Sushi House
Misaki had a plate of California rolls in front of her and a cold glass of piña colada sweating gently on the table. Across from her, Ukraine sat with an ice-cold Coke and the face of a man still recovering from public humiliation.
He had barely spoken since they left the headquarters.
The memory of calling out her name in front of Kro, dragging her into his lie, and then fleeing with her under the excuse of dinner had apparently wounded him in ways he had not yet recovered from.
Misaki watched him for a moment, amused.
"It's okay," she said at last, breaking the silence. "We all do crazy things. So cheer up."
Ukraine let out a breath and managed a weak smile.
"I'll never put you in that awkward position again. And… Thank you for being so cool about it."
"Anytime, Ukraine."
The ease with which she said his name caught him off guard. His smile brightened almost instantly.
"You still remember me?"
Misaki laughed softly. "Of course I do. You remembered me too."
Then curiosity flickered in her eyes.
"But I thought we all applied for the marketing team. Why were you with the CEO?"
Ukraine rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, that. I'm her temporary assistant now. Just for a month. After that, I'll join the marketing team."
Misaki's brows lifted. "Whoa. Today was your first day, right?"
"Right."
"And you're already avoiding her?"
Ukraine nearly choked on his drink.
He coughed hard, reached for a napkin, and bought himself a few seconds.
"I'm not avoiding her," he said, far too defensively.
Misaki leaned back and gave him a knowing look.
"Come on, Ukraine. We're here right now because you very obviously said no to her invitation. Do you want to talk about it?"
He sighed, slumping in his seat.
"Let's just say I'm keeping it strictly formal."
Misaki smiled into her glass.
"And please," he added, lowering his voice, "do me a favor. Whenever you see me and Miss Kro standing together when it's not work time, come save me."
That made her laugh outright. "You know, women hate men who beat around the bush. If you don't want to hang out with her, just say no."
"How am I supposed to say no when she looks at me like that?"
Misaki tilted her head.
"Like what?"
Ukraine hesitated.
Then he answered honestly.
"Like she's seeing right through me."
Misaki burst into laughter.
Not cruel laughter.
Just the helpless kind that came when someone sounded far too dramatic to be real.
She lifted her glass.
"A toast," she declared. "To the most dramatic first day at work. Cheers."
Despite himself, Ukraine laughed too.
He lifted his Coke and clinked it gently against her glass.
At least Misaki was easy.
Warm.
Normal.
Being around her felt like breathing after a day spent underwater.
...
Far-Bridge
Kro stepped out of her room wearing a long black night robe.
The doorbell had been ringing for nearly two minutes.
Whoever stood outside clearly had either no patience or no survival instinct.
She descended the staircase in graceful silence, the soft fabric trailing behind her. Even in annoyance, she moved beautifully. Her house only sharpened that effect—every polished surface and carefully chosen shadow made her look as though she belonged to some elegant dream.
Or a haunting.
She reached the door.
"Who is it?" she called out.
No answer came.
Her expression darkened.
With a sharp breath, she opened the door. And found Leo standing there, grinning broadly, two khaki paper bags dangling from his hands. Savory scents drifted toward her at once.
Food.
Of course.
Leo's smile widened further when he saw her face.
"Hi there, walking dead," he said cheerfully. "Did you miss me?"
"No."
The disappointment in her voice was genuine.
She released the doorknob and walked back inside without inviting him in.
Leo entered anyway, nudging the door closed with his leg.
He was the kind of man who treated boundaries as mild suggestions. Where Kro was sharp, quiet, and severe, Leo was maddeningly alive—reckless, talkative, impossible to contain.
"I thought you were coming next month," Kro said as she dropped onto her favorite sofa.
"Something came up. I had to come early."
"What?"
Leo placed the bags on the table and sat across from her.
"We need to prepare your new identity for the next ten years," he said. "And I've officially run out of ideas."
That earned a look from Kro.
Leo counted on his fingers.
"You've been a doctor, a pilot, a cook, a lawyer, an architect—honestly, you've been everything for the last five centuries. What do you want to be now?"
That question always exhausted her.
Of all the burdens immortality brought, this was one of the cruelest: reinventing herself again and again, shedding names and lives as though they meant nothing.
Kro sat up straighter.
"Honestly, I love what I'm doing now. I don't want to change fields anymore."
Leo nodded, though he did not look convinced.
"Then change your name," he said. "You've been using Kro everywhere for too long. My family and I can erase records, but we can't erase people's memories. Once enough people start connecting the name, it becomes risky."
Kro inhaled slowly.
This was the part she hated most.
Each new identity felt like a small funeral.
Another version of herself buried.
Another proof that she could remain but never stay.
"Okay, Leo," she said at last. "Let me think about it. I'll tell you."
"Sure."
He leaned back.
Then his expression shifted.
"Oh, I almost forgot. I went to headquarters today and saw one of your new recruits. Misaki."
Kro barely reacted.
"What about her?"
Leo's eyes squinted, "I feel like I know her."
Kro arched a bro, "Maybe you dated once. How would I know?"
Leo gave her an unimpressed look.
"You've known me since I was a child. You know my friends, my girlfriends, everyone. Have you ever seen me with her before? Nursery school? College? Middle school? Anywhere?"
"No, Leo. I haven't."
"Exactly. That's what's bothering me."
Kro shrugged.
"Then ignore it. And if you can't, befriend her and let things happen naturally."
Leo sighed. "I'll try."
Kro leaned toward the bags and opened one.
Sushi.
Her expression did not change, but she did look mildly pleased.
"Thank you," she said. "I'll eat it later."
"Make sure you do. It's the best."
"I really hope so."
...
1981
National University
Being the best student three years in a row was no small thing. But for Song, excellence seemed almost effortless.
He was Mr. Lee's pride.
The history lecturer often used him as the standard by which every other student should measure themselves. Song was punctual, disciplined, articulate, and painfully prepared. He understood every assignment, spoke with confidence, and carried himself like a man already meant for importance.
That day was his presentation day.
He stood on the stage at the front of the lecture hall arranging his notes while the rest of the class waited with eager attention. Song was popular enough that even academic presentations drew interest.
He cleared his throat.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Song, as you all know, and today I'll be presenting on the history of Knnew Republic from the time it was called Azaradan."
The room cheered.
He smiled, pleased.
And then, as the noise settled, the back door opened. A girl entered. Song forgot the next breath he had meant to take. He had never seen her before. She was, without question, the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on.
Her presence was not loud, yet it changed the room the instant she entered it. She walked to a seat near the back and sat down as though none of this mattered to her at all.
Song stared so openly that when she lifted her gaze and caught him looking, her lips formed one silent word.
What?
He jerked his attention back to his papers.
His pulse stumbled.
"The first king of the Azaradan kingdom was called Buk. He mana—"
He stopped. The girl at the back was mouthing something. He blinked, trying to read it.
Then he understood.
Not Buk. Bukka.
Song immediately corrected himself.
"Not Buk. Bukka. Sorry about that, everyone."
A ripple of laughter passed through the room, but Song barely noticed. After that, he kept stealing glances toward her. Each time he did, he found her watching attentively. Sometimes she nodded. Once, she even gave him a discreet thumbs-up.
He smiled more through the rest of the presentation than he ever had before. His classmates thought he was simply enjoying himself. Only Song knew the truth.
When the lecture ended, he gathered his things quickly and made straight for her desk.
She was seated alone, reading a book.
He tapped the table lightly.
"Hi. I wa—"
"Pretend you didn't see me," she said without looking up from the page.
Song blinked. "I just want—"
"Kro!" Mr. Lee's voice cut across the room.
The girl closed her book, stood up at once, and walked past Song toward the lecturer without even glancing back.
That should have discouraged him.
Instead, it did the opposite.
Now he had a name.
Kro.
And that made him want to know her even more.
...
Present
Song stood on the balcony with a glass of whisky in one hand and an old photograph in the other.
Moonlight spilled over the railing and silvered the edges of the picture. It was the photo he had taken in 1981—the same day he first saw Kro. In it, she was leaving the history building. Young. Beautiful. Untouched by time.
Exactly as she still was.
Song exhaled sharply, the ice clinking against the side of the glass.
"After thirty years," he murmured to the night, "I'm finally close enough to hold you."
His eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
"I don't think you'll remember me. But I hope I still look young enough for you to look twice."
A bitter smile touched his lips.
"This time, I won't let you walk past me, Kro."
...
Far-Bridge
Later that night, Kro opened the refrigerator and took out the sushi Leo had brought.
She placed the box on the counter and sat down at the island.
One piece disappeared into her mouth.
She chewed.
Nothing.
No spark.
No satisfaction.
No pleasure.
Just blandness.
Annoyed, she picked up a second piece and tried again.
Still nothing.
Her expression darkened.
Kro could tolerate many things.
Dull people.
Dull meetings.
Dull weather.
But dull food?
That was an insult.
With quiet fury, she snatched up her phone and opened the latest message thread. Too irritated to look properly at the name, she typed at once.
Worst sushi I've ever had by the way. Next time go somewhere else.
Then she hit send.
...
Ukraine was asleep when the text came in.
The sudden sound of his phone dragged him halfway out of a dream. Still dazed, he reached across the bedside table, grabbed the device, and squinted at the screen without checking the sender.
He read the message first.
Worst sushi I've ever had by the way. Next time go somewhere else.
Still foggy with sleep, he assumed it was Misaki. Naturally. They had just eaten sushi together. But when his eyes lifted to the name at the top of the screen, all sleep vanished from his body at once.
He sat upright so fast the blanket tangled around his legs.
He stared.
Read it again.
And again.
Miss Kro.
His mouth went dry. His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
"How the hell does she know I had sushi with Misaki?" he whispered.
He looked around the room as if answers might be hiding in the walls.
"Was she following us?"
The thought hit him harder.
"Did she find out who I really am?"
Now his heartbeat felt unbearable.
His fear, once awake, immediately became monstrous.
It built scenarios faster than reason could destroy them. In his mind Kro had tailed them, watched them, tested him, maybe even known from the beginning that his presence at Krosmetics had nothing to do with ambition and everything to do with her.
He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to slow his breathing.
But there was no slowing it.
Not now.
Not with Kro's name glowing on his phone in the middle of the night like a curse.
And somewhere in Far-Bridge, the woman he feared most had just unknowingly stepped into his evening—and shattered what little peace he had managed to find.
***