The door clicked shut behind her.
Soft.
Final.
For a moment, Sora simply stood there—back pressed lightly against the wood, fingers still curled around the handle as if the world outside might come rushing back in if she let go too quickly.
Silence filled the room.
Then—
She moved.
Quickly.
Almost abruptly.
Crossing the space in a few light steps before—
Flop.
She fell face-first onto her bed, burying herself deep into the pillows as if they could swallow her whole.
"…A date, huh…?"
Her voice came out muffled.
Soft.
The word lingered in the air.
Strange.
Heavy.
Unfamiliar.
"...A date…"
She repeated it again, quieter this time.
As if testing how it felt.
It didn't feel real.
It didn't feel like something that belonged to her.
And yet—
It did.
Her fingers tightened into the sheets.
A slow warmth began creeping across her face.
Then—
It surged.
Her cheeks burned.
Bright.
Hot.
"…I can't believe I actually agreed…"
She turned her head slightly, pressing one cheek deeper into the pillow.
"I don't know what came over me at that moment…"
Images flickered.
Uninvited.
Relentless.
Moonlight spilling across the training hall.
Their bodies—too close.
His hand at her back.
His breath.
His voice.
His eyes.
Those dark red pupils.
Locked onto hers.
That look in his eyes.
Sora buried her face deeper into the pillow.
"…S-Stop…"
Her heart—
Still hadn't calmed down.
Even now—
It pounded.
Fast.
Loud.
Wild.
As if trying to escape her chest.
"…Is this strange and fluffy feeling I am currently experiencing…"
A small pause.
"…what they call love…?"
The word felt even more dangerous than "date."
Like stepping onto unknown ground with no idea how deep it went.
She curl slightly inward.
Love.
It felt too big.
Too sudden.
Too overwhelming.
"…Geez…"
She groaned softly into the pillow.
"I don't know anything about this…"
A pause.
"…Maybe I should ask Illiana for advice…"
Silence.
Then—
Her entire body tensed.
"No."
A beat.
"No, no, noooooo."
She shook her head against the pillow violently.
"If she finds out about this…"
A slow, horrified realization dawned.
"She is going to tease me…"
Another beat.
"…Relentlessly."
Her grip on the sheets tightened.
"…And make the situation overly embarrassing."
She could already imagine it.
The smirk.
The questions.
The endless, merciless teasing.
Sora groaned again.
"…That would be unbearable…"
A small pause.
"…I hope no one knows."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"…And my date with him will be secret."
A fragile hope.
Carefully held.
But—
Reality crept back in.
"…But without someone's advice…"
She shifted slightly, turning onto her side.
"I don't know what to wear…"
Her brows furrowed.
"…Or how to go about it."
A faint blush returned.
"…After all… this is my first time going out with a boy…"
The words felt… delicate.
Almost unreal.
She had spoken with people.
Led people.
Healed people.
But this—
This was different.
Entirely different.
"…In fact…"
Her voice softened.
"…Null-san is the first boy…"
A pause.
"…I've interacted with this closely…"
"…since my childhood."
The first—
She had allowed this close.
Silence settled again.
Gentler this time.
But deeper.
"…Haa…"
She exhaled slowly.
"…Null-san…"
Her fingers curled slightly against the sheets.
"You really unraveled me completely…"
A faint, distant warmth lingered in her chest.
"…I haven't felt this 'acceptable' about getting close to someone of the opposite sex since…"
She stopped.
The sentence lingered.
Unfinished.
"…'him'."
Silence.
Heavy.
The warmth in her expression dimmed.
Just slightly.
Her gaze unfocused.
Drifting.
"…I still haven't fulfilled my promise…"
Her voice dropped.
Quiet.
"…to that child."
A flicker—
A fragment—
A memory surfaced.
Blurry.
Indistinct.
Yet unclear where it mattered.
In Sora's mind, a flash of blurry memory from a tragic past flashed. Blurred edges. Broken light. A fragment of something that once hurt too much to keep whole.
And within that fragment—
A child.
Seven year old, perhaps.
A boy, standing at the center of that fading recollection like a silhouette carved from absence itself. His face refused to exist properly, as if the world had denied him definition… or perhaps—she was the one refusing.
But some things remained. The quaint features he possesses that were condemned in this world — Dark black hair, Dark black eyes that seemingly contained the mystical starry night void—paradox of emptiness and infinity.
Eternally haunting and familiar, in the way something becomes when it almost belongs to you… but doesn't anymore.
Familiar.
Painfully so.
Not warmth.
Not comfort.
But recognition—sharp and quiet, like a blade pressed gently against the heart.
As if, once—
Long ago—
She had known that gaze.
And lost it.
"…I said I would find him…"
"…and save him…"
A faint tremble touched her fingers.
"…Even if it takes an eternity."
Her chest tightened.
"…Am I allowed…"
A pause.
"…this kind of luxury?"
Her brows drew together.
"…Falling in love…"
Her grip loosened.
"…when I know…"
A breath.
"…my path will eventually tear it apart?"
Silence answered her.
Cold.
Uncertain.
She curled slightly into herself, hugging the pillow.
"I don't know…"
Her voice was small now.
Honest.
"…I really don't."
A long pause followed.
Then—
Very quietly—
"…But what I do know…"
Her fingers pressed lightly against her chest.
Where her heartbeat still echoed.
"…is that my very soul is screaming…"
A breath.
"…to become closer to null."
Her eyes softened.
"…A feeling we both share mutually."
That much—
She was certain of.
"…Whatever this mysterious connection between us is…"
A pause.
"…and wherever it leads…"
Her grip tightened slightly again.
"…I can't tell."
A faint, bittersweet smile formed—hidden against the pillow.
"…But I know for sure…"
A slow breath.
"…that it is either my greatest blessing…"
Another—
"…or my worst curse."
Silence settled once more.
Gentler now.
Like a blanket.
Gradually—
Her thoughts slowed.
Her breathing softened.
The storm inside her quieted—
Just a little.
And somewhere between lingering warmth…
And unresolved questions…
Sora drifted into sleep.
Carrying with her—
A heart in chaos.
A promise in shadow.
And a tomorrow—
That would become something precious.
Something sacred.
Something unforgettable.
****
The next day arrived quietly—
As if the world itself had decided not to interfere.
By the time the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in softened gold—
It was already 4 PM.
Inside her room—
Sora stood before the mirror.
Still.
Silent.
Staring.
Not at her reflection—
But at the unfamiliar feeling sitting in her chest.
It hadn't left.
Not since last night.
If anything—
It had only grown stronger.
Warmer.
Louder.
Her fingers lightly pressed against her collarbone.
Her heartbeat answered immediately.
Fast.
Restless.
"…oh my."
She whispered it.
Softly.
But there was no conviction behind it.
Only… surrender.
Her gaze finally settled on her reflection.
And for a moment—
She hesitated.
Because the girl staring back at her…
Didn't look like the Saintess of Living.
Didn't look like the composed, distant figure everyone knew.
She looked—
Like a girl going on her first date.
And that thought alone sent a fresh wave of heat rushing to her face.
".. Going on date with null…"
The word slipped out again.
Quieter this time.
Almost afraid of itself.
She turned away from the mirror abruptly.
Then turned back again.
Then away.
Then back.
A silent war.
Ridiculous.
Pointless.
Unwinnable.
"…I can't go like this."
She muttered, pacing once.
Then stopping.
Then pacing again.
Her wardrobe stood before her like an unsolved puzzle.
Rows of neatly arranged outfits—
Elegant.
Refined.
Appropriate.
For a Saintess.
Not for this.
Not for… this.
Her fingers hovered over a pristine white ceremonial dress—
Then recoiled.
"…Too formal."
A soft blue robe—
"…Too official."
Something modest.
Something simple.
Something that didn't scream Saintess.
Something that said—
Just Sora.
After what felt like an entire internal saga—
She finally chose.
A soft, casual yet elegant dress
Comfortable.
With delicate white embroidery tracing along the edges like quiet clouds.
It wasn't extravagant.
But it suited her.
Gentle.
Unassuming.
Beautiful—without trying to be.
She changed slowly.
Carefully.
As if the act itself carried weight.
As if each motion mattered.
Because somehow—
It did.
Sora stood in front of her mirror.
Still.
Silent.
Staring.
Her reflection stared back.
Unfamiliar.
"…This is…"
She hesitated.
"…too much."
It wasn't.
And that was the problem.
Her usual attire—pure, ceremonial, composed—had been abandoned for something… softer.
She wore a flowing white dress, lighter than her usual robes. The fabric caught the light like quiet snow under sunset, layered just enough to move when she breathed. The sleeves were delicate, brushing her wrists, and the neckline modest—yet subtly elegant.
Her hands moved to her hair.
White strands—
Silk-like.
Falling naturally.
She gathered a small portion to one side—
Then stopped.
"…No."
Too deliberate.
She let it fall again.
Natural.
Better.
Her fingers lingered there for a second longer than necessary.
Then—
She leaned in slightly.
Examining her face.
And immediately—
Regretted it.
Because all she could see—
Was the faint blush that refused to leave.
"…Why am I like this today…"
She muttered softly, lightly adjusting a strand near her cheek—
Then immediately freezing.
Because her fingers were trembling.
Her heartbeat—
Still not normal.
Still not calm.
Still—far too loud.
But even that question felt… hollow.
Because she already knew the answer.
Sora turned once in place.
The dress swayed gently around her.
Her eyes softened.
"…He will probably say something unnecessary."
A pause.
"…Definitely something unnecessary."
She smiled softly.
Sora took one last look at herself.
Adjusted her hair again.
Unnecessarily.
Then nodded once.
"…This is fine."
It wasn't perfect.
But—
It was her.
And with that—
She turned.
Opened the door.
And stepped out.
....
The corridor stretched ahead—
Quiet.
Bathed in golden evening light.
She walked calmly.
Gracefully.
As always.
No one would suspect anything.
No one would notice anything.
Everything was under control.
Perfectly—
—
"Hmm?"
—
However, just a few steps in—
Fate, with impeccable timing—
Placed a certain person directly in her path.
"Soooraaa~"
A voice.
Playful.
Dangerous.
Too familiar.
Sora froze.
Internally—
Not externally.
Externally—
She remained perfectly composed.
Of course.
She was the Saintess.
"…Illiana."
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
The girl approached with a slow, knowing smile.
Eyes sharp.
Observant.
Hungry for details.
"…Where are you going?"
A simple question.
Wrapped in layers.
"…Out."
Sora replied immediately.
Too immediately.
Illiana's smile widened.
Just a fraction.
"…Out?"
A step closer.
"…Dressed like that?"
Her gaze traveled—very deliberately—from head to toe.
Then back up.
Sora resisted the urge to step back.
"…Yes."
Calm.
Controlled.
Flawless.
"…Hmm."
Illiana circled her once.
Like a predator evaluating prey.
"…Not ceremonial."
"…Not official."
"…Not casual either…"
A pause.
Then—
"…Interesting."
Sora's eye twitched.
Very slightly.
"…I have business in the city."
She added.
Smooth.
Clean.
Believable.
Illiana stopped.
Then leaned in—
Too close.
Way too close.
"…Business…?"
A whisper.
Teasing.
"…Yes."
A long pause.
Then—
Illiana leaned back.
Smiling.
Bright.
Innocent.
Suspicious.
"…Alright."
She said simply.
Too simply.
Sora blinked once.
Surprised.
"…I won't keep you."
Illiana stepped aside.
Gesturing forward.
"…Go on."
A beat.
Sora didn't hesitate.
Didn't question.
Didn't look back.
She walked.
Straight.
Steady.
Controlled.
Only when she turned the corner—
And disappeared from sight—
Illiana's smile returned.
Wider this time.
Far more dangerous.
"…Very suspicious…"
She giggled softly.
Eyes gleaming with mischief and certainty.
And somewhere—
Far ahead—
Unaware of the storm she had just narrowly escaped—
Sora walked toward something far more dangerous.
A promise.
A connection.
And a boy waiting at Lumeris City—
Where the evening was just beginning to bloom.