Chapter 28 — The Reunion in the Static
The night was louder than usual.
Every flicker of light, every hum of electricity, every whisper of wind — it all carried that faint static now, as if the world itself was breathing too fast.
Rimuru stood at the edge of the abandoned district — her usual meeting place, if "usual" could exist in her life anymore. The shattered café sign above her still read The Mirror's Edge, though the letters now glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with something deeper than electricity.
She took a slow breath. "Well," she murmured, "it's been a while since you called me first."
The door creaked open before she even touched it.
A low, familiar voice drifted from the shadows.
> "You were late."
"Fashionably," Rimuru replied, stepping inside.
---
The café was half-lit by floating shards of light — fragments of glass suspended midair, reflecting different moments of time. Some showed her past selves; others flickered with images she didn't want to recognize.
And at the center of it all, sitting on the counter like a ghost too tired to haunt, was Echo.
He looked the same as ever — dark hair, sharp silver eyes, and that quiet aura of someone who remembered everything and wished he didn't.
Rimuru smiled faintly. "Still dramatic, I see."
Echo smirked. "Still pretending you're fine, I see."
She tilted her head. "Touché."
---
They stood in silence for a moment, the air thick with old memories.
Then Echo finally said, "She's remembering, isn't she?"
Rimuru exhaled slowly. "You always were good at skipping small talk."
"I'm not the one who hides entire timelines behind jokes."
That made her laugh — quiet, but real. "It's a coping mechanism."
He looked at her, eyes softening. "And when coping stops working?"
Her smile faltered. "Then I improvise."
---
Echo's gaze drifted to one of the glass shards hovering beside them — it showed Aira, sitting at her desk, staring at her phone in confusion.
"Does she know what she is yet?" he asked.
Rimuru shook her head. "Not fully. Fragments, maybe. The kind that come in dreams and headaches."
"She's unstable again."
"I know."
"Then why keep her close?"
Rimuru looked up at him, eyes glowing faintly blue and red in the dim light. "Because if she breaks this time, she won't just forget me — she'll forget herself. And I can't let that happen."
---
Echo stood, his form flickering slightly. "You always talk like you're the only one who can save her."
"I'm not," Rimuru said softly. "I just happen to be the one who made her this way."
That silenced him.
The café lights dimmed for a moment, as if reacting to her words.
Echo frowned. "You didn't cause the distortion, Rimuru."
She smiled bitterly. "No. But I triggered it. You remember — I reached into the code when I shouldn't have. She was trying to save me, and the system rewrote her instead."
Echo looked at her for a long moment. "You could've deleted the memory of it."
Rimuru shook her head. "Some things deserve to hurt."
---
The wind outside picked up, howling through the broken glass.
Echo stepped closer. "The static's changing again. You feel it, don't you?"
Rimuru nodded. "It's learning. Adapting. Maybe even… remembering us."
"So what's your plan?"
"The same as always." She smiled, faint but sharp. "Laugh first, question later."
Echo sighed. "You never change."
Rimuru looked toward the door, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Let's hope she doesn't either."
---
Outside, the city flickered again — lights dimming one block at a time, as if something unseen was walking through the streets.
And somewhere far away, Aira woke up suddenly in her bed — her heart pounding, her reflection in the window smiling a second too late.