As I looked at the general, I felt a strange duality. His presence still commanded respect, yet there was something unusually light about him—something that unsettled the familiar image I had preserved of him.
He wore a light blue silk shirt that draped smoothly over him, following his movements with delicate precision. The color not only enhanced the deep blue shade of his eyes but also made his entire appearance seem more vivid, more refreshed. His blond hair was combed back, yet the natural waves still stubbornly framed his features, as if to remind the world that no matter the elegance, the freedom within him would always find a way to surface.
His trousers were anything but ordinary—a dark pair of jeans, yet tailored in a way that evoked a sense of refined sophistication. It was as if he had struck a careful balance between casual ease and solemn composure. There was no trace of carelessness in his attire, and yet he exuded an effortless, timeless grace. His shoes, made of fine leather, were simple yet sophisticated enough to complete his look without drawing unnecessary attention.
And then I saw myself.
For a brief moment, my breath caught in my throat.
The former version of me stood before him, and the instant my gaze met hers, I knew—it was me. Bodies, faces—those changed over time. But the eyes never lied. My eyes were always the same.
My hair was long and silky, falling softly over my shoulders in sleek strands, with a precisely cut fringe framing my face. A light touch of makeup subtly enhanced my features, as if only a faint shade separated it from pure natural beauty. I wore an elegant yet relaxed blouse—gently flowing fabric that hugged my form just enough to create a balance between femininity and effortless grace. The sleeves were slightly loose, delicately gathering at my wrists, making even my movements appear lighter.
The blouse was partially tucked into a high-waisted, perfectly fitted pair of jeans—soft yet structured, a piece that carried the elegance of its era, blending womanly charm with casual sophistication. My shoes were finely crafted ankle boots—graceful yet firm, much like I had been back then.
As our eyes met, a deep emotion rippled through me—a fleeting uncertainty, an indescribable nostalgia.
Then the bodies moved.
In the middle of the crowd, within the noise of the world, without hesitation or formalities, we embraced. And then, a kiss—soft, natural, unforced. It wasn't exaggerated or dramatic, just an instinctive gesture, an echo of the past. And yet, something unfamiliar surged through me. A strange vibration—both foreign and familiar at once.
The general, in that moment, was different from how I had always known him. A real smile played on his lips—not the measured, diplomatic expression I had seen countless times before, but a true, light, genuine smile. His shoulders weren't as tense, his movements seemed freer.
And I?
I simply watched.
As the two of them started walking, I followed them silently. I watched as my former self turned toward the general with a playful smile, a lighthearted question slipping from her lips.
"So tell me, what brings you back here again?"
The general smiled at her sideways, pausing for a moment before answering.
"I couldn't wait to see you again. But you knew that, didn't you?"
There was something teasing in his voice, yet it carried a deeper truth. It wasn't just an empty compliment or a passing remark. His body language reflected the same sentiment—he leaned in just slightly, pressing a small kiss against my forehead. My past self did not seem surprised, only smiled, as if it had always been meant to happen this way.
But I… I was surprised.
Then, the mood slowly shifted. The lighthearted moments faded into silence, and the general's voice turned more serious.
"Did you know they found the box?"
My past self furrowed her brows slightly.
"No… I haven't heard about that."
The general nodded, his gaze darkening slightly.
"They don't always want to inform me about these matters immediately either," he continued, "but it's worth paying attention to."
My former self studied him for a moment, then absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair—just as I often did when something weighed on my mind.
"But there's no need to worry," the general added. "For now, there's no danger. Clarissa seems harmless… but I fear she may not stay that way."
The girl—my past self—nodded. The general smiled at her kindly, but then, as if a sudden realization crossed his mind, he looked up at her again.
"Tell me…" he began softly. "That black shadow… has it visited you recently?"
For a moment, the girl remained silent, as if considering her answer.
"No, not recently," my former self replied at last. "So you don't have to worry. After you warned it, I doubt it will return."
The general smiled, but something deeper lingered in his eyes.
"And have you figured out who it might be?" the girl asked.
The general averted his gaze.
"No," he sighed softly. "But I'm working on it."
For a moment, he watched her, then locked eyes with her once more.
"What worries me more is that they refuse to let me enter Rindanof. They struggle to accept our love."
"They fear that another Nephilim child could be born from our relationship, don't they?" the girl asked quietly.
"The angels have their burdens to bear, I understand them," the general admitted. "But there is one thing they know as well—twin flames should never be separated. We will prove that we are meant to be."
He grasped the hand of my past self with confidence.
Then, after a brief pause, he added:
"But first, we must ensure that when your time for ascension comes… you will remain an angel no matter what."
And in that moment, something heavy, something deeply meaningful, vibrated in the air. A promise. A warning.
And I only watched.
I watched them.
I watched us.
Our movements were light, and the smiles on our faces, unwavering, transported us to an entirely different world. Our laughter was pure, sincere, as if there had never been a single worry in our lives. The general's face lit up, and my former self leaned toward him effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A small touch, a glance—and the very air around them vibrated.
And I… I just stood there, watching them, trying to grasp where things had gone so terribly wrong.
How had this lightness turned into the distance I now felt? How had this deep, living connection become the cool restraint I was now faced with? If we once existed like this beside each other, if we once spoke so easily about angelic matters, then why does it now both attract and repel me? What happened to me? What happened to us?
I let myself sink into their conversation, listening as my old self asked in surprise:
— What does Clarissa want to use the box for?
The general leaned back in thought, then, after a brief pause, spoke:
— Probably for nothing. She's not the type who… you know, would be dangerous.
— But let's hope she won't. If that object is real, it could cause trouble.
My former self smiled, but there was something serious, something deeper in her voice.
— Yes — the general nodded. — We sincerely hope so.
And in that sentence, everything that needed to be known was there. The belief that Clarissa wouldn't cross that line. The kind of uncertainty that always lingers when trying to understand someone who can never truly be figured out.
I was both surprised that I knew about the matter and at the same time felt the pull to learn even more. This wavering, in this form, was not enough.
My thoughts were so tangled that I didn't even notice—I was already following them further.
The venue was a small garden terrace, illuminated by tiny lights. Music played in the background, and the air vibrated with a lighthearted happiness. My former self sat beside the general, laughing, sipping from a drink, her eyes sparkling. He watched her happily too, with no restrained emotion in him.
I turned toward the stage.
I didn't even think about it; my legs moved on their own. A moment later, I was holding the microphone, and the song poured out of me as if by itself:
"I wait for you, I wait for you,
I long to burn away in your arms,
My angel, Gabriel…"
And in that moment, there was nothing else—only my voice and the vibrating joy that filled the entire space.
The general looked up at me, and so did my former self. Our eyes met, and in that second, there was no doubt, no question.
Only that perfect feeling—that everything was just as it should be.
That we were meant for each other.
That in the world, there were no fractures, no lost moments, nothing that could divert us from this feeling.
Then…