Without warning, I pulled her into a tight embrace.
I understood exactly what she was feeling right now.
Selene was truly standing at the edge of the cliff.
"It’s okay, Selene. I understand—completely, even."
"So we have to do this together, right?"
The way I said it was just like how a mother would support her child.
For the first time, Selene felt emotions overflowing from the depths of her heart. She sobbed uncontrollably, a stark contrast to the Selene she used to be. The arrogant, proud Selene was now completely shattered.
Her cries broke loose—not the silent tears held back by pride, but like a dam bursting without mercy. Her shoulders shook violently in my arms, and all I could do was hold her even tighter, as if trying to shield the fragile remains of her heart. Or more truthfully, because I didn’t want it to break.
"Kairi, to be honest... I... I’m tired..."
Selene’s voice was hoarse, barely audible.
"This is all too much. And I never knew... this was what you’ve been carrying all this time."
"I know," I whispered gently. "But you’re not alone anymore. I understand."
Her hand clutched my clothes, gripping like someone drowning who’d found the last lifeline. There was no lie in her grip. No armor in her tears.
What remained was the real Selene—not the system architect, not the genius strategist, not the quiet tactician—but a young girl who had carried the world alone for far too long, and had forced herself to bear all of my memories as well.
I looked at her swollen face, her reddened eyes, and in that moment, I felt furious—at the world, at the kingdom, at myself. At anyone who made her believe she had to face this alone from the beginning.
"From now on," I said firmly, "we’ll face everything together."
Selene looked at me, still trembling, but slowly, she nodded.
Something changed in her eyes—not resolve, but a new kind of trust.
Still fragile, but real.
"So," I said, trying to manage a small smile,
"what’s our next move, Selene my dear?"
She took a deep breath, wiped her tears with the back of her hand, then smiled faintly. Her voice was still raspy, but much calmer.
"We use the Void Rifter to find Helena. And then... we change everything."
And at that very moment, I understood—this wasn’t just about saving Helena, or fixing a broken timeline.
It was about saving each other.
Soon after, the light around us dimmed.
The long process had finally ended.
"So? Do you remember what I saw now?"
"Yes. That memory is crystal clear in my mind now."
"And I’m sorry. I belittled you—thought this was something simple. But it’s not, is it?"
Ah... so that was it. That’s why she cried...
Selene seemed regretful, and perhaps her emotions were all tangled up, now that she had experienced the power of Return-by-Memory.
It didn’t just replay events... it resurrected old wounds she had long buried.
"I... thought I could handle it," she murmured softly, as if talking to herself.
"But those memories... they’re too vivid. Way too piercing."
I gave a small nod.
I knew that feeling all too well. Return-by-Memory wasn’t just an ability—it was a curse that forced you to watch your own tragedies up close, unable to look away, unable to lie to yourself.
"I’ve always seen everything from a third-person perspective," she continued, trying to smile despite her tear-stained eyes. "Like a cold director, arranging the script with logic. But this time, I couldn’t keep my distance. Everything felt too... real."
I hugged her again—not because she was weak, but because she finally had the courage to be human.
"You don’t have to carry your own burden alone anymore," I whispered.
"I mean, even I... couldn’t bear it alone back then." I chuckled.
She nodded, then took another deep breath, as if steadying herself.
"I... okay, forget it. Fine. We’ll find Helena. But that’s not all."
She looked at me directly, this time with a fire returning to her gaze—not the fire of hatred, but of determination.
"We’ll take everything into a new future. We’ll end all this suffering. And most importantly... we’ll make it fair."
I almost chuckled—yes, this was the Selene I knew.
Arrogant? Absolutely.
Stubborn? No doubt.
But when she fights for something she truly believes is right... nothing can stop her.
"So, where do we start?" I asked.
She looked toward the dimly lit system screen in the corner of the room. The Void Rifter pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of a world about to begin again.
"From the weakest point," she answered.
"We find a crack in Helena’s system. And we kidnap her... from up close."
I gave a small smile. "And if we fail?"
Selene turned to me, her expression now completely serious.
"Then we fail together."
And somehow, as she said it, I wasn’t afraid anymore.
Because for the first time... we were truly in sync.
Our thoughts aligned without a word.
The Void Rifter responded—not just to mere codes, but also to connection.
Right after such an emotional scene, we really didn’t speak much.
To be fair, there was no need, as we still had a priority to accomplish.
A clear objective in our mind, envisioned by our thoughts altogether.
Our minds had already begun syncing the moment Selene let her guard down.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the final key the Void Rifter’s system needed to complete its recalibration. Back to change my Fate.
The Void Rifter’s glow brightened, no longer erratic or pulsing weakly—but steady, sharp, aware. The time to act had come.
I closed my eyes.
A faint chime echoed in the chamber. Like an ancient clock striking zero.
Then, white light swallowed us whole.
When I opened my eyes, we were standing on a cliff overlooking the ruins of Aethelgarten—the capital of Ains Ein Doa—surrounded by broken towers and collapsed houses.
Nope, not really the Capital.
Rather, not exactly looks like one.
It’s just something was wrong with it—enough to feel off.
The walls were taller than I remembered. The tower spires glinted unnaturally under a greenish-blue sky. And the air... it buzzed, like static behind a screen.
This wasn’t the real world.
It probably was someone’s version of it.
We’d entered a person’s constructed layer—their illusion.
Selene stumbled slightly beside me, still adjusting to the shift. Her pupils narrowed.
"Wait, how did we arrive here?" I asked, still couldn’t fiddle into my thoughts.
My voice trembled slightly. Something felt wrong—like the memory of motion had been wiped clean, overwritten.
Selene, who had been deep in thought, snapped to attention. Her eyes widened—not with surprise, but grim recognition.
"She trapped us," she whispered, her voice laced with fury.
"We’ve been trapped in a memory."
The hallway around us flickered—once—like a glitch in a simulation.
I turned in a full circle. There were no doors. No shadows.
Just that endless white corridor.
"And no, this isn’t just any memory... let alone a copy of it," Selene continued, stepping back to back with me, eyes scanning the formless space.
"Even worse. She’s actively manipulating the environment."
"The environment that is her own battlefield. Huge advantage."
"She?" I asked.
Selene hesitated.
Then said it:
"Helena."
Suddenly the white corridor twisted.
The ground warped beneath us like a liquid mirror. Walls bent outward, revealing impossible windows—panels of moments we had lived, but not remembered.
I scanned the horizon. "So, basically... dream?"
"No. Worse. A sandbox. We’re inside the real-time architecture of her defense system."
Ah, of course. Leave it to Helena to turn a mental domain into a battlefield.
The Void Rifter pulsed once on Selene’s wrist, signaling a ripple ahead.
The path we needed.
I narrowed my eyes. "Let’s not waste our time."
She nodded immediately.
"Obviously. We need to solve these puzzles first then move on."
We descended the cliffs silently, past statues that looked too much like people we used to know. A girl holding a broken sword. A boy with bandaged arms. Even a version of myself—standing frozen, reaching for something long lost.
Selene looked away. Me? I didn’t.
I wanted to remember. But still, I couldn’t.
"She’s using our memories against us," Selene said, grabbing my hand.
"Not just as illusions—but as a terrain of chaos. An uncertainty. Every wrong turn we make brings us deeper into a curated version of her world."
"What the hell does she really want?" I asked.
But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore.
A familiar voice echoed down the corridor, soft as silk and sharp as broken glass.
A voice of a person who needed to be reminded of her fatalistic view of ideas.
Someone who needed to be taught a lesson to lessen her pride and be humble.
"To remind you both whose pen never left the page."
"To remind you both who signed this tragedy with finality."
"And, at last, to remind you both who really authored this ending, of course."