"Sometimes I think of the sun and the moon as lovers who rarely meet, always chase and almost always miss one another, but once in a while they do catch up, and they kiss, and the world stares in awe of their eclipse...."
Leo didn't remember the exact moment his body gave up on him.
It might've been the second blade that punctured his side. Or the concussion from the telekinetic throw that sent him smashing into a boulder. Maybe it was the soul attack- those always had a way of unraveling you from the inside out.
Whatever it was, he again turned corporeal and dropped to the ground in a blur of blood and burning fog, his body tumbling down a slope of dry yellow grass and tumbling stones, out of the forest and into farmland. Past the point where cities and hatred touched. Somewhere quiet.
He lost consciousness sometime before he crashed through the old wooden fence.
________________________________________
When he awoke, it was to the faint scent of lavender and sunlight.
And then pain.
A lot of pain.
Leo tried to move, but his ribs said "no". His left shoulder refused to obey. Everything ached with a dull, constant throb that reminded him, mockingly, that he wasn't as untouchable as he liked to believe.
For a moment, he thought he'd been captured. That the cultists or bounty hunters had dragged him to some place to bleed him dry. Then, the sound of humming reached him.
Soft. Aluring. Beautiful..
He opened his eyes.
The room was too bright. Sunlight filtered in through white curtains, casting a warm glow across pale wooden walls and a tidy bookshelf. There were plants. A drying herb rack. A teacup. Quilted blankets. All decorating the room, making it simple but..warm..welcoming..
And a girl.
She looked like springtime.
Wearing an oversized sweater that draped past her knees, her hair a soft tumble of honey-blonde curls tied up in a lazy ponytail, she sat by the window humming and stitching something into an embroidery hoop.
He stared. His sight was captured by her presence.
She didn't seem to notice he was awake until he tried to sit up and nearly growled from the pain.
"Oh!" she gasped, jumping to her feet and knocking the needlework to the floor. "You're awake!"
He didn't speak. Just watched her warily. His fingers twitched toward where a weapon should be- but someone had stripped him down to a loose white shirt and soft cotton pants. Clean. Patched.
"You were bleeding heavily last night," she said, speaking quickly, like someone trying to fill the silence. "You were really out of it. I thought you were going to die right there in my backyard."
Her backyard?
He gritted his teeth. "Where am I?"
"Two valleys out from Poster City. I don't know what you were doing all the way out here, but- wait- don't move. You had three broken ribs and something sharp sticking out of your side. And your eye was swollen shut. So just lie still, okay?"
Leo gave her a hard look. She didn't flinch.
He wasn't used to that.
"Why did you help me?" he asked flatly.
The girl blinked, then tilted her head. "What kind of question is that? You were bleeding to death."
"That doesn't answer anything."
"Well, I mean…" She paused, then smiled- bright, and just a little too honest. "I guess I've always been this way, helping those who need it."
Leo didn't smile back.
He thought about the fight- the Beyonders who had cornered him, who had somehow slipped past his danger premonition. They knew too much about the Abyss Pathway.
He tried to stand again, but his body refused. With a sigh, he conceded. This place was remote. They wouldn't find him easily.
Then, he shifted- his voice smoothing into something charming, though his eyes remained cold as moonlight. "My apologies, miss, for the trouble. Dragging a poor soul like me here, tending to my injuries… I'll repay you when I'm healed."
Her eyes sparkled like sunlight. "Even if you don't want to, I won't let you leave until you're better!"
Then, her expression turned serious. "But, sir… promise me one thing while you're here."
Leo arched a brow. "Of course. 'When in Rome,' as they say. What is it?"
She met his gaze without hesitation. "Don't fake yourself here. Drop the mask. It'll only slow your recovery- and I don't want any guest of mine to be stressed in my home."
Leo stiffened. How did she..?
"Why do you think I'm wearing a mask?" he asked carefully.
She grinned, puffing her chest proudly. "Let's just say I have an eye for people."
Leo exhaled, a quiet laugh escaping him despite himself. This girl is truly something.
Looking at his face, Mia felt a strange pull towards him, a mixture of fascination and apprehension. He exuded an enigmatic energy, a captivating darkness that intrigued her in ways she couldn't quite comprehend. He possessed an almost unsettling stillness, a stark contrast to the vibrant inside of hers. He didn't seem to move, exactly, but rather shifted, as if subtly adjusting to his surroundings like a predator stalking its prey.
" Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I'm Mia- Mia Lorens," she said, offering her hand. The gesture felt surprisingly bold, even reckless, given the unsettling power radiating from him.
He took her hand, his touch cool and strangely firm, a fleeting contact that lingered
longer than it should have. "Leo," he murmured, his fingers lingering on hers for a fraction of a second before releasing her. The touch left behind a phantom sensation, a lingering trace of his presence, an echo of his unnerving energy.
Mia pulled her hand back gently, her eyes flicking down for a moment as if to collect herself.
"Oh! Right," she said, clearing her throat and suddenly remembering the tray she had brought in earlier. "You must be starving."
She picked up a small wooden tray from the bedside table and gently placed it across his lap. On it was a bowl of warm porridge- still steaming slightly- drizzled with honey and dotted with berries. Comfort food, simple but made with care.
"I know it's not fancy," she said as she handed him a spoon, "but it's filling. You need something warm. You lost a lot of blood."
Leo looked at the bowl, then at her.
There were few times in his life when someone had given him something without expecting anything in return. No oath. No blood price. No contract. Just... porridge.
He didn't respond. Just gave her a small, unreadable nod and took the spoon. She smiled softly, her eyes flickering to his as if searching for something else to say- but then thought better of it.
"I'll let you eat in peace," she said gently. "If you need anything, just call out."
Then she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
—
Inside the room, Leo sat still for a moment, the tray untouched on his lap. The scent of the porridge curled through the air- warm, sweet, oddly comforting.
He stared at it.
He didn't feel hunger, not exactly. He hadn't felt things like that properly for a long time. After ascending to Sequence 5, so many human instincts dulled. Others... sharpened. But now, he felt something. Not hunger, not pain. Not even relief.
Something unfamiliar.
A heaviness in his chest that wasn't a wound. A stillness in the air that pressed around him, not threatening, but… soft.
He slowly picked up the spoon.
Each movement was slow, methodical- like he wasn't just feeding himself but observing himself doing it. Investigating the unfamiliar quiet between his thoughts.
He brought a spoonful of porridge to his lips and tasted it.
Sweet. Mild. Warm.
His potion stirred- not digesting, not shifting, just... moving. A ripple beneath the surface of his being, like a drop of rain hitting a black lake.
He set the spoon down.
What was that?
Leo leaned back against the pillows, one hand resting lightly on his ribs. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts sharpening.
I need to investigate this place… no, her, he corrected silently. Something about her is…
He didn't finish the thought. He didn't know the word for it.
—
Outside the room, Mia was placing the needlework back on the table when she caught herself smiling.
She touched her cheek, surprised by the warmth there.
It had been months- maybe longer- since anyone had stepped foot into her house. Not the mail courier. Not a neighbor. No one. She liked it that way. She liked the quiet. The space to be herself.
But now?
Now there was a man bleeding into her blankets, with eyes like frozen moons and a voice like velvet blades. A man with no past he was willing to share, and a presence that made her chest flutter in odd rhythms.
She walked to the window, touching the glass lightly with her fingertips.
"I wonder what you're thinking in there," she whispered with a soft chuckle.
She didn't know- couldn't know- that beneath her skin, her heart had betrayed her. A single, lurching beat. A rhythm out of step.
A heart that said more than any of her words could.
—---------------------------------------------------------
Night fell quietly, wrapping the countryside in a soft hush. Even in the most quiet night in the city can't compare to this place, the kind only places far from cities ever truly knew. Outside, the wind rustled the old apple trees, and inside, the little home was warm with lamplight and the quiet crackle of a stove's embers.
Leo had finished every last spoonful of the warm porridge. Simple, rustic- herbs, potatoes, oats, a hint of butter and pepper, dotted on with honey and berries- but undeniably comforting. He'd eaten without comment at first, the quiet stretching between each mouthful like it was stitched together with silence. Leo has never felt this kind of feeling before, so he savoured and analyzed each and every bite, making it linger till faded again, trying to etch the warmth deep into his mind.
And then she appeared again.
Barefoot, wearing the same oversized sweater now layered with a shawl, Mia stepped into the room holding a small cloth in her hands. Her expression was soft, pleased in that modest, quietly proud way of someone who didn't expect praise but couldn't help hoping for it.
"Oh good," she said brightly, eyeing the empty bowl. "You really did eat everything."
Leo glanced at her, the dim light brushing the lines of his face. His gaze softened by the smallest fraction.
"It was good," he said, his voice low and even, but not flat. There was something in it- a faint, lingering warmth. "Genuinely."
Mia blinked. Then her lips slowly parted into a surprised grin. "R-Really?"
Leo nodded, glancing at the small water glass. "You've got a hand for this kind of thing. Feels like… something worth looking forward to."
Her face flushed, just faintly, and she took the bowl from his bedside. As she did, she poured fresh water from the glass jug into the cup, careful not to spill. It was a gentle motion, one born of habit and care.
"Thank you," she said quietly, still smiling. Then, impulsively: "Wait- do you cook? Prepare meals for yourself I mean.."
Leo hesitated for a moment. This part of him felt far away, distant and muted beneath blood and contracts and death.
"I used to," he admitted. "Still do, sometimes. I work at a café… in the city."
Mia's eyes went wide. "A café?!" She perched herself on the edge of the chair by his bed, eyes glinting with delight. "Wait.wait.wait- what's your best dish? What's your thing?"
Leo didn't think. The answer came without effort, without calculation.
"Banana bread."
She blinked. "Banana bread?"
He nodded again, this time a little slower. "With caramelized walnuts. And cinnamon… sometimes nutmeg, if I'm feeling adventurous."
Mia laughed, a soft, delighted sound, like sunlight cracking through clouds. "You must be joking."
"I'm not."
"That's adorable."
Leo arched a brow. "That's not what I was going for."
"Well it is. You can be mysterious and broody all you want, but nothing's going to change the fact that your soul is made of banana bread."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
"...Can you teach me?" she asked suddenly, her voice lighter, full of unexpected hope. "I mean- once you're better. You're an actual chef. That's so cool! I've only ever baked from recipe books, and half the time it ends with a fire hazard and something stuck to the ceiling.. or the floor.. or the cupboard..."
Leo studied her for a moment. Her excitement was almost puppy-like- boundless, sweet, unfiltered just like how the golden retriever would act. There was no hidden intention, no manipulation. Just genuine curiosity and joy, if she has a tail, it must be swinging from left to right with excitement.
He tilted his head, just a little. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"
Mia beamed, and for a second, it was hard to tell whether it was the lamplight or her own glow that lit the room.
The room held a tender kind of silence, the sort that didn't feel empty, but comfortable.
Mia stayed a little longer after coming in to check on Leo, curled in the chair near the window, legs tucked beneath her as they chatted about nothing in particular- weather, the quirks of her garden, a story about a stubborn goat she used to take care of. Leo offered responses here and there, some clipped, some curious. Slowly, the edge in his tone dulled, and the space between his words grew longer, richer.
For a man who walked in the shadows, Leo spoke more than he expected to.
Not much. But enough.
Enough for Mia to lean forward, eyes bright. Enough for her laughter to fill the corners of the room like sunlight lingering in places no one had touched for a long time. Enough for Leo to forget- just for a moment- that he wasn't meant to be here. That he wasn't made for softness or warmth or comfort.
Eventually, the clock on the wall ticked softly past ten.
Mia stood, brushing invisible dust from her sweater. "I should let you rest," she said, though her voice held a reluctant sweetness, as if she could've stayed until dawn. "I'll see you in the morning."
Leo gave a simple nod. "Good night."
At the door, she turned around, silhouetted by the warm hallway light. "And Leo?"
He met her gaze.
"I'm glad you ended up here."
And with that, she disappeared down the hallway, the soft patter of her bare feet barely audible over the sound of the wind against the shutters.
—
Her stomach was fluttering before she even reached the kitchen.
Butterflies. That's what it felt like. Like something warm and winged was fluttering beneath her ribs. Mia barely noticed she was grinning as she cleaned the dishes, humming to herself, swaying slightly with the rhythm of her movements. The kitchen, small and old and crooked, somehow looked brighter now.
By the time she reached her room, she didn't walk- she floated. Spun in a little circle before falling into bed with a soft squeal muffled by her pillow.
"He's a chef," she whispered to the darkness, hugging the pillow close. "A real one."
And he said she was good at cooking.
Her heart gave a traitorous little kick.
Mia fell asleep smiling, the thought of morning already tugging at her dreams.
—
Across the house, Leo stared up at the wooden ceiling. Moonlight spilled in through the window, touching the floor in a silver arc. The house creaked gently with the cool breath of night.
He blinked slowly.
There was something wrong with him.
Not the wounds. Not the lingering ache from the soul attack or the fractured ribs. Not even the way he had dropped from one world into another like a ghost that didn't quite know how to stay dead.
No. This was different.
He felt…
Warm. Not physically. But somewhere underneath the sharp edges of his mind, something was shifting. His thoughts were still methodical, always observant—but the silence inside him didn't feel so empty tonight.
The corners of his mouth had almost twitched upward when she made that joke about his soul being made of banana bread.
Almost.
He'd felt something stir inside his chest when she said she was glad he was here. Not enough to unsettle his mind- but enough to notice.
Enough to make him wonder if perhaps the potion was reacting. Or maybe it wasn't the potion at all.
Leo exhaled softly.
Strange.
But not bad.
He let his head fall back against the pillow, closed his eyes, and listened to the quiet. His body still hurts. His mind was still a knot of secrets and calculations. But something in him had eased tonight, just a little.
And for the first time in a very, very long time-
Leo slept peacefully.