SAI SHINU
The silence stretched for a moment at the table. The boy leaned into Namae's side, blinking sleepily, his small fingers tugging at the edge of her sleeve. I caught his glance and smiled faintly before rising from my chair.
"Come here," I said gently, crouching down. The boy blinked at me for a moment, then, with a hesitant shuffle, he slipped from Namae's lap and reached for my hand. His grip was small but firm, and when I stood, he followed without question.
I looked between Yuri and Namae. Both of them carried different pieces of my life—two halves of a story I never thought would converge in the same room. For a heartbeat, the weight of that realization sat heavy in my chest.
"I'll take him back to my room," I said finally, giving the boy's hand a reassuring squeeze. My eyes lingered on Yuri, then shifted to Namae. "I'll let you two… get to know each other."
Yuri tilted her head slightly, reading me with that calm, intuitive gaze of hers. Namae, though a little reserved, nodded.
I offered them a faint smile, a smile I didn't quite know how to shape—it carried trust, and maybe a little nervousness. "I'll be nearby," I added, then turned and walked toward my room with the boy's small steps echoing beside mine.
The door closed behind us with a soft thud, leaving Yuri and Namae alone.
YOSUKE SHIN
The first light of dawn crept across the wooden floor, pulling me from sleep. My body ached in strange places — deep bruises, shallow cuts, scars old and new. For a moment I almost forgot where I was, but the smell of something warm drifted into the room.
Naemi.
I sat up and walked into the small living space. She was already awake, setting simple bowls of rice and tea on the table. She looked up with a gentle smile.
"You're awake," she said softly.
"Barely," I answered, sinking into the chair. "Feels like I got dragged through hell and back."
Her smile faded as her eyes moved to my arm. My sleeve had slipped up, exposing a fresh scar across my hand, the skin still raw and pink.
"Yosuke… where did that come from?" she asked quietly.
I followed her gaze and sighed. There was no way to hide it. "It wasn't from here. It happened inside the gate."
"The gate?" she repeated, tilting her head.
I nodded, resting my elbows on the table. "That godglyph we kept in the village… it turned into something else. A portal. We thought it was just another trial to gain its power, but inside…" My voice trailed as I tried to piece it together.
Naemi leaned closer, listening.
"The first place we entered was… like a graveyard of memories," I said. "Each of us had to face the worst thing we've ever lived through. For me, it was—" My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. "My brother killing our father. I lived it again, every second of it. And this scar came when I tried to stop him in the illusion."
Naemi's hand covered her mouth, eyes widening.
I gave her a faint smile, though it felt bitter. "And that was just the beginning. The second trial was a house, blood-red walls… an old man who forced us to answer questions we didn't want to face. Every truth dragged out of us like it was a game."
"And the last?" she asked.
"The throne of the false god," I said simply. My voice dropped lower, remembering the endless fight. "It was a monster made from illusions, feeding on what we feared most. We had to fight it together, each of us breaking free of what it tried to trap us with. That's how I got this scar — and a few others." I lifted my hand slightly, showing her the fresh marks. "Even if it wasn't real, our bodies carried the wounds back out."
Naemi stayed quiet, staring at me with wide, searching eyes. Finally, she whispered, "And you… you survived all of that?"
I gave a small shrug. "We all did. Barely." Then, after a moment, I added more quietly, "But if it means keeping this village safe… keeping you safe… then I'd do it again."
Her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but instead she reached across the table and gently traced the edge of the scar with her fingertips, as if testing if it was real.
And for the first time since we stepped out of that gate, I let myself breathe a little easier.