Kael turned to leave, boots echoing faintly against the old concrete floor.
But Lina wasn't ready to let the moment end. She rushed after him.
"Wait! Kael—just wait."
He paused again. Not out of frustration, not even curiosity—it felt more like… a calculation. As if he were measuring the risk of giving her another second of his time.
She jogged a few steps to catch up, her shoes scuffing slightly.
"You can't just drop something like that and walk away," she said, breath catching a bit. "You—you said monsters attacked, you lost your memory, and now people are monitoring you? That's not something you just brush off!"
"I told you because you asked. You already noticed. Now you know."
"Yeah, well, now I have about a thousand more questions!"
Kael said nothing.
Lina took a deep breath and laughed nervously, trying a softer approach. "Okay, okay. I get it. You're not exactly in the mood for a full therapy session."
Still nothing. His expression hadn't changed.
She pushed her bangs out of her face. "Maybe you could just, I don't know… talk to me like we used to? Or at least like someone who isn't reading from a computer script?"
"I no longer have context for how we used to speak."
"Ouch," she muttered under her breath. "Alright. You're not big on nostalgia. Got it."
She stepped beside him now, arms crossed, trying to read him—trying to reach him.
"Look, if it's about trust or secrecy or whatever, I can keep my mouth shut. I'm not gonna go blabbing around the school that you're fighting shadow monsters."
"That's not the issue," Kael replied calmly. "The issue is relevance. This conversation lacks efficiency."
Lina gave him an exasperated look. "Do you hear yourself?"
"Yes."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. No friendly reunion talk. No promises of loyalty. You clearly don't care. Let's try this—do you need help with anything?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Because it looks like you're trying to live a normal life and failing miserably."
He didn't deny it.
She smirked. "Gotcha."
Still, he didn't say anything.
"Look," she said again, voice lowering. "You didn't come back to school on your own, did you? Someone told you to. People who are involved with... whatever you're involved in. They want you to blend in."
Kael's head tilted slightly. She had his attention now.
"I'm guessing they didn't teach you how to blend in."
"That is accurate."
Lina snapped her fingers. "Then let me help. You clearly suck at normal."
Kael blinked.
"That wasn't an insult," she said quickly. "Just... an observation. You don't talk like us, don't act like us, and I'm guessing you don't even know how to lie properly yet."
"I do not."
She grinned despite herself. "So let me cover for you. I can help you seem like the old Kael—or at least a version of him that doesn't raise red flags every five minutes."
Kael stared at her a moment longer.
> She's adjusting.
She's offering something useful.
Efficient. Low risk.
"You want to assist me with... appearing normal?"
"Exactly."
"And in return?"
Lina shrugged. "I get to not feel like I'm losing my mind. I get to help someone I used to know. And—okay, maybe it's selfish, but it beats pretending I don't know anything."
He considered.
"You already noticed anomalies. You're already part of this. Helping increases your utility."
"So that's a yes?"
"Yes."
She let out a long breath. "Okay. Step one—stop answering questions like a space alien. Step two—if you're gonna lie, make it vague, not robotic."
"I will require practice."
"Great. Lucky for you, you've got the best coach in the school."
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"You talk a lot," he observed.
"I know. You're welcome."
They started walking back together—him with steady steps, her practically buzzing with relief and nerves.
As they neared the hallway doors, Lina glanced sideways.
"So... when this 'mission' of yours is over, do you think you'll remember me?"
"I don't have a plan for that scenario."
"Cool. Super comforting. Thanks."
He nodded once.
Lina grinned, somehow reassured by the ridiculousness of it all.
> This wasn't normal.
But it was something.
And she'd take it.