Renar knew the woman whose fingers were tangled warmly with his looked like Lethia.
But he winced again as he kept running, stepping over dry grass and twisting roots on the damp soil.
His breath stuttered. Tight. Uneven. Like something unnamed was curling in his chest. His head throbbed, as if sharp thorns were stabbing behind his skull. His memories as Renar blurred, melting into strange yet familiar ones—like he wasn't Renar at all in the world beneath his feet.
"Reon, there. Let's wait out the rain over there."
The woman guiding him pointed at a bamboo stilt hut under a towering oak tree.
The sight of it jolted something deep inside him—an instinct snapping awake. His pulse raced with a strange, breathless anticipation, as if he already knew exactly what would happen there.
They ran again, but this time he took the lead. Reon. Pulling the woman with a firm, impatient grip.
The confusion of who he truly was no longer mattered.
