CHAPTER 179 — REMEMBRANCE
The fire burned lower as the conversation faded again.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Seraphine sat with one knee drawn slightly toward herself, staring absently at the shifting flames while Leylin remained still across from her, the unfinished piece of meat forgotten in his hand.
The wind moving through the black grasslands sounded softer tonight.
"…Your name," Seraphine said eventually, quieter this time. "It still sounds strange to me."
Leylin glanced at her briefly.
She shrugged faintly, eyes still on the fire.
"I don't mean bad strange. Just… unfamiliar."
Leylin looked back toward the flames.
"I think it is."
The answer lingered there for a moment before fading into silence again.
Seraphine shifted slightly against the stone behind her.
"Do you remember where you got it from?"
Leylin didn't answer immediately.
The fire cracked between them once.
Then.. "No."
A longer pause followed.
"I remember hearing it," he said slowly. "Many times."
His gaze narrowed faintly.
"As if people kept repeating it around me."
"Family?"
Leylin's expression shifted slightly at the word.
Seraphine noticed anyway.
"I don't know," he admitted.
She glanced at him briefly.
That was the first time she had heard him admit he didn't know something.
The silence after that stretched comfortably at first.
Then Leylin spoke again without warning.
"I remember metal."
Seraphine looked up.
Leylin's eyes remained on the fire.
"Cold walls." A pause. "Chains."
The words came slowly now, separated by thought rather than performance.
"I remember people watching me constantly."
His fingers tightened faintly around the food in his hand.
"Not speaking to me. Studying me."
The firelight reflected dimly across the crystalline texture beneath his skin.
"There were rooms…" He frowned slightly. "Large ones."
Another pause.
"No windows."
Seraphine stayed quiet.
Leylin exhaled softly through his nose.
"I think they kept changing my body."
His voice remained calm, but the calmness no longer felt natural. It felt practiced.
"There was always pain after I woke up."
The flames shifted again.
"Sometimes I could not move." His gaze lowered slightly. "Sometimes I wished I couldn't wake up at all."
Seraphine's chest tightened faintly at the casualness of the sentence.
Leylin seemed not to notice.
"I don't remember most of it clearly anymore." He leaned back slightly against the stone behind him. "Seven hundred years is… difficult to hold onto."
The moment the number left his mouth, the silence changed.
Seraphine stared at him.
Leylin finally noticed her expression and looked over.
"…What?"
Her lips parted slightly before closing again,Then..
Seven hundred?"
Leylin blinked once, as if only now realizing what he had said aloud.
"I think so."
"You think so?"
"I lost track after a while."
The answer settled heavily between them.
The fire cracked softly.
Far beyond the island, somewhere near the fog boundary, a distant creature cried out once before the realm became quiet again.
Leylin looked back toward the flames.
For the first time since the conversation began, his voice lowered almost imperceptibly.
"I think they were trying to create something."
A pause.Then quieter..
I don't know if they succeeded.
—
The silence after that lasted much longer than the ones before it.
The fire had almost burned down to embers now, leaving the crimson glow from the sky above to fill most of the darkness beneath the tree. Seraphine stared quietly into the fading flames, one hand resting against her knee while the other absently traced lines across the black stone beneath her.
Leylin watched her for a moment.
Then he spoke.
"Why are you still here?"
Seraphine's fingers stopped moving slightly.
For the first time in a while, she looked genuinely caught off guard.
A quiet laugh escaped her before she could stop it, short and humorless.
"That's…" She shook her head faintly. "That's actually a difficult question."
Leylin said nothing.
So the silence returned again, softer this time, waiting for her answer instead of demanding it.
Seraphine leaned back slightly, eyes lifting toward the crimson branches above them.
"I could say survival," she murmured after a while. "That would probably be the smartest answer."
Her lips curved faintly.
"But I don't think it's the real one."
Leylin remained quiet.
"The Marquis Estate…" She paused briefly, searching for the right way to describe it. "People there only stay valuable for as long as they remain useful."
The fire shifted softly between them.
"You learn very quickly not to become a burden to anyone. Not emotionally. Not politically. Not financially." A faint breath escaped her nose. "Preferably not at all."
Leylin listened without interrupting.
Seraphine lowered her gaze again.
"I was good at adapting." She shrugged once. "That usually matters more than talent."
A small silence followed.
"I think after enough time… you stop expecting people to care whether you exist beyond what you can provide."
Leylin looked at her for a long moment after that.
Not with pity.
Seraphine realized quickly that he did not seem capable of pity in the way most people were.
But there was attention in his gaze now. Real attention.
As if he was finally placing her somewhere beyond "presence."
"You speak about it calmly," he said.
Seraphine let out a faint breath through her nose.
"You spoke about seven hundred years of torture calmly."
That answer lingered between them for a second before Leylin looked back toward the dying fire.
…Fair."
A small smile tugged briefly at the corner of Seraphine's mouth before fading again.
The silence afterward felt different now.
Less cautious.
Beyond the island, the distant fog shifted slowly at the edge of the realm while the crimson sky above continued glowing in quiet stillness. Somewhere farther away, near the dark hills, another creature cried out softly before disappearing back into the grasslands.
Seraphine stared toward the sound for a moment.
"When this place stabilizes," she asked quietly, "what are you going to do?"
Leylin answered immediately this time.
"Leave."
That simple answer made her expression tighten faintly.
"Just leave?"
"Yes."
"And then?"
Leylin looked toward the horizon beyond the fog boundary.
For the first time since she had met him, the uncertainty on his face was completely visible.
"I don't know," he admitted.