In the midst of an old reading room, a low-hanging oil lamp casts a golden light that dances between the dusty bookshelves and worn-out carpet. The scent of parchment, ink, and dust mingles with the dampness of the night, as if the entire room is made of memories that refuse to fade away. There, Rinoa sits hunched over, her fingers gripping the unfinished pages of her thesis—pages that hold restless nights filled with questions and unspoken hopes.
Before her lies a map of Gamma Island, adorned with ancient magical scribbles, ever-changing contour diagrams, and sketches of plasma cycles and magical mists that have kept the island hidden from the world. Her thesis is titled:
"Gamma—The Island That Changes: Traces of Magic, Loss, and Rebirth."
Within its lines, Rinoa writes about a great explosion that did not destroy but rather concealed. She summarizes the illusion of Chaos, unraveling the roles of history that have been deliberately obscured to prevent new grudges and tragedies. The thesis is a whisper of longing for origins, a hope for home, and an acknowledgment of wounds: that every trace must be accepted, not buried and forgotten.
However, that night, just a few weeks before the dance, Fitran appears at the doorway. His steps are heavy, shoulders slumped, and his gaze darkened by a weariness that comes not just from the body but from the heart as well. Rinoa turns, trying to hide her hopes behind a thin smile that never quite convinces.
"Fitran…" Rinoa's voice is soft, almost fragile. "I know this sounds crazy… but I want to go to Gamma. If we study the plasma and the mist directly there—who knows, we might find the answers. Maybe we can—"
"Rinoa, stop! Don't you understand? Gamma is not a place for us." Fitran's sharp gaze meets hers, a firmness slipping into his usually gentle tone. "It's not just a mystery. It's dangerous."
"I don't care," Rinoa insists, her eyes blazing. "There's something hidden there, Fitran. We can't ignore it. Not after everything we've been through."
Fitran raises his hand, cutting her off with a quiet yet heavy tone. "No, Rinoa." He takes a deep breath, struggling to contain the turmoil that's about to explode. "I can't let you go to Gamma."
"Why? I've spent years researching this, Fitran. This isn't just about research—it's about my origins. I want to know who I am. We have the right to know what really happened in Gamma…"
"But you don't know what's really there!" Fitran exclaims, his voice rising, anger and fear merging into one. "Are you ready to face that truth? In that mist, there's so much that the eye cannot see. Many do not return…"
He steps slowly toward Rinoa and sits across from her. His gaze falls on the map of Gamma, as if staring into an endless abyss. His fingers tremble slightly as he speaks more softly, laden with fear, "Rinoa, I don't want to lose you. I can't bear to see you shattered in a place where even the names…"
He holds back his words, then whispers the remnants of his fear, "The mist there is not just a phenomenon. It devours souls, not just bodies. I've lost everything for daring to challenge boundaries I didn't understand. I can't lose you. I can't bear to see you broken in a place where even the names are forgotten by humanity."
Rinoa looks at him sharply, tears dancing at the corners of her eyes. "But Fitran… what happens if we keep ignoring Gamma? This isn't just history; it's our future! If we run away, that hope will vanish."
Fitran shakes his head, his face hardened by a heavy decision. "You don't understand. There's darkness there that we can't fight. I don't want you to get trapped in it."
"Trapped? Or truly finding the hidden truth?" Rinoa challenges, her voice pressing. "Don't you feel there's something greater than just our fears?"
Slowly, Fitran reaches for Rinoa's hand—his grip is tight, as if trying to transfer all his burdens and fears into their intertwined fingers. "Sometimes, the truth is harsher than a lie, Rinoa. If you get lost there… I won't be able to forgive myself."
"Do you think you're protecting me by holding back?" Rinoa asks, her tone bitter and the tension on her face unmistakable. "Dare to know Gamma! We can't let fear define us."
Fitran looks down, his hoarse voice making him seem fragile. "But you don't know what awaits behind all that. Rinoa, sometimes we have to choose. We can fight for life, not just for a word 'heart' that might be empty."
Rinoa stands frozen between determination and despair. "If we don't take a step now, we will slowly fade away, just like everything that is forgotten. I won't let Gamma disappear."
Tension fills the air. Their breaths break, creating a space between two hearts that are both afraid of loss. The thesis in Rinoa's lap now feels heavy, as if it's the only window to a world that is nearly unreachable.
Silently, in her heart, Rinoa promises: one day, she will find a way to Gamma, with or without Fitran's permission. "We can go, can't we? There's so much more we need to know," she says, filled with hope.
Fitran's sharp gaze meets hers, his low voice shaking the calm. "Rinoa, you don't understand the threat we're facing. Gamma is not just a location."
"But we have to try! What are you hiding from me?"
"All I know is that it's more dangerous than you can imagine."
That night, as Fitran finally leaves the reading room, Rinoa stares at the map of Gamma and her unfinished thesis. "Why do you keep avoiding it?" she murmurs, almost inaudibly, to the shadow of Fitran that slowly disappears behind the door.
Fitran glances back for a moment—doubt and sorrow etched on his face. "Because sometimes it's better not to know, Rinoa…"
Their decision that night is no longer about logic or science, but about love, longing, and the courage to challenge the dark—even if the price to pay is loss for the second time.
Rinoa hugs her thesis tightly, staring blankly out the old window. In a whisper of breath, she firmly tells herself:
"But love also means trusting each other. I will find a way to Gamma, with or without your support."
The night after the rejection felt like a winter that refused to leave. Rinoa locked herself in her room, clutching her thesis, staring out the window that only reflected her own shadow. Meanwhile, dark rumors and whispers began to circulate in the Alfrenzo household. The death of Hector Alfrenzo—the patriarch of the family, the protector of the north—had never truly been resolved in the hearts of those left behind.
A cold wind seeped through the stained glass. Lady Marian—Hector's wife—sat in a high-backed chair, her posture perfect, her face never losing its cold determination. Around her, Lionel and Cassandra, Hector's two biological children, sat tense. The only sounds filling the room were the ticking of an old clock and the crackling of the fireplace.
Lady Marian took a deep breath before beginning.
"Rinoa, sit down. There's something we need to discuss."
Rinoa stepped slowly, sitting at the edge of the chair, her hands clenched in her lap. Her heart raced uneasily.
Lionel stared at her sharply. "This family has let you be free for long enough, Rinoa. After what happened to Father, I think we need to reassess our priorities."
"What do you mean by 'priorities'?" Rinoa asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Is there something hidden behind your words?"
Lionel crossed his arms, his expression serious. "You don't understand, Rinoa. This isn't just about the violation that occurred. There are many things that remain unspoken."
"Like what happened to Father?!" Rinoa couldn't hold back her emotions. "Just say it! What do you know?"
Cassandra pressed her lips together for a moment, then spoke in a quieter voice, "It's not something that can be easily explained. There are many risks to consider. We want to protect you."
"Protect me? Or hide something?" Rinoa replied skeptically. "Something is off, isn't it? Why can't you just say it?"
Lady Marian, with a sharp gaze, raised her voice. "Rinoa, keeping secrets is not an option. Sometimes, there are truths that are too heavy to bear."
"So, is this about what Father did or didn't do?" Rinoa asked, unsure whether to feel angry or confused. "You can't even bring yourself to say his name."
Lionel nodded slowly, "And that's why we need to discuss everything now, before it's too late."
"Before it's too late," Cassandra echoed gloomily. "We must understand that this isn't just about us."
Rinoa looked at them, feeling the uncertainty enveloping the room. "So, what's the next step?"
Cassandra, her voice trembling yet tense, said, "Rinoa, all of this revolves around Fitran. You must have heard the whispers among us, right?"
Rinoa bit her lip, her eyes glistening, "What are you trying to say? I don't understand."
Lady Marian stepped closer, her gaze piercing, "You need to hear this. They say Hector's death might not have been so quick, especially with Fitran around you. Your relationship has raised a lot of speculation. We can't let this jeopardize the Alfrenzo family's future."
Rinoa looked down, her chest churning with a mix of guilt and anger. "But… Fitran hasn't done anything wrong. His father trusted him, why should I…"
Lionel interrupted, his tone cold, "Enough, Rinoa. If you keep defending Fitran, what will people think of us? This family needs stability, not scandal. Remember, we are under the name Alfrenzo, not Fate."
Cassandra, with a gentle yet heavy tone, looked at Rinoa, "We just want to protect you. Who can guarantee that Fitran won't bring disaster? We don't want to lose someone we love again. This is all for our own good."
Rinoa gripped the arms of the chair, tears nearly spilling. The desire to scream and explain her heart was buried deep within her. Yet, her voice wouldn't come out. Only a small nod could she give, signaling a bitter acceptance.
Lady Marian added with a final tone, "You are still part of this family, Rinoa. Don't make us doubt your decisions."
Rinoa sat alone on the edge of her bed, the light from a small lamp framing her somber face. She gazed at the map of Gamma still spread out on the table, her fingers tracing the paths leading to the island.
"Do all these roads have to lead us to the same place?" she asked her own reflection, her voice clear even in the silence of the room. "If only I could choose again," she continued, "I would choose not just to follow."
In silence, she wrote a short letter—not to Fitran, but to herself:
"If love means losing everything, why does the world force us to choose?"
There was no answer, only silence. "Hector... if you could see me now, would you think I'm a coward?" Rinoa whispered, as if her hopes flowed toward a lost memory.
"Heh, maybe this place is indeed full of secrets," she laughed bitterly, "or perhaps all of this is just an eternal illusion. Your mother always said nothing is permanent, right?"
No vibrations came from the corners of the room, only the wind rustling outside, carrying untold stories.
Days passed. The world continued to turn, but for Rinoa and Fitran, time seemed frozen. They still met occasionally in the school hallways, at the market, or in the palace gardens—but always in a thick silence, like two travelers who had forgotten they once walked together.
One evening, in the northern garden, Fitran stood gazing at the orange sky, his shoulders hunched under an invisible weight. Rinoa walked along the stone path, her steps slowing as she saw the silhouette she used to chase.
"Fitran…" Rinoa's voice trembled, as if realizing there was something unsaid. Seeing the way he stood, as if bearing the weight of the world, made her heart ache.
Fitran turned, and in his gaze, Rinoa caught a deep unease. "You're here again. When can we stop hiding behind this silence?"
"I… I want to talk," Rinoa replied, her small voice almost drowned in the dusk. "But my words… they feel stuck in my throat."
Fitran nodded, his gaze distant. "Sometimes, there are things better left unsaid. Isn't this silence enough to say everything?"
"But Fitran, this isn't just about us," Rinoa tried to break the deadlock. "My family believes, believes that you are... something they can trust."
"You know, Rinoa," Fitran began, his voice simmering with doubt. "Hector's death... it's not just a bad memory. It's a shadow that continues to follow us, isn't it?"
"Don't say his name," Rinoa whispered, helplessness beginning to grip her. "I want to believe in the world, but it feels like all of this is cornering me."
"Sometimes, the world does leave scars," Fitran said, his words touching her heart. "You can't ask me to let you bear a burden you didn't choose."
"You always sacrifice yourself, Fitran. But it's not just your fault... There are times when we must fight, not just accept the situation," Rinoa insisted, her eyes shining. "I can't accept all of this without a fight."
"And if fighting only makes everything worse? Are you ready to face that?" Fitran challenged, his voice firm even though his heart trembled. "What are you willing to risk, Rinoa?"
"It's not just me at risk. If we keep this up... we'll both lose everything," Rinoa replied softly, gazing deep into Fitran's eyes as if searching for a lost answer.
Fitran fell silent, and for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, they were trapped in silence, amidst the rustling wind and leaves. For the first time, they didn't know what to say.
Fitran smiled wryly, his eyes hinting at something deeper.
"The world is like that, isn't it?" he said. "It quickly forgets us. It easily accuses without knowing the truth."
Rinoa looked at him sharply, seeking certainty. "But will you also forget my existence?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Sometimes, the ones we want to protect end up feeling isolated, forced to let go. Like Hector, who disappeared…"
They stood in silence, the sound of the wind rustling between them. Rinoa felt the tension hanging in the air. "There was a time when we could believe, right?" She struggled to find the words. "But now, everything feels distant, like memories fading with time."
"Rinoa," Fitran said slowly, "If one day you go to Gamma, find me. Maybe then, we can explain everything that remains unspoken."
"Are you sure?" Rinoa swallowed her pain. "Maybe our time has run out—maybe I'm no longer the Rinoa you once knew."
"Never doubt yourself," Fitran said firmly, holding onto every word. "If you find your way back, seek me out. We might be able to start anew, even if this world has taken so much from us."
They both turned away, stepping apart on their own paths—two souls that had lost each other, unable to grasp what was gone. In the sky, the first star appeared, peeking through the mist, witnessing the silence that stifled them. Who knew what would happen next?
"Lady Marian, we can't keep them like this forever," Lionel said quietly, his gaze scanning the room that felt heavy with tension. "Rinoa and Fitran, there's… something increasingly binding them."
Lady Marian frowned, adding to the tension between them. "Their motives run deeper than mere friendship, Lionel. We can't let Rinoa get entangled in that game."
"She's always been curious," Cassandra chimed in, her voice trembling as she clutched her mother's arm tighter. "Perhaps she's seeking answers to the unanswered… like what happened to Hector."
"Hector…" Lady Marian said, her voice softening for a moment, "he couldn't escape that shadow, and we can't let Rinoa get trapped in the same mystery."
Lionel nodded, bringing the focus back to the current situation. "If she's stubborn, I'll confine her to the house. We don't know what could happen if she's near Fitran."
Cassandra looked at her mother, her eyes radiating worry. "But… if we keep watching her like this, will she only long for… something lost? Just like I miss Hector…"
"Sometimes, to protect those we love, we must do unpleasant things," Lady Marian replied, her voice firm despite the softness behind it. "Miracles are not something we can entrust to those unprepared to face them."
Weeks passed. Whispers echoed endlessly among the students, creating a web of rumors that grew wider. "They used to be inseparable. Now, they drift apart as if there's a chasm between them," said one student with a mocking tone. "Fitran brings a curse to the Alfrenzo family. They lost their protector, especially after the news about Hector."
"Maybe Rinoa should stay away from people like him," another chimed in, scoffing. "I heard, if she dared to act more boldly, she could be expelled from the family. Some say that could be a path to victory…"
Each word pierced her soul like a dagger, but Rinoa only looked down, holding back all the pain and anger within her. "The only path I want to take is to find how all of this connects… just like Hector and the direction he should have taken," she thought. She learned to move among the crowd, a ghost in a hallway full of secrets, trying to find her way home.
Fitran felt the same emptiness. "Rinoa… every time I hear your name, it feels like something inside me shatters. Why does this have to happen?" He wiped his sword, which now felt heavier, as if carrying all the lost hopes. "I don't know how long I can endure all of this," he said, his voice barely audible.
On a quiet night, Rinoa climbed to the roof of her family's house, gazing at the moon that stood alone in the sky. "Moon, you understand what it feels like to be left behind, don't you? Why must there be distance between us? Why do I have to feel empty even when surrounded by many people?" Her tears flowed silently, adding to the night's sorrow. "Did Hector feel the same way when he left?"
Elsewhere, Fitran walked alone under the city lights, his eyes staring blankly ahead. "Memories are indeed cruel," he murmured, clutching a blue ribbon. "That dance… it should have been a new beginning. But why does it all have to end like this? A ribbon can be a reminder of helplessness." He looked up at the sky, as if waiting for an answer that never came.
In their hearts, they prayed silently:
Rinoa: "Fitran… I'm sorry. If the world separates us, I will still seek the light amidst the fog."
Fitran: "Rinoa, if time forgives, if I could redeem all the wounds, I would come to fetch you, even at the ends of the earth."
The night fell silent again, but there was something in the air; a suffocating sense of longing. Between the stars and the mist, two broken hearts waited for the moment they could recognize each other, when love no longer had to choose between sacrifice and courage. "Will we ever forget?" Rinoa asked in her heart, as darkness enveloped the night, leaving space for unanswered mysteries.
In a stone garden adorned with a small pond and glowing blue moonwillow trees, Fitran sat alone. The wind carried the scent of the sea, but there was something else in the air—a feeling of uncertainty. "Fitran, are you still chasing shadows of Gamma?" A voice suddenly broke the silence, half-joking, half-sympathetic.
Evan, the Mad Hatter, appeared, his steps light as if he were dancing among the shadows. "You know what I'm looking for," Fitran replied, his tone flat, yet there was an underlying tension. "I need access to Gamma. Your master must have a way that doesn't involve the Ocean Soul."
Evan sighed and sat beside Fitran, as if this meeting was not their first. "You're always so stubborn, Fitran. But this time…" he paused, hesitating. "I can't help you much."
Evan shook his head again, his face serious. "It's not that I don't want to, but I can't. My master… she really doesn't like me getting involved in your affairs, especially if it concerns Rinoa." He let out a bitter laugh. "Believe me, there's no one more jealous than my master when that woman is involved."
Fitran frowned, his curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?"
Evan looked down, his voice low but firm. "She doesn't want you searching for Rinoa. To my master, Gamma should remain a mystery, and Rinoa… it's better if she's never found. But I know how stubborn you are. If you want to break through that fog, don't miss this chance. Meet my master—ask him directly. That's the only way left."
Fitran fell silent, his mind in conflict. "If that's the condition, I'll do it. Whatever I have to pay."
Evan looked deeply into Fitran's eyes, for a moment the shadow of his hat obscuring his face. "You know, many get trapped in my master's offers. But I understand how hard it is for you to back down."
Fitran took a deep breath. "I just want to keep my promise. I don't care about the risks—as long as there's hope to find Rinoa."
Evan smiled bitterly, his voice lowering. "Get ready. My master doesn't play games. Don't dream of coming back whole if you're not willing to sacrifice the most important thing you have."
Fitran gazed at the surface of the pond, his reflection rippling. "Love and regret—that's all that's left for me."
Evan stood slowly, patting Fitran on the shoulder. "Sometimes, courage isn't about holding on. It's about knowing when to surrender to fate. If you truly want to seek Gamma, go meet him. Don't look for shortcuts through me."
Fitran turned, his gaze now filled with determination, though doubt was still evident. "How do I find your master?"
Evan offered a faint smile, but there was something hidden behind it. "He will find you, Fitran. If you're ready to let go of everything, the fog of Gamma will guide you. But remember… whatever happens there, nothing will return to how it was before."
The air felt colder. Fitran bowed his head, then stood to gaze at the solitary moon in the sky.
"Thank you, Evan. This time, I will ask fate—not miracles."
Evan walked away, his steps slow as if he had something more to say. Among the moonwillow leaves, he whispered, "I hope you find what you're looking for, before Gamma swallows you too."
That night, Fitran walked toward an uncertain path—accompanied only by shadows, an unquenchable longing, and a determination hanging between hope and despair.