The Linkon Medical Conference was being held at the city's largest convention center, and apparently half of Linkon had shown up to see Dr. Zayne Li speak.
Nana stood in the back of the massive auditorium, surrounded by what felt like thousands of people, and tried to see over the sea of heads. She was not succeeding.
"Excuse me," she said to the tall man in front of her. "Could you maybe—"
"DOCTOR LI!" A group of women to her right erupted in screams that would have put Wanderer shrieks to shame. "WE LOVE YOU!"
Nana winced. Her hunter-trained ears were not designed for this level of volume in an enclosed space.
The screaming spread like a wave through the crowd as Zayne took the podium. Nana caught a glimpse of him between shifting bodies—pristine in his white doctor's coat, hair perfectly styled, expression professionally neutral as he adjusted the microphone.
Then someone shifted and her view was blocked again by a particularly enthusiastic fan holding a massive banner with Zayne's face printed on it. His professional headshot had been blown up to poster size, and someone had added sparkles and hearts around the border.
Nana couldn't help but laugh. The contrast was ridiculous—serious, stoic Dr. Zayne, surrounded by glitter and romantic embellishments like some kind of romance novel cover model.
Though she had to admit, the photo was good. They'd captured that intense focus in his hazel eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, that subtle hint of softness around his mouth that suggested he might, occasionally, smile.
"Everyone likes him," Nana murmured to herself, still smiling.
But the smile felt a bit sad around the edges.
Because all these people—these screaming fans with their banners and flowers and declarations of love—they only knew Dr. Zayne Li. The brilliant cardiologist. The volunteer who gave his time to help those who couldn't afford hospital care. The handsome, reserved doctor who spoke with clinical precision and saved lives with mathematical efficiency.
They didn't know the Zayne who'd survived six deaths in Avalon. Who'd fought beside her through poison gas and vampire attacks. Who'd kissed her on rooftops and held her through the darkness and promised they'd escape together.
They didn't know him the way she did. The way she wished she still did.
Nana sighed and looked around for a better vantage point. No way was she getting through this crowd, and standing on her toes only helped marginally.
Then she spotted it—a tree just outside the auditorium's large windows. Old, sturdy, with branches that would give her a perfect view of the stage.
Perfect.
She slipped out of the auditorium and approached the tree, already calculating the best climbing route. The lowest branch was just within jumping reach. She grabbed it, pulled herself up with the ease of someone who'd spent nine months climbing through ruins, and settled onto a sturdy limb with a direct sightline to the podium.
Much better.
From here, she could see everything. Zayne was mid-presentation, discussing some complex cardiac procedure with the kind of passion that suggested he actually found this fascinating. His hands moved as he explained, illustrating points with precise gestures. The large screen behind him showed medical diagrams that Nana couldn't quite parse, but his audience seemed riveted.
She waved, even though he couldn't possibly see her through the glare of the lights and the crowd.
Except... he paused mid-sentence.
His eyes had somehow found her through the window, thirty feet up in a tree, waving like what he'd once called a "wild squirrel."
Zayne blinked. Then, impossibly, a small smile tugged at his lips.
He leaned toward the microphone, his voice carrying clearly through the speakers:
"I'd like to take a moment to address a certain hunter who appears to be climbing trees during my presentation. Miss Wang, I can see you perfectly well from here. There's no need to risk a concussion by climbing higher."
The entire auditorium turned to look.
Nana froze, one hand still raised in an enthusiastic wave, suddenly the center of several hundred pairs of eyes.
She should have been embarrassed. Should have climbed down sheepishly and disappeared into the crowd.
Instead, she waved more enthusiastically, using both hands now.
The crowd erupted in laughter. Some people pulled out their phones to take pictures. Someone shouted, "IS THAT THE S-CLASS HUNTER?" and someone else responded, "OH MY GOD, SHE'S TOTALLY SMITTEN WITH HIM!"
Zayne's ears turned slightly pink, but his smile widened just a fraction before he returned to his presentation, his voice steady and professional as if he hadn't just called out a hunter for tree-climbing mid-lecture.
Nana stayed in the tree for the rest of the talk, perfectly content with her vantage point. And if she noticed that Zayne's eyes kept drifting to the window, kept checking to make sure she was still safely perched on that branch, well. That made her heart do happy little flips.
The presentation ended to thunderous applause and an immediate swarm of fans trying to get closer to the stage.
Nana climbed down from her tree and made her way to the designated meeting area outside, clutching her carefully prepared gifts. She'd spent all morning deciding what to bring.
Flowers seemed traditional for congratulations, right? Though she'd stood in the flower shop for twenty minutes trying to figure out what men even liked. The florist had suggested white lilies for respect and admiration, so Nana had bought those, along with some blue hydrangeas because they reminded her of Zayne's ice evol.
And macarons. Because Zayne had a secret sweet tooth that most people didn't know about, but Nana had watched him eat half a box once in his apartment when he thought no one was looking. She'd gotten a variety pack from the fancy patisserie near the hospital—vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, and strawberry, of course.
She waited on a bench near the exit, watching the crowd slowly disperse. Several fans were lingering, hoping for one more glimpse of the brilliant Dr. Li. Some had brought elaborate gifts—expensive chocolates, designer accessories, even what looked like a hand-knitted scarf.
Nana looked down at her simple flowers and box of macarons and felt suddenly uncertain. Were her gifts too plain? Too simple? Everyone else seemed to have put so much more effort—
"Nana."
She looked up to find Zayne standing in front of her, still in his white coat, his hair slightly mussed from where fans had gotten a bit too enthusiastic. His ears were distinctly pink, and he looked vaguely overwhelmed in the way of introverts who'd been forced to interact with too many people.
"Hi!" Nana jumped to her feet, clutching her gifts. "You were amazing! I understood maybe thirty percent of what you said, but you sounded really smart saying it!"
"Thank you. I think." Zayne's eyes dropped to the flowers and macarons in her hands. "Are those for me?"
"Yes! For congratulations! On the successful presentation and not getting crushed by your fans!" She thrust them toward him, suddenly self-conscious. "I know they're not as fancy as what everyone else brought, but I thought—"
"They're perfect," Zayne interrupted, accepting the gifts with careful hands. His fingers brushed hers during the transfer, sending little sparks up her arm. "Thank you. I... I appreciate this. More than the expensive gifts."
"Really?"
"Really." He looked at the macarons, and something in his expression softened. "How did you know I liked these?"
*Because I've memorized everything about you. Because I've watched you across lifetimes and I know your every preference and habit and small joy.*
"Lucky guess," Nana said instead. "You seem like a macaron person."
"A macaron person," he repeated, that hint of amusement in his voice. Then his expression shifted to the familiar exasperation she'd come to recognize. "Now. About the tree climbing."
"I couldn't see!"
"There were perfectly good seats available."
"They were all taken by very tall people and very loud fangirls."
"So your solution was to climb a tree. Outside. During a medical conference."
"It worked, didn't it?"
Zayne sighed—that long-suffering sound that meant he was annoyed but also, perhaps, a little bit fond. "And yesterday's incident report mentioned you kicked a Wanderer with your bare leg. Again."
"I had boots on."
"That's not the improvement you think it is."
"I didn't get injured this time! See?" Nana lifted her leg demonstratively, ignoring several passersby who gave them strange looks. "Completely fine! Not a single bruise!"
"Yet," Zayne said darkly. "The day isn't over."
Nana laughed and fell into step beside him as they started walking. She wasn't sure where they were going—just away from the crowds, toward the quieter park area near the convention center.
They found a bench under a large oak tree, away from the main paths. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, creating dappled patterns on the ground. It was peaceful. Almost romantic, if Nana let herself think about it too much.
Zayne set the flowers and macarons carefully beside him on the bench, then turned to look at her. "You didn't have to come to the presentation."
"I wanted to. I like watching you talk about things you're passionate about." Nana settled onto the bench, leaving a careful few inches of space between them. "Even if I don't understand most of it. Your face gets all intense and focused, and you use your hands more than usual, and it's..." She trailed off, realizing she was maybe revealing too much.
"It's what?"
"Nice," she finished lamely. "It's nice."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the park. A mother pushed a stroller past. A couple walked hand in hand, laughing about something. Normal people doing normal things on a normal day.
Nana's hand rested on the bench between them, so close to Zayne's that if she moved just slightly, they'd touch.
She wanted to. Wanted to bridge that gap, to feel his hand in hers the way she had in Avalon. But this wasn't Avalon. This was the real world, where they were barely friends, where he didn't remember loving her, where moving too fast might scare him away.
Still...
Slowly, carefully, testing, Nana moved her pinky finger until it brushed against his.
Zayne went completely still. Not pulling away, but frozen like a statue, like he was trying to process what just happened.
Nana held her breath. This was it. The moment where he either rejected the contact or—
His pinky hooked around hers. Just that small point of contact. Just that tiny acceptance.
Then, before she could fully process that victory, his whole hand moved. Covered hers. His larger palm swallowing her smaller one completely, his fingers interlacing with hers like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Nana forgot how to breathe.
She stared at their joined hands, not daring to look at his face, not wanting to break whatever spell had made this possible.
His hand was warm. Strong. The same hand that had held her in Avalon, that had guided her through darkness and danger. But this was different. This was a choice made without memories. Without obligation. Just... because he wanted to.
"Is this okay?" Zayne asked quietly.
"Yes," Nana managed, her voice coming out slightly strangled. "Very okay. Extremely okay."
She felt him relax slightly, his thumb beginning to trace small circles on the back of her hand. Such a simple gesture, but it made her want to cry and laugh and possibly climb another tree just to burn off the excess emotion.
"So," Nana said, forcing herself to sound normal even though her heart was doing gymnastics. "Today's mission was interesting. There was this Wanderer that got stuck in a vending machine."
Zayne's thumb paused mid-circle. "How does a Wanderer get stuck in a vending machine?"
"I have no idea! It was trying to eat the snacks, I think? Or maybe it just got confused. Either way, it was wedged in there pretty good." She started gesturing with her free hand, careful not to jostle their joined ones. "So I'm trying to figure out how to get it out without destroying the machine—because the owner was right there watching and looked pretty upset about the whole thing—when it started thrashing around and knocked loose all these candy bars."
She felt Zayne squeeze her hand—once, twice, a gentle pressure that said he was listening, engaged, present.
"And then?" he prompted.
"Then the owner started yelling at the Wanderer for stealing his inventory, like it could understand him. So I'm trying to calm down this man while also extracting a very angry Wanderer from a vending machine, and honestly? I think the Wanderer was more reasonable than the owner."
Zayne made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh. His thumb resumed its gentle circles on her hand.
"Did you kick it?" he asked, and there was definite amusement in his voice now.
"No! I used my gun like a responsible hunter!" Nana huffed. "Though I was tempted. It kept making this sound like a dying kettle."
"A dying kettle."
"You know the sound. That high-pitched whistle when water boils? But angrier. And more... sparkly? Because Wanderers dissolve into sparkles when they die."
"I'm familiar with the process." Another squeeze of her hand. "So you successfully extracted the Wanderer, eliminated it humanely, and saved the vending machine."
"Well... mostly. There might have been some structural damage. But the owner got his candy bars back! Most of them. The ones that weren't crushed."
This time Zayne actually laughed—a quiet sound, but real. His hand tightened around hers, and when Nana finally risked a glance at his face, she found him looking at her with something warm and soft in his expression.
"You're ridiculous," he said.
"I prefer 'charmingly eccentric.'"
"That's not better."
"It sounds better."
They sat like that for a long while, hands intertwined, trading stories about missions and patients and the daily absurdities of their respective jobs. The sun moved across the sky, painting everything in shades of gold and amber.
And neither of them mentioned their joined hands. Didn't acknowledge it, didn't make it A Thing. Just... accepted it as natural, as right, as something that had been inevitable from the moment they'd sat down on this bench.
"I should get home," Zayne said eventually, though he didn't move to stand. "I have an early shift tomorrow."
"I'll walk you," Nana offered immediately.
"I drove here."
"Then I'll walk you to your car."
"It's in the parking garage. Literally fifty meters away."
"Perfect. That's exactly the right distance for a walk."
Zayne shook his head, but he was smiling—that small, genuine smile that made him look years younger. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"
"Nope."
"Fine." He stood, pulling her up with him by their still-joined hands. Then, instead of letting go, he adjusted his grip. Made it more comfortable. More deliberate.
They walked to the parking garage like that, hands swinging slightly between them, drawing curious looks from passersby but neither of them caring enough to stop.
At his car—a sensible sedan that was perfectly maintained because of course it was—Zayne finally, reluctantly, released her hand.
"Thank you," he said, holding up the flowers and macarons. "For these. And for coming to the presentation. Even if you did climb a tree."
"Anytime." Nana bounced on her toes slightly, still buzzing with happiness. "See you tomorrow? At the hospital?"
"Are you planning to get injured?"
"No, but I might coincidentally need to pick up something from the medical supply office that's coincidentally near your office."
"How coincidental."
"Extremely coincidental. I'm shocked by how often these coincidences occur."
Zayne looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then: "Come to the hospital around noon. I'll buy you lunch."
Nana's brain short-circuited. "What?"
"Lunch. The meal typically consumed in the middle of the day. I'll purchase it. For both of us. Together." He cleared his throat, his ears turning pink again. "If you want."
"Yes!" The word came out way too loud, way too eager. Nana cleared her throat and tried again. "I mean... yes. That would be nice. Very casual. Very friend-like. Lunch between colleagues."
"Right. Colleagues." But there was something in his eyes—that same recognition, that same sense of something more that his conscious mind couldn't quite grasp.
"Drive safe," Nana said.
"You too. And Nana?"
"Yes?"
"No tree climbing on your way home."
"You can't prove I was planning to."
"Yes I can. You get this look. Right before you do something inadvisable."
"I do not have a look!"
"You do. It's the same look you had before kicking those three Wanderers yesterday. Right before climbing that tree today. It's your 'I'm about to make Dr. Li's blood pressure spike' look."
Nana laughed so hard she had to bend over, clutching her stomach. When she straightened up, wiping tears from her eyes, Zayne was watching her with that soft expression again.
"Go home, Nana," he said gently. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," she agreed.
She watched him drive away, standing in the parking garage long after his car disappeared from view. Then she looked down at her hand—the one he'd held—and smiled so wide her face hurt.
Progress. Real, tangible, hand-holding progress.
He'd chosen to hold her hand. Had kept holding it, had squeezed it while she talked, had traced gentle circles that spoke of comfort and connection.
And he'd asked her to lunch. Bought lunch. Together.
That was basically a date, right? Or at least date-adjacent. Date-proximal. In the general vicinity of date-like behavior.
Nana pulled out her phone and immediately texted Tara, her best friend and fellow hunter:
*HE HELD MY HAND.*
The response came back almost immediately: *FINALLY! Details! ALL the details!*
Nana grinned and started typing as she walked to where she'd parked her motorcycle. She had so much to tell. About the hand-holding and the lunch invitation and the way he'd looked at her like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to feel it too.
The connection that transcended memory. The recognition that lived in the soul rather than the mind.
The love that had survived death and rebirth and the complete erasure of their shared past.
It was coming back. Slowly, carefully, one strawberry candy and hand-squeeze at a time.
And Nana had all the time in the world.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.