But only for an instant.
His expression quickly returned to normal, that warm smile even reasserting itself at the corners of his mouth. He turned, pretending to organize the seasoning bottles on the stove, his voice steady, betraying not a single ripple of emotion as he replied softly:
"That Asterion out there might be sad to hear you say that. Fortunately, such an 'if' doesn't exist."
The words were light, yet carried a finality that severed all fantasies.
The "Phaethon" who could run a small eatery in Janusopolis and offer honey cake with a smile could only exist within these memories of the past.
Out there, in reality, remained only that "Asterion," burdened with the fate of an entire world, walking toward the finality of "preservation."
...
The tapestry of memories did not end there but continued to unfold.
Next, the Express crew witnessed Phaethon's first true display of power in Janusopolis. It wasn't for some grand ideal, but simply because someone had tried to harm Cyrene, the person he cherished.
The youth's suppressed power erupted like a sleeping volcano, all to protect the one he held dear.
Later, they saw Phaethon in Okhema, purging the corrupt and deceptive Council of Elders that had misled the citizens. Then, for the sake of the Chrysos Heirs who faced ostracism and criticism for choosing the Flame Chase journey, he resolutely raised his sword against entrenched authority.
His actions were to secure a place where his companions could stand firm.
Until they witnessed Phaethon at the ruins of Castrum Kremnos, facing the millions-strong tide of Black Tide creations that surged like a black ocean against the people of Amphoreus.
He stood at the forefront of humanity's defense, his figure so small against the overwhelming wave of monsters, yet like an unyielding reef.
Only then did Stelle suddenly realize—
The boy who once lay in the wheat field had, at some unknown point, come to bear the lives and futures of all of Amphoreus's survivors.
Even if, that was not his original wish.
...
Now... as the Express crew stood within the Vortex of Genesis, having reached the end of this cycle.
The scene ahead began to blur, as if veiled by a translucent curtain. Beyond that curtain lay the entrance to the next recurrence, the starting point of another sorrowful tale.
However, Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae, who had guided them all this way, stopped before stepping into that haze.
He stood there quietly, his white-clad figure seeming unreal in the gradually distorting light, as if he might melt into the background at any moment.
"Hmm? Phaethon, why aren't you walking?" Stelle immediately asked, her tone carrying undisguised concern.
After all this time together, witnessing his warmth, his sorrow, his silent perseverance, she had long come to see the youth before her as a trusted companion, having grown quite familiar with him compared to before this cycle began.
Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae turned to face her, to face all the eyes upon him.
"I'm afraid... I can only accompany you this far," he said softly, his voice like dandelion seeds scattering in the wind. "The memories that follow... do not belong to me."
"Don't belong to you?" Stelle was stunned. This answer surprised her and brought the unease that had been lurking in her heart to the surface again.
She gazed into Phaethon's clear eyes, which yet seemed to hold countless untold stories. Once more, for the last time, she asked the question that had lingered in her mind for so long:
"Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae, what exactly is your relationship with that guy outside... the one called 'Asterion'?"
Hearing this question, Phaethon did not answer immediately. He simply raised his head, his gaze seeming to pierce through this memory space, seeing that "himself" with cold, weary eyes.
"I told you," he withdrew his gaze, looking back at Stelle, his tone still calm yet carrying an unshakable certainty, "I am not Asterion."
He paused, leaned forward slightly, meeting Stelle's gaze directly, and continued with utmost seriousness:
"But remember this—"
"Asterion is me."
This statement was like a paradox, a seemingly contradictory truth that struck at the very core.
Phaethon continued to explain: "I am not that cold Deliverer, but that Asterion walking the path of 'saving the world/Deliverance'—he is, truly and undoubtedly, me."
"I am Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae. Asterion's past. The original Deliverer, known by the name 'Phaethon.'"
"The original Deliverer? What do you mean?" Stelle asked, confused.
"Forgive me, but you will understand later." Having said this, Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae—the original "Deliverer" within Asterion's memories—offered the Express crew a smile tinged with apology.
Then, his figure began to blur and fade, like moonlight dissolving into water, until he completely dispersed before their eyes, as if he had never existed.
"Wait! You—at least tell us how to get to the next recurrence's memories! You're just leaving us here like this?"
Stelle stared at the spot where Phaethon had just vanished, her voice carrying obvious helplessness and a hint of barely perceptible panic.
After all, the pure white entrance before them was completely different from the clear, coherent, immersive memories they had experienced. All they saw was a vast, boundless expanse of white, with no direction or path in sight.
Just as the group stood there, at a loss before this blank space in the memories—
"Well, well, my dears," a voice tinged with playful laziness rang out behind them, as gracefully as moonlight piercing through mist, "aren't you all a bit too slow in reaching this first memory breakpoint?"
They turned to see Evernight had appeared silently at some point, still holding her signature black umbrella, a hint of "waited long enough" impatience flickering in her dark red pupils. She strolled over gracefully, her gaze sweeping across the somewhat bewildered Express crew.
"It's merely a fragment of the past, a recording that won't respond to you at all," she tilted her head slightly, a note of puzzlement in her voice, as if wondering why they had dawdled so long.
"Like watching a play you can't interact with—you just quietly observe. Don't tell me... you were expecting a phantom from the memories to come right up and strike up a conversation with you?"
Her words were casual, as if stating an obvious truth.
Yet it was this very "obviousness" that made Stelle's pupils contract sharply, while Welt and Dan Heng exchanged a grave glance.
*Evernight... she seems completely unaware that the memory projection named "Phaethon of Aedes Elysiae" had indeed interacted with them multiple times!*
*And she knows nothing about the existence of an "anomalous" body within these memories—one with its own consciousness.*