Three Months Later
Nana stood on the balcony of Xavier's apartment—her apartment now, she supposed, since she'd moved all her things down here after his death. Being in his space, surrounded by his belongings, made the loss slightly more bearable.
The three ancient star tassels still sat in their display case. Nana had added the bright yellow plush to the collection—four tassels now, four lifetimes, four loves that had all been the same person.
Her twenty-third birthday had come and gone without incident. No mysterious illness. No accidents. No curse claiming her life one day before the celebration. She'd lived past twenty-three for the first time in four lifetimes.
Because Xavier had saved her.
The Hunter Association had been surprisingly understanding about her abandoning the mission. When she'd finally returned to headquarters the next day and explained—or tried to explain, through broken sobs—what had happened, they'd put her on extended bereavement leave.
Most people thought she was mourning a boyfriend who'd died of a terminal illness. No one except her knew the truth—that she'd lost someone she'd loved for four lifetimes, someone who'd sacrificed his existence to save hers.
Every night, Nana came out to the balcony and looked up at Xavier's star. It was always there, always the brightest, always pulsing with gentle light that felt like a heartbeat.
"I got promoted today," Nana told the star.
"Team leader. I think they felt sorry for me, but I'll take it. I'm good at my job. You trained me well." She smiled sadly.
"I protected twelve civilians this week. Killed fifteen Wanderers. You'd be proud."
The star twinkled, and Nana let herself believe it was Xavier's response.
"I miss you," she whispered, her voice catching.
"Every day. Every moment. Everything reminds me of you. The coffee shop where we got breakfast. The park where we celebrated your birthday. This balcony where you—"
She couldn't finish. Even three months later, the memory of him dissolving in her arms was too painful.
"But I'm living," Nana continued.
"Like you asked. Like I promised. I'm living fully, experiencing everything, making memories. And every night, I share them with you. I don't know if you can hear me up there. I don't know if stars can listen to humans. But I'm going to keep talking to you anyway. For the rest of my life."
The star pulsed, bright and steady.
"I love you, Xavier. Crown Star of Philos. My prince. My knight. My king. My everything." Nana pressed her hand against her chest, over her heart. "Thank you for four lifetimes of love. Thank you for breaking my curse. Thank you for—"
Her voice failed. She just stood there, looking up at the star, tears streaming silently down her face.
And above her, Xavier's star shone on.
Bright. Beautiful. Eternal.
A testament to a love that had transcended death, defied curses, and spanned centuries.
A love story written in starlight.
With an ending that hurt like dying.
But was somehow, impossibly, still full of hope.
Because Nana would live. Would thrive. Would carry Xavier's memory forward into a future he'd sacrificed everything to give her.
And every night, she'd look up at the brightest star in the sky and remember:And every night, she'd look up at the brightest star in the sky and remember:
Once upon a time, a star fell in love with a girl.
And he fell so completely, so devastatingly, that he gave up heaven itself just to watch her shine.
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Six Months After Xavier's Death
Every night, without fail, Nana came to the balcony.
It had become her ritual, her routine, her lifeline to sanity.
As soon as the sun set and the stars became visible, she'd make herself a cup of tea (Xavier's favorite blend, the one he'd kept in his apartment that she couldn't bring herself to throw away), wrap herself in one of his sweaters that still somehow carried the faint scent of starlight, and sit in their chair.
Their chair. The one where they'd spent countless evenings together, where she'd counted stars while he memorized her face, where he'd held her as she cried after finally remembering everything.
The chair where he'd taken his last breath before dissolving into stardust in her arms.
Tonight was no different. Nana settled into the chair, pulled Xavier's sweater tighter around herself, and looked up at the brightest star in the sky—Xavier's star, always there, always watching, always impossibly far away.
"Hi,"
she whispered to the star, her voice soft in the quiet night.
"I'm back. Did you miss me today?"
The star twinkled, and Nana smiled despite the ache in her chest. She liked to imagine that Xavier could hear her, that somehow, from the cosmic distance of space, he was listening to every word.
"Today was... hard," Nana continued, her fingers wrapped around the warm tea cup.
"I walked past the steaming bun stall. You know, the one we always stopped at? The elderly woman who runs it—she asked about you again."
Nana's voice cracked slightly.
"She said 'Where's that handsome silver-haired man who always orders red bean buns? I haven't seen him in months. Did he move away?' And I—"
She swallowed hard.
"I couldn't answer. What was I supposed to say? That you turned into stardust? That you're literally a star now? That you sacrificed your existence to save mine?"
The star pulsed gently, steady as a heartbeat.
"So I just... smiled and said you were traveling. That you'd be gone for a long time. She looked so sad, Xavier. She said you were her favorite customer because you always complimented her cooking and left generous tips. She gave me extra buns 'for when he comes back.'"
Nana pulled one of the buns from her bag, still warm in its paper wrapper.
"I bought your favorite. Red bean paste. I thought maybe—"
Her voice broke completely.
"Maybe if I kept buying them, it would feel like you were still here. Like you'd walk through that door any moment and steal half my bun like you always did."
She stared at the bun in her hands, tears blurring her vision.
"But you won't, will you? You'll never walk through that door again. Never steal my food. Never poke my cheeks when they puff up. Never call me Starlight in that soft voice that made my heart stop."
The memories crashed over her like waves:
Xavier stealing a bite of her bun and grinning when she protested.
"You weren't going to finish it anyway, Starlight."
"That's not the point! It's the principle!"
His laugh—that rare, beautiful sound that she'd treasured every time she heard it.
"Everything reminds me of you,"
Nana whispered to the star.
"The steaming bun stall. The bubble tea shop where you always ordered the same thing—taro milk tea, less ice, extra pearls. The park where we celebrated your birthday. The training grounds where you taught me to fight. The—"
She gestured helplessly around the balcony.
"This place. This apartment. Every corner of Linkon has your ghost in it."
She wiped her tears with the sleeve of Xavier's sweater.
"I saw the color blue today—just a random blue car—and I had to stop walking because it reminded me of your eyes. Your beautiful, sad, ancient eyes that watched me die four times and still looked at me with so much love."
The star twinkled brighter, like it was trying to comfort her.
"I miss you so much it physically hurts,"
Nana's voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"Sometimes I wake up and forget, just for a second. I think 'I should go check on Xavier' before I remember that you're gone. That you're up there—" She looked directly at the star. "So close I can see you every night, but so far away I'll never touch you again."
She hugged herself tighter, Xavier's sweater providing minimal comfort.
"You must be lonely up there, right? Alone in the vast emptiness of space? No one to talk to. No warmth. No—"
Her voice cracked.
"No me. Are you lonely, Xavier? Do you regret it? Choosing to fade? Taking the curse with you?"
The star pulsed once—bright and steady and somehow feeling like an answer.
No. I'd do it again. Always.
Nana smiled through her tears.
"I know you would. You're too selfless for your own good. Always have been. Across four lifetimes, you've always put me first. Even when it killed you. Especially when it killed you."
She set down her tea and pulled out her palm, studying the place where the star-shaped mark used to be. The skin was smooth now, unmarked, like the curse had never existed.
"You broke it,"
Nana said softly. "The curse that killed me at twenty-two for four lifetimes. You took it with you when you faded. Absorbed it somehow. Xavier—" Her voice trembled.
"You gave up your chance to be reborn. Your chance to come back to Earth, to find me again, to love me in another lifetime. You sacrificed everything just so I could live past twenty-three."
She pressed her palm against her chest, over her heart.
"And I did. I lived past twenty-three. It's been six months now. Six months of living in a world without you. Six months of breathing air that feels wrong because you're not breathing it too. Six months of experiencing things I wish I could share with you."
The night air was getting colder. Autumn was approaching, and with it, another milestone.
"My twenty-third birthday is in two weeks," Nana said quietly.
"October 15th. The day I was supposed to die. The day the curse would have claimed me for the fifth time."
She looked up at Xavier's star.
"But I'll live through it. Because of you. Because you broke fate itself to save me."
She was quiet for a long moment, just staring at the star, memorizing its brightness like Xavier had once memorized her face.
"I don't know if I want to celebrate,"
Nana admitted. "How can I be happy about living past twenty-three when you had to die for me to do it? When every year I live is a year you gave up? It feels—"
She struggled for words. "It feels wrong. Cruel. Like I'm celebrating your sacrifice instead of mourning it."
But she knew what Xavier would say if he were here. Could practically hear his voice in her mind:
Live, Starlight. Live fully and loudly and joyfully. Make every moment count. That's how you honor my sacrifice—by being happy.
"Easier said than done,"
Nana muttered, but she smiled anyway.
The star twinkled in response, and for a moment, Nana could swear she felt warmth—like Xavier's hand touching her cheek, like his light evol wrapping around her in a gentle embrace.
But when she reached out, there was nothing but empty air and starlight.
"I love you," Nana whispered. "Xavier, Crown Star of Philos, my prince across lifetimes—I love you. I've never regretted loving you. Not once. Not even now when it hurts so much I can barely breathe. Because loving you—" Her voice broke. "Loving you was the best thing that ever happened to me. Across four lifetimes, across centuries, across death itself—you were always worth it."
She wiped her tears and forced herself to smile. "Even though it hurts. Even though remembering your sacrifice makes me want to scream at the universe for its cruelty. Even though every day without you feels like dying slowly—I don't regret it. I'd choose you again. Every single time."
The star pulsed bright and steady, and Nana felt it in her chest—a warmth, a recognition, a sense of being heard.
"I'm going to keep living," she promised the star.
"I'm going to do everything you wanted me to do. Experience the world. Protect people. Make memories. Be happy."
Her voice wavered. "Even though every happy moment will be bittersweet because you're not here to share it. Even though I'll spend the rest of my life looking up at you and wishing you were here instead. I'll keep your sacrifice from being in vain."
She stood slowly, her body stiff from sitting in the cold. But before going inside, she pulled something from her pocket—a small notebook, worn from constant use.
"I'm writing our story," Nana said softly, holding up the notebook.
"Every night after I talk to you, I write. I'm documenting everything I remember from our four lifetimes together. Philos, Luna, the Valley Kingdom, the Qing Dynasty, and now this—our fifth lifetime, the one where I finally remembered everything."
She flipped through pages covered in her handwriting—stories of fireflies and oak trees, of lanterns on lakes, of palace gardens and battlefields, of love that transcended death.
"I'm calling it 'Philos: When the Crown Star Landed on Earth,'"
Nana continued.
"Because that's what you did, wasn't it? You were a star who came to Earth for me. Who gave up heaven to be with me. Who fell—literally fell from the sky—just to love me."
She hugged the notebook to her chest.
"I want people to know. I want our love story preserved. So even when I'm gone, even centuries from now, someone will read it and know that once upon a time, a star loved a girl so much that he defied cosmic law. That he chose her over kingdoms. That he waited centuries between her deaths just for moments with her. That he finally broke an eternal curse by sacrificing his own existence."
The star shone brighter, and Nana's tears fell freely now.
"I want them to know you were real. That this love was real. That it mattered."
She looked up at the star through blurred vision.
"That YOU mattered, Xavier. More than anything. More than kingdoms or curses or cosmic laws. You mattered to me."
She stood there for another long moment, just looking at the star, trying to memorize its exact position in the sky, its brightness, the way it pulsed like a heartbeat.
Finally, reluctantly, she whispered:
"Goodnight, Xavier. I'll be back tomorrow. I'll always come back. For the rest of my life, I'll come to this balcony and talk to you. You might be unreachable, but you'll never be forgotten. Not by me. Never by me."
The star twinkled once more—a farewell, a goodnight across the impossible distance.
Nana went inside but left the balcony door open, like she always did. Like keeping the door open meant Xavier could somehow find his way back.
She knew it was impossible.
Knew that stars didn't come back down to Earth.
Knew that Xavier had sacrificed his chance at rebirth.
But hope was a stubborn thing.
And Nana had always been stubborn.
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⭐⭐⭐
To be continued __