By the time they returned to the hotel, it was close to midnight.
Otto went to the front desk, exchanged a few quiet words with the staff, then returned to Cecilia's side.
"Come to my room first," he said. "I have something for you."
Cecilia naturally had no objections and followed him upstairs.
"Turn off the lights," Otto said after she had changed into her slippers.
"Turn off the lights? But it's already dark outside," she tilted her head, confusion written all over her face.
"Just turn them off for a moment," he insisted. "It's called atmosphere."
"??? …Okay."
Cecilia obediently switched off the lights and was guided by Otto to sit at the table.
"Wait here. Just a few seconds."
Her confusion deepened, but she listened to his footsteps and sat perfectly still.
Dong. Dong. Dong—
The city clock tower began to chime.
With nothing else to do, Cecilia counted silently.
One… two… three…
Twelve in total.
When the final chime faded, a faint silhouette sat down across from her. The footsteps stopped.
By the faint glow of the decorative lights outside the window, she saw Otto raise his hand, thumb and middle finger poised.
Snap.
A soft light bloomed on the table.
Candlelight flickered, illuminating Otto's face in warm pulses.
A delicate, beautifully crafted cake sat before her.
"Cecilia, happy birthday."
December 25th.
Cecilia Schariac's birthday.
He had once stumbled across that information in a forum in his previous life.
It came in handy now.
As for lighting candles with a snap?
Don't ask. Honkai makes the impossible possible.
( Void Archives: So you're using me to flirt now? )
"Go on," Otto said gently. "Close your eyes and make a wish. No need to say it aloud. When you're done, open your eyes and blow out all the candles in one breath. You can manage that, right?"
"Mm."
Cecilia's gaze never left the cake.
The large lettering—Cecilia Schariac—seemed to sink straight into her heart.
It was hard to describe what she felt.
Something melted inside her, like a rushing river flowing into a tranquil sea.
Warm. Gentle.
Like soaking tense skin into heated water after a long strain.
Comforting beyond words.
"This is your first birthday after returning," Otto continued softly. "And your first birthday in the twenty-first century. A day this special—your wish is bound to come true."
"Okay."
She clasped her hands devoutly and closed her eyes, murmuring quietly.
What was she wishing for?
What did she long for?
Perhaps even she did not fully know.
But even with her eyes closed, she could still see Otto's figure in her mind, swaying like candlelight in a bright, gentle era.
"Looks like you're done."
When she opened her eyes, Otto had stepped toward the door.
"Then… blow them out."
Cecilia inhaled and extinguished the candles in one breath.
Otto immediately turned the lights back on. The room brightened; thin trails of smoke curled upward from the wicks.
"After blowing out candles, one usually… ah, forget it. Let's just eat the cake."
He hesitated briefly—abandoning the idea of singing properly—then returned to the table, placing a plastic knife into her hand and removing the candles.
Guided by fragmented memories and Otto's quiet instructions, Cecilia awkwardly cut the cake.
She offered the first slice to him.
"For you, Brother."
"Thank you."
Otto raised an eyebrow.
The slice was heavy with cream—the lettering "Cecilia" almost entirely atop it.
He grinned faintly and, without hesitation, scooped the letters into his mouth with his fork.
Smooth.
Cecilia cut herself a piece and stared at the remaining word—
Schariac.
She seemed to grasp something—
—and yet grasp nothing at all.
Schariac.
Her surname.
I am Schariac.
For a moment, she hesitated to eat it. Confusion flickered across her eyes.
Then confusion turned into resolve.
She carefully lifted the portion bearing her surname and ate it slowly, solemnly—like someone making a vow.
The four-inch cake was finished quickly.
Otto had her step away while he wheeled the dessert cart back into the hallway, cleaning up the remnants before returning.
When he reentered, Cecilia sat cross-legged on his bed, gazing quietly out the window.
Otto joined her.
She shifted slightly closer, then leaned against his shoulder.
"More comfortable this way?"
She nodded.
He adjusted positions, sitting behind her and pressing lightly at her shoulders.
Cecilia followed the motion and reclined back—into his arms.
She didn't speak.
She simply closed her eyes and listened to his breathing.
"Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you…"
His voice began awkwardly, almost shy.
But gradually it steadied, deep and resonant, tinged with age and mystery—like the sound of a vast blue ocean at night.
Yet he sang only those simple lines again and again.
Monotonous.
As if something were missing.
Cecilia did not ask.
She sank into that ocean of sound, imagining air moving through warm, slightly humid chambers, rising and falling like moonlight over the sea.
She wanted to fall asleep just like this.
In his arms.
Without thinking. Without doing anything.
And yet—
The name Schariac lingered stubbornly in her heart.
It rustled quietly in some hidden corner, like a morning alarm that refused to be silenced.
Schariac… I am Schariac…
So noisy.
But deep down, she knew—
She would face it one day.
When the singing stopped, she nuzzled lightly against his chest like a spoiled child, smiling sweetly—yet with a trace of relief.
Thank you, Brother.
She said it silently.
They remained in the darkness for a long time.
Then suddenly, Cecilia spoke.
"I was very tired in the past, wasn't I, Brother?"
Otto gently stroked her hair.
"Yes, Cecilia."
"Then… does that mean… you don't actually want me to regain my memories?"
His hand paused for only a moment.
He had never been in the habit of underestimating others.
"Yes," he admitted frankly. "I really don't."
"If it was only tiring," Cecilia opened her sea-green eyes, "I think I could accept it."
Otto chuckled softly.
"I once read an interesting book. It said that many things are like a besieged city—those outside want in; those inside want out. Love is like that. Games are like that."
"And you, right now… are like that too."
She tilted her head, not fully understanding.
"A long time ago, you lay in my arms like this," he leaned down, whispering near her ear.
"And you asked me a question."
"You asked…"
"…whether your life existed solely to become a Valkyrie."
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