Galax replied,
"Okay, Mother."
His voice was gentle, filled with respect and youthful energy. The sound was clear, like the first drop of morning dew falling from a leaf — delicate, pure, and fleeting. It echoed softly through the kitchen, a space already heavy with the warm, comforting scent of breakfast. The fragrance of freshly fried eggs blended with the sweet aroma of melting butter and the faint crispness of toasted bread. Together, they filled the air with an intimate sense of peace, the kind that comes only in the earliest hours of morning when the sun's light is still tender and new.
After he spoke, Galax tilted his head up to meet Alenya's eyes, smiling faintly — the kind of smile that revealed both affection and discipline. He took a small step backward, straightened himself, and then said brightly, "I'll go get the others. You two can wait in the hall."
His tone was confident yet friendly, carrying the ease of someone raised in an environment filled with kindness and structure. When he finished, he turned sharply toward the doorway, his light cloak fluttering slightly with the motion. The wooden floor creaked under his hurried steps, the rhythm of his feet echoing down the corridor — thud, thud, thud — before gradually fading into silence, swallowed by the calm stillness of the morning house.
Asfinne's gaze followed Galax's retreating figure until he disappeared around the corner. The faint sound of the boy's footsteps lingered for only a heartbeat before dissolving completely. He stood there, unmoving, his eyes still fixed on the space where Galax had vanished. His thoughts swirled quietly — confusion, uncertainty, and something else he couldn't quite name. This world, these people, this routine — all of it felt unfamiliar to him. Every sound, every gesture seemed to hold meaning he did not yet understand.
The kitchen, now quiet, felt suddenly vast. The soft hum of morning wind passing through the open window carried with it the distant chirp of birds. Light poured in through the curtains in long golden beams, cutting across the table and falling over the floorboards. It was serene — but the stillness only amplified the tension twisting inside his chest.
Then, the girl beside him turned slightly. Her movement was subtle but drew his attention at once. Her eyes — calm, sky-blue, and filled with light — met his for a brief moment. That single glance seemed to soften the atmosphere. The sun filtering through the window caught on her features, tracing the gentle curve of her cheek and the faint glimmer in her eyes.
Her hair, a shade of pale blonde, shimmered faintly as the breeze moved through it. It fell to the middle of her back, soft and fluid, like silk brushed by sunlight. The way the light touched it made each strand glint in different shades of gold and ivory. For a moment, Asfinne was caught off guard — not because of beauty in the ordinary sense, but because of the warmth that radiated from her presence. It was quiet, natural, and disarming.
She smiled — a small, sincere smile — and spoke in a gentle, lilting tone.
"Shall we go then?"
Her voice was soft and melodious, almost blending with the air around them. It carried a kind of tender clarity that made his heart beat a little faster without his consent. He nodded, hesitant but polite, and took his first step toward the door.
He didn't know where the hall was. The thought struck him almost immediately after leaving the kitchen. Every step felt uncertain — every hallway a possible mistake. The house was unfamiliar; the layout meant nothing to him. It was all foreign and vast, yet it carried a strange comfort, the way a dream sometimes feels familiar even when you know you've never been there before.
The corridor stretched ahead, washed in soft sunlight from the tall windows along the wall. Dust motes floated lazily in the light, sparkling faintly as they drifted. The walls were pale, slightly worn but well cared for, and the air smelled faintly of wood and morning dew. Asfinne's footsteps were slow and careful, the faint creak of the floorboards following each step.
Ahead of him were two doors — one to the left, one directly across. He paused, glancing between them, uncertain which to take. His breath caught for a moment. He tried to remember — did he see the hall earlier? Could he recall its position from any of Asfinne's faint memories? Nothing came.
He exhaled slowly, then made a decision, moving toward the door straight ahead. Somehow, it felt right. The brass handle was cool under his fingers, sending a small shock through his skin. He hesitated, then pushed it open.
The door swung with a soft creak, and a faint draft met his face — cooler than the air in the kitchen. The scent changed too: less of butter and bread, more of open space and polished wood.
Before him was a large hall. The sunlight pouring through the tall windows framed the room in warm gold, falling in slanted beams that stretched across the floor. The floorboards were clean and smooth, gleaming faintly like varnished amber. At the center stood a long, sturdy wooden table — large enough for dozens of children to gather around. Around it were chairs neatly arranged in a circle, their surfaces polished by countless mornings of use.
A small vase sat in the middle of the table, filled with a modest bouquet of flowers — yellow and white blooms, fresh and delicate. The scent was faint but pleasant, mingling with the clean air. The overall scene exuded a kind of gentle order — the quiet discipline of a place where care and warmth coexisted.
Asfinne stepped inside quietly, taking it all in. The hall felt both alive and still — a space waiting to be filled with voices, laughter, and the clatter of breakfast plates. But now, it was empty, silent. The faint echo of his footsteps was the only sound.
He looked around, unsure where he was supposed to sit. There was no sign, no indication of where his place might be. He realized he had no idea where the real Asfinne usually sat. That absence of knowledge pressed against him like a weight — a reminder that he was, in truth, an imposter among them.
Then his gaze caught on a pair of chairs by the wall — slightly apart from the rest, positioned as if meant for someone who didn't like to draw attention. Something about them felt safe. He walked toward them and took one of the seats, his movements careful, almost rehearsed.
The girl who had followed him watched with a small flicker of surprise in her expression. For a brief second, it looked as though she wanted to say something — but instead, she smiled faintly and walked over to sit beside him.
Asfinne blinked. He hadn't expected that. He thought she would have her own seat — maybe somewhere else, near friends or others she usually sat with. But instead, she had chosen to sit here, right next to him.
The chair legs scraped softly against the floor as she settled down. Then silence fell again, deep and steady. The air seemed almost too still — so still that the quiet hum of the morning outside felt loud in comparison.
He didn't know what to do. The stillness between them stretched longer with each passing second. The ticking of a distant clock filled the gap between their breaths. He sat with his hands folded awkwardly, trying to appear calm while his mind raced.
Was the real Asfinne close to this girl? Were they friends? Something more? The thought made him uneasy — not out of jealousy, but fear. Fear of saying the wrong thing, of breaking a bond he didn't understand.
He turned slightly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She was looking straight ahead, her expression calm but unreadable. Her long hair fell over her shoulders like a curtain of gold, catching the sunlight in soft gleams. Her posture was graceful — neither stiff nor relaxed, but perfectly balanced, as though she were accustomed to quiet moments like this.
Then, before he could gather his thoughts enough to speak, her voice broke the silence.
"Do you remember me?"
The question was simple — too simple — yet it carried the weight of something far deeper. The sound of her voice lingered in the air like a note struck on a quiet instrument, reverberating softly between them.
Asfinne froze. His body stiffened; his breath caught. The words hit him like a soft but undeniable strike to the heart. He turned his head slowly, meeting her eyes again. They were steady, searching, as if she were looking for a reflection of herself within him.
He wanted to answer, but no words came. His throat felt tight. The truth was — he didn't know her. Not even her name. He had never heard anyone mention her before. To him, she was a complete mystery — yet to her, he was someone she clearly remembered.
He tried to force a smile, but it wavered. Inside, his thoughts spun in circles. Who are you? The question echoed silently in his mind, louder with every beat of his heart.
The stillness returned, stretching out between them. The sound of the wind against the window, the faint rustle of leaves outside, and the slow rhythm of his own breathing were the only sounds that existed.
He sat there, caught between truth and pretense, between the world he came from and the world he was trapped within — and in that fragile, quiet moment, one thought filled his mind completely, a thought that wouldn't leave him no matter how hard he tried to suppress it:
Who is she, really?
Who… is she?
Before Asfinne could say anything, the sound of a door slowly opening broke the silence. The faint metallic creak of the hinges echoed softly through the wide hall, a noise so subtle yet so clear that it almost resembled the house's own quiet breath. The stillness in the room was so deep that even the beating of Asfinne's heart felt amplified in his chest. The wooden door continued to move, letting in a faint rush of cool air from the corridor outside. The morning light streamed through the thin cream-colored curtains, flooding the room with a pale golden glow. The scent of sunlight and dust mingled with the faint, familiar fragrance of old polished wood, the smell of a place that had been cared for through years of quiet days. The warmth of the morning glimmered on the wooden floorboards, and within the beams of light floated small particles of dust, glittering softly like tiny stars suspended in still air.
Three figures appeared at the doorway. The opened door allowed a bright shaft of light to stretch across the floor, forming a glowing path that reached all the way to Asfinne's feet. The first one to step inside was Galax — the boy whose voice and liveliness Asfinne could recall clearly. His short brown hair gleamed warmly beneath the morning light, the slight messiness giving him an endearing, natural charm. His eyes, a vivid shade of red, shone with both curiosity and confusion, yet his lips curved in a faint smile as if trying to keep the atmosphere from becoming too tense.
The second was a girl. She entered the room with soft but confident steps, each one making a gentle vibration against the wooden floor. Her long red hair was tied neatly behind her head, and when the light touched it, it shimmered like the flicker of a flame at dawn. Her golden eyes blazed with determination and self-assuredness, though hidden deep within them was a spark of irritation — perhaps jealousy, or maybe something more complicated that she herself hadn't realized.
The third was a boy with black hair that reached his shoulders. He walked in quietly, so silent that his footsteps barely made a sound. His black eyes were calm yet deep, reflecting nothing, like a still pond under a moonless sky. He gazed at Asfinne and the blonde-haired girl sitting beside him without showing any emotion at all. His expression remained unreadable — a still mask that betrayed nothing of what was going through his mind.
Together, the three of them stood by the open door, illuminated by the light streaming in from the corridor. The morning sun cast each of them in different hues — brown for warmth, red for passion, and black for quiet mystery — three emotions colliding within the same space. All of their gazes converged on Asfinne and the blonde-haired girl next to him.
The atmosphere in the hall grew heavier. The silence, once calm, now carried a subtle tension that wrapped around everyone present. Even the ticking of the wooden clock on the wall seemed louder than before — tick... tock... tick... tock — as if time itself had slowed down to witness what was happening.
Every eye was fixed on him. He could feel their thoughts, their curiosity, their questions — all silently directed toward him. Galax's face still bore a half-smile, but confusion shimmered behind his eyes. The red-haired girl's gaze was sharp, her golden irises burning with a restrained anger. The black-haired boy, as before, remained silent, his expression unreadable. The weight of their stares pressed on Asfinne like an invisible wall.
Then Galax finally spoke. His voice was calm but tinged with disbelief.
"Hey, Fin... why are you sitting in Meriana's seat?"
The question struck through the still air like a pebble cast into a still pond. The name "Meriana" echoed faintly in Asfinne's mind, circling in thought. He quickly pieced things together — this must mean that the blonde girl sitting beside him was Meriana, and that the seat he had taken was hers.
He glanced at her again. She smiled faintly, and though it seemed gentle, there was something within that smile — something unreadable. It was a warm smile, yes, but one that hinted at secrets, at familiarity he couldn't place. It was as if she knew something he didn't.
Asfinne decided to stand up, his hand brushing against the cool surface of the wooden table. He looked around at the others, forcing a small, natural smile before replying with a calm voice.
"I just wanted to talk to her, that's all. We don't get to talk that often, so I thought I'd sit and chat for a bit."
His voice was steady, though deep down his pulse raced. He tried to sound as casual as he could, to keep suspicion from growing. The faint smile on his lips was meant to ease the air, but instead, it seemed to deepen the confusion in the others' eyes. Galax looked puzzled, the red-haired girl's brows furrowed sharply, and the black-haired boy remained completely motionless — his silence far louder than any question could be.
Then, the red-haired girl broke the moment with her fiery tone. She took a step forward, her voice edged with both irritation and something far more fragile — a trace of jealousy, perhaps.
"You've talked to Meriana before? She just got here two or three days ago, while you were still asleep!"
Her words struck through him like a blade of realization. Asfinne froze for a second, his heartbeat thudding against his chest. He hadn't known this. If Meriana had only just arrived... then why did she act as if she knew him? Why did her eyes carry the weight of recognition, her voice the warmth of familiarity?
Questions flooded his mind, tangled and chaotic. Maybe she just wanted to be friendly. Maybe she was pretending to know him for some reason. Or maybe... maybe she truly did know the Asfinne that existed before him — the one whose life he had stepped into. The thought made his stomach twist.
Before he could utter a single word, Meriana spoke up. Her voice was calm, carrying a softness that immediately cut through the tense atmosphere.
"I've met Brother Asfinne before," she said gently, "so it's not strange that he'd talk to me. It's been a long time since we last saw each other."
Her words were followed by a serene smile — a smile that washed away the heaviness in the air. The room seemed to brighten, as though her voice had called the light back in. The other three — Galax, the red-haired girl, and the black-haired boy — stared at her in open surprise. Their expressions shifted almost simultaneously, eyes widening, mouths parting slightly as if they couldn't quite believe what they'd heard.
The morning sunlight streamed through the window once more, falling directly across Meriana's face. Her blonde hair gleamed under it like strands of spun gold, glowing with a gentle radiance. Her eyes reflected the golden light as she sat there, poised and graceful, an aura of calmness enveloping her. In that moment, she looked as if she belonged to the light itself — serene, warm, and untouchable.
Asfinne watched her quietly, and for a heartbeat, everything else seemed to fade — the murmurs, the ticking clock, the questioning gazes. There was only her, and that soft, knowing smile. Something inside him shifted, a faint stirring deep within his chest — something he couldn't quite name, something that felt both foreign and familiar at once.