The morning light seeped gently through the tall arched windows of the manor, filtered by pale curtains swaying in the breeze. A soft stillness hung in the air—one that felt like the world itself was catching its breath.
Ai Hoshino yawned softly and stretched, dressed in a simple cream blouse and long navy skirt. Her hair—normally flowing neatly down her back—was tied into a practical bun, a few black strands stubbornly falling against her cheek. She tugged an apron over her clothes, tying it tight around her waist as she made her way toward the kitchen. The wooden floors of the grand hall creaked softly beneath her feet.
The mansion, though provided with servants and maids, had gone quiet. Not because it was empty, but because Ai and Jahanox had firmly rejected any help.
"We'll do it ourselves," Jahanox had said firmly the first day.
In truth, they simply couldn't risk others getting suspicious. The fewer eyes, the fewer problems.
She was just about to push open the kitchen door when a soft voice surprised her from behind.
"You're up early."
Ai turned around.
Jennie stood in the hallway, dressed in a soft lavender blouse tucked into a flowy gray skirt. An apron with flower patterns was already tied neatly around her waist. Her light brown hair, usually loose and soft, was now pulled into a ponytail, a few bangs falling across her forehead.
Ai blinked, then gave a small smile. "Jennie. Good morning."
Jennie smiled back warmly. "Are you cooking breakfast?"
Ai nodded. "Yeah. Thought I'd start early… even though it's already getting close to noon."
Jennie giggled and walked up beside her, gently pushing the door open. "Then let's call it dinner prep instead."
The kitchen was spacious and clean, with a large oak island in the middle, surrounded by wooden cabinets and hanging pots. The hearth fire was already warm from the morning sun streaming through the windows.
Jennie moved with a practiced ease—washing her hands, tying her apron tight, and then pulling her hair further back into a low bun. Ai mirrored her, both of them falling into a quiet rhythm.
Chopping boards were brought out, carrots peeled, onions diced, and soon the sound of soft laughter and cooking filled the room.
"Everyone's still sleeping," Ai noted as she stirred a pot. "The place is way too quiet."
Jennie placed a sliced carrot into the bowl and wiped her hands on a towel. "Well… after what Zazm did last night, it's no surprise."
Ai paused, rubbing her forehead in annoyance. "Seriously… What is that bastard doing…"
Jennie chuckled faintly and leaned slightly against the counter, knife in hand. "It feels like day by day, he's returning to his old self."
Ai turned to her, curious. "What do you mean?"
Jennie's hand paused mid-air. She glanced down at the sliced vegetables and then let out a soft breath. Her voice was gentler now. "You joined us after the incident, right? You've only seen Zazm like… this. Cold. Quiet. Kinda gloomy and overly leadery?"
Ai nodded. "Yeah. Isn't that just his personality?"
Jennie smiled—fond, wistful, and tinged with something nostalgic. "It wasn't always like that."
She returned to cutting the carrots slowly, speaking in a softer tone. "Back then, he was kind to everyone. Funny, too. A little crazy at times—but it was that kind of craziness that made him feel so… human. Like he was always doing something to remind you that you mattered."
Ai blinked, surprised. "Really? He doesn't seem like that at all now."
Jennie gave a quiet laugh. "Yeah… I get it. But Jahanox once told me… Zazm grew up pretty detached from his parents. Always alone. He never really learned how to show affection the way most people do. So he pulls off these stunts—like last night—just to show us he cares."
Ai looked down at the simmering pot and smiled softly. "That's… weirdly sweet. In a twisted way."
Jennie nodded. "Exactly. It's like he's trying to say, 'Hey, I'm still here. I still care.' Even if it means turning your room into a floating hell dimension."
They both burst into soft laughter.
Ai leaned on the counter with a playful sigh. "So what you're telling me is—we'll have to survive more of his antics now that he's going back to who he was?"
Jennie raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Probably. But don't worry—he doesn't go that wild very often."
"Good," Ai muttered, "because if I wake up in a gravity-defying bathtub again, I'm throwing him into orbit."
Jennie laughed again, her brown eyes glowing warmly. "Fair."
For a moment, the two just stood there, chopping and stirring, two young women in a mansion caught between worlds. In the middle of chaos, this moment felt normal. Light. Even comforting.
And perhaps, that was exactly what they needed.
As the warmth of the kitchen grew with each simmering pot and sizzling pan, something quietly stirred within the corners of the room—something that Ai and Jennie couldn't see, couldn't feel, and would never know was there.
Perched quietly atop a high shelf, legs dangling off the edge with a light sway, Zephyra sat.
Her long purple dress shimmered faintly in the rays of afternoon sunlight that filtered through the kitchen window.
The strands of her violet hair seemed to glow where they caught the light, and her eyes—those strange, ethereal eyes—reflected the gleam of starlight, like constellations frozen in her irises. Silent. Watching.
The expression on her face never changed.
That same calm boredom. That endless, numb detachment.
She tilted her head ever so slightly, watching Ai carefully chop carrots with a fluid precision, while Jennie talked about emotions and past versions of Zazm. The aroma of herbs and cooking broth drifted lazily through the room, but Zephyra didn't respond to the smell—not because she couldn't, but because she was al didn't care.
But this—this scene of mundane life—was new.
Different.
She phased backward, letting her back sink into the wall as she lazily floated up a little higher, sitting half-submerged in the shelf like a ghost trapped in a dream.
Her fingers absently trailed over the air, watching the way sunlight painted over it. Her eyes flicked toward the pot as steam curled out from under the lid.
She had seen many strange things over her endless time in the Void.
Planets crumbling, timelines collapsing, stars devouring galaxies.
But this?
Two girls in aprons laughing softly as they cut vegetables in a sunlit kitchen?
She blinked slowly. Quietly.
It was… oddly grounding.
Zazm's memories had shown her snippets of things like this. The way he ordered food instead of cooking.
The few times he stood in a kitchen—always awkwardly, poking around cabinets he barely used. Fast food bags. Takeout receipts. Instant noodles. His "cooking" skills were more like survival tactics.
So watching Ai and Jennie now, with practiced hands and gentle familiarity, felt like she was peeking into another universe entirely.
One where people smiled while they worked.
One where things weren't broken.
One where she wasn't just a floating ghost, forgotten between dimensions.
Jennie's voice reached her ears again.
"Zazm's just… trying to reconnect, I guess."
Zephyra didn't react. Didn't blink. Just floated silently, her hands laced over her lap as her bare feet swung back and forth just above the wooden shelf.
The wooden surface beneath her wasn't real.
Nothing was. Not to her.
But watching them—watching this—was real enough.
And for now… that was something.
Maybe later she'd figure out what are the cooking and learn.
She didn't smile.
She never really did.
But she watched.
And kept watching.
Until the scent of spices grew stronger and the steam fogged the window beside her.
Ai and Jennie were nearly done with the morning meal when Kiyomasa barged into the kitchen, his hair still ruffled from sleep and his usual wide-eyed curiosity in full force.
"I was wondering where all that noise was coming from…" he muttered, stretching his arms as he sniffed the air. His eyes landed on the counter, more specifically on a strange-looking fruit sitting in a wooden bowl. Without hesitation, he leapt—yes, leapt—onto a nearby shelf like a cat, snatched the fruit, took a bite, and mumbled mid-chew, "Mmm, this thing looks weird but tastes amazing. What are you two cooking?"
Jennie turned around, her face glowing with a cheerful smile. "Oh! We've made a bunch of dishes today. There's rosemary grilled beef, steamed dumplings with soy-glazed mushrooms, stir-fried noodles with lotus root, roasted eggplants with garlic paste, and something Ai called... 'Katsu curry.'" She tilted her head. "I think I got the name right."
Kiyomasa's jaw dropped, fruit still in hand. "How did you make all that? That's not normal."
Ai casually shrugged as she stirred a pot, her hair tied loosely behind her. "Thanks to Jahanox, apparently. He used one of his weird powers again—this time, something that temporarily makes everyone amazing at cooking."
Kiyomasa's eyes sparkled with sudden hope. "Wait... even I can cook?"
Ai nodded, deadpan. "Yup. The moment you touch anything, it just… happens. Like magic. It's like your hands already know."
Jennie laughed softly. "It's true! I did things I didn't even know I could do. Watch this!"
She picked up a long green vegetable, its name unknown to her, and placed it on the cutting board. Closing her eyes dramatically like a cooking anime protagonist, she lifted the knife and began chopping with elegant precision—her fingers moving like she was conducting an orchestra. A few seconds later, the slices were stacked perfectly and neatly like tiles.
Kiyomasa's mouth was hanging open. "What in the actual...?"
Even Ai looked mildly surprised. "Okay, that was actually impressive."
Jennie giggled, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I swear, I wasn't even thinking."
Ai glanced at the steaming pots. "Almost done. Kiyomasa, go wake the others."
"Roger that!" he said, giving a half-salute as he dashed off.
---
The stairs creaked slightly under his feet as he descended, only to bump into Minos and Miwa already coming down.
"Oh! Morning," Kiyomasa greeted.
Miwa waved lazily, her sleepy eyes barely open. "Good morning~"
Minos yawned, rubbing the back of his neck. "After last night's chaos, I crashed pretty hard. I needed that. So… food?"
Kiyomasa nodded with a grin. "Yeah, we're done cooking. Or maybe it's breakfast. Or lunch. Whatever it is, it's ready."
"Nice, I'm starving," Miwa muttered, already imagining a mountain of pancakes and fries.
Minos tilted his head. "Where were you off to?"
"I was going to wake everyone else. But now that you two are up, only Zazm and Jahanox are left," Kiyomasa replied.
They were just about to go their separate ways when Miwa suddenly stopped mid-step. "Wait."
Kiyomasa and Minos froze. "What?" they said in unison.
Miwa blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "Zazm doesn't sleep."
Kiyomasa paused. "…That's true."
Minos's eyes widened. "Then... if he's not asleep… and he hasn't come downstairs… shouldn't he be here?"
The three of them exchanged looks. A cold realization crept up their spines. In perfect sync, they bolted toward Zazm's room.
---
They threw the door open—
And there he was.
Zazm. The untouchable. The Catalyst of space and time.
Sleeping.
Sleeping.
Not meditating. Not pretending. Not frozen in time.
Actually, peacefully, totally asleep.
His obsidian black was messily sprawled across the pillow. His eyes shut. Chest rising and falling slowly. Arms splayed out like a guy who hadn't moved in hours. No aura, no barrier, no fancy time-freeze glow.
Just... sleep.
"…What." Kiyomasa's voice cracked.
"He—" Miwa gasped. "He died! He's dead!"
"DON'T SAY THAT!!" Kiyomasa yelled and smacked her on the head. "Say something nice! What if his soul's still here!?"
Miwa rubbed her head. "But he's not moving!"
Minos frowned. "He used to freeze his body to not sleep. So how is he… actually asleep?"
"Did someone drug him?" Kiyomasa whispered. "Oh no. What if it was in the food? But we cooked that just now—wait. Did we time travel by accident?"
"Why would we time travel into a Zazm coma?" Miwa asked.
"I DON'T KNOW!" Kiyomasa shouted, genuinely panicking.
Just then, Jahanox entered from the hallway, yawning. "Hey, why's there a crowd on Zazm's—"
He froze mid-sentence.
His eyes locked onto Zazm.
Zazm, unconscious. Vulnerable. Completely still.
"…WHAT." Jahanox's voice echoed.
The air went quiet.
Then— "HE DIED?!"
"NO!" Kiyomasa shrieked.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'NO'?! HE'S NOT MOVING!!" Jahanox shouted.
Jennie and Ai appeared behind them, slightly out of breath. "What's going on up here?" Ai asked. "We could hear yelling—"
Then they saw it.
Jennie dropped the spoon in her hand.
Ai stared blankly. "…Did Zazm die?"
"I SWEAR TO THE GOF HE'S JUST SLEEPING!!" Kiyomasa screamed.
"THEN WHY IS HE SLEEPING AT ALL!?" Jahanox yelled, waving his arms like a lawyer in court.
Miwa, half hiding behind Minos now, whispered, "Maybe it's like a magical coma. Maybe he overdosed on his own powers."
Jennie clutched her heart. "Oh no… what if this is permanent?! Like a magical Snow White situation?"
Ai, surprisingly calm, murmured, "Should we bring a frog and make him try kissing him to see?"
Everyone turned.
"…WHAT?" Ai blinked. "It works in fairy tales."
"CAN WE STOP WITH WEIRD ASSUMPTIOS???!!" Kiyomasa thundered, now clearly losing his grip on reality.
"What if he wakes up angry?" Miwa asked.
"What if he's possessed?" Minos added.
Zazm's room was silent after he turned over and went back to sleep—until suddenly, time itself hiccupped.
The air shimmered for a split second.
And then—
Everyone froze.
Literally.
Kiyomasa, mid-yell, mouth wide open like a statue.
Jennie, hands still covering her mouth, eyes wide in disbelief.
Jahanox, frozen in a dramatic pose with his finger raised like he was about to lecture the sun itself.
Even Miwa and Minos, who had slowly started backing away, were caught mid-step like broken mannequins.
The only one who moved…
…was Zazm.
He stirred, a hand lazily coming up to his forehead. His eyes squinted against the light as he slowly sat up, blinking like someone waking from a century-long nap. His hair was a fluffy mess, strands flaring in all directions like he had just fought a tornado in his sleep.
He groaned and rubbed his temple. "…Seriously? You all woke me up?"
His tired gaze swept across the room—until he noticed that no one was moving.
Brows furrowing, Zazm lazily waved his hand once through the air.
Snap.
Time resumed.
And—
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"
Kiyomasa fell to the floor dramatically like he'd just seen a ghost. "WHY ARE YOU AWAKE LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED?!"
Miwa, who had been frozen mid-blink, now blinked rapidly. "W-Wait… we were frozen?"
Minos looked around. "What just… happened?"
Zazm glared at them all, deeply annoyed. "Can a person not even sleep peacefully around here?"
Jahanox immediately stepped forward, arms crossed. "No. Absolutely not. You don't sleep, Zazm. That's the problem. And now you are sleeping, so what the hell is going on?!"
Zazm looked at him with narrowed eyes, then looked at the others—each of them equally suspicious, equally curious, equally unhinged with stress.
"…Wait," he said, tilting his head, "you're saying… I was sleeping?"
Everyone simultaneously nodded like malfunctioning robots.
Zazm blinked, looked down at the pillow and blanket, then back at them. "Huh…"
He paused.
"…Well, I guess now I can sleep. GGs."
He casually tossed off the blanket and stepped off the bed like it was any other Tuesday.
"NO!" Jennie yelled.
"You can't just drop that!" Kiyomasa cried.
"You went into a state you've explicitly avoided for years, woke up like it's no big deal, and now you're walking off like you took a quick nap after breakfast?!" Miwa pointed, looking offended on behalf of the universe.
Zazm blinked at them, utterly unfazed.
"I never said I can't sleep," he said flatly. "I said I don't need sleep."
"THAT'S THE SAME THING—" Kiyomasa began, but Ai held a hand up and spoke for the first time.
"…Wait," she said quietly. "He never said he couldn't. He said he didn't need to sleep. Because of the nightmares."
Everyone went silent.
Even Jahanox stopped mid-rant.
Zazm nodded slowly. "Exactly. I avoid sleep because my mind usually drags me into… places." His voice dipped for a moment, tone darker, weightier. "Places where I have to relive things I don't want to see again."
Jennie's expression softened. "…But?"
Zazm looked at his hand. "…But this time, there were no nightmares. Nothing. Just… sleep. Quiet. No visions. No fragments. Just rest."
Minos tilted his head. "Do you know why?"
Zazm shook his head. "Not really. Maybe something changed. Maybe it's the house. Maybe it's all of you… or maybe I just burned out my cosmic battery."
Miwa smiled gently. "Maybe your brain finally gave up."
"Entirely possible," Zazm replied with a tired smirk.
Kiyomasa narrowed his eyes. "Still doesn't explain why you looked so cozy."
"I was cozy," Zazm said with zero shame.
Jahanox exhaled and muttered, "…Well, that actually makes sense."
Everyone slowly nodded.
"Yeah, that does."
"Totally."
"Zazm logic checks out."
They all finally made their way downstairs to the dining hall—a bright, open space that shimmered with sunlight filtering through the enchanted windows. The long wooden table was already filled with steaming dishes, neatly arranged with care and aesthetic flair, like a feast straight out of a fantasy cooking show.
Jennie beamed. "Tada! It's all done!"
The spread was spectacular.
Everyone took a seat.
Zazm plopped down at the head of the table, stretching his arms and letting out a long sigh. "This… This is good. Finally, I feel like a human again."
"You're not," Ai said dryly, passing him a plate.
"Let me pretend," Zazm replied with mock offense.
They all dug in—talking, laughing, passing dishes around. Minos reached for more dumplings, Miwa was already stacking a plate taller than her head, and Jennie was carefully pouring tea into delicate cups she didn't even remember crafting.
Jahanox raised a toast with his juice. "To Zazm. May he finally have normal dreams and life's like the rest of us… and stop scaring the crap out of everyone."
Zazm chuckled. "Cheers to that."
Everyone raised their glasses, plates, or in Miwa's case—a whole teapot.
And for the first time in a long while, their laughter echoed through the house like music.
The air around the table was filled with the satisfying clink of cutlery and the scent of freshly cooked food. Kiyomasa had already started his third plate. Miwa was sipping from her fifth cup of tea—out of the teapot she claimed for herself—while Minos seemed dangerously close to falling asleep between bites.
Jennie passed Zazm a dish of glazed carrots, and Ai quietly chewed her food, listening to everyone talk.
Then, Zazm cleared his throat.
Everyone looked up immediately. When Zazm cleared his throat, it usually meant the mood was about to shift from "breakfast vibes" to "existential unraveling of reality."
"I've been thinking about something," he said, wiping his hands with a napkin. "Something we'll need to act on sooner rather than later."
Jahanox leaned back in his chair. "Something involving the multiverse again?"
Zazm nodded. "Specifically… this universe..its threads."
Miwa tilted her head. "Our threads?"
"No, Miwa," Ai said softly, "he means the foundational quantum strings that form a universe's structure. The literal threads of space and time."
Zazm pointed at her with his fork. "Exactly."
Everyone straightened a bit. Even Minos stopped chewing mid-bite.
Zazm stood slowly, walking over to the window. Sunlight caught in his hair as he stared out, his voice calm but edged with a subtle urgency.
"Here's the deal," he said. "My power allows me to see the spatial and temporal layers of a universe. I can wrap space, fold dimensions, freeze time, split it… whatever. But when I look deeper—at the actual threads of a universe—it's hard to be precise. I can sense where disruptions are, but only if they're strong. Big cracks in the wall? Sure, I'll see them. But hairline fractures? Microtears? Those slip past me."
Jennie blinked. "But… wouldn't those be dangerous too?"
Zazm turned around, nodding. "Exactly. Even a minor disruption, if ignored, can evolve into a major one. Like… imagine a thread fraying. You don't notice it at first. But soon? The whole tapestry falls apart."
"So… what do we do?" Kiyomasa asked, pausing mid-bite.
Zazm looked at Ai. "We use her."
Ai raised an eyebrow, fork frozen in her hand. "...Use me?"
"I mean that in a respectful way," he said with a quick grin. "But yes. You're the key to refining this entire process."
The room went quiet again.
Zazm walked over to her. "Your ability—your heightened senses—isn't just physical. It's metaphysical. That includes touch, vibration, presence, sensation. You can perceive things in space others can't, even if you don't fully realize it yet."
Ai narrowed her eyes slightly. "Go on."
"I'll link your senses to mine," he said. "I'll tether a segment of my threads to your consciousness using my power. That connection will allow you to 'see' what I see—space-time itself. But unlike me, your perception will go beyond the general condition. You'll feel its health. If a disruption exists—even something subtle—you'll sense it."
"So she's a scanner," Jahanox muttered.
Zazm chuckled. "More like a lens. I can only tell if something is a level 3 to 10 in damage. But if it's below that—level 1 or 2—I miss it. Ai won't."
Minos leaned forward. "And why do those low-level ones matter so much?"
"Because some disruptions start perfectly hidden," Zazm said. "They grow like a virus. Silent. Invisible. Until they're too big for even me to fix. Catching them early is the only way."
Ai set down her fork. "How dangerous is the connection?"
Zazm paused. His voice lowered.
"…It'll be intense. Like standing in front of the raw skeleton of a living world. You'll see things in layers—some moving, some still. The emotions, the friction of time… it might overload your senses at first."
Ai took a long breath. "But it's possible?"
"Yes," he said. "I'll filter the flow as best I can. You won't be alone."
There was a short silence.
Jennie broke it first. "Is it something we all can help with?"
Zazm shook his head. "No. This is too delicate. Only someone with that innate sensory precision can do it. That's Ai."
Jahanox smirked. "So in other words, you finally found someone who can fill in your blind spots."
Zazm smirked back. "Pretty much."
Miwa leaned back in her chair. "That sounds cool… and also terrifying. Like sticking your head into the universe's code and hoping you don't glitch."
"Exactly that," Zazm said, not denying it at all.
Ai was silent, eyes focused. Then she simply said, "I'm in. When do we start?"
Zazm looked out the window again. "This evening till then make sure to enjoy your time here so we can do it without any distractions."
Kiyomasa raised a hand. "And what do the rest of us do?"
Zazm smiled. "Didn't I just said to enjoy your time in this strange world? You eat, sleep, train, or complain. Like usual."
The moment lunch was over and the table had been cleared the group drifted into a mellow after-meal energy. Zazm had announced the ritual would begin after sunset, giving them all a few hours to themselves.
Naturally, chaos followed.
"Let's go out!" Miwa announced with her usual grin, spinning in a circle in the center of the living room. "We're in a whole fantasy world and we're inside? Come on!"
"I second that," Minos added, already halfway to the stairs. "I'm going to change into something breathable. It's probably going to be warm out."
"I'm definitely not staying in here," Jahanox muttered, stretching. "Let's see what this reality's got to offer today."
One by one, they scattered to their rooms to change.
Jennie emerged first, dressed in a flowy, cream-colored sundress that stopped just below her knees. The neckline was embroidered with golden thread, and a soft pink ribbon was tied around her waist. Her long hair was tied into a gentle braid over her shoulder.
She was hoping to visit the strange violet-flowered meadow they passed last time. There were also a few more things she wanted to sightsee.
Miwa came out second, dramatically kicking open her door. She wore a cropped purple jacket with silver studs on the shoulders, over a black tank top. Her flared, high-waisted pants shimmered faintly with a casual pattern.
Just like always she was gonna do something fun or crazy...same thing actually for her.
Minos strolled down next wearing a relaxed desert-style outfit. A deep green sleeveless robe with golden trims hung open over a black shirt tucked into sand-colored pants with flowy fabric.
Around his neck was a strange stone necklace he claimed was "just for balance." He planned to find a quiet spot by the lakeside cliffs to read a book or something.
Jahanox wore something simple but striking: a long dark coat lined with white stitching over a dark red tunic and black trousers tucked into sturdy boots.
A pair of goggles sat lazily on his head—not because he needed them, but because he liked the aesthetic. He said he wanted to find out what kind of wildlife this realm had, and also try all types of dishes this world has to offer.
Kiyomasa burst out in athletic gear. A sleeveless white hoodie, breathable dark cargo shorts, and his hands wrapped like a martial artist.
He was planning to go watch some weird sport he saw the poster of it yesterday.
Ai came last, quiet but radiant. She wore a dark indigo kimono-style dress with short sleeves, patterned with faint star maps in silence.
She didn't say much, but she planned to follow the group... while quietly observing the terrain for structural energy fluctuations. As Zazm instructed her. He had told her to try to feel her surroundings.
All of them slowly gathered at the front door.
Except one.
"Hey," Miwa asked suddenly, glancing back. "Where's Zazm?"
"I thought he'd come with us," Jennie said, adjusting the strap of her bag.
"Should we call him down?" Kiyomasa offered, halfway tying his shoes.
But before anyone could go back upstairs, Zazm's voice echoed down the hall like a tired chime.
"I'm not coming."
They all turned as he stepped into view, leaning against the railing of the second floor, still in his loose black t-shirt and sweatpants from earlier. His hair was slightly neater now, but his eyes carried that strange exhaustion—the kind of fatigue that wasn't just physical.
"Why not?" Jahanox asked. "This realm's chill. The skies are purple. Miwa has a map that leads to a floating hot spring, apparently."
"It does exist!" Miwa declared defensively.
Zazm gave a half-smile. "I'm sure it does. But I'll pass."
"Why?" Jennie asked gently.
Zazm leaned his head against the wall. "…I'm tired. Actually tired. I need to rest as much as I can before tonight."
Everyone quieted a little.
Ai stepped forward. "Because of the thread link?"
Zazm nodded. "Yeah. Sharing my thread is… not easy. It's like opening up every part of yourself to someone else. Not just mentally. It costs energy. Focus. Control. And if I screw it up…" He trailed off.
"It'll affect you?" Minos asked.
"It'll affect both of us," Zazm said. "You're going to be diving into my sight—into the structure of a universe. That's like asking your body to breathe air from a world that was never meant for lungs. It'll strain you. And it'll strain me. So if I'm not fully recharged, we're both in trouble."
There was a pause.
"…Makes sense," Kiyomasa finally said.
Jahanox crossed his arms. "You could've just said that instead of acting all dramatic."
"I'm always dramatic," Zazm replied flatly.
Miwa smirked. "We'll bring you back something cool."
"Thanks," he said sarcastically.
Jennie gave a soft smile. "Rest well."
He nodded, eyes lingering on the group a moment longer. "…You guys enjoy it. This might be the last bit of peace we get for a while."
Zazm stood at the window for a while after the others left. He watched them laugh, argue, tease, and vanish into the strange horizon of the fantasy world like streaks of color against a surreal sky.
But once the last silhouette faded, the warmth in his gaze dimmed slightly.
He turned away, footsteps echoing faintly in the silence of the house. The echo of laughter vanished, replaced by the soft hum of the house's living walls, a rhythm only he could hear.
"I didn't stay behind just to rest," he murmured to himself, hands sliding into the pockets of his sweatpants as he walked slowly down the hallway. "She's been here too long without answers."
He meant Zephyra.
That mysterious, elusive being who drifted beside him like a wisp from another reality. She had arrived from the void—shattered and nameless—her memories erased by the very chaos she survived. And yet, she'd done what no one else could.
She had silenced his nightmares.
A bond formed between them through a shared consciousness, a link as intimate as thought, yet as fragile as glass. And in return for her comfort, Zazm had promised something:
"One day, I'll help you remember who you were."
Today… was that day.
"But," he continued quietly to himself, "if the void stripped her down to near-zero, there's probably some kind of barrier in there. Not just memory loss—maybe even mental lockouts. My threads can break through. I just have to find the right angle…"
His words trailed off when he passed the kitchen.
A flicker of spatial energy caught his eye.
He turned his head, and a soft smile played on his lips.
In the far corner of the counter, resting in a glowing stasis bubble, was a tray of food—each dish sealed in warmth, untouched and waiting.
He stepped inside, broke the stasis with a flick of his finger, and the scent of the lunch they'd shared earlier returned in full.
He picked up the tray gently.
"I didn't forget," he said to no one, voice softer than air. "You didn't say it… but I know you love to try new things and you're curious about them."
Zazm started walking his brain still focused on the task ahead. Zephyra can see Zazm's memories easily because of two reasons.
First, his memories were stable and we're easily accessible because he didn't hide or created any wall in them or something.
Second, she was a part of Zazm's consioussness, they shared one consciousness which is Zazm's and she can access all his memories and emotions everything.
On the other hand Zazm can only sense her emotions and her to a certain degree and can't look into her memories directly like she can and since she lost most of her memoires it's even harder to recover them.
The door creaked open.
Sunlight spilled through the wide window of his room, casting long shadows across the floor. There was a softness to the air here, like everything inside had been wrapped in silk.
And there she was.
Zephyra.
Sitting on a wooden chair beside the window, her head gently resting on the small table. Her long violet hair shimmered in the fading sunlight, cascading down like liquid stars.
She looked asleep at first glance. Peaceful, even.
But as Zazm stepped closer, something hit him like a sharp chord in the heart.
She was crying.
Her eyes were closed…
…yet silver tears quietly slid down her cheeks.
She didn't sob. She didn't shake.
The tears simply fell—like memories she couldn't voice.
Zazm stopped walking.
He placed the tray down gently, knelt beside her, and reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Zephyra… hey, wake up."
Her eyelashes trembled.
She slowly opened her eyes, unfocused at first… and then locked with his.
The light in her amethyst eyes caught the tears perfectly. They sparkled—not broken, but full. Brimming with something that neither grief nor joy could fully describe.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came. She simply looked at him.
As if seeing him for the first time.
As if remembering everything.
"…Zazm," she whispered, voice barely a sound.
But as she opened her mouth again to say something else…
…she quickly turned away.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, laughing under her breath. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
He didn't move. "Why were you crying?"
"I said it's nothing," she repeated, this time with a little more defense.
Zazm didn't press too hard—not yet.
He stood, lifted the tray, and placed it in front of her. "Eat first."
She hesitated, but eventually took a spoon.
The moment she started tasting the food, her usual aloofness returned—somewhat. "This is good," she said casually, chewing.
Zazm watched her carefully. Something in her had changed.
She wasn't as sharp-edged as before. Not cold.
There was something softer now.
Her movements were slower. Her words, more careful.
Like someone trying not to break a fragile lie.
He noticed it all.
After she finished, he leaned forward and asked, "Did you remember something today?"
Zephyra blinked. "What?"
"Your past," he said plainly. "Did you remember anything?"
She smiled quickly—too quickly. "Nope. Still blank."
"Right…" Zazm narrowed his eyes. "And the tears were just for fun?"
Zephyra glanced out the window. "I just get emotional sometimes. That's not a crime, is it?"
"No," he said. "But lying to me might be."
There was a beat of silence.
Then, slowly, Zazm stepped in front of her and sat down across the table. "Zephyra… I'm going to help you remember. I promised, and I'm keeping it. I'm going to dig into the void you came from and find what's buried. Right now."
Her face changed instantly.
"No."
Zazm blinked. "No?"
"I don't want you to," she said firmly, the softness in her voice now tinted with finality.
"You asked me to help you—"
"I changed my mind."
Zazm leaned back, confused but calculating. "Why?"
She looked at him again, this time not with surprise—but with a quiet, haunting beauty.
Her eyes, still shimmering from earlier, were filled with something ancient. Something that knew.
Instead, she tilted her head and smiled faintly. "Because I don't need to anymore. I like things how they are."
Zazm stared at her, the silence between them suddenly thick.
"You don't want to remember who you really are?" he asked, studying her every microexpression.
Zephyra nodded with a smile, "Yes I don't, I enjoy life like this figuring out everything having a new experience to everything."
"Why?" he whispered.
"Because I'm happy," she said softly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "With you. With everyone. With this little piece of peace I've found. I don't want to know what I lost. I just want to live in what I've gained."
Zazm said nothing for a while.
He could force the link. Break the wall.
He had the power.
But he didn't.
Because for the first time, Zephyra wasn't just drifting.
She was choosing.
"…Very well," he finally said, voice quiet. "I'll wait."
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting a twilight glow over the sky outside the window. Shades of indigo and fading gold painted the glass, while the warm light from the room's soft lamps gave everything a quiet, golden hue.
Zazm leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, gaze drifting lazily toward the ceiling.
He didn't speak. He just breathed—one of those rare moments when he allowed himself to feel time moving, slowly and peacefully.
Then Zephyra's voice cut gently through the silence.
"Why haven't you told them about me yet?"
The question wasn't sharp. It wasn't confrontational. It simply hung in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam.
Zazm's eyes blinked once—slowly—before shifting toward her.
She sat curled on the windowsill now, knees hugged lightly to her chest, her violet hair loose and softly cascading over her shoulders. She wasn't looking at him. She was staring out into the sky, watching the twin moons rise.
Zazm leaned forward in his chair, an amused smile playing on his lips.
"I haven't forgotten," he said, voice low and relaxed. "I was going to show them. Make them see you with their own eyes. I was even planning a dramatic intro."
She glanced at him for a second.
He chuckled softly. "But then… there's that problem."
The smile faded slightly.
His eyes, usually so sharp and unreadable, clouded with a touch of hesitation.
Zephyra turned to face him fully now. "You'd have to tell them you fell into the void."
Zazm nodded. "And that I stayed there. For a year."
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes narrowing in thought.
"They'll freak out," he muttered. "Jahanox will demand an explanation. Kiyomasa will worry for weeks. Miwa will probably cry. Jennie… she'll try to comfort me, but it'll just make her anxious. And Ai—"
"She needs her mind clear tonight," Zephyra finished for him.
Zazm nodded again. "Exactly. If I say too much, if they get emotional, it'll affect her perception during the thread-link. One wrong vibration in that space, and it could hurt her."
Zephyra hummed quietly. "And if you're even slightly late in the next multiversal jump… they'll panic again."
Zazm sighed and leaned forward, elbows on the table, one hand over his face.
"They care too much," he said, voice muffled.
She tilted her head, soft amusement touching her lips. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It is," he grumbled. "When we're diving into unknown universes. If they're distracted or afraid for me, they'll lose focus. And in a place where even observation can bend physics, that's fatal."
Zephyra turned her head slightly, one arm resting on her bent knees. The way she sat, calm and thoughtful, reminded him for a second of the first time he saw her in the void—silent, glowing faintly, her soul still fraying at the edges.
A long pause passed between them.
Then, her voice—low, matter-of-fact—cut through it.
"Then don't tell them."
Zazm blinked. "What?"
"It's simple," she said, as if reading off a grocery list. "Don't tell them about me. Don't say anything. I'll stay invisible for now. Quiet. Out of the way."
Zazm raised an eyebrow. "You'd be okay with that?"
Zephyra shrugged. "No big deal. I've been forgotten before." She said it with such nonchalance that it could've passed as a joke—except her eyes were unreadable when she said it.
"And besides," she continued, "I'll still get to hang out with you, won't I?"
Zazm looked at her for a long moment, eyes studying her expression. She was back to her usual bored tone. Back to acting like none of it mattered.
But he saw it.
The careful way she avoided eye contact. The faint tightness in her fingers.
She was lying—but not for herself.
She was doing it for him.
"…Thanks," he said quietly. "For understanding."
She finally looked at him again, that same unreadable expression fading into a small, sincere smile. "It's nothing."
He stood up slowly and walked toward her.
She looked up at him as he rested a hand gently atop her head.
"I'll introduce you properly soon," he said. "Promise. When things calm down. When the multiverse stops trying to kill us every three days."
She chuckled. "I'm not holding my breath."
Zazm smirked. "Smart."
They stayed there for a moment—just the two of them, wrapped in quiet. The only sound was the faint wind brushing against the glass outside and the hum of distant stars shifting through invisible threads.
The world didn't need to know yet.
But she was there.
And that was enough for her.
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