A black-haired man sat on the edge of a cliff that had probably seen better days.

The breeze hit his face, carrying nothing but the smell of decay and something metallic that probably shouldn't exist in nature.

His armor looked like it had survived several wars without maintenance, scarred and dented in ways that suggested he'd taken more hits than any sane person should.

But despite all that, despite the absolute mess of the world stretching out in front of him, the guy was smiling.

The horizon stretched endlessly ahead, painted in shades of grey and dying brown.

Trees stood like skeletal fingers clawing at a sky that had forgotten what color looked like.

No birds sang, no animals moved through the underbrush that had long since withered into brittle husks.

The grass beneath him crunched with the texture of ash, and even the wind felt wrong somehow, like it was carrying the last gasps of a world choking on its own death.

Everything looked dead.

Not recently dead either.

Long dead, slowly rotting dead, the kind of dead that suggested hope had packed its bags and left centuries ago.

But this absolute madman just sat there grinning like he was on vacation.

"Did you know?"

His voice broke the oppressive silence with casual cheerfulness that felt completely out of place.

"They say the world was once full of fresh greeneries and trees that birds and animals lived in. Apparently, food wasn't a problem either back then."

He paused, still staring at the wasteland ahead.

"Was that true, Silvia?"

A rustle came from beside him.

No reply though.

Just movement that suggested someone was definitely there but choosing not to engage with his rambling.

The man didn't seem bothered.

He kept going like this was a normal conversation instead of a one-sided monologue directed at someone who clearly wasn't interested in participating.

"Man, I wish I was there so I'd know what a freshly picked apple tastes like."

More rustling.

Still no words.

He continued talking anyway, filling the silence with speculation about fruits he'd never tasted and colors he'd only heard described in stories passed down through generations who'd never seen them either.

Minutes dragged by with his voice being the only sound beyond the hollow wind.

Finally, something in his expression shifted.

The cheerfulness cracked just slightly, replaced by mild annoyance that had clearly been building.

"... Silvia, are you even listening?"

He turned his head to look beside him properly for the first time.

A giggle answered him.

High-pitched, musical, the kind of sound that suggested she'd been waiting for him to break first.

"I am. I am listening."

Before he could respond with the complaint clearly forming on his lips, a pair of hands moved over his head from behind.

His eyes widened as something light settled onto his hair.

The sensation was soft against his scalp, delicate in a way nothing in this world had any right to be anymore.

A scent hit his nose immediately after.

Fresh.

Clean.

Like spring existed somewhere beyond the grey wasteland mocking them from every direction.

He blinked rapidly and looked down toward a small pool of stagnant water nearby that served as the only reflective surface available.

His own face stared back, rough and scarred and way too young to look that tired.

But sitting on top of his head was something that made his breath catch.

White petals connected in an intricate pattern, woven together with skill that suggested hours of careful work.

An artistic crown made entirely of flowers that shouldn't exist anymore.

"... Flowers?"

The word came out stunned.

His first time seeing something like this in person, something that carried color and life and beauty instead of just existing as a concept in old stories.

They looked incredible.

They smelled even better, a fragrance that made the air around him feel temporarily clean.

"A crown of flowers to be exact."

The woman behind him spoke finally, her voice carrying warmth that matched the smile he couldn't see but definitely heard.

Silvia.

Dressed in white robes that somehow remained pristine despite the filth covering everything else, she watched his reaction with obvious satisfaction.

"... I see."

He kept staring at his reflection, processing the impossible object sitting on his head.

Then realization crashed through his amazement like cold water.

His expression shifted dramatically.

"... !!! Wait, then how did you find this flower–? No, wait, you couldn't have–?!"

He spun around to face her properly, alarm replacing wonder as the implications hit.

Silvia's smile turned wry, like she'd expected this exact reaction and found it mildly amusing.

"I'm a Goddess of Life, remember?"

She raised one hand casually.

Golden light bloomed across her palm, warm and radiant and completely at odds with the dead world surrounding them.

The glow intensified for a heartbeat before solidifying into physical form.

A bouquet of flowers materialized from nothing, each bloom perfect and vibrant with colors that shouldn't exist outside memories.

She presented them like it was the most natural thing possible.

The man's face twisted into a serious frown that killed any remaining humor in the moment.

"... Why did you do that? You said your divinity was limited here, right?"

His tone carried genuine concern mixed with frustration that she'd waste precious resources on something like this.

Silvia's expression softened.

She turned her gaze toward the horizon, watching the grey wasteland stretch endlessly while holding flowers that represented everything it had consumed.

"I wanted to at least give you a glimpse of what the past looked like."

Silence settled between them.

Heavy and complicated and carrying weight that simple words couldn't properly express.

The man stared at her profile for several long seconds before finally releasing a defeated sigh.

"Haaahh... now you gave me something precious. I can't just accept this without giving you something, right?"

Silvia opened her mouth to decline.

She clearly wanted to argue that the gift required nothing in return, that seeing his reaction was payment enough.

But he cut her off before the words could form.

"Turn your back to me and close your eyes."

"... Yes?"

"Turn your back to me and close your eyes."

He repeated the instruction with enough firmness to suggest arguing would be pointless.

Silvia followed the command despite obvious confusion.

She shifted position, presenting her back while her eyes slid shut.

The sound of something clicking reached her ears.

Metal on metal, delicate and precise.

Then weight settled against her collarbone.

Light but present, resting against her skin with warmth that had nothing to do with temperature.

"You can open them now."

She did.

Her hand moved instinctively to touch whatever he'd placed there.

Her fingers found a necklace, simple but beautifully crafted.

Recognition hit immediately.

This wasn't just any piece of jewelry.

This was the memento he'd received from his family, one of the few personal possessions he'd carried through everything.

Something irreplaceable that held memories and connection to people long gone.

Her eyes widened as understanding crashed through her.

She lifted her gaze to find him watching her with that same cheesy grin plastered across his face.

"Now we're even, right?"

***

That moment reflected in a woman's vision before colors came back to the same eyes.

Golden irises focused slowly as consciousness returned in fragments.

Blurred shapes gradually sharpened into recognizable forms.

Faces hovering above her, expressions twisted with concern that shifted to relief the moment she stirred.

Nero's voice cut through the fog first.

"Celis! Thank god, you're awake!"

His face came into focus properly, and for a moment, the two images overlapped in her vision.

The black-haired man from her memory.

The black-haired man kneeling beside her now.

Different people separated by lifetimes and circumstances.

And yet...

'Ah. As I thought…'

The resemblance went deeper than physical features or coincidental similarities.

Something fundamental connected them in ways she couldn't properly articulate but felt with absolute certainty.

Luna's voice joined the chaos.

"How are you feeling? Any lingering pain or disorientation?"

The high elf stood nearby with Verdalume raised, diagnostic spells already active and scanning for anomalies.

Other summons crowded around the edges of her vision, their worried expressions creating a wall of concern that felt simultaneously comforting and suffocating.

Celis tried processing everything at once.

The voices talking over each other, asking questions she couldn't quite focus on yet.

The familiar ceiling of her room in the villa indicates someone had moved her here after she'd collapsed.

The feeling of her body, weak and heavy but functional enough to confirm she was alive.

And most prominently, the man in front of her.

Nero.

Her savior, who'd pulled her from isolation and given her glimpses of genuine connection she'd thought lost forever.

Who looked at her with worry that transcended duty or obligation or strategic value.

Who reminded her so painfully of someone she'd loved and lost in a past that felt simultaneously distant and immediate.

No matter how much she wanted to deny it, no matter how many logical arguments she constructed to explain away the similarities...

They were too alike for coincidence.

The way they smiled despite impossible circumstances.

The casual confidence masking deeper concerns.

The protective instincts that flared whenever those they cared about faced danger.

Even their ridiculous tendency to joke during serious moments as if humor could somehow make reality less crushing.

'They are both similar…'

The thought settled in her chest with weight that made breathing difficult.

'So much so that it could not be a coincidence…'

Her lips moved before conscious decision caught up with instinct.

The words came out with surprising clarity despite her weakened state.

"Savior… Might I accompany thee to Legendor during the celebration?"

The room went quiet.

Every conversation stopped mid-sentence as attention redirected toward her with visible shock.

Nero blinked, clearly not expecting that to be the first thing she said after waking up from a two-day unconscious state.

But Celis pressed forward before anyone could interrupt or question the timing.

Her golden eyes locked onto his with intensity that left no room for deflection or gentle dismissal.

"I would–nay, I will come with thee."

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