"Yeah," she said, slowly pulling back as she looked at me.
"Fragment Bearers are considered proto–Outer Gods. Their ontology alone places them outside the concept of time…"
I leaned back in my chair.
"Wait… so what exactly does that imply?"
Anathasia flickered back to her seat across the table.
"It means you're not subject to time… or even to the concept of concepts," she said it without raising her voice.
"The Fifth Fragment doesn't function the same way as the others."
I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head.
"So… it works on a fundamentally different level than the rest of the Fragments?"
She cleared her throat, staring down at her food.
"See, the First Fragment—the one I have—is the Fragment of Continuity."
She speared a piece of meat with her fork, lifting it slowly.
"It's what allows things to keep existing even while they're being endlessly altered. The reason matter survives change. The thing that keeps both reality and narrative from falling apart."
She looked back at me.
"It's why everything hasn't collapsed yet."
Then, she added softly.
"I also have an interface that writes those laws. The Fragment I carry maintains them, and my nature as the First Outer God enforces them."
I stared at her.
"Wait… what do you mean by interface?"
"A year ago," she said slowly,
"when I first descended into this house… the moment I summoned a star inside your room when we first met."
She lifted her eyes to mine.
"That was me in my Law-Weaver interface."
Her voice softened, but the words carried weight.
"It's the aspect of me that writes the laws that govern reality and narrative itself. My nature as the First Outer God stayed dormant until January… the month you actually saw it."
She gave a small, almost apologetic smile.
"Don't worry. I operate through interfaces, but they don't change who I am. They just change the role I'm playing in the greater tapestry of existence."
She cleared her throat again. But I spoke first.
"Wait… so you're basically multitasking?"
"You could put it that way," she said, nodding.
I leaned back slightly, letting the words sink in.
It was… a lot. Normally, something like this would've made my head spin. But it didn't.
Somehow, I was still calm.
It felt like something inside me was quietly holding everything together, letting the concepts settle instead of tearing me apart. The metaphysics. The implications. The sheer weight of it all. Pieces of reality I'd never had words for were just… clicking into place.
Slowly. Naturally.
"Ahem…" Anathasia cut in, bringing me back. "Like I said, I use interfaces, but I'm not required to limit myself to them."
Then she continued.
"Now, the second through fourth fragments… The Second is the Fragment of Finality. The Third—Rania—is the Equilibrium. And the Fourth… that woman you met weeks ago… is Causality."
She nudged her food absently, eyes drifting to the cake she'd made.
"I think you already understand what their roles are."
For a moment, the vulnerability from earlier was gone. But the way she looked at that cake—careful, almost hesitant, told me she still meant every word she'd said before.
"And as for the Fragment of Stillness…" she said softly.
A knife materialized above the cake, drifting down before slicing it into perfectly even pieces.
"You can't really interact with Stillness in any meaningful way," she continued. "So even if you don't have omnipotence, or anything close to what the other Fragment Bearers have… or the Outer Gods,"
The knife lifted again, gently placing a slice onto each of our plates as they floated toward us.
"Your Fragment—the Fragment of Stillness, is the reason omnipotence is even possible."
She took a small bite of her cake, then looked back at me.
"Like ripples in water. They only exist because there's something still beneath them. Without that stillness… nothing would ever register as power."
Her gaze softened.
"So even if you don't have any abilities of your own, any being trying to harm you would get nothing in return."
"Not just the attack."
"The intent behind it, too."
Her eyes met mine. The same look she'd had since the day she first appeared in my life. The same look of quiet affection she kept even as reality warped around her… while I remained untouched.
"You don't have to become an Outer God," she continued. "The Fragment of Stillness functions as a load-bearing constant. It doesn't need to be invoked."
I listened to every word. I didn't fully understand most of it, but I understood enough.
Instead, I glanced down at the cake beside my meal. I cut off a small piece and brought it to my mouth.
My eyes widened slightly.
It was balanced. Not too sweet. Soft. Almost mellow.
Exactly the way I liked it.
The base is light, too…
When I looked back up, her expression had softened even further.
Did she say all of that… just so I wouldn't get lost in the weight of being a Fragment Bearer?
The thought made my chest tighten.
That was when I realized something simple, and yet overwhelming:
If I cared about her deeply…
then what she felt for me was on an entirely different level.
I let out a small chuckle at the realization.
We're both crazy after all…
The dark chocolate glaze on the cake glistened as I looked at it.
I think I understand why she mentioned marriage earlier…
I met her gaze again. This time, a genuine smile tugged at my lips.
"Anathasia," I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.
She hummed, resting her chin on her knuckles as she leaned in, listening.
"Do you have more questions?"
"Not… exactly," I said.
I took a moment to gather my nerves before continuing.
"About that future you mentioned earlier… how many years is it from now?"
She paused, her eyes widening in genuine surprise.
"About… eight to ten years. Why…?"
I slowly stood, walking around the table until I stopped in front of her and gently took her hand.
"I see… and it's causality-locked, right?"
She nodded, confusion still flickering across her face.
"That's right… why?"
My other hand lifted to cup her cheek. A soft blush crept across her face as I leaned closer.
"I'm not sure how to put this," I whispered, pulling her into my arms, "but… thank you."
I held her tighter.
"For waiting. For choosing me. For—"
"Existing."
Her arms slipped around my back, her face pressing gently into my chest. After a moment, she pulled back just enough to look at me.
"Kyle…" Her voice wavered. "I was only… doing what I wanted. A billion years was just—"
I pulled her into me, cutting her off and letting her bury her face against my neck.
"I know," I murmured. "But you still did your best."
"And that's more than praiseworthy. I know you don't care about godhood—and because of that, you keep undermining your own efforts."
My shirt began to dampen as her words dissolved into sobs. I held her closer.
She didn't speak again. She just… clung to me. For what felt like hours.
—
By the time she finally pulled back, the light outside had already begun to fade.
An orange glow washed across the sky as she remained there, her face still resting against my shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she muttered under her breath. "For… soaking your shirt with my tears."
After hours of quiet sobbing, the first thing she did was apologize for crying.
She really was still herself.
"I don't mind," I said softly, pulling back just enough to kiss her forehead. "I wouldn't mind if you cried on my shoulder every time you felt overwhelmed."
"I'm your boyfriend, after all."
Anathasia went quiet. Her arms slid up around the back of my neck as she stared at my chest.
"Boyfriend…" A small smile curved on her lips as she let the word settle. "Of course."
She leaned in, closing the distance between us.
Then her lips pressed against mine, just for a moment, before she pulled back.
"You're my boyfriend," she said softly.
"My Kyle."