Time changed me quietly.

  Not like a sudden collapse, but like a slow, silent erosion. One day, I began waking up feeling stiff. I started frowning on rainy days. After training, my knees began to ache faintly. The abilities I once considered to be the “peak of humanity”—they were fading, little by little. And I knew, deep down, they had never truly belonged to eternity.

  I, Vera, had stepped into the final years of youth.

  The person in the mirror still looked sharp, steady, with eyes that could see through lies. But I also knew—my muscles weren’t as responsive, my bones not as strong, my healing no longer as fast… things were changing. And as I sat in the courtyard, watching Luma walk slowly toward me in her blue-gray dress, still so light, so graceful, without a single sign of aging; as I watched Nox carry firewood from the back of the house, his features still calm as the day I first met him—I realized, I really wasn’t like them.

  I would leave. They wouldn’t.

  Once that thought surfaced, it couldn’t be buried again. It began to taint every smile I made, pierce every dusk I spent with them. I began to fear the silence. I began to fear falling asleep and dreaming of the future—a future where they remained young, while I... was no longer there.

  If one day, I really disappeared—what would they do?

  Would they be sad? Would they mourn? Or would they simply continue walking beside each other on their endless journey, placing me within a chapter of one of their books?

  “They said… they love me.” I whispered to myself. “So when I’m gone… what will that love become?”

  With that question in mind, I walked alone to the basement door.

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  I didn’t tell them in advance. I just wanted to know—if caught off guard, would their reaction... be different?

  Knock, knock, knock.

  I knocked lightly on the door.

  Nox was organizing bookshelves, with thick notebooks scattered at his feet. When he saw me, he looked a bit surprised, then nodded, signaling me to come in.

  I sat down and voiced my question.

  Nox froze for a moment. He slowly put down the book in his hands. In his eyes, I saw an emotion I rarely ever saw in him—it wasn’t calmness, nor tenderness, but… something like a quiet, painful reluctance to let go.

  He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke in a soft voice:

  “Vera... what if one day we told you—we have the ability to grant you immortality?”

  I froze.

  He didn’t elaborate. He just looked at me. There was no persuasion in his eyes, no temptation. Only one thing—waiting.

  I lowered my head.

  I didn’t know. I really didn’t know.

  Not long ago, I was so certain: As long as I can be with you, even for a hundred years, I’d be willing.

  But now—a hundred years already feels unimaginable. Then what about a thousand? Ten thousand? Immortality... is it really just about living forever?

  I gave no answer. I left the basement with more confusion than ever.

  —

  Late at night. The wind was gentle.

  I was ready to sleep when the door was quietly pushed open.

  Nox walked in alone.

  “Just you tonight?” I turned my head and asked.

  He nodded.

  “This story... isn’t one Luma should hear.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “Because she’s facing the same question. And this story... isn’t for her.”

  I gazed at him and suddenly asked, “You’re not just protecting me—you’re protecting her too, aren’t you?”

  He smiled. It was a helpless smile, tinged with a bit of self-mockery.

  “Well... I am the senior, after all.”

  He leaned back against the bedframe, hands folded on his knees. I instinctively leaned closer to him, like I used to as a child—but this time, I was no longer the girl who had once survived on instinct in the alleyways. I was someone who had seen the outline of life’s end.

  I looked at Nox’s face and imagined how many people this calm expression had seen grow old, how many civilizations it had seen collapse, how many stories it had watched begin and end. He never spoke of it—but I knew, those memories... were heavier than immortality itself.

  I said nothing. I simply rested my forehead gently against his shoulder.

  My hand unconsciously reached for the book he had brought with him.