Then Lhuna spoke. Her voice was calm and gentle, yet carried a depth that made the air around them seem to freeze.
"I believe… there is nothing perfect in this world except God. Even if I were allowed to keep standing here and continue living, I would always be grateful—simply for the happiness I can share with this small family of mine."
Kael held his breath. His gaze trembled, his expression still unable to believe that he was hearing that voice again—so close.
Lhuna continued, her eyes drifting softly, as if she were speaking not only to the little child of that time, but also to the grown Kael standing on the other side of reality.
"When people ask what life truly is, and why they must one day die… those things are not your choice. They are merely the flow of time set by the Creator, deciding when you must return."
"Even though my heart feels heavy saying this, I believe… my child will be able to walk through all of it on his own. Or perhaps… he will find someone, in the future, someone just like me."
Kael felt his chest being held. Warmth and pain intertwined, opening old wounds as they fused into one.
Lhuna then lowered her face slightly, as though gazing at the little Kael within the photo frame, yet her voice seemed to reach far beyond that.
"Kael… I hope you grow stronger, more confident, and become a kind person—someone who can protect others. And I'm certain that even if you are far away out there… these words will always reach you, wherever your existence may be."
Then… Lhuna lifted her head again. Her eyes looked straight ahead, gentle yet sharp, as if piercing through the boundaries of dimensions. Her lips curved into a faint smile, and her final words flowed slowly.
"And now… you should be able to hear it clearly, shouldn't you?"
Kael fell silent. His eyes widened, his body trembling faintly.
"H-huh…?"
For the first time, he felt that his mother was not merely speaking to a shadow of the past, but truly—to him. To the self now standing between black and white, outside the flow of time as it should have been.
Silence.
Yet within that silence lay something profound—sadness, warmth, and a farewell both gentle and eternal.
Kael felt his chest collapse, warm yet aching, but his tears still did not fall. He held them back with all his strength, allowing only a thin smile to form on his lips.
A fragile smile, as if trying to bind his wounds so they would not break into sobs. He lowered his head slightly, staring at the empty floor beneath his feet, letting those words drift through his mind.
"Yes… I'll always remember those words. Even now… I've managed to recall all those small memories I shared with you, Mother," he murmured softly, his voice nearly swallowed by the stillness.
"But all I can do now is simply watch… feel it… and cherish that moment alone, even though I know… it will soon fade away when I realize that all of this is nothing more than an illusion born from my deepest memories of our home… when I try to remember you, Mother."
His shoulders shook slightly—not from crying, but from a trembling breath holding something on the verge of breaking. Even so, Kael remained firm, forcing himself not to be swept away. He lifted his face a little, though his gaze remained dim.
"I'm not here to greet you again… or to question all my doubts," he continued. "I'm here only to see you. Even though, in true reality… you are already gone."
Those words fell from his lips like a bitter prayer. Kael let out a long breath, then bowed his head once more, forming a faint smile—as if to seal that truth within himself.
But before he could continue his thoughts, an unexpected voice shattered the silence.
"Really…? Is that all you're thinking about right now?"
Kael held his breath, his brows slowly knitting together. He didn't react at once, assuming it was merely an echo of his own mind. He remained still, though his expression could not hide the truth, his chest growing heavier by the second.
Then the voice came again—clearer this time, its tone gentle yet teasing.
"So my child can't hear me now, hm? Oh dear… and here I came of my own will, not because of anyone else. To save my only son, who was about to sink into the illusion of his own dark shadow."
Kael jolted. His eyes widened instantly. He turned sharply, confusion flooding his gaze. His jaw tightened, and a soft sound slipped from his lips before he even realized it.
"Huh…?"
"No—no." Kael shook his head, refusing quickly. "That's impossible. It's the most impossible thing I've ever heard."
His expression twisted between confusion and disbelief. He shook his head once more, as if trying to erase the possibility he had just heard. His hands clenched lightly at his sides, holding back a tremor that was becoming harder to control.
"This can't be real," he muttered hurriedly. "How could someone who's already dead… who exists only as a memory… speak to someone who came from nowhere, and be reunited like this with the person they loved most in the past?"
Kael drew a sharp breath, then lowered his head again, his voice steeped in doubt and bitterness.
"I–I know… this must sound impossible. Unbelievable to anyone. The idea that someone from the past… could speak to someone from the future. Or perhaps… a stray soul suddenly thrown into a place that was never meant to become a conversation at all."
His head shook slightly, his gaze darkened.
"And that… wouldn't it inevitably alter reality? A collision of timelines—past and future crossing paths…?"
He stopped there, his voice fading, as though he no longer had the strength to continue.
Before him, Lhuna remained standing in calm silence. Her gaze was not fixed on Kael; instead, it stayed forward, unfocused. Her eyes were dim, yet her face still carried that gentle smile.
Slowly, she closed her eyes for a brief moment. The air around them seemed to tremble faintly as Lhuna drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly—like she was soothing a small world frozen alongside them.
Kael watched her intently, disbelief still clouding his eyes, like a wanderer staring at a mirage in the middle of a desert. His heart screamed that this was impossible, yet his eyes remained locked onto her—onto that light that should never have been able to speak to him.
Then, suddenly, Lhuna opened her eyes.
Her gaze shifted, slowly turning—and this time, she truly faced him. Her eyes landed squarely on Kael, piercing, sharp, yet still overflowing with affection. Her lips curved faintly before her voice rang out, clear and firm, shattering every lingering doubt.
"K—A—E—L—V—I—E—R—O—N."
She spelled his name.
"Y–Yes?!" Kael jolted. His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in shock.
A split second of silence followed.
Then her voice came again—stronger this time, deeper, accompanied by a gaze that pierced straight through him. Lhuna's brows lowered just a little, forming a small crease of irritation she couldn't quite hide.
"Kael Vieron. Are you deaf? Your mother is talking to you right now."
Kael froze.
His reaction looked excessive, almost unnatural, as though his own body didn't know how it was supposed to respond—caught somewhere between shock, doubt, and outright denial.
Then… he muttered softly, nearly stumbling over his own words, as if his thoughts were several steps behind.
"…H–haaa—huh?!"
All sense of logic collapsed in an instant. And yet his heart still resisted. He couldn't accept the reality before him—that his mother, Lhuna, had truly turned toward him and called his name so clearly.
Kael hurriedly opened his mouth again, this time far more frantic.
"M–Mom can talk? I mean—no— I mean… you're really talking to me? To me?"
He awkwardly pointed at himself, his face a mess of confusion, his sentences breaking apart like a frightened child caught red-handed.
But Lhuna's expression didn't change.
Her gaze lowered, turning flat—cold even—as though disappointed in someone she thought she knew, yet now found strangely unfamiliar.
"It seems I've met the wrong person."
Kael flinched, his body tensing—but Lhuna continued without pause.
"So instead of my son, I've been reunited with an annoying teenage boy. Truly… how unfortunate. To think I couldn't even meet my own child."
Lhuna let out a short breath, her lips curving into a bitter smile so faint it was almost invisible.
"I'm sorry. Perhaps I should be leaving now."
Those words were sharp—like a small dagger sinking straight into Kael's chest. And without hesitation, without a single word of farewell, Lhuna turned away. Her dress swayed gently as she began to walk, leaving Kael alone in a space that had suddenly shifted—confusion, regret, and fear tangling into one.
Panic surged through Kael. His eyes widened, his body lurching forward even as his legs felt unbearably heavy. He knew—if he stayed silent now, he would truly lose her.
The silence that had once been filled with meaning turned into a blade, carving into his heart.
He couldn't let that happen.
His hand rose, awkwardly scratching his left temple, his lips trembling as he searched for words.
When his voice finally came, it was clumsy and unsteady—filled with fear, like that of a foolish child terrified of losing the one thing he wanted most.
"Ah—ahh, Mom… you're joking, right?"
Lhuna didn't stop. The sound of her footsteps remained steady, moving farther away, as if she truly meant to disappear. Only when the distance reached seven steps did she answer—without turning back, her voice flat and brief.
"Not really."
The reply struck Kael harder than he had expected. His chest shrank, and all he could do was let out a bitter laugh, trying to mask the guilt boiling inside him.
"Ahahaha… ha… I know. I shouldn't be like this."
For a moment, he lowered his head, staring blankly at the trail of his own footsteps on the floor, as if he wished he could follow them and leave with her.
His voice broke softly—quiet, yet heavy with regret.
"Honestly… I don't know what I'm supposed to say if this is really happening. I… I still can't believe it. This shouldn't be possible, and there's no way I could understand it right away. You should know that, Mom… right?"
The final words lingered in the air. Slowly, Kael lifted his face. His lips forced themselves into a thin, bitter smile—a smile that looked more like a wound than happiness, yet carried the humility of a child finally realizing he had been too reckless.
"So… I'm sorry."
Lhuna's steps stopped.
Silence wrapped around the room once more.
Her body turned slowly until she faced Kael again. This time, her expression was different. Her eyes were gently closed, her lips curved into a faint smile—an expression both soothing and quietly mature.
"It's alright," she said softly, yet clearly. "Now that you've realized it, Mother forgives you. But if you'd kept acting that way… perhaps I wouldn't have considered you my child."
Kael bowed deeply, scratching the back of his head. His body leaned forward slightly as his voice came out low, filled with guilt.
"Y–yeah… I won't do that again."
Lhuna opened her eyes. "Good. I was just testing you, you know. Ehehe…" She stifled a small laugh with her fist covering her mouth.
Still, Kael kept his head lowered and continued speaking, not daring to look up at her.
"I see… I know… this might be the last time I'll ever be able to talk to you."
Hearing that, Lhuna paused for a moment. Then she smiled warmly. Even knowing this meeting was only temporary, she wanted to reassure her child that her presence had never truly vanished.
"No," Lhuna said firmly, cutting off Kael's words. "Never think that all of this will end just because you keep blaming yourself."
Kael lifted his head at once. His breath caught.
"H–huh…?"
"Do you really think that those who have died can no longer reach out to the ones they love—even if only as shadows within the world's history? No. A mother—just like a father—will always remain by her child's side, even if her form is no longer real."
Lhuna took a small step closer, her gaze gentle. "Look into the abyss of your heart, Kael."
"I will always be there, no matter how many times this world collapses. Even your father—the one you hated until the day he was gone…"
"…Kael Vieron." She spoke his name softly, yet with unmistakable weight.
A warning—that restlessness and solitude would only shatter his heart if he ever forgot who he was born as, and from whom he came.
And in that moment—all the tension that had been binding him finally fell away.
Kael Vieron—known as a killer in the darkness of night, an Assassin forged to know no fear—now looked fragile. Every layer of cold bloodshed peeled away, undone by a single presence capable of calming his very existence: a mother.
***