I woke up.
Still here.
The same room—the wind leaking through old walls, the candle still glowing like it had never feared the dark.
And her.
She was still here.
Not a dream. Not some illusion born of madness. Real.
I sat up slowly, watching the gentle flicker of the candlelight dance along the walls. A quiet breath escaped me—soft and surprised.
For the first time in forever… I smiled.
"Hmm… I should cherish this," I whispered.
"I don't know what that orb wanted me to become… but maybe, just maybe—I'll be what I want to be."
Suddenly, the door creaked open—wood groaning like it had been holding in secrets for centuries.
She stepped in with narrowed eyes.
"Seriously? You're reckless," she said, crossing her arms.
I looked at her… and smiled.
A real smile.
The kind I thought I had forgotten how to make.
"Hmm... is it bad to be reckless?" I said, tilting my head.
She blinked, caught off guard. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she quickly turned away, stammering as she rushed out of the room.
"I Idiot…"
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound cracked from my throat like a forgotten song. But it was mine.
I got up, letting the cold floor greet my bare feet, and made my way toward the door. As I stepped out, I found a stairway spiraling down.
I followed the warmth.
And there she was.
At the table—placing out food.
Simple. Real. Steaming with care.
She looked up and called out:
"Hey! Come quick and eat or it'll get cold!"
I leaned over the railing slightly and grinned.
"Hmm… then maybe I'll just jump down from here."
She spun around, waving a kitchen knife at me like it was a royal decree.
"Why are you like this?! So reckless! You'll break something!"
I lifted both hands in surrender.
"Okay, okay. I give up."
I walked down, sat at the table, and took a bite.
Warm.
So warm it reached places in me I thought had died long ago.
Tears pricked my eyes before I could stop them. But I didn't try to hide it.
I smiled.
"So… this is what they meant by the warmth of food," I murmured.
She glanced over, raising a brow.
"Hey! My food isn't that bad, hmph. At least it's warm—and edible. Better than whatever you were carrying around in that frozen heart of yours."
I looked at her.
Right into her eyes.
Those deep, stormy, beautiful ocean eyes.
And I said:
"Really? Hmm… maybe it's not perfect."
A pause.
Then:
"But has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are? Like the ocean itself… the kind people look at, and willingly drown in."
She froze.
Then flushed so fast she looked ready to combust.
And ran.
Vanished into the other room.
I sat there, laughing quietly.
Not cruelly.
Not bitterly.
But like someone who remembered what it felt like to be alive.