There was once a woman who fell from her glory.

A woman in the middle of a long journey fraught with agony and despair.

A woman who was the embodiment of hope and light... was ironically trapped in the guillotine of despair called fate.

She was cursed.

For she was immortal.

Others might call it a blessing, but the woman who knew the reason behind it walked a path of thorns others didn't know.

Because until now, she could still hear that 'being's' malevolent voice.

Yes.

The woman who was thought holy by others kept a dark secret.

Inside her body, sealed away, existed an ominous dark being that could destroy the world.

'...'

The woman would clutch her chest in pain whenever that *being* threatened to emerge.

And every time it did, it felt like her soul was being torn apart piece by piece.

But the woman had to hold it together.

She could still hold it.

At least, that's what she thought.

'How futile.'

The being mocked her as she herself could feel that the seal was weakening, her soul slowly fracturing under the pressure.

'Ah...'

The woman's thoughts drifted as memories flashed through her consciousness.

If only 'he' was here...

That hint of hope was poison because she knew that 'he' would never come back.

'But...'

The woman looked at the broken statue of a forgotten goddess as she tried to smile.

For she believed in the 'prophecy'.

That her 'savior' would come.

"..."

On a lonely night, tears fell from her face because the woman clearly knew the truth.

The prophecy she clung to was something her own mind had created in order to escape her ill-fate.

And the broken statue of the goddess she believed in had long lost its power.

She was fated to die, and her death would release a 'Catastrophe' that would result in the deaths of many, if not all.

Despite her efforts of sealing herself, she knew deep down.

That the 'prophecy'... or rather, the blind belief of her own savior coming to save her from suffering and preventing the deaths of many...

An irresponsible wish of letting others take her burden would not come true.

That is, until the woman actually met 'him'.

That being she kept blindly believing would come but didn't expect to arrive in front of her in a bizarre way.

Her savior.

***

'I hath thought I was drowned in despairity.'

At first, Celis thought that the man who introduced himself as Nero was truly her salvation.

Her Savior.

She saw him as someone who was finally the key to what could end the malevolent being inside of her and save everyone.

But that was just it.

Her goal was to get close to him with the intention of ending her suffering in this long journey of hers that should've ended ages ago.

She was seeking her own salvation, especially for the lives of many, even if it meant her own death.

That was her salvation, and the man in front of her was the key to that.

Nothing more, nothing less.

A means to an end, however cruel that sounded.

She had prepared herself for this role countless times before.

The gentle smile, the mysterious demeanor, the carefully crafted words that drew people closer while keeping them at arm's length.

It was a dance she had perfected over lifetimes.

Approach with kindness, offer just enough warmth to build trust, then guide them toward the inevitable conclusion where her cursed existence would finally end.

She had done it before with others who showed potential.

Warriors who rose to prominence with legendary strength.

Mages who commanded elements with terrifying precision.

Even other heroes who carried the weight of prophecy of their own worlds on their shoulders throughout the ages.

None of them had been strong enough.

None of them had carried the weight needed to truly end what festered inside her.

Some had tried.

She remembered their faces, their determination, the way their expressions shifted from confidence to horror when they realized the true scope of what lived within her.

Most had fled.

A few had attempted to so her further, only to fail spectacularly.

One had even tried to kill her outright, and she had watched with sad resignation as the being inside laughed and consumed his attack entirely.

That hero had died screaming.

She carried the memory like a scar.

But Nero Walker felt different from the start.

His whole being seems to be an anomaly in itself.

She could tell…

He was the one.

She was certain.

The power radiating from him, subtle but undeniable, suggested capabilities that went beyond normal limitations.

And so the plan was simple.

Get close, earn his trust, and when the time came, ask him to do what needed to be done.

Guide him to the point where he could strike true, where his strength would be enough to end both her and the catastrophe sealed within.

It would hurt him, yes.

The guilt would linger.

But better one person carrying that burden than the entire world burning.

She had made peace with that decision centuries ago.

'But I was wrong.'

The man... Nero Walker.

In the short time they had spent together, she could see the image of *him* from Nero Walker.

Although their demeanor was entirely different, she could feel the semblance.

Was it really coincidence or maybe fate perhaps?

Either way, she could see the semblance of him, the *First Hero*, from her Savior.

The same determination in his eyes when facing impossible odds, that stubborn refusal to accept defeat even when logic screamed otherwise.

The same protective instinct that flared whenever those under his care were threatened, turning casual demeanor into cold focus.

The same warmth that radiated from him despite the darkness of the world they lived in, an inexplicable light that refused to be extinguished.

The same tendency to shoulder burdens alone, hiding pain behind smiles and jokes.

'Yet... he art not him.'

But even so, she knew that the man in front of her was not him.

Nero laughed louder, joked more freely, carried himself with a casual confidence that bordered on shamelessness.

The First Hero had been noble, dignified, weighed down by the burden of his role as humanity's champion.

Every word measured, every action calculated, every smile tinged with the melancholy of someone who knew his path ended in sacrifice.

Nero seemed to treat his responsibilities with equal seriousness but without letting them crush his spirit entirely.

He joked about serious situations, flirted shamelessly, and somehow made the apocalypse feel less suffocating through sheer force of personality.

It was refreshing in a way that frightened her.

Because it made forgetting the plan dangerously easy.

The distance she needed to maintain kept shrinking every time they spoke.

The emotional walls she had reinforced over centuries developed cracks she couldn't quite repair.

And so she tried to keep her own emotions at a distance.

She maintained the mysterious persona… to create a barrier between them, smiled gently without letting true feelings show through.

She kept conversations pleasant but vague, offered help but never asked for anything in return.

The perfect image of a benevolent, enigmatic figure with unclear motives.

'Tried' is the keyword.

Because as time passed by, she actually grew to like him.

Not as a tool.

Not as salvation.

But as a person.

'Tis strange...'

The way he spoke so casually, treating her not as some divine figure but as a person.

No reverence in his tone when addressing her, no careful dancing around potential offense.

Just direct conversation, teasing comments, genuine questions about her thoughts and feelings.

No worship, no fear, no distant admiration.

Just... normalcy.

Like she was someone worth knowing instead of someone to be used or feared or placed on an untouchable pedestal.

The way he smiled without guarding his expression, so open and genuine it made her chest ache with something she couldn't quite name.

His grin carried no hidden agenda, no political calculation, no mask of propriety.

Just pure unfiltered emotion that she had forgotten people could express so freely.

Every laugh reached his eyes, every smirk held actual amusement, every soft smile carried real affection.

It was honest in a way that disarmed her completely.

The way he looked at her sometimes, like she mattered beyond whatever power or mystery she carried.

Those moments when his dark eyes would soften slightly, studying her face with curiosity mixed with something warmer that made her heart skip unexpectedly.

Not analyzing her capabilities or calculating her usefulness.

Just... seeing her.

The person beneath the titles and the curse and the centuries of carefully maintained distance.

The way he gave without expecting anything in return, offering kindness with the same casual ease he offered jokes.

The casual gifts that showed he paid attention to small details she mentioned.

The consideration for her comfort without making it seem like an obligation or transaction.

The way he'd check on her wellbeing with genuine concern, not because duty demanded it but because he actually cared.

It was a generosity of spirit she hadn't encountered in so long it felt almost foreign.

The way he made her laugh with his ridiculous antics despite everything weighing on her soul.

His terrible jokes that shouldn't be funny but somehow were.

His shameless declarations about his intentions with his "waifus" that made her cover her mouth to hide genuine amusement.

His completely unserious approach to situations that should demand gravity, turning tense moments into something bearable.

And somehow, it all worked to lift the crushing weight she carried, even if just for fleeting moments.

She found herself looking forward to their conversations with an eagerness that alarmed her.

Found herself smiling genuinely instead of wearing the carefully crafted mask she'd perfected over lifetimes.

Found herself thinking about him during quiet moments when she should have been focused on her mission, on the seal, on the approaching end.

Instead, her thoughts drifted to the way he'd waved goodnight the previous evening.

The way his eyes lit up when explaining some detail about his system.

The way his voice softened when he was being sincere beneath the jokes.

'When didst this happen...?'

The shift had been gradual, insidious in its subtlety.

One day she was maintaining professional distance as planned, and the next she was catching herself staring at his profile during shared meals.

One moment she was carefully crafting responses to guide the relationship toward her goals, and the next she was responding honestly without thinking, letting real thoughts slip through.

The walls she had built so carefully over centuries, reinforced through countless encounters and bitter lessons, were crumbling faster than she could repair them.

And she wasn't sure she wanted to repair them anymore.

That realization terrified her more than the being sealed inside.

And in the end, she knew with crystalline certainty that couldn't be denied.

A budding feeling was growing inside her, tender and fragile and completely inappropriate given her circumstances.

Affection that went beyond gratitude or strategic manipulation or even the nostalgia of seeing echoes of the First Hero.

Something real and terrifying and completely unwelcome given what she was, what she carried, what she would inevitably become.

A wry smile came to her lips as she tended flowers in the garden one afternoon.

'How cruel fate art...'

To finally feel something genuine after centuries of emptiness, only to know it was doomed from the start.

But fate played with them, as it always did.

She was cursed, and with her carried a being that could destroy the world.

If she were to truly commit and be honest about these growing feelings, they would only experience pain.

The being inside her would sense the emotional weakness and exploit it viciously.

Nero would try to save her because that's who he was, and in doing so, likely trigger the very catastrophe she was trying to prevent.

Or worse, he would succeed in killing her as planned, but the attachment would haunt him forever.

She had seen it happen before with the First Hero.

The guilt that consumed him after ending her previous vessel.

The grief that carved hollows in his eyes even as he smiled for his companions.

The way it broke something fundamental inside him that never quite healed.

She had watched from beyond as his light dimmed, slowly, inexorably, until he could barely recognize himself.

She would not do that to Nero.

Could not bear to see that same light in him extinguished by her burden.

And so, she would rather finish what she started and come across as a mysterious woman with a suspicious motive of seducing him.

Let him think she was manipulating him for unclear reasons, playing some long game he couldn't quite figure out.

Let him maintain emotional distance through healthy suspicion and wariness.

It was kinder that way, even if it hurt to maintain the charade.

Safer for his heart, safer for his future.

The loneliness was a familiar companion anyway, an old friend that had walked beside her for so long.

Days came and went with increasing speed.

In very little time, she found the man in front of her... cute at the same time quite precious?

The duality confused her at first, but both feelings rang true simultaneously.

'Twas a feeling I hath not felt in eons...'

Her savior gave her a gift.

The necklace with its protective properties, offered with casual sincerity like it wasn't an SSR-tier relic worth fortunes.

She felt genuinely happy.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, her genuine emotion came to her face without any mask or pretense or calculated performance.

The smile that broke through was real, unguarded, and she saw his expression shift in response.

That moment of connection, brief as it was, felt more valuable than centuries of careful planning and strategic maneuvering.

'Perhaps... just this once...'

Maybe she could allow herself this small happiness before the end.

Maybe she could let him see glimpses of who she really was beneath the mysterious persona and archaic speech.

Maybe in the little time she had left, she could experience genuine companionship one last time instead of dying alone with secrets.

The thought was selfish, irresponsible even.

But she was tired of being strong, tired of being alone, tired of carrying everything by herself.

But as the days neared, she could feel her soul getting weaker with alarming speed.

The seal was deteriorating faster now, accelerating beyond her initial calculations.

Each morning she woke with the ache deeper in her core, spreading through her spiritual channels like cracks spreading through glass under pressure.

The pain came more frequently, lasted longer, required more effort to conceal.

Not good.

Nobody needs to notice for now, especially not him.

And so, often she would spend her time in an environment with lots of life energy.

A garden to tend to, where flowers bloomed and vitality flowed naturally.

The flowers and plants helped stabilize the fractures temporarily, their natural vitality providing a buffer against the darkness trying to consume her from within.

It was a temporary measure, buying time she didn't really have.

Until...

***

"Haaahhh... haaahhh..."

She clutched her chest.

A searing pain came to her soul that made the woman bite her lips hard enough to draw blood.

The time was nearing, and it seemed it would come sooner than she thought.

But then a high-pitched voice disrupted her concentration.

"... Ms. Celis?"

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