Nana's key turned in the lock with a soft click that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet night.
She stood there for a moment, hand still on the doorknob, trying to gather the pieces of herself into something that resembled normal. Something her parents wouldn't immediately recognize as shattered.
The sound of the television drifted from the living room. A K-drama—her mother's favorite kind, the ones with impossible romance and dramatic misunderstandings that always somehow worked out in the end.
If only real life were that simple.
Nana stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. She could see them from the entrance—her mother curled up on the couch, her father beside her with his arm around her shoulders. Both of them relaxed and comfortable, like this was just another normal night.
Because for them, it was.
Two hours. That's all that had passed in the real world. Two hours since she'd left on what they thought was a routine solo mission.
Not two years. Not nine months of surviving in Avalon followed by the desperate climb up the Ancient Tree and the escape through the Wish Bridge.
Just two hours.
Her mother looked up and smiled. "Welcome home, sweetie! How was the mission?"
"Fine," Nana managed, her voice coming out steadier than she felt. "Just... routine patrol. Nothing major."
"You look exhausted." Her father's expression was concerned. "Did something happen?"
"No, just... tired. Long night." Nana forced a smile. "I'm going to head to bed. Love you both."
"Love you too," her mother called as Nana headed for the stairs. "Get some rest!"
Nana climbed the stairs on autopilot, her hand trailing along the familiar bannister. Everything was exactly as she'd left it. Her room door was slightly ajar, yellow light from her desk lamp still glowing where she'd forgotten to turn it off before leaving.
The timeline had reset to the night she'd vanished the first time. Not to when she'd jumped back like a crazy person two weeks later. Back to the very beginning, like those two weeks in the real world had never happened.
Like Avalon had reached into reality and erased even that small passage of time.
She stepped into her room and closed the door, leaning back against it as her legs finally gave out. She slid down to the floor, still wrapped in Zayne's coat that smelled like him—like antiseptic and something woody and clean that was just... him.
And then the sobs came.
Not the loud, dramatic kind. The quiet, devastating kind that shook her whole body and made it hard to breathe. She pressed her face into the coat and cried for everything she'd lost.
For Mina, who'd taught her how to survive and died in her arms.
For Jisu, who'd become a sister and drowned in the flood cycle.
For the six deaths Zayne had suffered, each one marked on his chest like tally marks in some cosmic ledger.
For the Zayne who'd kissed her desperately on rooftops and held her through poison gas attacks and promised they'd escape together.
For the Zayne who'd loved her without memories, who'd chosen her again and again based purely on what his soul recognized.
That Zayne was gone. Erased. Replaced by this version who looked at her like a stranger.
What could she do? Force him to remember? Tell him about Avalon and watch him look at her like she was having a mental breakdown again?
No. All she could do was start over.
Again.
The thought made her want to scream. But instead, she just sat there on her bedroom floor, wrapped in his coat, and let herself cry until there were no tears left.
Eventually, she dragged herself to bed. Didn't bother changing out of her hunter gear, just kicked off her boots and collapsed onto the mattress.
Sleep didn't come easily. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the Wish Bridge. Saw vampires dissolving into mist. Saw Zayne's face as he held her tight and they jumped through the portal together.
Saw his blank expression in the forest when he'd looked at her without recognition.
When she finally did sleep, her dreams were full of ice and blood and hazel eyes that didn't know her anymore.
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Morning came too soon and too bright.
Nana woke to her alarm blaring, her body protesting every movement. She felt like she'd been hit by a truck—which, considering the emotional devastation of last night, wasn't far from the truth.
But she had a mission. A routine solo patrol that her team leader had assigned yesterday. And despite everything, life went on.
She dragged herself through her morning routine on autopilot. Shower. Uniform. Weapons check. All the familiar motions that hunters went through every day.
The mission itself was almost insultingly simple after everything she'd survived in Avalon. A handful of Wanderers in the industrial district. Nothing she couldn't handle.
Except she was... angry.
Furious, actually. At the universe, at Avalon, at the unfairness of having Zayne back but not really having him at all.
So when the Wanderers appeared, Nana didn't fight with her usual calculated precision. She fought like she had in Avalon after Mina died—wild and vicious and without holding back.
She kicked the first Wanderer with her bare leg, her boot having come loose during the fight. Felt the satisfying crunch of impact. Kicked again. And again. And again.
The Wanderers dissolved into dust, and Nana kept fighting until there was nothing left to fight.
Only then did she look down and realize her leg was bleeding. Badly. The skin had torn from repeated impacts, and what had started as a small cut was now a gash that probably needed stitches.
"Wonderful," she muttered. "Just wonderful."
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Linkon Hospital's emergency department was busy as always. Hunters came through constantly with various injuries, and the staff had long since stopped being surprised by the creative ways people managed to hurt themselves fighting Wanderers.
Nana sat in one of the exam rooms, her leg propped up, waiting for a doctor. She'd cleaned the wound as best she could, but it definitely needed professional attention.
The door opened, and her heart stopped.
Zayne stepped in, his white coat pristine, his expression professional, a tablet in his hands. He glanced at it, then at her, and something flickered in his eyes. Recognition, maybe, though not the kind she desperately wanted.
"Miss Wang," he said, his voice calm and clinical. "We meet again. Though I was hoping our next encounter would be under better circumstances."
"Dr. Li." Nana's voice came out steadier than she felt. "Fancy meeting you here."
"I'm a cardiologist, but when the ER is overwhelmed with hunter injuries, we all pitch in." He moved closer, setting the tablet aside to examine her leg. "This looks... painful. How did this happen?"
"I kicked a Wanderer. Multiple times. With my bare leg."
Zayne's hands paused in their examination. He looked up at her, and there was something in his expression that might have been exasperation. "You kicked a Wanderer. With your bare leg. Multiple times."
"Yes."
"May I ask why you didn't use your weapons?"
"I was... venting frustration."
"Ah." He returned to examining the wound, his touch professional and gentle. "Well, you've certainly succeeded in injuring yourself. This needs stitches. Several of them."
Nana watched him work, preparing the local anesthetic and suture kit. His hands were steady and sure, moving with the kind of precision that came from years of practice. The same hands that had held her in Avalon. That had cupped her face while he kissed her. That had guided hers to the blade over his heart.
But these hands didn't remember any of that.
"This will sting," Zayne warned, injecting the anesthetic around the wound.
Nana barely felt it. Physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.
He worked in silence for a while, cleaning the wound thoroughly before beginning the stitches. His technique was flawless—each suture placed with mathematical precision, spacing perfect, tension ideal.
"You're pouting," he observed quietly, not looking up from his work.
Nana blinked. She hadn't realized her expression had shifted, but apparently she was pouting. Like a child denied candy.
The thought made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Zayne studied her face for a moment, his hazel eyes unreadable behind his professional mask. Then, impossibly, she saw his expression soften. Just slightly. Just enough.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small and wrapped in cellophane. A strawberry candy. He placed it in her palm with the same care he'd used for the stitches.
"Don't pout," he said, his voice gentle. "And go home after this. Rest. Let the wound heal properly."
Nana stared at the candy in her hand. The same candy he'd given her months ago. The same candy he'd carried in Avalon even after dying six times. The same candy that had become their thing, their small connection in the middle of chaos.
And he was doing it again. Without memories. Without understanding why. Just because his soul recognized something his mind didn't.
She looked up at him, and the tears were threatening again. But this time, they weren't all sad.
"Can I have more?" The words came out before she could stop them. Shameless. Completely lacking any dignity.
Zayne's eyes widened slightly. "More?"
"Yes. More candies. Please."
He stared at her like she'd asked for something outrageous. Then, with a long-suffering sigh that somehow still sounded fond, he reached back into his pocket and produced five more strawberry candies.
"That's all I have," he said, placing them in her hand one by one. "And this is highly irregular. I don't usually distribute my entire candy supply to patients who kick Wanderers with their bare legs."
"I promise to show up more often," Nana said, and she was smiling now. Really smiling. "To the hospital. For checkups. And... things."
"Things," Zayne repeated dryly. He finished the last stitch and started bandaging her leg. "Try to avoid 'things' that involve using your body as a weapon. You have perfectly good equipment for that."
"But it's more satisfying this way."
"I'm sure it is. For you. Less so for me, having to stitch you back together."
Nana clutched her candies and watched him work. This wasn't the Zayne from Avalon. This was the Zayne from before—reserved, professional, carefully controlled.
But he'd still given her the candies. Still smiled at her pout. Still showed that tiny crack in his professional facade that suggested something underneath.
Maybe starting over wouldn't be so impossible after all.
"Dr. Li?" she said as he finished the bandaging.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For the candies. And the stitches."
"You're welcome." He stood, disposing of the used materials. "Change the bandage daily. Keep the wound clean and dry. Come back in a week to have the stitches removed. And please—"
"Don't kick any more Wanderers with my bare leg. I know."
"I was going to say don't injure yourself at all, but sure. That works too." He picked up his tablet, preparing to leave. "Take care of yourself, Miss Wang."
"Nana," she said quickly. "You can call me Nana."
Zayne paused at the door, looking back at her. Something flickered in his eyes—that same recognition from the forest, like his soul was trying to tell him something his brain couldn't process.
"Nana," he repeated, testing the name. Then, so quietly she almost missed it: "Take care of yourself, Nana."
He left, the door closing softly behind him.
And Nana sat there in the exam room, her leg freshly stitched, six strawberry candies in her hand, and for the first time since waking up in the forest, something that felt almost like hope blooming in her chest.
She'd lost the Zayne from Avalon. That version of him was gone, erased by the portal's reset.
But this Zayne—the one who carried strawberry candies and sighed at her recklessness and smiled despite himself when she pouted—he was still here.
And if she'd made him fall in love with her once before, she could do it again.
However long it took. However many hospital visits and chance encounters and moments of shameless candy-begging it required.
She'd do it.
Because that's what hunters did. They didn't give up. They kept fighting, kept trying, kept pushing forward even when the odds seemed impossible.
Nana unwrapped one of the candies and popped it in her mouth, the sweet strawberry flavor spreading across her tongue.
"Okay, universe," she said to the empty room. "Round two. Let's do this."
Outside, in the hallway, Zayne stood with his tablet, staring at Nana's patient file without really seeing it.
Something about her was... familiar. Not in the way you recognized a colleague or someone you'd met briefly. But deeper. More fundamental.
Like his soul knew her even though his mind didn't.
He shook his head, dismissing the thought as exhaustion. It had been a long shift, and that incident in the forest last night had left him with a headache that still hadn't fully faded.
But as he walked away to see his next patient, his hand drifted to his pocket. To the empty space where his strawberry candies used to be.
He'd given them all to her. All of them. Without hesitation.
And the strangest part was... he didn't regret it at all.
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To be continued.