Chapter 467
The second paragraph he wrote was about Ilux's breathing.
About how it rose and fell in an irregular rhythm.
Sometimes fast, like someone being chased by a nightmare.
Sometimes slow, like someone too exhausted to keep fighting.
Sometimes pausing briefly before returning with a faint sigh that was almost inaudible.
A sigh that perhaps could only be caught by ears trained over billions of years to hear things ordinary beings would rather not hear.
The third paragraph, the shortest among them yet the heaviest in meaning, he wrote about something that could not be seen with the naked eye.
About something that could only be felt by an entity like himself.
About something that hovered around Ilux's body like a mist that never truly disappeared, even though the sun had risen and its light had begun to illuminate every corner of the room.
After the final word was written.
After the three paragraphs were neatly inscribed on the same page as the previous notes.
After the black ink began to seep into the fibers of the paper with undeniable certainty.
Theo slowly closed the small yellow book.
His movement was gentle, full of care.
Like someone closing a chest containing the most precious treasure that must not be damaged even by the fiercest storm.
He slipped the book back into the folds of his clothing.
Right into the crease near his chest, the same place from which he had taken it moments ago.
The pen was stored in the same place.
Side by side with the book that had never left his body since he first wrote the very first word on its first page.
In front of him, Ilux was still asleep.
With drool still faithfully flowing from the corner of his mouth.
Unaware that in the same room, within a distance of no more than two meters from where he lay, a Great Author had just recorded the most intimate details of his sleep into a book that would endure until the end of time.
And without caring about any of it.
Without caring whether Ilux would wake up and realize his presence or not.
Theo turned around and stepped out.
Leaving the simple bed.
Leaving the drool that still flowed.
Leaving the main character of all the stories he had ever written.
Walking toward the gate of the male dormitory of the Star Academy.
Where the morning air was beginning to warm.
And the third day of his leave would soon begin in a way he had never imagined before.
"Carrying out a mission like this alone is far more complicated than I imagined."
His steps stopped at the boundary between the building's shadow and the morning light creeping through the gaps in the paving stones.
There, in a place neither too close nor too far from the tightly closed dormitory door.
Theo allowed his body to stand still.
Without movement.
Without a visible purpose.
Without a clear orientation.
His eyes, which had been fixed on the ground.
On the scattered small stones.
On the crack patterns formed by years of pressure.
Slowly began to shift.
Not because something in the distance caught his attention.
Not because a sound or movement forced him to change his focus.
But because of a faint impulse from within his consciousness.
An impulse that urged him to release his gaze from things too close.
From details too small.
From a reality too dull to be observed continuously without pause.
And when his gaze finally lifted from the surface of the ground.
When his eyes began to look straight ahead through the still-empty corridor leading to the main gate of the Star Academy.
Something unexpected occurred in the most private space of his existence.
His consciousness, which had always been maintained with full vigilance.
Which continuously processed information from the surrounding environment with maximum efficiency.
Suddenly slowed down.
Not in the sense of losing function or experiencing technical disruption.
But in the sense of choosing to no longer actively process.
Choosing to let itself drift in the empty space between thought and feeling.
Choosing to do nothing but stand and let the seconds pass without meaning attached to them.
One second passed in perfect silence.
Two seconds with held breath.
Three seconds without blinking.
Four seconds with hands hanging motionless at his sides.
Five seconds with lips pursed without sound.
Six seconds with his entire existence seemingly frozen at the boundary between awareness and oblivion.
Between presence and disappearance.
The seventh second came like a blade cutting a thread stretched too long.
A short exhale escaped Theo's lips.
Not an exhale born from physical exhaustion or emotional burden pressing on his chest.
But one more akin to an acknowledgment.
A surrender to the fact that there were certain limits even a Great Author could not easily surpass.
The slightly cold morning air entered his lungs.
Carrying with it the scent of damp soil and grass still half-asleep.
Then left again as a thin vapor that vanished before it could fully form.
Behind him, through the gap in the dormitory window curtain that was not fully closed.
Morning light continued to creep in with a steadiness that never changed.
Illuminating the dust particles floating in the air in the same way it illuminated everything in this world.
Without choosing.
Without discriminating.
Without ever asking whether its light was needed or not.
The twelfth second.
The murmur slipped out just like that.
Not directed at anyone, because there was no one nearby who could hear.
Nor directed at himself, because there was no need to confirm anything to himself.
It was more like a leak.
Like when pressure inside a sealed space becomes too great and finally finds a small gap to escape through, even though no one intended for it to escape.
The words within it were not about regret.
Not about a desire to change the situation.
But about an honest acknowledgment of something previously unconsidered.
That carrying out a mission alone.
Walking without a presence to share roles with.
Bearing responsibility without the mechanism of shared burden that had always been a habit.
Turned out to have a complexity that had never been imagined before.
"Your fever is gone."
Theo's eyes, which had been fixed on the corridor ahead.
Began to blur.
Not because of fatigue or a disturbance in his vision.
But because memories began to rise from the depths of his consciousness in a way he could not control.
The quiet seconds of this morning seemed to pull him backward in time.
To just yesterday, when everything felt different.
When his steps were not alone.
When there was another presence attached to him in a way that could not be explained by ordinary logic.
And within that pull of memory, Aldraya's face emerged once more with painful clarity.
Not the face he saw in the silent space where the four aspects of his creativity worked.
But the face that returned to a form he recognized.
The face he had accompanied through the corridors of the Star Academy.
The face that never changed even as time continued to move forward without ever granting anyone permission to stop.
Her long silver-white hair, nearly reaching the ground, was the first thing that appeared in his memory.
How those fine strands fell over her shoulders and back like a waterfall frozen in motion.
How yesterday's afternoon light caught every strand and turned it into thousands of small glimmers that were never asked for, yet always present.
And behind that hair.
Amid all that blinding silver.
Was a face with a flat expression that had become inseparable from Aldraya's existence.
A face that never revealed what was happening within.
A face that most people would read as emptiness or indifference.
But to Theo, it was something far more complex and deeper than anything ordinary eyes could perceive.
To be continued…