The cottage was quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet Constantine remembered.
Not the gentle silence that came with the sound of boiling tea and the old man humming in the kitchen.
This silence was… hollow.
Still.
Unused.
Constantine stood in the hall for several seconds after stepping out of the mirror.
His crystal blue eyes slowly moved across the room.
The wooden table.
The chair by the window.
The shelf where Harun kept his old books.
Everything was exactly where it had been before.
Nothing was broken.
Nothing was abandoned.
The floor was clean.
The furniture dusted.
Even the kettle rested neatly beside the hearth.
Someone had been maintaining the cottage.
Recently.
Constantine walked forward quietly.
His footsteps were light, almost silent against the wooden floor.
He checked each room one by one.
The kitchen.
Empty.
Harun's bedroom.
The bed was made carefully, blankets folded neatly.
The small chest beside the bed was closed.
The air smelled faintly of dried herbs.
But there was no one there.
No breathing.
No movement.
Constantine paused for a moment.
Then continued his search.
The storage room.
The back hallway.
The small reading corner near the window.
All empty.
Harun was not inside the cottage.
After confirming every room, Constantine turned and walked toward the door.
The wooden hinges creaked softly as he opened it.
Cool night air drifted in.
Outside, the familiar sound of the brook flowed gently through the darkness.
The forest around the cottage was quiet.
Moonlight filtered through the branches of tall trees.
Silver light covered the grass like thin frost.
Constantine stepped outside.
He closed the door behind him.
Then he began walking slowly around the cottage.
His gaze moved calmly across the surroundings.
The tool shed.
The stacked firewood.
The old fence Harun had repaired countless times.
Everything looked maintained.
Used.
Alive.
Which meant Harun had lived here until recently.
Constantine turned toward the brook.
His eyes moved across the familiar clearing.
Then they stopped.
Under the large tree near the water—
There were two headstones.
Constantine walked toward them.
The grass shifted softly beneath his feet.
The closer he came, the clearer the stones became under the moonlight.
One headstone was older.
Weathered.
The edges softened by years of wind and rain.
The name carved into it was simple.
Constantine
The grave had been there for a long time.
Ten years.
Exactly ten years.
Constantine stood in front of it briefly.
Then his gaze moved to the second stone beside it.
This one was newer.
The surface was still sharp.
The soil around it still slightly raised.
And the name carved into it read—
Harun
Constantine stopped moving.
For a long time, he simply stood there.
The brook continued flowing quietly nearby.
Leaves rustled softly in the night wind.
But Constantine remained motionless.
The system inside his mind registered the information.
Harun was dead.
The cottage had been maintained until recently.
The grave soil was still fresh.
Which meant the old man had passed away not long ago.
Perhaps days.
Perhaps weeks.
Perhaps a few months.
There was no one left here now.
Constantine stared at the headstones.
His expression did not change.
The emotional systems that would normally react to such information were no longer present.
Grief.
Sadness.
Pain.
Those things had been erased.
But even without emotions—
Certain actions still existed.
Habits.
Learned behavior.
Protocol.
Respect.
So after a long moment, Constantine stepped forward.
He stood before Harun's grave.
Then slowly lowered his body.
And bowed.
His head lowered toward the earth.
A quiet gesture of acknowledgment.
Of duty.
Of closure.
He remained like that for several seconds.
Then he stood again.
His gaze moved across the two graves.
Leaving them here… would eventually lead to decay.
Weather would break the stones.
Animals might disturb the soil.
And the location itself was no longer secure.
Constantine raised his hand slightly.
A skill activated.
One he had learned during his year in the Mirror Realm.
Mirror Refraction.
The air in front of the graves shimmered faintly.
Like light bending through glass.
The ground beneath the headstones began to glow softly.
Silver lines spread across the soil.
A mirror surface formed quietly beneath them.
The graves sank slowly into the reflective surface.
Not destroyed.
Not erased.
Simply… transferred.
The mirror closed again.
And the clearing returned to normal.
Inside the Mirror Realm—
Beneath the golden tree—
The ground shifted slightly.
For the first time, the soil beneath the tree changed.
Where there had once only been smooth mirror surface—
Now there was earth.
Two headstones rested side by side beneath the golden branches.
One older.
One new.
Their names carved clearly into the stone.
Constantine
Harun
Golden leaves drifted slowly down around them.
The tree rustled quietly above.
Constantine stood within the Mirror Realm again.
The transfer had pulled him briefly across the boundary.
He stood beneath the golden tree.
Looking at the two graves now resting in the soft soil.
Side by side.
Safe.
Preserved.
He did not kneel again.
He simply stood there.
His crystal blue eyes quietly observing the stones.
Time passed.
Minutes.
Perhaps longer.
The golden leaves continued to fall slowly through the silent realm.
And Constantine remained there—
Staring at the graves—
For a very long time.