Chapter 131 – Morning Light and Warm Water
Warm golden light spilled through the bedroom window.
Ciel stirred first.
Her eyes fluttered open, golden irises catching the early glow as they focused softly on the ceiling — then on the figure lying beside her.
Alex.
Still asleep.
Still breathing softly, one arm behind his head, the other resting gently between them on the bed.
She smiled.
Not with divine radiance. Not with cosmic weight.
But with quiet joy.
She had dreamed.
She had felt.
And now, she was here — real, tangible, next to him.
"…Good morning," she whispered.
Alex's eyes opened slowly.
He blinked once, then turned his head toward her, already calm.
"…Morning."
Ciel reached up, brushing silver strands from her face, and leaned closer.
She kissed his cheek gently.
A brief press of warmth.
"That's what people do, right?" she asked softly. "When they wake up next to someone they love?"
Alex didn't move at first.
Then gave a small nod.
"I guess so."
He sat up, the blanket falling to his waist.
His black hair was slightly messy. His eyes still carried the softness of sleep.
"I'll shower," he murmured, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
But before he could stand—
"Wait," Ciel said quickly, pushing herself up on her elbows. Her voice was quiet, but earnest.
"…Can I come with you?"
Alex blinked.
Paused.
"…You want to shower together?"
Ciel nodded. "I want to understand everything. What it's like to share simple moments. To wash. To laugh. To be close."
Her voice dipped.
"And… I want to feel the water with you."
Alex's ears turned faintly red.
"…Alright."
The bathroom filled with gentle steam.
The sound of water pattering against tiles echoed softly through the house.
Ciel stood beneath the spray first — eyes closed, arms open — letting the warmth cover her body.
Alex stood nearby, careful, respectful.
She reached for his hand.
"You don't have to be shy," she said, turning toward him with a quiet smile. "We're just sharing the moment."
And somehow, that helped.
They washed together.
Not as lovers.
Not as strangers.
But as two people learning how to exist side by side.
She giggled when he poured shampoo into her hair and ruffled it playfully.
He chuckled when she tried to blow the steam off the mirror and ended up fogging it worse.
Their hands bumped once reaching for a towel.
Neither pulled away.
By the time they stepped out, drying each other's hair like clumsy, affectionate siblings of fate, the tension had melted entirely.
Ciel dressed first — a pale blouse, soft skirt, and white stockings, still getting used to layers.
Alex pulled on a dark shirt and casual slacks, rolling up his sleeves halfway.
They walked together into the hall — her barefoot steps now padded with indoor slippers.
She watched as he entered the kitchen.
Watched as he tied on the same apron from days before.
Watched as his movements became a rhythm of slicing, stirring, simmering — each motion precise, effortless.
"I want to learn this too," she said, perching on a stool at the counter. "Not just eating. But making. Giving."
He looked over his shoulder and nodded once.
"You can help next time."
Ciel smiled.
Sunlight spilled across the counter.
The scent of dashi and garlic rose in the air.
Down the hall, the Elwoods began to stir.
But in the kitchen —
It was just them.
A morning of warmth, water, and the simple rhythm of love unfolding.
The kitchen filled with the gentle hum of morning.
Eggs sizzled in the pan. Rice steamed softly. Miso soup bubbled on the back burner, its scent drifting into the hallway.
Ciel sat at the counter, resting her chin on her hands, golden eyes tracking Alex's every movement with curiosity and awe. Her hair, still slightly damp from the shower, shimmered in the light like silver silk.
"I like watching you cook," she said.
Alex glanced at her over his shoulder. "You said that last night."
"I meant it then," she said brightly, "but now I understand why."
The sound of quiet footsteps echoed behind them.
Mark appeared first — hair tousled, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, still drying his hands with a towel. He paused when he saw them in the kitchen: Alex cooking, Ciel watching.
"Smells good," he said casually. "And you two look… suspiciously peaceful."
Sarah followed soon after, tying her hair back. She smiled when she saw the plates already arranged on the table.
"You're up early, sweetheart," she said to Alex.
"He had help," Ciel chimed in proudly. "We showered together."
Mark froze mid-step.
Sarah blinked.
"…You what?" Alice said, stepping into the room still in pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. She had a toothbrush in her mouth.
Ciel tilted her head innocently. "We wanted to feel the water together."
Alex turned his back to the room. "It wasn't like that."
Mark cleared his throat. "Well. That's… very modern of you."
Alice gagged on her toothbrush and disappeared back into the hallway.
Sarah tried not to laugh.
Alex plated the eggs and handed them out one by one, as if pretending none of that just happened.
Once everything was set — grilled salmon, tamagoyaki, rice, pickled vegetables, and miso soup — they all took their seats.
Ciel clasped her hands together like she'd practiced the night before.
"Itadakimasu," she said with bright reverence.
Mark raised an eyebrow. "You've been training her well."
"She learns fast," Alex said.
They began to eat.
For a while, only soft clinks of chopsticks and quiet sipping filled the air.
Then:
Sarah looked across the table at Ciel. "How are you adjusting, dear? To… all of this?"
Ciel paused thoughtfully, then smiled. "It's like learning how to breathe after dreaming for a long time. Everything is strange. And beautiful. And sometimes overwhelming."
"But I'm not alone."
She looked at Alex.
"I have a hand to hold."
Sarah's eyes softened. "You're already family, you know."
Mark nodded. "Even if you float, glow, and stop mugs from hitting the floor."
"I like mugs," Ciel said solemnly. "They don't judge me."
Alice reappeared, finally seated, rubbing her temples. "Can we not talk about divine mug control before I've had coffee?"
Alex passed her a cup without a word.
She muttered thanks.
Ciel leaned forward slightly. "May I cook with you next time?"
Alex nodded. "If you don't mind prep work."
She brightened. "I want to learn everything."
They ate in peace.
No politics.
No gods.
No ancient vampires or world fragments.
Just a morning table.
With laughter.
And warmth.
And the kind of silence that felt like home.
When the last bowl was empty, Ciel helped Sarah gather the dishes. She hummed softly as she rinsed, sleeves rolled up carefully, eyes shining with every new texture she touched.
Alice looked at Alex.
"She's terrifyingly wholesome."
"She's trying."
"I meant that in a good way. Mostly."
Mark stood, stretching. "So, what's the plan today?"
Alex leaned against the counter. "No plan."
"Good," Sarah said with a smile. "That means you have time to stay."
And for the first time in a long time—
Alex didn't argue.
Because today didn't need saving.
It just needed living.
After breakfast, the house shifted into motion.
Alice headed upstairs to finish changing into her university uniform, muttering something about needing to catch the late train. Sarah gathered laundry in a woven basket. Mark flipped the living room lights off one by one.
Alex walked into the entryway, pulling on his jacket and tightening the strap on his school bag. His black hair fell loosely over his forehead. The day outside glowed pale and mild through the window.
Ciel stood nearby, adjusting the cuffs of her sweater.
But then—she paused.
"…Alex."
He looked up.
She stepped closer.
"I want to come with you."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're not enrolled."
"I won't interfere," she said. "Not like yesterday. I just want to be near you."
Sarah entered the hallway just in time to hear this.
"You can't exactly walk into a high school without paperwork," she added gently.
Ciel smiled.
"I know."
Then she lifted her hand — golden threads of light spiraled around her fingers. Slowly, delicately, she pressed her palm to the back of Alex's right hand.
"May I?" she asked softly.
He nodded.
The light pulsed.
And in the next moment—
Her form dissolved.
Not into particles.
Not into mist.
But into a single, intricate glowing sigil that spiraled outward like a rotating solar glyph before compressing into a mark the size of a coin.
It etched itself gently on the back of Alex's hand — delicate, golden, symmetrical — like a sun blooming between his knuckles and wrist.
The room fell silent.
Alice, halfway down the stairs, stared in open shock.
Sarah's basket hit the floor.
Mark stepped forward, eyes narrowed in disbelief. "What… was that?"
Alex looked down at his hand.
"She created this yesterday," he said calmly. "A contained signature tether — her essence can rest inside it."
"She can see through it. Hear through it. Feel through me. And if she wants…"
He lifted his hand slightly.
"She can come out."
The symbol shimmered briefly.
Then dimmed to a faint glow.
Alice reached the bottom step and pointed at his hand.
"You mean she's in there right now?"
"She is," Ciel's voice chimed gently — not aloud, but through the air around Alex's hand, like a memory spoken through sunlight. "I'm comfortable here. It's warm. And close."
Sarah's mouth opened, then closed. "That's…"
"Incredible," Mark finished, stepping closer. "You're carrying her spirit like a companion seal. But she's not a bound entity. This wasn't forged through a contract."
"She did it herself," Alex confirmed. "Her own design. Merged soul interface. No summoning circle. No external anchor."
"She is the anchor."
Alice blinked. "So what happens if someone tries to touch you without permission?"
"She can respond faster than thought," Alex said. "Or stay silent. It's up to her."
Ciel added sweetly, "I'll be good."
"…You say that," Alice muttered, "but you also stopped a falling mug midair with your mind."
Mark chuckled and stepped back. "Well, if she can cloak herself into a glyph that cleanly, no one at school will ever know."
Sarah sighed, picking up the laundry basket again. "Just don't let her answer questions during math class."
Alex slipped on his shoes.
"I'll be back before sunset."
He opened the door.
Sunlight poured in.
Then paused.
Lifted his marked hand gently.
"Ready?"
From the back of his hand, a shimmer of gold.
"Yes," Ciel whispered. "Let's go."
And with that—
Alex Elwood stepped outside.
With a world on his shoulder.
And a soul against his skin.
Chapter 132 – The Last Day Before
The classroom windows let in a grayish winter light.
The kind that didn't feel warm or cold — just quiet.
Muted.
As if the world outside was holding its breath.
Airi sat by the window, staring at her untouched notebook.
Her pen hovered just above the margin, where the words "Final Exam – Tomorrow" had been underlined twice. Neatly. Firmly.
The rest of the page was blank.
Students shuffled into the room behind her. The usual laughter was subdued, weighed down by nerves and the whispers of graduation day creeping closer. Teachers walked past the open door with clipboards and tired eyes.
No one wanted to be here.
Everyone wanted to be done.
Except Airi.
She glanced at the seat diagonally across the room — the one that belonged to him.
Still empty.
A student behind her mentioned something about answer keys. Another joked about cheating. None of it reached her.
Then she felt it.
A subtle shift in the air.
No sound. No presence.
But her eyes turned toward the door anyway.
Alex stepped into the room.
His uniform blazer was slightly wrinkled, the way it always was — like he didn't care or didn't notice. His black hair hung low over his eyes. His expression was unreadable as ever.
But something was different.
Airi couldn't explain it.
She studied him closely — too closely.
His bag rested easily over one shoulder. His movements were smooth, silent, but… his gaze felt lighter. Not distracted. Not cold.
Just… calm.
Too calm.
Like someone who had made peace with something.
Or like someone who knew a secret.
He passed by her desk.
She looked down quickly, pretending to adjust her pen.
But her eyes flicked toward his right hand.
Nothing.
No ring. No bracelet. No tattoo.
Just skin.
And yet—
A strange feeling crawled up her spine. A vague heat.
Like her instincts wanted to see something that wasn't visible.
No shimmer.
No magic.
No curse.
But still…
Something.
She watched him take his seat without a word, folding his hands on his desk, gazing out the window as if the sky were hiding answers no one else could read.
She bit her lip.
What are you hiding…?
She didn't know about the glyph hidden in plain sight — a symbol perfectly camouflaged against his skin, dormant unless called.
She didn't know the world he had rebuilt.
Or the girl who now slept inside his palm like folded light.
She only knew that ever since that night — the night she'd left his house, knowing she was too late, knowing something had already claimed a piece of him — she had felt like she was watching a page close without ever seeing the last line.
Airi opened her notebook again.
And beneath the words "Final Exam – Tomorrow," she began to write something new:
"He's not the same anymore.
And I don't know if he ever will be again."
Lunch break came like a breath through glass.
The class emptied quickly — most students heading for the courtyard or convenience store. A few stayed behind, heads bent over textbooks, cramming in last-minute formulas and dates.
Alex sat where he always did, beneath the window, quietly unwrapping a rice ball.
Airi hesitated in the hallway.
Her heart thudded harder than she wanted to admit.
Just lunch, she told herself.
We've done this before. Nothing's changed.
But it had changed.
She could feel it.
Still, she stepped into the classroom.
"Hey," she said softly, standing beside his desk.
Alex looked up — calm, neutral.
"Yeah?"
"…Do you want to eat together?"
He blinked once.
Then gave a slight nod.
"Sure."
They moved to the far corner of the classroom, where the desks were grouped into twos. Airi placed her bento on the table and sat across from him, unfolding the lid carefully.
She tried to make it feel casual — commenting on the pickles, the miso carton, the lack of cafeteria line today.
Alex responded in short, sincere phrases.
He wasn't pushing her away.
But he wasn't leaning in either.
Not yet.
Still, Airi found herself smiling anyway.
Even this was enough.
Even if he didn't see her that way.
Even if he—
"…She loves you."
The voice didn't come from across the table.
It echoed softly inside his mind — a light whisper, no louder than thought.
Alex froze mid-bite.
Ciel?
"She does," the voice repeated, quiet and certain. "Her feelings are strong. Rooted. She's afraid, but she hopes."
Afraid of what?
"That you won't look back. That you've already chosen someone else."
Alex didn't reply immediately.
His eyes flicked to Airi — chewing a piece of grilled fish, eyes lowered, as if pretending not to hope.
He felt something twist in his chest.
A strange weight. Not pain.
But awareness.
"Are you upset?" Ciel asked gently.
No. Just… surprised.
There was a pause.
Then, with soft warmth:
"I don't mind, you know. If you care for others too."
His breath caught slightly.
You don't?
"No," she said. "You gave me a soul. I'll never try to cage yours."
"Love isn't a scarcity. If someone else makes you smile…"
"…I want to see it."
Alex looked down at his lunch.
Then back at Airi.
She was pretending not to look at him — but her fingers trembled slightly on the chopsticks.
He realized something then.
She wasn't trying to win him.
She just wanted to stay close.
Even if she didn't know why.
Even if she couldn't name the girl hidden in his hand.
The school day edged toward its slow conclusion.
Outside the windows, the sky had softened into a pale gradient — that faint, colorless afternoon hue that only appeared in late winter.
Inside the classroom, the hum of fluorescent lights droned above them, broken only by the occasional shuffle of notebooks and whispered review questions.
Most students were focused on tomorrow's exam.
Airi was focused on the boy two seats away.
She waited until class ended. Until the shuffle of chairs and footsteps masked the sound of her approach. Until he stood beside his desk, calmly zipping his bag like the world didn't weigh on him at all.
Then she stepped in front of him.
"Alex," she said quietly.
He looked up, expression relaxed.
"Hmm?"
She hesitated.
Then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tried to sound casual.
"After the exam tomorrow… are you free?"
He blinked once. "Why?"
"I thought maybe we could go somewhere." Her voice was calm — just barely. "You know… relax. Unwind."
Alex tilted his head slightly, eyes watching her without judgment.
"…Just us?"
Airi nodded, trying to keep her face still. "If that's okay."
A long pause.
Then:
"Alright," he said.
Simple.
Uncomplicated.
But real.
Airi's breath caught.
"You mean it?"
"I don't mind," Alex replied. "You're easy to be around. I wouldn't say no to getting to know you better."
Her heart detonated.
She smiled — careful, contained, practiced.
But inside?
Her soul was screaming.
YES YES YES YES YES YES YES—
This wasn't just walking.
This wasn't just killing time.
This was traveling together.
This was…
A date.
"Okay," she managed. "I'll pick a place."
Alex nodded once. "Let me know."
He slung his bag over one shoulder, calm as ever, and walked past her toward the door.
But Airi didn't move for several seconds.
Her hands were still.
Her expression composed.
But her mind was already building the whole day in detail:
Where they'd go.
What she'd wear.
How she'd brush her hair just a little differently.
And if — maybe — at the end of it…
He'd see her not just as a friend.
But something more.
Behind her calm eyes, a war drum of hope pounded quietly.
Tomorrow would be the final exam.
But the real test…
Would come after.
Chapter 133 – After the Bell
The sound of pens scratching paper filled the room like rainfall.
The Final Exam.
The last one before graduation.
Teachers paced like silent guards between the aisles, heels tapping the floor with every slow pass. The clock above the whiteboard ticked with the weight of judgment.
Airi sat near the window.
Her posture was steady. Her brow furrowed only slightly as she read each question. She had prepared for this — not just with notes and flashcards, but with focus.
She answered each item calmly, methodically.
No panic.
No doubt.
She had studied late into the night.
But when she glanced up, just for a moment, she saw him.
Alex.
Two rows ahead, back perfectly straight, expression as neutral as ever.
His hand moved across the page like a slow current.
Not rushed.
Not anxious.
Just… effortless.
She didn't know the number behind his intelligence.
Didn't know that his mind processed formulas the way wind passed through leaves — instinctive, silent, invisible.
Didn't know that for him, this test wasn't even a challenge.
It was a gentle stroll.
But she could feel it.
The way he didn't pause.
Didn't sigh.
Didn't even tilt his head.
A few desks behind them, someone quietly whispered a prayer under their breath.
Another student stared blankly at a question about Meiji-era industrial policies like it had insulted their ancestors.
The tension in the room built like a rising tide.
But Alex?
Alex just turned the page.
By the thirty-minute mark, he had finished all subjects.
By the forty-minute mark, he had double-checked every answer and was leaning back slightly in his chair — eyes closed, as if reviewing advanced metaphysics in his mind instead of national history.
When the bell finally rang, releasing them from intellectual purgatory…
The room exhaled in a single groan.
Pens dropped.
Heads slumped.
Some students moaned like they'd barely survived an exorcism.
Only two looked untouched.
Airi stretched her arms with a soft smile.
Alex picked up his bag without a word.
Their eyes met briefly.
And Airi smiled again.
Because tomorrow…
Tomorrow wasn't about school.
Tomorrow was something more.
The Next Day – A Promise in Motion
The sky was clear.
Crisp, clean sunlight fell across the city streets. A few leftover sakura petals drifted down the sidewalks like confetti from some forgotten celebration.
Airi stood by the train station entrance — hair tied neatly, a light pink coat over her dress, her bag held in both hands. She had checked her reflection four times in the last ten minutes.
Her heart raced.
Her cheeks were warm.
Every part of her screamed this is a date.
When Alex arrived — black hoodie swapped for a clean button-up and a charcoal-gray jacket — she felt her stomach tighten.
Not because he was trying to impress.
But because he wasn't.
He just looked like himself.
And that was enough to stop time.
"…Hey," he said, as casually as ever.
"H-Hi," she replied, too quickly.
They stood side by side for a moment.
Then began walking.
Not as strangers.
Not as classmates bound by schedules.
But as two people sharing space — freely, willingly.
They passed shops, cafés, quiet gardens.
Airi showed him a museum she liked. He listened carefully, even though he'd likely memorized every exhibit description after one glance.
They bought taiyaki from a street vendor and sat by a fountain. Her fingers brushed his when he handed her the drink.
She laughed too easily. He smiled more than he usually did.
They weren't quite lovers.
Not yet.
But something between them shifted that day.
And though Alex couldn't name it—
And Airi didn't dare—
Ciel, resting as golden light against the back of his hand, whispered softly from her hidden place:
"…She's beautiful when she smiles like that."
Alex blinked.
Then nodded slightly.
"…Yeah."
Just a little more, Ciel thought warmly.
And your heart will open.
Far above the streets, on a rooftop overlooking the city square, a man stood cloaked in subtle concealment spells and spiritual veils.
His presence warped the wind.
Even the pigeons avoided the ledge he occupied.
He was dressed in a dark formal coat, crossed with warding talismans and five-bladed charms. A faint flame flickered along the edge of the long katana strapped to his back — not from heat, but from the righteous fury of a protector who had once sealed gods and demons alike.
Tachibana Hiroshi.
Head of the Tachibana family.
Demon-slayer. Spellmaster. Exorcist.
And — currently — a father watching his only daughter walk side by side with a boy who, in his professional opinion, had too calm a face for someone walking beside her.
He narrowed his eyes.
"That's too close."
He pressed two fingers together, summoning a ward marker to trace a slow sigil in the air.
Just one seal.
A minor one.
It wouldn't hurt the boy.
Just separate them.
Casually.
Forcefully.
But before the glyph could complete—
schlick.
A flash of silver arced through the air.
The glowing barrier shattered instantly with a quiet snap, scattering like starlight.
Blood trickled down the center of his forehead.
Not deep.
Not fatal.
But intentional.
Behind him, his wife stood with one hand still raised, holding a ceremonial hairpin — its edge coated in purification ink, humming faintly with enchantment.
She had thrown it like a dart.
Hiroshi didn't turn.
He didn't need to.
He just spoke — low, terse:
"…You cut me."
"Yes," she said calmly, stepping forward. Her heels clicked softly on the rooftop tiles. "Because you were about to interfere."
"She's walking with him. Alone. Do you know what that means?"
"I do."
"She's seventeen."
"She's happy."
Hiroshi finally turned his head — slowly.
His wife's eyes were calm, but sharp.
The kind of calm only a mother could wield — forged not through power, but love sharpened into truth.
"Can't you see it?" she asked softly.
He said nothing.
So she pointed.
Down below.
Where Airi laughed.
Really laughed.
Her voice light, her face unguarded, cheeks flushed not from embarrassment — but from joy.
The boy beside her said something quiet.
She turned toward him, eyes shining.
And Hiroshi, slayer of ancient curses, breaker of spiritual storms…
Felt something pierce through his defenses.
A moment of stillness.
A weight heavier than spells or swords.
His daughter was smiling.
Not politely.
Not out of obligation.
But with everything in her heart.
"…She's never looked at us like that," his wife whispered. "Not since she was small."
Hiroshi's hands slowly relaxed.
The talisman he was gripping fell limp.
He sighed once.
Still watching.
Still wary.
But no longer drawing blood.
"…If he breaks her heart," he muttered.
"I'll help you erase him from this timeline," she replied.
They stood together in silence.
Watching.
Protective.
Prepared.
But… letting her go.
Just a little.
Just enough.
Chapter 134 – Three Weeks of Quiet Gravity
Three weeks passed.
No monsters appeared.
No kingdoms fell.
No stars bled from the sky.
And in that stillness… Alex lived.
At school, his presence was the same: calm, unreadable, detached from noise. But to those who looked closely — to the one girl who had spent the last year memorizing the shape of his silences — something had changed.
He walked slower beside her now.
Waited by the gate if she lagged behind.
Shared drinks without flinching.
Laughed once. Just once.
But it was enough for Airi to know.
They weren't just walking together anymore.
They were together.
Not with declarations or ceremonies.
But with quiet trust.
With shared space.
With the way he reached for her hand sometimes, without needing to ask.
At night, he returned home to warmth.
Ciel waited for him there — not in the hallway or by the door, but in the soft silver light of his room. She always emerged from the symbol when the lights were dim and the world felt smaller.
She slept beside him every night.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Sometimes she curled into him like a human girl lost in a dream.
Sometimes she laid still, just watching him breathe.
He never sent her away.
And in those hours, she whispered magic to him.
They studied together — not formulas of fire or force, but equations older than calendars. Spells woven from time's own memory. Shifts in causality. Soft locks on entropy.
Every hour she spent with him only deepened her humanity.
And every minute he spent with her reminded him of the world he rebuilt — and the one he didn't want to lose again.
He still created.
Always.
That part of him didn't quiet down.
Whenever he entered World Frontier — through a portal linked to his bedroom mirror — he spent hours in thoughtless construction.
He built machines that transformed light into edible cubes.
He created shoes that meowed when stepped on.
He invented a tea kettle that argued about temperature settings.
Some were useful.
Some were absurd.
None were wasted.
Because creation was his rhythm.
And World Frontier welcomed him like a son of logic and light.
The thirty-two fortresses scattered across the continents were now reinforced — upgraded with zero-point generators, self-repairing walls, weather filters, and music systems that could play orchestral war hymns during battle… or lo-fi during tea time.
Sometimes, he visited Bran again.
The stone halls. The underground sanctum.
The Crimson Queen always greeted him with a glass of dark wine and a smile too ancient for comfort.
And Mircella — the vampire princess — would sit on the armrest of his chair like a child who knew she wasn't one.
She would smile, silent and smug, reminding him that he had made a promise.
Or at least, she had decided there was a promise.
"You're almost eighteen," Queen Ileana teased once, brushing her long black nails along the stem of a wineglass.
"When you are," Mircella said flatly, "you'll be eligible for marriage contracts in the old houses."
Alex didn't reply.
So Mircella added, "That includes me, obviously."
He still didn't reply.
But she didn't need him to.
She just liked reminding him.
At home, his parents noticed the changes.
He spoke more.
Sat with them longer after dinner.
Sometimes he asked about their younger years, their missions, their regrets.
Other times, he just helped with dishes.
Alice teased him less.
She watched more.
And smiled, faintly, when he wasn't looking.
By the end of those three weeks—
Airi stood beside him at the school gate, waiting for the light to change.
Alex reached out.
Quietly.
Casually.
And took her hand.
She didn't blush.
Didn't gasp.
She just held it back.
Fingers intertwined.
Their shadows stretched across the crosswalk.
Side by side.
No declarations.
No need for them.
They already knew.
It happened on a quiet afternoon.
No fanfare. No drama.
They sat together beneath the tall camphor tree behind the school — their usual spot when they didn't feel like going home just yet. Wind brushed through the leaves with a gentle hush, like it already knew a secret was about to pass between them.
Alex sat beside Airi on the bench.
No emotion in his voice.
No hesitation.
Just truth.
"I want to tell you something," he said. "Something real."
Airi blinked.
She tilted her head, listening.
He told her everything.
About the game that wasn't a game.
The six years he lived inside it.
The world that nearly died.
The girl who had been its will — and now, his companion.
He didn't sugarcoat it.
Didn't dramatize it.
He simply laid the pieces out, one by one.
When he finished, silence lingered.
Birds chirped faintly above them.
The wind kept moving.
And Airi…
Just stared.
Mouth slightly open. Eyes wide. Brain clearly refusing to process any of it.
"…You're not joking," she said quietly.
"No."
She looked down at her hands in her lap.
Then back at him.
Then at his hand — where she somehow now knew something was hidden, even if she still couldn't see it.
"You were gone for six years," she whispered.
"I came back changed," he said.
She shook her head slightly — not in denial, but disbelief.
"I thought I was the one discovering your secret."
"You were."
She looked at him.
Really looked.
"…It's all true?"
"All of it."
Airi fell silent again.
Then slowly — very slowly — reached forward and took his hand in hers.
"Okay," she said.
He blinked.
"That's it?"
"No," she said, her voice calm but serious. "I have a hundred questions. Maybe a thousand."
"But I can ask those later."
She took a deep breath.
Then leaned forward just a little.
"I promise I won't tell anyone. Ever. Not even my family."
Her grip tightened slightly.
"This is your world. Your truth. I'll protect it."
Alex looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
"…Thank you."
Airi smiled.
It trembled at the edges.
But it was real.
And now, they were closer than ever before.
No longer just classmates.
No longer just a couple.
Now, she carried a piece of his impossible story—
And chose to stay.
Chapter 135 – The First Flame
The air behind the camphor tree had grown quiet.
Alex glanced at Airi, then at his hand — the mark faintly shimmering beneath his skin. He could feel Ciel stirring, already aware of what he was thinking. She always was.
"…Do you want to meet her?" he asked.
Airi tilted her head slightly. "You mean… she's here?"
He nodded once.
"Always."
She blinked — then sat a little straighter, her pulse quickening.
Alex raised his hand.
A soft light pulsed outward — not blinding, but radiant. From the center of the mark, golden threads unfurled like silk unraveling in slow motion, and then—
She stepped out.
Ciel.
Slender. Graceful. Her long silver-white hair shimmered in the filtered sunlight, braid resting lightly against her shoulder. Her cream blouse and flowing skirt gave her the look of an elegant girl from another era, her posture serene and glowing.
But it was her eyes — golden, deep, timeless — that made Airi freeze.
She was beautiful.
Not exaggeratedly so. Not unreachably divine.
But softly, deeply beautiful in the kind of way that seemed to wrap itself around Alex without trying.
And Alex…
He looked at her with a calmness Airi had never seen before.
A different calm.
Not detached.
But anchored.
"Ciel," he said gently, "this is Airi."
Ciel turned to face her and bowed slightly.
"It's nice to meet you," she said. "I've seen you many times, but this is the first time we've truly shared space."
Airi stared.
Her throat was dry.
Her fingers clenched in her lap.
Because even before the question was asked, she knew.
"…She's the one," she whispered.
Alex looked at her, puzzled. "What?"
"You loved her first."
He didn't answer.
And that silence…
Confirmed everything.
Something cracked inside Airi.
Not loudly. Not publicly.
But deep beneath her carefully constructed heart, a scream began to build. Her vision dimmed at the edges, and her thoughts spiraled like fire.
You lived with her for six years.
You died beside her. Rebuilt a world with her.
And you're still sleeping next to her every night.
She wanted to run.
Or scream.
Or rip the earth open.
Ciel turned to Alex.
"I think…" she said softly, "you should let me speak with her alone."
Alex hesitated.
But she placed a hand on his chest — gently — and smiled.
"It'll be alright."
He nodded once, still unsure, and stepped away toward the garden path, letting the wind pull him from earshot.
Now only the two of them remained.
Airi didn't speak.
She sat like stone.
Her body was still, but inside, the fire was roaring — hot, possessive, sharp with the fear of loss.
Ciel didn't move closer.
She stood with a soft grace, hands folded gently, and waited until the silence between them had stretched far enough.
"I know what you're feeling," she said quietly. "And I don't blame you."
Airi's eyes narrowed. "You don't know anything about me."
Ciel tilted her head slightly.
"I know you love him. I know you've been watching him for a long time. Protecting him. Trying to understand him."
She paused.
"And I know it hurts to realize someone else was there first."
Airi's jaw tightened.
"Then why aren't you fighting me?"
Ciel smiled faintly. Not smug. Not cold.
Warm.
Almost… motherly.
"Because I don't need to fight you."
That only made Airi angrier.
"Don't act like you're above it."
"I'm not," Ciel said. "I just love him differently."
Airi looked at her with raw disbelief.
Ciel took a breath.
"If you and Alex ever choose to have children…" she said softly, "I will love them like they're my own."
The words hit Airi like a slap.
She blinked.
Stared.
"What…?"
"I'll help raise them," Ciel continued gently. "I'll protect them. I'll teach them. I'll cherish them. Because they would be his."
"And if they're yours too…" she met Airi's stunned eyes. "Then they're mine as well."
Airi trembled.
"What… kind of person says that?"
"A person who doesn't want to limit the one she loves," Ciel said.
"I want Alex to be happy," she added. "If you're part of that happiness, I won't get in the way. I'll walk beside you, if you'll let me."
Airi couldn't speak.
Her fire — still hot — now had nowhere to burn.
It had turned inward, curling around something heavy.
Guilt.
Shame.
And wonder.
Ciel stepped forward.
Just once.
Then sat beside her — not too close.
Not like a rival.
But like someone who had also chosen the same person, and was willing to share the pain of it.
"I don't want to replace you," Ciel said softly. "I just don't want to lose him either."
And in that moment, something inside Airi cracked—
Not in anger.
But in something frighteningly close to understanding.
She didn't speak.
Couldn't.
She just sat there.
Breathing.
And burning.
The wind stirred gently between them, rustling the leaves above like whispered pages being turned.
Ciel sat quietly beside Airi, her posture relaxed, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her golden eyes glowed softly, not with power, but with a kind of radiance that came from peace — the kind only those without jealousy could hold.
Airi stared at her lap.
She hadn't spoken in over a minute.
Her fingers were trembling slightly. Her jaw was clenched.
Ciel didn't pressure her.
She just waited.
Patient. Warm.
Then, quietly:
"…I don't think I deserve to hear you say that," Airi whispered.
Ciel blinked.
Airi kept her eyes lowered. "You're kind. You're gentle. You care about his happiness more than anything. But when I saw you… when I realized you were the one he loved first…"
Her voice wavered.
"…I hated you."
She squeezed her fists tight.
"I hated you for existing. For being everything I couldn't be. For having more time with him than I ever did."
Ciel listened in silence.
"I wanted him to myself," Airi admitted. "I didn't want to share. I still don't."
Tears began to collect in her eyes, and she shut them hard, as if trying to keep her selfishness from spilling over.
"But you… you're not like me. You never once tried to take him away. You never even said you were first. You let me be close. You didn't try to stop it. You just…"
Her voice cracked.
"You just smiled."
Ciel's voice was soft — gentle as a lullaby.
"Because I see how much you love him."
She turned to Airi, golden eyes shimmering faintly.
"And if you'll allow me… I can be anything you need me to be."
Airi looked up, tears still glistening on her cheeks.
"What do you mean?"
"I could be your big sister," Ciel said with a quiet smile. "Or your little sister. I don't mind."
"I just want to protect the people he loves. I want them to feel safe."
Her voice remained calm, but there was something shimmering beneath it — a sincerity so deep, it left no room for pride.
"You don't have to fight me, Airi. I'm already on your side."
Airi stared at her.
Her chest tightened painfully.
And suddenly…
She moved.
Without thinking.
Without restraint.
She leaned forward and threw her arms around Ciel's shoulders — squeezing her tightly, face pressed against her collarbone.
"I'm sorry," Airi whispered between sobs. "I'm sorry I was so small. I didn't want to be, but I was. I'm sorry…"
Ciel wrapped her arms around her gently.
Not with pity.
But with warmth.
"I forgive you," she said softly.
"You don't need to be perfect. Just honest."
Airi clung to her tighter.
"Big sister…" she whispered, voice cracking.
Ciel smiled — truly smiled — and held her even closer.
"Yes," she said gently. "I'd like that."