Kyrian slowly opened his eyes. The wooden ceiling of his room came into view, familiar and solid. The first rays of the morning, golden and warm, streamed through the small window, quietly illuminating the interior of the house and scattering dust dancing through the air.
For a few seconds, he remained still, his mind lingering between two worlds. His heart beat a little faster, the accelerated rhythm of someone who had just experienced something profound. As if a part of him still remained within that domain, floating through the darkness beside Gao Ziyue.
He slowly closed one hand, feeling the rough texture of the bedsheet beneath his fingers. Her words still echoed in his mind. Her past, her pain, her fear. The image of a child being pursued by her own uncle, of a young girl learning to hide from the world, of a woman carrying such profound loneliness that she herself had become a stranger to herself.
And, above all, the invitation.
