The distance between my table and his was just a few steps, but to me, it felt like thousands of light-years. Each step I took weighed heavily on me, as if gravity in this corner of the café had suddenly multiplied. The scent of his black coffee mingled with the rain-cling scent of his coat—a smell that opened locked doors in my mind to memories that hadn't happened yet in this timeline.
I stopped beside his table. He was staring outside, at raindrops drawing random paths on the glass, lost in a haunting reverie, like he was searching for something lost in the gray sky.
"Sorry to interrupt..." I began, my voice shaking more than I wanted, "but... is this seat taken?"
He turned to me slowly. The movement of his head carried an ancient dignity, like people used to bow to him in another life. When our eyes met close-up, I felt an electric shock that froze the blood in my veins. It wasn't just a look—it was an abyss of mystery. His dark eyes reflected the café's dim light, but behind that spark, there was a savage emptiness, a total denial of everything we'd lived in "the gray void".
"Please, sit," he replied in a smooth, ice-cold tone. He didn't smile, didn't show any discomfort. Just a stranger allowing another stranger to sit.
I sat across from him, placing my notebook on the wooden table. My hands were trembling, so I clenched them on my lap so he wouldn't notice. A heavy silence hung between us, loaded with thousands of questions screaming in my mind. Does he feel something? Does his heart tell him I was there when his body crumbled? Does he know how many times I cried for him before I saw him?
But he kept sipping his coffee calmly, like I didn't exist. This indifference hurt more than any farewell. To him, I'm just background noise in his ordinary day.
[Turning point: touch and spark]
I decided to take a risk. I deliberately moved my notebook so it slid toward his coffee cup, and my fingertips "accidentally" touched the back of his hand as I tried to retrieve it.
In that moment, the world around me collapsed.
It wasn't just a touch—it was a time explosion. The moment our skin touched, my soul was violently pulled from my body. I wasn't in the café anymore, I didn't hear the rain.
I saw a thick forest in midnight. Trees were twisting like living, suffering creatures. I was wearing a tattered dress, and Kian... Kian wasn't wearing a black coat, he wore blood-stained leather armor. He was holding my hand, running with me through the thickets, his ragged breath burning my ear. "Don't look back, Elara! No matter what you hear, don't look back!" he shouted bitterly, pushing me toward a dark cave. The mole below his eye pulsed red, like a fiery seal.
"Miss? Are you okay?"
I snapped back to reality with a stifled gasp, like I'd been drowning and just surfaced. Kian was gripping my wrist tightly, his eyes no longer cold. There was suppressed terror in them, and deadly confusion. His hand was unnaturally warm, like the heat I'd felt in the forest had transferred with him here.
"You... your face is as pale as death," he said in a low voice, not letting go of my wrist.
I looked at his hand on me, then raised my eyes to his. "I saw the forest..." I whispered unconsciously, "I saw you trying to save me from the shadows."
His features froze. His pupils widened, and I felt his grip tighten on my wrist for a second before he let go like I'd become burning coal. He leaned back into his chair, looking at me with a mix of fear and suspicion.
"Who are you?" he asked with a knife-sharp voice. "And how do you know about the forest?"
My heart almost stopped. "Did... did you see it too?"
A funereal silence fell between us. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold. He put a hand to his head like trying to ward off a sudden headache. "I... I've been dreaming about that forest every night for weeks. I see a faceless woman, I hear her screams... but I've never seen your face before. How can a stranger in a café know what's in my worst nightmares?"
I smiled bitterly, feeling a lone tear trace my cheek. "I'm not a stranger, Kian. I'm the one who promised you'd chase me across seven worlds. And you... you're not just a man ordering black coffee. You're a broken soul, and I'm here to piece you back together, even if it costs me my heart."
I opened my notebook to the page where I'd drawn him as a warrior. He stared at the sketch, and I saw his hands shake.
"This... this is me. But I've never worn this armor. What is this madness?"
"It's not madness," I said, leaning closer, whispering words that sounded like an ancient incantation: "It's fate you tried to escape. The mole below your eye isn't just a beauty mark—it's my compass to you. And now that we've met in this world, the hourglass has started spinning. We have little time before 'the shadows' realize we've found each other."
He looked around in panic, like my words had awakened monsters sleeping in the café corners. "Shadows? What are you talking about?"
Before I could answer, the café lights went out. Pitch darkness fell, and the rain outside went silent like time had stopped. And in that darkness, the mole below Kian's eye began glowing with a faint golden light, just like in my last dream.