Kaizer's POV
Neither of us spoke during the walk home.
The city had already grown quieter.
Streetlights stretched long shadows across the empty sidewalks while the chilly night air carried the scent of approaching winter.
Every few steps, I found myself glancing toward Iris.
She looked unusually quiet.
Not frightened.
Not exactly.
Just... thoughtful.
As though her mind was still standing beneath that streetlamp.
Still searching for the golden light that had disappeared.
By the time we reached home, neither of us had managed to say a single word about what we had witnessed.
The front door clicked shut behind us.
The silence inside the house somehow felt louder than the silence outside.
I placed my shoes near the entrance before looking toward her.
"You sit."
She looked up.
"What about you?"
"I'll make coffee."
She didn't argue.
For some reason, I was grateful.
---
The kettle whistled softly a few minutes later.
I leaned against the kitchen counter while waiting.
My reflection stared back at me from the dark window.
Tired.
Confused.
And for the first time in a long while...
Unsure whether I could trust my own eyes.
The image of those golden threads surfaced again.
They hadn't looked like light.
Not exactly.
They had moved.
Flowed.
Almost...
alive.
The kettle clicked.
I poured coffee into two mugs before carrying them back to the living room.
Iris accepted hers with both hands.
"Thank you."
I nodded before sitting opposite her.
For a while, neither of us drank.
The coffee slowly released thin curls of steam between us.
Finally—
"You saw it too."
I looked up.
She lowered her gaze toward the mug.
"...Only for a second."
"What did you see?"
She remained quiet for several moments.
Then answered carefully.
"...Golden light."
My fingers tightened slightly around the cup.
"So it wasn't just me."
She looked back at me.
"You saw it longer?"
I nodded.
"It surrounded that man."
Her brows slowly knitted together.
"I thought it was my imagination."
"So did I."
The room became quiet again.
Outside, a motorcycle passed somewhere down the street before disappearing into the distance.
I stared at the coffee.
"It wasn't normal."
"No."
Iris quietly listened.
For once, she didn't tell me I was overthinking.
She had seen enough herself.
"...Why did I only see it for a second?"
"I don't know."
"Why did you see it longer?"
"I don't know."
She sighed.
"I don't like saying 'I don't know' this many times."
A small laugh escaped me despite everything.
"Me neither."
The smile disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
Because neither of us had an explanation.
Only questions.
Then—
Something surfaced in my memory.
Golden threads.
Old pages.
A rough sketch.
The journal.
I immediately stood.
Iris looked up.
"Kaizer?"
"Wait."
Without another word, I headed toward my room.
---
The journal lay exactly where I had left it.
Beside my desk.
I picked it up and hurried back.
Iris watched silently as I placed the worn notebook between us.
"...Grandma's journal?"
I nodded.
"I remembered something."
I carefully opened it.
Yellowed pages turned beneath my fingers.
Ancient folklore.
Half-finished notes.
Observations.
Names I still couldn't pronounce.
Nothing.
I turned another page.
Still nothing.
Then—
My hand stopped.
For a second, I simply stared.
"...Kaizer?"
I slowly rotated the journal toward her.
A rough charcoal sketch covered most of the page.
It wasn't detailed.
It wasn't beautiful.
It looked more like a hurried observation than an illustration.
A human figure sat in the center.
Around it—
Thin strands stretched outward in every direction.
Flowing.
Twisting.
Almost identical to what we had seen beneath the streetlamp.
Neither of us spoke.
The room suddenly felt colder.
Iris leaned closer.
Her eyes widened.
"...Grandma drew this?"
"I think so."
She stared at the page for several long seconds.
Then whispered,
"It looks..."
"...Like tonight."
She nodded silently.
A strange pressure settled inside my chest.
Grandma had drawn this.
Which meant...
She had seen it.
Or at least...
Known about it.
"I don't understand."
"Neither do I."
I carefully examined the page again.
Beside the drawing, Grandma had written only one sentence.
The ink had faded with time.
'Not every thread binds people together.'
A chill ran down my spine.
"What does that even mean?"
Iris asked quietly.
I had no answer.
For the first time since opening the journal...
I closed it.
Slowly.
"We're going tomorrow."
She looked at me.
"To Grandma?"
I nodded.
"We need answers."
After a brief hesitation...
"So do I."
The decision settled between us without another word.
Neither of us questioned it.
Neither of us suggested waiting.
Tomorrow.
We would ask her together.
---
The clock ticked softly on the wall.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us went to our rooms.
After several quiet minutes, I reached for the journal again.
"...Should we read a little more?"
Kaizer rubbed his eyes before looking at it.
"...Tomorrow."
"You've been saying that a lot today."
"So have you."
A faint smile appeared on both our faces before disappearing just as quickly.
I gently closed the journal and rested my hand on its worn cover.
"We'll ask Grandma tomorrow."
"We will."
The room fell silent once more.
Outside, the wind brushed softly against the balcony railing.
Eventually Iris glanced toward the hallway.
"...I don't think I can sleep."
I leaned back against the sofa, exhaustion finally catching up with me.
"...Me neither."
Neither of us suggested going to bed anyway.
So we stayed.
The coffee gradually became cold.
Outside, the city continued sleeping.
Inside...
Two unanswered questions quietly kept us awake.
---
Iris's POV
The coffee had long since grown cold.
Neither of us had noticed.
The journal still lay open on the table between us, its rough sketch refusing to leave my mind.
Golden threads.
The same ones we had seen tonight.
Grandma had drawn them years ago.
How?
The question circled endlessly inside my head.
I glanced sideways.
He hadn't spoken in several minutes.
He was sitting beside me with one elbow resting against the arm of the sofa, absentmindedly staring at the journal.
His eyes looked tired.
Far more tired than usual.
The past few days flashed through my mind.
The fever.
Finding that unconscious girl.
Whatever we had seen beneath the streetlamp.
And now...
This journal.
I wondered how many questions were running through his head.
Eventually, he leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.
"I'm just resting them for a minute."
"Hmm."
I answered quietly.
I looked back at the journal, trying to make sense of the sketch one last time.
I couldn't.
Nothing about tonight made sense anymore.
After a while, I sighed and turned toward him.
"...Kaizer?"
No response.
I blinked.
"...Kaizer?"
Still nothing.
A tiny smile escaped me.
He had actually fallen asleep.
I watched him for a moment.
Without his usual calm expression...
Without those observant eyes that always seemed to notice everything...
He looked... younger.
Almost peaceful.
His breathing had become slow and steady.
A few strands of hair rested carelessly across his forehead.
For a brief moment, I almost reached out to move them away.
My hand stopped halfway.
What am I doing?
I quietly lowered it back into my lap.
"...Good night."
I whispered instead.
He didn't hear me.
Or maybe he did.
The room had become unbelievably quiet.
Only the ticking clock and the occasional sound of the wind outside filled the silence.
I rested my head against the back of the sofa and closed my eyes.
Just for a little while.
Just until my thoughts settled.
Without realizing it, my shoulder brushed lightly against his.
He didn't move.
Carefully, almost afraid of waking him, I let myself relax.
His shoulder felt unexpectedly warm.
Comforting.
My fingers absentmindedly found the sleeve of his sweatshirt, lightly holding onto it.
Not because I needed to.
Just because...
it somehow made the room feel less lonely.
The next thing I knew, the weight behind my eyes became too much.
The questions.
The fear.
The journal.
Everything slowly drifted away.
And before I realized it—
I had fallen asleep too.
Still sitting beside him.
Still quietly holding onto his arm.
Kaizer's POV
Something warm rested against my shoulder.
For a moment, I stayed completely still.
The living room was unusually quiet.
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting soft golden lines across the floor.
I blinked slowly, trying to remember why I was sleeping on the sofa.
Then my eyes fell on the journal lying open on the coffee table.
The strange drawing.
The golden threads.
Everything from last night returned at once.
I lowered my gaze.
And froze.
Iris was asleep against my shoulder.
Her head rested lightly against me, a few loose strands of hair falling across her face.
One of her hands was gently clutching the sleeve of my sweatshirt, as if she had unconsciously held onto it sometime during the night.
My breath caught.
She...
She slept here?
I stayed perfectly still.
Not because I was uncomfortable.
Because I didn't want to wake her.
She looked peaceful.
More peaceful than she had in days.
The small crease that was usually between her brows had disappeared.
For once, she wasn't worrying.
Wasn't overthinking.
Wasn't forcing herself to smile.
She was simply...
resting.
A faint smile appeared on my face before I could stop it.
"You'll get a stiff neck."
I murmured so quietly that even I barely heard it.
She didn't respond.
Instead, her fingers curled a little tighter around my sleeve.
I looked at them for a second before quietly looking away.
Somehow...
I didn't mind.
The silence settled around us again.
Outside, the city was only beginning to wake.
A few birds chirped somewhere beyond the window.
The smell of morning drifted faintly through the slightly open balcony door.
I glanced at the clock.
7:12 A.M.
Grandma.
We were supposed to visit her today.
But...
I looked at the girl sleeping beside me again.
She looked exhausted.
The dark circles beneath her eyes hadn't disappeared.
Maybe...
Five more minutes.
Just five.
I leaned back carefully against the sofa, making sure not to disturb her.
The journal could wait.
The questions could wait.
For the first time in what felt like forever...
neither of us was running after answers.
We were simply sharing a quiet morning.
And somehow...
that felt enough.