Miyu leaned against a cold steel pillar in the cafeteria, her arms crossed, staring intently at the mini-map projected onto her system interface.
The whitish dot—Aedhira, or so she assumed—was always on the move.
A few hours ago, it had appeared back on her level, exiting what her system identified as the now-sealed dungeon entrance. Since then, it had zipped around Fort Blanche like a rogue ping-pong ball.
"Seriously, does he even walk?" she muttered, watching as the dot darted from one end of the fortress to another.
Her initial plan to chase him down had proven... inefficient. No matter how fast she sprinted, Aedhira's pace always outstripped hers. By the time she reached his last location, he was already on the opposite side of the fortress, leaving her winded and glaring at a ghost.
Now, after some thought—and a begrudging acceptance of her limitations—Miyu decided to play smarter, not harder. She'd wait for him to stop. After all, he had to slow down eventually, right? Leaderly duties and all that.
Still, she couldn't help but feel awkward about the whole thing. She was just some random girl from the refugee group he rescued. What business did she have trying to meet the commander of all this? Her cheeks flushed a little at the thought, but she quickly shook it off.
"Ugh, it's not like I'm stalking him or something," she muttered, fidgeting with the edges of her jacket.
It didn't help that she didn't even know what Aedhira was. Human? Robot? Something in between? Sure, he looked human enough from the glimpses she'd caught, but that didn't mean much. Between the automatons under his command and her experience with sci-fi movies, she wasn't ready to assume anything.
Her mind wandered back to the elves she'd met on mainland Veria—close enough to humans at a glance but distinct if you looked closer. Maybe Aedhira was like that. Some kind of advanced alien species? She rubbed her temples. It didn't really matter. She wasn't trying to unravel his biology—just talk to him. Probably.
She sighed, glancing at the clock on her interface. Another hour had passed. The dot was still zipping around, and her stomach let out a sharp growl.
"Okay, fine, you win," she groaned, closing the map. Her hunger officially outweighed her curiosity.
Making her way to the cafeteria counter, she approached one of the steel-clad chefs stationed there. It turned to her with an eerie precision, shoving a bowl of something steaming and vaguely fried—Xar'qul again—into her hands before she could even ask.
"Right, thanks, I guess," Miyu grumbled, retreating to a table.
Settling down, she poked at the contents of the bowl with her fork. The Xar'qul was crispy and golden on the outside, though the texture was always a bit of a gamble. At least the taste was decent, if a little alien.
She muttered under her breath about being "too much of a picky eater," even as she took her first bite. Glancing down at her stomach, she pinched lightly through her shirt, noting the complete lack of fat or flab. It was an odd but welcome benefit of her system-enhanced body.
"Well, at least something good came out of all this," she mused, taking another bite.
Miyu leaned back in her chair, patting her stomach contentedly as she finished the last bite of her Xar'qul. It had hit the spot—but only barely. Her stomach gave another low growl, a not-so-subtle demand for round two.
She sighed, pushing herself up from the table. "Alright, alright, I get it. You win, greedy gut."
Walking up to the counter again, she hesitated, her voice soft as she addressed the nearest automaton chef. "Um, excuse me... could I have another—"
Before she could finish, one of the automatons reached out, snatched the empty bowl from her hands with mechanical precision, and walked off briskly. Miyu blinked, confused. "Wait, what—?"
Her confusion deepened when, not ten seconds later, another automaton approached, slapped a fresh bowl of Xar'qul into her hands, and shooed her away with an annoyed gesture toward the tables. The whole exchange left her staring blankly at the mechanical chefs, her mind trying to process what had just happened.
"Rude," she muttered, retreating back to her seat. If there was a customer service department in this fortress, she was definitely filing a complaint.
But her stomach overruled her indignation, growling loudly enough to remind her of what mattered most. Shrugging it off, she dug into her meal before she even sat down, savoring the crispy, alien texture.
Then, a loud ping echoed in her head, making her wince.
"Gah! What now?" she muttered, clutching her temple. The mini-map in her interface sprang to life, and her eyes darted to it. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the dot—Aedhira—was really close.
As in, "just passed by the cafeteria" close.
She froze for a second, spoon halfway to her mouth, before instinct took over. Gripping the bowl tightly in one hand, she darted out of the cafeteria, spoon still sticking out of her mouth.
Her pace was quick but careful. She wasn't about to spill her hard-earned Xar'qul all over the place—not with how uptight those automatons had been. Plus, she hadn't seen any janitors, and cleaning up a mess wasn't on her to-do list.
The corridor stretched out before her, long and empty, save for a single figure walking casually on the left side. Miyu slowed her pace as she got a better look.
The figure was short—definitely not an adult. Ivory-white hair, messy but striking, caught the dim light. They wore what looked like a hoodie and shorts combo... with a skintight bodysuit underneath?
Miyu squinted, baffled. Was that... spandex? No, something more high-tech. The material seemed to shimmer faintly, stretching from the figure's neck to their ankles. And then there were the shoes.
Crocs.
Miyu almost stopped in her tracks. The outfit as a whole threw her off completely. It was weirdly normal—earth-like, even—with the exception of the bodysuit. It was the kind of thing you'd see some kid wearing to school on a casual Friday.
She stared, her mind racing. Suddenly, her quest didn't feel so random. Maybe this wasn't just some ridiculous gamble imposed on her.
Biting back her hesitation, she shifted her grip on the bowl and picked up her pace.
Miyu finally caught up, panting like she'd just run a marathon. Okay... cardio definitely needs to happen. Her legs felt like jelly, and her arm was starting to cramp from holding the bowl of Xar'qul.
The boy in front of her turned around.
And that's when Miyu froze.
The spoon nearly slipped from her fingers.
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she completely forgot how to exist.
She wasn't in love. No, it wasn't like that. It was the kind of awe that punched you right in the gut and left you gasping. Like when you stumble across something that's not just beautiful—but unreal.
The boy wasn't a person. He was art. Art that had been sculpted, refined, and given life. A damn masterpiece.
It reminded her of the first time she'd landed on Veria. One second, she'd been tumbling through a tear in space, and the next—bam—dropped into some bustling market square. Everyone had been beautiful. And not just normal pretty. No, they were the kind of gorgeous that made Earth standards look like kids' doodles.
She remembered standing there like a dumb tourist, mouth open, while people walked past—like a bunch of supermodels casually shopping for fruit. She'd always thought she was kind of cute, back on Earth. Her mom had said she got the better end of the genetic lottery between her and her brother, and she believed it. But on Veria? She was… average. Painfully so.
It wasn't until later that she learned why. Mana. The higher energy concentration here did something to people's bodies—sharpened them, refined them. Made them look like they'd just stepped off a magazine cover.
And yet, what she was looking at now made even that feel basic.
His hair was the first thing that caught her attention. Ivory white, flowing effortlessly past his shoulders, almost like silk caught in the breeze. It was perfect. Too perfect. It didn't look real, not with how shiny and soft it seemed. Miyu's own hair, untouched by proper shampoo for months, felt like straw in comparison. A pang of jealousy hit her like a slap to the face. How's that even fair? If it weren't for her system keeping her body in check, she was pretty sure she'd be bald by now.
And then there were his eyes.
Sapphire. Actual sapphire. Not just the color, but prismatic, crystalline sapphire. They shimmered as if the light bent through them, reflecting subtle hues of deep blue. Around the edges, there was red—a ruby tint that lined his irises like something crafted by a jeweler.
The finishing touch? The red eyeliner that stretched faintly to the outer edges of his eyes. It was subtle but sharp. Like someone had taken the effort to highlight the magnificence of his face—just to make sure no detail was left overlooked.
If this guy's existence had a soundtrack, a choir would've been singing a Hallelujah in the background.
Miyu, who prided herself on being able to appreciate a good-looking face—okay, obsess a little—stood there paralyzed. Back on Earth, she'd had her fair share of model posters on her bedroom walls. Maybe too many, if she was honest. She'd buried that little obsession when she landed on Veria because here, everyone was drop-dead gorgeous.
But this? This wasn't fair.
This boy wasn't a person. He was a statue. Like something straight out of Greek mythology, carved by a master sculptor whose hands were blessed by the gods themselves. Leonardo Da Vinci? Michelangelo? Honestly, she didn't remember which of those old guys made the godly statues, but this kid was better.
Way better.
Miyu blinked rapidly, trying to get a grip. She couldn't just stand there drooling like an idiot.
The boy tilted his head slightly, looking at her with those unreal eyes, and Miyu nearly dropped her Xar'qul again. She realized—far too late—that she'd been staring.
She scrambled to say something—anything—to break the tension.
"Uh…" Miyu started awkwardly, forcing what she hoped was a normal smile. "Hi?"
Nailed it.
The boy blinked at her, no ill intentions, just… confusion. "Hi?" he echoed, his tone lifting at the end as if she was the weird one here. "Can I help you?"
Miyu swallowed, trying to keep her composure, despite how everything about him was basically the equivalent of staring at a live, moving Renaissance painting. "Yeah, actually—I've been looking for you. Like… the entire day."
He tilted his head slightly. Confused, again. "You were looking for me all day?" There was no mockery in his voice, just genuine curiosity. "You… darted out of the cafeteria holding that xar'qul like your life depended on it because you were looking for me?"
Suddenly, her entire "I've been looking for you" opener felt weak as hell.
"I—uh—" Miyu stammered, clutching the bowl as if it were her anchor to reality. "Yeah."
He blinked again. Then—barely there, but unmistakable—a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Small, warm, and a little too disarming for someone who looked this statuesque.
"I see," he said softly, like he was speaking to someone he didn't want to scare off. "Well then… how can I help you?"
Crap. Now came the hard part. "So, uh… I had a… reason. An important one, really." Miyu winced at her own words. Her voice wobbled. "I have to… stick with you. For the foreseeable future."
There was a silence. A long, painful silence.
The argument had all the strength of a soggy tissue, and she knew it. The longer he stood there looking at her with those ridiculously sapphire eyes, the faster her confidence crumbled. In the end, Miyu just threw her hands up and muttered, "You know what? Screw it. I'm following you around whether you agree or not."
She braced herself for… something. A raised eyebrow, a challenge, maybe even an irritated dismissal. But instead, Aedhira just stood there, his eyes widening slightly in quiet curiosity. His gaze lingered for a second too long, like he was studying her—or maybe just deciding if she'd lost her mind.
Miyu's eyes wandered to him again, and she felt a sudden, nagging itch of confusion. He looked young. His face still carried faint traces of baby fat, softening what might've otherwise been an impossibly sharp jawline. His expression, for all its curiosity, reminded her of her younger cousins back home during family gatherings—wide-eyed and thoughtful. Like a kid who spent more time asking "why" than anything else.
And yet, there he stood—all of him. Slightly shorter than she expected. Miyu wasn't overly tall by Earth standards, but coming to Veria had, apparently, stretched her out a bit. She hovered somewhere around 5'11", maybe just brushing 6 feet on a good day. This kid, though?
Generously? 5'3. Maybe.
Still, Miyu wasn't stupid. Appearances meant squat when you were dealing with mana-infused elves, shapeshifters, and long-lived magical beings. For all she knew, the boy could've been a thousand years old and just really, really good at skincare.
It didn't matter, though. Looking at him stirred something oddly… protective in her. Like every big sister instinct she didn't even know she had flared to life. This kid—with his impossibly perfect hair and those unfairly pretty eyes—looked like every older sibling's dream little brother. She bet those locks would look great in braids, too. She'd learned how to braid from her dad—and her mom, when she wasn't being too fussy about it.
She caught herself mid-thought and mentally screamed at her brain to focus. Aedhira was staring at her now, his expression somewhere between bemused and unreadable. There was a… look on his face. She didn't know what to make of it, but it was like he was silently wondering if she was done spacing out.
As if sensing her jolt back to the present, Aedhira let out a soft exhale and said, "Alright."
Miyu blinked. "Huh?"
"You can follow me," he said simply, with a small nod. "If that's what you want."
She stared at him. Dumbfounded. "Wait—just like that? You're okay with this?"
He shrugged, utterly unfazed. "Why not?"
It wasn't the reaction she expected. In fact, Miyu had braced herself for an argument—a real one. Begging might've been on the table. Instead, here he was, calmly agreeing like she'd just asked to borrow a pen.
Her brain needed a second to catch up.
"Uh… okay, then," she muttered, more to herself than to him.
He stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, Galanis."
Her blood froze mid-step.
Galanis.
Her surname.
Her entire body locked up, cold dread spreading like ink through her veins. Slowly, eyes wide, she looked at him—because she knew she hadn't told anyone her last name since arriving on Veria. Not a single soul.
Yet this boy—this strange, unnervingly calm boy—knew it.
"...How did you know that?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Aedhira didn't answer right away. The light shifted, catching his eyes just so—the sapphire and ruby reflecting like fractured crystal. He tilted his head again, unreadable.
And then, so casually it almost felt wrong, he said, "You said you were looking for me. Didn't you think I'd know who you are?"
Her heart pounded like war drums in her ears.