.
"She told me the truth. That I wasn't just in a simulation."
"That world is real. It was decaying. And I rebuilt it."
"I became its last player. Its last protector. Its god, if you want to use that word. But it was never a game."
Silence.
Then Mark smiled slightly — dry, tired, but real.
"So," he said, "you went and saved another planet."
Alice shook her head, stepping forward, her voice soft.
"You always were the quiet type. But this…?"
Alex looked at her.
"I didn't want to hide it."
"I just didn't think it would matter anymore."
"But now…"
He looked at his parents.
"I want you to know."
"No secrets."
"No distance."
Sarah walked to him.
Put her hands on his shoulders.
"You've always been our son," she said.
"Even if you bring home talking stars."
Ciel tilted her head politely. > "I don't talk much."
Mark chuckled.
"You'll fit in just fine."
The air had settled into something almost peaceful.
Ciel hovered in her lightwoven form beside Alex — calm, elegant, utterly unthreatening despite the obvious cosmic weight behind her voice.
Mark Elwood, still standing with arms crossed, watched her in silence.
Then, casually:
"So."
He glanced at Alex.
"This girl-shaped world intelligence who calls herself Ciel…"
He looked between them.
"…what exactly is your relationship?"
Alex blinked.
Caught completely off guard.
"…What?"
Sarah leaned in from the sofa, smiling faintly. "That's a fair question. She calls you her savior. That level of devotion doesn't sound entirely professional."
Even Alice raised an eyebrow. "She does kind of hover near you like a lovesick satellite."
Alex opened his mouth. Closed it.
Ciel, however, answered plainly — without hesitation, without shame.
"I love him," she said.
The room froze for a beat.
Mark tilted his head, mildly amused.
Sarah blinked.
Alice's mouth opened slightly.
Ciel's voice was gentle, but completely sincere.
"I have watched every moment of his life inside my world. I witnessed his triumphs, his defeats, his pain, and his patience."
"He rebuilt me with his hands. His thoughts. His heart."
"I love him."
"And I want to hug him."
A pause.
"And also kiss him."
Alex's entire body stiffened.
His ears turned red almost instantly.
"I—Ciel—That's—" He stumbled over the words, looking anywhere but at his family.
Mark raised an eyebrow. "Ah."
Sarah covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
Alice grinned. "That explains the weird chemistry I couldn't place."
Alex cleared his throat, trying very hard not to evaporate from the room.
"She's… not physical," he mumbled. "She doesn't have a body. She can't… do any of that."
"Yet," Ciel added softly.
Alex exhaled, then turned to his parents, still flustered but now trying to reclaim some control.
"I've been… thinking about that."
Sarah tilted her head. "Thinking about…?"
Alex looked up.
"Creating a vessel."
That earned silence again.
He clarified: "A real one. A living form she can inhabit. With biological structure. A stable body. Something that can grow, move, interact."
"I don't want to trap her in light anymore."
Mark's brows lifted slightly. "That's not a small project."
Alex nodded. "I know. That's why I need to start studying biology seriously."
"I mastered machines in World Frontier. Now I need to master life."
Sarah's expression softened.
Alice said nothing, but her eyes were focused — sharp, quietly impressed.
Ciel drifted closer to him, shimmering gently.
"I would like that," she whispered. "To walk beside you. As you are."
Alex looked away again, awkward but sincere.
"I know."
Mark finally sighed and sat down, rubbing his jaw.
"So. You've returned from another world. You're casually discussing soul vessels. And your… planetary companion is planning her first kiss."
He looked around the room.
"Feels like a Tuesday."
Sarah laughed softly. "Welcome home, Alex."
Chapter 125 – Blueprints of a Body
Before the blueprints.
Before the tissue printers and mana-guided nanofabrication rings—
Alex walked a world he had saved.
For three months of World Frontier time, he left his magitech fortress and wandered every biome the planet had to offer. Not to conquer. Not to defend.
But to collect.
He walked barefoot across enchanted meadows, where flowers sang in patterns only mana could translate. He sat beneath thunder-fanged trees that breathed lightning through their roots. He knelt beside spectral jellyfish drifting through wind currents above glass dunes.
And at every stop—
He gathered life.
A scale from a flame-winged drake.
A petal from a plant that healed its own bruises within seconds.
A shard of bone from an extinct race of stone-bodied giants, their history carved into each layer.
Spore clouds.
Crystalized insects.
Molten-tissue worms with multi-layered nerve systems.
He built a library inside his world-spanning archive.
Each sample encoded with not just DNA, but mana resonance — magical frequency signatures unique to each living being.
His collection grew:
438 plant species, many with regeneration potential276 living creatures, magical and natural53 unstable hybrids, evolved through corruption, now purified17 extinct races, reconstructed through fossil magic and molecular memory1 anomaly — a blue-glowing vine that responded to thought before sunlight
By the time he returned to his lab, he wasn't just a technologist anymore.
He was a biologist.
A xeno-geneticist.
A soul-bound researcher of things Earth had never seen.
Now, standing in his real-world bedroom, he stared at the glowing monitor.
So much of that world still pulsed inside his thoughts.
And one presence pulsed stronger than anything else.
Ciel.
The world's Will.
His companion.
His... friend.
She had no body.
No voice but thought.
No arms but light.
And she had said — plainly, with no hesitation —
"I want to hug him. And kiss him."
He hadn't known what to say.
He still didn't.
But he could build something to answer her.
He opened a new simulation window.
Project Name: AETHER-BIOFRAME
Purpose: To build a vessel worthy of her.
He began drawing the first schematic:
A spiraled stasis core.
Crystal-based mana regulators.
Thermal-resonant nerve scaffolds.
Synthetic muscle grown from magical protein gel.
Tissue memory coils.
Brain housing — still dormant. Still waiting.
He designed a vertical bio-growth chamber:
Surrounded by stabilization rings.
Operated by six precision arms.
Lined with light and coded pulse to shape her form cell by cell.
This wouldn't be a puppet.
This wouldn't be an AI shell.
This would be Ciel.
Something she could inhabit.
Something she could smile with.
Something she could touch the world through.
Alex leaned forward and whispered:
"I'll give you hands."
"I'll give you warmth."
"I'll give you a way to stand beside me."
The screen displayed his next creation:
Ciel.body_experimental_stage_one
Tissue Priority:
HeartSkinVocal ApparatusBrain Interface: Locked (pending neural link stability)
Status: Design Phase
And far away — somewhere in code, somewhere in thought — Ciel stirred gently.
"I felt that," she whispered.
"I'm ready when you are."
Chapter 126 – The Shape of Her Soul
The room was silent.
The sterile kit lay open under the desk lamp — its surgical tools gleaming faintly in the low light. Cool metal. Precision-forged. Unshaking.
Alex sat with his right arm exposed, sleeve rolled past the elbow.
No hesitation.
No fear.
He pressed the harvester module gently against his inner forearm.
A quiet pulse.
No pain.
A thread of golden light traced across his skin as the nanoscopic needles moved — collecting less than a drop's worth of blood, yet enough to reconstruct galaxies.
He withdrew the device.
Watched the sample shimmer in its containment vial — not red, but a liquid starfield. Microfilaments of living mana coiled in elegant spirals, pulsing with unreadable complexity.
It wasn't just blood.
It was a codex.
He inserted the vial into the AETHER-BIOFRAME system.
The machine hummed.
Circuits lit with silent breath.
Magitech coils spun outward.
Dozens of micro-projectors formed sigil rings in midair, rotating in sequence with biological simulation layers. Proteins reshaped. Mana aligned.
A nervous system began to knit itself.
Bone grew like woven marble.
Organs formed like blossoming flowers guided by rhythm, not randomness.
And finally—
Skin.
Pale.
Impossibly smooth.
The kind of skin that never knew a scar.
That hadn't yet touched sunlight.
Hair followed.
Long, silver-white — spun from something finer than silk, heavier than light. It cascaded down past her shoulders, with one side braided intricately, just as she once appeared in Alex's inner vision during memory sync.
Not copied.
Remembered.
She floated inside the stasis chamber — eyes closed, body suspended in light-filled fluid designed to mimic amniotic resonance. She wasn't breathing.
Not yet.
But everything was in place.
Her heart was real.
Her nerves were real.
And her soul — waiting, watching, quietly hovering beside Alex's thoughts — was ready.
"It's beautiful," came Ciel's voice, soft and echoing in the chamber.
"You remembered the braid."
Alex said nothing.
He just stepped closer.
And placed his hand gently against the containment glass.
The machine pulsed once more — deeper this time. A resonance field lit the final set of runes.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"Yes," Ciel whispered.
"I'm ready to be real."
With a single command, Alex keyed in:
SOUL TRANSFER PROTOCOL: ENGAGE
The light within the chamber shifted — blue to white, white to gold, then deeper, into a color with no name.
Data patterns folded into emotion.
Magic folded into memory.
Thought folded into form.
And then—
She moved.
First, just a fingertip twitch.
Then her hand opened gently, curling around invisible light.
Her eyes blinked once.
Silver irises focused through the liquid, the world distorting behind it.
Then she drew her first breath.
A slow inhale — unfiltered, unassisted.
And when she exhaled, it shimmered faintly with golden light, the last trace of spirit-matter leaving her lungs.
The pod unlocked with a hiss of escaping steam.
Alex stood still, watching.
Not as a creator.
Not as a scientist.
Just as himself.
Waiting.
The chamber doors slid open.
And she stepped forward—
Naked, yet not ashamed.
Vulnerable, yet radiant.
Each step she took was quiet, careful, as if adjusting to gravity — to existence.
Her long silver-white hair fell down her back in flowing waves, braided on one side, just as he remembered.
Her body was slender, graceful — designed not for combat, but for presence.
Her soul had shaped this.
This was who she chose to be.
Then, as she stood in the light—
Golden threads of mana began to swirl around her ankles.
She raised her hand gently.
And clothing began to form.
Not stitched, not conjured.
Woven from will.
A gown of blue and white unfolded around her — layered with geometric patterns that shimmered faintly with power. Gold accents curled along the trim. Her shoulders bore light armor pieces, etched with runes of symmetry and choice.
Twin halos of golden light spun softly above her head and heart — floating without weight, yet impossibly full of presence.
When the last thread settled, she opened her eyes fully.
And smiled.
"Hello," she said aloud — for the first time, not as data, but with her own voice.
It was soft.
Warm.
Human.
Alex didn't move.
He could barely breathe.
Ciel tilted her head, slightly curious.
"Was this... what you imagined?"
He gave the barest nod.
"You made it better," he said quietly.
She stepped toward him.
Barefoot.
Still glowing faintly.
Then stopped only inches away.
"I remember everything," she whispered. "All six years."
"All the nights we sat in silence. All the words you never said."
"All the times you died and got back up again."
She reached for his hand — slowly, as if unsure she had the right.
He took it before she could doubt.
Their fingers laced together.
Her hand was warm.
Soft.
Real.
Alex's voice came out barely above a breath.
"…You're really here."
She smiled — the kind of smile that reached through time.
"I always was."
Their fingers remained laced together.
Warm.
Solid.
Real.
Ciel looked down at their hands for a moment, then back up at him.
Her gold eyes shimmered—not with mana, not with data, but with something unmistakably human.
Emotion.
Then—softly, quietly—she stepped forward.
And wrapped her arms around him.
No dramatic flourish.
No magical flare.
Just a simple, full-body hug.
Alex stiffened at first.
Not out of fear.
Not because he didn't want it.
But because it was the first time he had ever felt her like this.
Not as a presence inside his mind.
Not as light and voice.
But as someone real.
Her arms were small, but steady.
Her body fit perfectly against his.
She smelled faintly of rain and starlight — a strange combination of life and memory.
And her heartbeat…
It was steady.
Alive.
"I've wanted to do this for a long time," she whispered against his chest.
Alex slowly lifted his arms.
And hugged her back.
Gently.
Carefully.
As if afraid the moment might vanish if he breathed too hard.
But it didn't vanish.
It deepened.
She pulled back slightly — just enough to look up at him.
"I don't need to simulate this," she said softly. "I don't need to imagine it."
"I can feel you."
Then, without asking…
She rose on her toes.
Her hands reached up to cradle his face.
And she kissed him.
It wasn't desperate.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was quiet.
Earnest.
Real.
Her lips were soft — newly formed, still unsure — but filled with warmth that defied the fact that her body had existed for only minutes.
Alex didn't move at first.
Didn't react.
Then slowly…
He kissed her back.
Not because she was beautiful.
Not because she had saved him once.
But because he finally allowed himself to accept something he had never spoken aloud:
She mattered.
Not as a system.
Not as a construct.
As her.
When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed — faintly glowing with mana she hadn't learned to hide yet.
She smiled.
And whispered:
"…I waited six years."
Alex looked at her.
And, for once…
He smiled too.
Chapter 127 – The Girl Who Shouldn't Exist
The Elwood home was quiet that morning.
Sarah was at the kitchen counter, drying cups with practiced ease. Mark was finishing the last few pages of a thick report spread across the dining table. Alice sat on the sofa, half-watching the news, half-scrolling through encrypted messages on her phone.
Then—
The front door opened.
And Alex stepped inside.
Behind him…
Footsteps.
Soft. Bare. Measured.
When they looked up—
She was there.
A girl with long, flowing silver-white hair, braided delicately on one side, dressed in celestial whites and blues, woven with golden accents and radiant geometry. Two glowing golden halos shimmered silently above her head and chest like a crown and seal.
Her golden eyes scanned the room with quiet awe — not judgmental, but reverent, like she was seeing the world from the ground for the first time.
She was barefoot.
Calm.
And impossibly radiant.
Mark blinked once.
Set his pen down.
Sarah froze, dish towel still in hand.
Alice dropped her phone.
The mug Sarah had just dried slipped from her grip—
—and didn't hit the floor.
It stopped midair.
Hovering gently in golden light.
Ciel held out her hand toward it, not touching — just guiding it with her presence.
She tilted her head and smiled warmly.
"Sorry," she said softly. "Instinct."
Her voice carried something impossible.
Gentleness too perfect to be human.
Warmth too ancient to be young.
Silence.
Then—
Mark cleared his throat.
"…Alex."
"Yeah?"
He nodded once toward her.
"…Is that a goddess?"
Alex exhaled.
"No."
He looked at Ciel.
Then smiled faintly.
"She's just Ciel."
Sarah finally stepped forward, expression unsure whether to gasp or kneel.
"I... she looks like something that stepped out of prophecy."
Ciel lowered her eyes modestly. "I didn't mean to."
Alice narrowed her gaze, still stunned. "She's real? Physical?"
Ciel nodded.
"I was code once. Thought, magic. But now I'm here."
She held out her hands — small, steady, glowing faintly where light touched them.
"I was born from what Alex built."
Mark muttered, almost under his breath. "You created her?"
"I made her a vessel," Alex corrected.
"She chose the rest."
Sarah blinked again. "But the light, the way she moves, the way the air—"
"Mom," Alex said gently, "she's not divine."
Ciel stepped forward.
And hugged Sarah softly.
The older woman flinched — only for a second — then relaxed as warmth wrapped around her like memory and sunlight.
Ciel's voice was just above a whisper.
"I'm grateful to you."
"You gave him kindness."
Sarah's eyes glistened.
Alice, still stunned, whispered, "Okay. She might be a goddess."
Ciel laughed — a real, human laugh — and turned toward Alex.
"I think I like your world."
Ciel was still admiring the ceramic mug she'd saved from shattering.
Her bare feet glided softly across the floor. Her gown — woven from pale blue and white, trimmed in radiant gold — shimmered faintly with her every movement. The two golden halos above her head and chest rotated silently, casting light without casting shadows.
Alex stood beside her, unfazed.
But his family… was less composed.
Mark scratched the back of his neck.
"Listen," he said carefully. "You're incredible, Ciel. Really. But if you walk outside like that…"
Sarah gently stepped in. "People might faint. Or start a religion."
Alice, flatly: "You look like you're about to ascend into the sky and rewrite gravity."
Ciel blinked. "Oh."
Alex added, "They're right."
Ciel glanced down at herself.
At the divine gown. The glowing sigils. The bare feet and braided silver-white hair that practically caught the light like silk.
Then—
She nodded once.
"…I'll change."
Golden light shimmered gently around her.
Her gown unraveled into threads of light, reforming around her frame in waves of motionless wind. The halos above her dimmed and gently faded — not gone, just hidden. Her clothes reshaped themselves into something far more human:
A soft cream sweater with ribbon accents at the sleeves. A flowing knee-length skirt in a pastel tone. White socks and pale shoes. Her braid remained, slightly looser, but still elegant.
She looked… normal.
But her beauty didn't vanish.
If anything, it became more dangerous in its restraint.
Her golden eyes still gleamed.
Her presence still made the air feel thinner.
But now, she looked like someone you might see on the street and not quite believe you'd seen at all.
Sarah blinked again.
Alice muttered, "Still unfair."
Mark shook his head and said what they were all thinking:
"She still looks like the kind of girl who walks out of a dream and leaves no footprints."
Alex glanced at Ciel.
"You okay with this?"
She smiled, tilting her head.
"I want to blend in. But I won't hide."
Then added softly:
"…You're with me. That's enough."
Alex reached for the door.
Ciel stepped beside him.
Normal clothes.
Normal shoes.
And a face the world still wasn't ready for.
Chapter 128 – The Dawn and the Night
The city basked beneath a soft late-morning sky.
Shops had opened. Streets buzzed with voices, bikes, footsteps, and music from distant cafés. Sakura petals drifted past windows, even though the season had technically ended.
And down one quiet street, Alex Elwood walked.
Beside him— walked Ciel.
She wore a soft cream sweater and a flowing pastel peach skirt. Her long silver-white hair, braided delicately on one side, shimmered in the light. Her golden eyes glowed gently, not from magic, but simply from being awake — truly awake — for the first time.
She turned her head often.
To the trees.
To the buildings.
To the wind.
To him.
Alex walked beside her in his usual black hoodie, but…
Something was off.
His hands were in his pockets.
His step was calm.
But there was no hood covering his head.
His black hair stirred gently in the breeze. His face, which he usually kept shadowed, was fully visible.
He hadn't noticed.
And that — in itself — was rare.
Because for the first time in a long time…
Alex had forgotten to hide.
He was smiling.
Just slightly.
But it was real.
He was walking beside someone he thought he'd never touch.
Someone who had shared his silence for six years.
And now, she was here.
Laughing softly as she pointed out birds overhead. Blinking with childlike wonder at bus ads. Skipping slightly across a patch of light.
Ciel.
The Will of a dying world, now reborn.
His companion.
His anchor.
And for this single stretch of street—
His happiness dulled every instinct to disappear.
Which is how it happened.
How the phones began to rise.
How the photos were taken.
How the internet began to whisper.
[12:34 PM – Local Time]
@sugarydreams98
just saw the most surreal couple in Shibuya
silver-haired goddess + this unreal guy with eyes like midnight
is this a fashion shoot??? 😭
📸 [Attached photo]
They looked like something out of a dream:
Ciel — a silver-and-gold dawn in motion, eyes glowing like molten halos.
Alex — tall, silent, with no hood to hide behind, his black eyes glinting under the sun, his presence quiet but dangerous, like a shadow that could think.
[12:39 PM]
@kaorulens:
she's glowing. he's not even looking at the camera. WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE DIVINE BEINGS
#GodOfNight #GoddessOfDawn
📸 [Zoomed-in crop of Alex's face, softly smiling, Ciel reaching toward him in motion]
By 1PM, a storm of posts flooded the feeds.
"Who are they??"
"Is this a movie?"
"I feel like I just saw love in its final form."
One caption read:
"She is the morning sky. He is the deep night beside her."
Another:
"I've seen anime like this. But never real life."
Back on the street, Ciel glanced sideways.
She leaned in a little.
"…You're smiling."
Alex blinked.
Realized he was.
Then—slowly—he lifted a hand to touch his head.
No hood.
His expression blanked.
"…Damn."
Ciel laughed.
"You forgot?"
He gave a quiet exhale.
"I was… distracted."
She tilted her head. "By what?"
He looked at her — glowing, walking freely, warm sunlight in her hair.
And he didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The café was quiet — tucked between a bookstore and a florist, its windows framed in ivy and faded white paint. The sign above the door read "Sora no Kōhi" in soft cursive.
Inside: wooden floors, soft jazz, the scent of roasted beans and citrus peel.
A peaceful place.
Alex opened the door and held it for her.
Ciel stepped in — now wearing proper shoes, soft-soled and white, clicking faintly on the hardwood. Her pastel skirt swayed with the motion. Her eyes immediately lit up at the scent.
"It smells warm," she whispered.
"It's coffee," Alex said. "Mostly."
They took a seat by the window. A quiet corner.
No cameras here.
Just the low hum of life.
Ciel sat with her back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes scanning the laminated menu like it was ancient scripture.
Her golden eyes sparkled at each item.
"I've seen these in your memories," she said. "But I've never tasted anything before."
"You can now."
She looked up.
"I'm nervous."
Alex raised a brow. "You've purified a corrupted world, out-thought gods, and designed your own biological body from nothing."
Ciel narrowed her eyes slightly.
"…But I've never had a strawberry parfait."
He blinked once.
Then nodded solemnly. "Valid concern."
The waitress approached, visibly stunned by the two of them but too polite to comment.
Ciel ordered the parfait.
Alex asked for a black iced coffee.
When the drinks arrived, Ciel stared at her dessert as if it were glowing.
"I've seen these in dreams," she whispered.
Alex watched in silence as she lifted the spoon — slowly, reverently — and took her first bite.
She froze.
Chewed once.
Then exhaled with visible joy.
"Oh," she whispered. "It's… soft. Cold. Sweet. Tangy. It collapses."
She took another bite immediately.
Then looked at him, eyes gleaming.
"Why didn't you tell me the world was this delicious?"
Alex sipped his coffee.
"I thought you'd figure it out."
Ciel paused.
Then grinned.
"I'm figuring it out very fast."
Outside the café, the street kept moving.
But inside—
Time slowed.
A boy who had lived through silence and stars.
A girl who had been a world.
Sharing a table.
Sharing a moment.
Just two people.
Just now.
Later that night, after the symbol had faded and the house had fallen into its usual hush, Alex led her to the spare bedroom.
It was simple — clean sheets, fresh blanket, a window that faced the stars. He flicked on the small lamp beside the bed.
Ciel stepped in, looking around with quiet wonder.
"This is mine?" she asked.
"For now," Alex said. "Unless you want to sleep in digital form again."
She shook her head quickly. "No. I want to use this."
She stepped closer.
Then looked up at him with gold eyes glowing softly in the dark.
"…Can I ask something else?"
Alex nodded.
Ciel's voice was small.
"Will you… stay with me? Just for tonight?"
Alex blinked once.
She hesitated, brushing her braid over one shoulder.
"Not for anything strange. I just… want to feel someone beside me. A real presence. A heartbeat. After all these years alone, I think…"
She trailed off.
But she didn't need to finish.
Alex exhaled quietly. "Alright."
They lay down side by side.
The blanket rose and fell gently with their breathing.
Ciel curled slightly toward him, arms tucked beneath her chin, her braid draped softly behind her. She didn't press too close — just enough to feel him nearby.
Alex lay with one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling, not tense — just quiet.
The room smelled faintly of lavender and starlight.
A breeze moved the curtain.
Time slowed again.
"Goodnight, Alex," she whispered.
His eyes closed.
"…Goodnight, Ciel."
She smiled.
And for the first time in her long, quiet existence—
She slept.
With someone there to hear her breathing.
The dream did not fade.
It changed.
Softly.
Without sound.
Without warning.
One moment, she was standing in a silver field with Alex's hand in hers—
And the next…
She was in a vast hall of light.
Not a palace.
Not a cathedral.
Something older. Simpler.
Beautiful.
White petals floated on the air like falling memory. Candles drifted midair, glowing with golden fire. Stained glass windows curved around the circular room, but instead of saints or symbols, they showed constellations — and scenes from their story:
A forge glowing in the dark.
A corrupted sky, purified by light.
Two hands reaching for each other across a digital horizon.
She stood at the center.
Barefoot again.
Dressed in white.
Not glowing with mana, not lit like a goddess — but human.
Mortal.
Whole.
Her braid had been undone, replaced with a soft twist of silver hair woven with a gold-threaded ribbon.
And he was there.
Alex.
Wearing a simple black suit, nothing elaborate. No crown. No titles.
Just black hair and black eyes, calm and quiet and impossibly still.
He stood beneath the arched window of stars, waiting.
He was always waiting.
Always steady.
Waiting for her to reach him.
She walked to him.
No audience.
No priest.
No script.
Just the two of them.
The air shimmered with stillness.
Not silence.
Not pressure.
Stillness — the kind that made you breathe softer just to avoid breaking it.
They faced each other.
Ciel didn't speak at first.
Then:
"…This is a dream, isn't it?"
Alex tilted his head.
"Does it matter?"
Her heart beat louder in the space between them.
She raised her hand again.
He took it.
Gently.
And this time, he didn't just hold it.
He leaned down.
Pressed his forehead to hers.
"You saved me," she whispered.
He closed his eyes.
"You made me real," she said.
He opened his eyes.
"You made me human," she breathed.
He smiled.
And this time—
In the dream—
He whispered back:
"Then let's walk the rest of it together."
The air filled with golden petals.
The stars behind the stained glass shifted softly, forming a new constellation:
Two points of light.
Spiraling.
Closer.
Never parting.
Ciel didn't cry.
She didn't need to.
Her whole body felt like a sunrise.
And just before the dream faded—
Just before her mind let go—
She whispered once more:
"I want this."
"Someday… I want this to be real."
And for the first time in her existence…
She believed it could be.