The glass façade of "Helion Prestige Motors" towered before us like a monunt to indulgence. It was the luxury dealership in the city, rumored to cater to CEOs, foreign dignitaries, and—on rare occasions—S-Rank Vassals.
As the automatic doors slid open, Noel couldn’t contain his grin. "This place slls like money. I think I just got a nosebleed."
Inside, a fleet of hypercars lined the floor like a chanical art gallery. Sleek silhouettes. Polished bodies that reflected the neon trim lights. And sitting on a revolving display platform—like it ruled the floor—was a Lamborghini Huracán STO, matte crimson with obsidian accents.
Noel exhaled low. "That’s the one."
Even I had to admit, it looked like a beast reborn.
A sharply dressed dealer approached us, clearly sizing us up before putting on a polished smile. "Good morning, gentlen. Welco to Helion Prestige. I’m Elias, your personal liaison today. Looking for sothing... aggressive?"
I stepped forward, eyes never leaving the Huracán.
"That one," I said. "What’s the fastest way to own it?"
Elias blinked, caught off-guard. "Sir, the Huracán STO is a bespoke model—carbon fiber body, V10 naturally aspirated, precision-trimd Alcantara interior. She’s made for the track, not just the streets."
"I’m not planning to drive slow," I replied.
Noel nudged . "Ask if they got Rift mods."
Elias laughed lightly. "Actually... this one does co with a Rift-Enhanced Package. Reinforced plating woven beneath the panels, mana-reactive shielding for burst resistance, and a cloaking augntation that activates at 30 km/h."
Perfect.
"Sold," I said.
Elias blinked again. "Sir, that vehicle costs—"
"I didn’t ask," I said calmly, flipping open the Rift Market trade interface from my wristband and flashing the newly converted credit sum. 500 million pesos. All clean. All from the Rift.
Noel cackled beside . "Bro. We’re gonna look like we robbed a guild vault."
Within minutes, the paperwork was done—or rather, bypassed by priority transfer clearance from the Rift Guild Registry. The car would be ours by nightfall, already tuned and prepped.
Noel circled the Lambo with reverent awe. "We are going to turn heads like it’s nobody’s business."
I approached the vehicle, running my hand over its sleek curve. Red and black. Feral and silent. Deadly.
Much like myself.
"Let’s give them sothing to talk about," I murmured.
-
After getting the car, we drove straight into the heart of the city, diving into one high-end store after another. We didn’t hold back—clothes, appliances, furniture, whatever caught our eye and fit the new apartnt’s vibe, we bought it.
A couple of hours later, with bags loaded into the Huracán’s trunk and more scheduled for delivery, we finally took a breather.
We pulled up to a quiet corner pizza shop near the bay. The scent of baked dough and lted cheese hit us the mont we stepped in. It was warm, familiar—comforting in a way the Rift never was.
We grabbed a booth by the window, ordered a large at lover’s pizza and two cold drinks, then just... sat.
For a while, neither of us said anything.
Just two people, fresh out of a warzone, sitting with greasy fingers and the city lights glowing behind glass.
Noel finally leaned back and sighed. "You know... this might be the first ti in weeks I’ve felt normal."
I looked out at the night and took a slow sip of my drink."Enjoy it," I said. "We earned it."
As I took another bite of the pizza, savoring the rare mont of peace, my eyes drifted toward the entrance of the shop.
And then I froze.
The world didn’t slow down—but I did. The noise of the city outside, the clatter of dishes inside the shop, even Noel’s chatter—everything faded into the background.
There she was.
Katherine.
My heart stopped for a second, and the slice of pizza in my hand drooped, forgotten. Her hair was just as I rembered—long, slightly curled at the tips, a soft chestnut brown that shimred under the store lights. Her steps were careful, yet poised. She looked... exactly the sa.
No—she was the sa. Down to the slight upward curl of her lips when she talked to the cashier.
The strongest healer of the previous tiline.
The only light that never turned away from .
And the one person I never thought I’d see again... because we t years later, in Arica. Far from Davao. Far from this ti. Far from the I am now.
But she was here. In the sa city. In the sa tiline I’d clawed back from.
And she hadn’t seen yet nor know yet.
I felt the blood drain from my face, my body locked in place. "Yo, Blank—you good?" Noel asked, snapping his fingers in front of my eyes.
I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. My eyes were still locked on her as she laughed lightly, picked up a takeout order, and turned to leave.
"Katherine...?" I barely breathed the word.
It wasn’t even ant to reach her. The noise of the crowd, the music playing overhead, the clatter of cutlery—there was no way anyone should have heard it.
But she stopped.
Right at the door—her hand just brushing against the glass handle—she froze, like sothing unseen had reached out and tugged her attention.
She slowly turned her head. Her eyes scanned the shop.
Noel noticed it too. "Yo, is she—wait. You know her?"
But I couldn’t answer. Katherine’s gaze kept moving. Focused. Intent.
Then it landed on .
The Past
Sharp, erald-green eyes narrowed. Recognition didn’t flash imdiately—but confusion did. She stared at the mask on my face. Tilted her head slightly.
Her Astral Patron. I rembered it well—Eira, the Whispering Bloom. A Patron that amplified awareness in exchange for vulnerability. A perfect match for a healer. Heightened senses of hearing and sll to detect poison, distress, or deceit. That’s why she heard it. My voice, nearly drowned out in the noise.
The pizza between my fingers went cold.
Katherine stepped away from the door. One slow step. Then another. Her brows furrowed as she approached the table, her takeout bag forgotten at her side.
"...Did you say my na just now?" she asked, cautious, but not hostile. She was scanning —asuring. The sa way she used to read wounded people on the battlefield.
My throat was dry. I forced myself to respond. "I did. It slipped out."
There was a pause. A long one.
"Do I know you?" she asked, voice quiet—but her gaze didn’t waver. "Or rather... should I?"
Noel tensed beside , glancing between us like he’d just walked into sothing far more complicated than he expected.
I didn’t answer her question.
Because how do you tell soone that you rember a lifeti where she died in your arms?
’Impossible’
I exhaled slowly, forcing the weight in my chest down. My fingers curled slightly around the cup of soda on the table.
"I just thought..." I said, eyes locked on hers, "...your face looked like soone I used to know."
Katherine blinked, the sharpness in her gaze softening. She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to read past my words—through the mask, the voice, the barrier I’d built between who I was and who I used to be.
A mont passed.
"I see," she said, a faint smile forming. "People say I have one of those faces."
She didn’t fully believe . I could tell. But she also didn’t push.
Instead, her eyes drifted over to Noel, who gave a half-hearted wave while chewing on the last slice of pizza. Then back to .
"Well... I should get going. My team’s waiting."
I nodded once. "Take care out there."
She paused—just for a mont—as if she wanted to say sothing more. But she didn’t. She simply gave a small nod, turned around, and exited the shop.
I watched her until the door closed behind her. Until the sound of the street swallowed her silhouette.
Noel glanced at . "Friend? Or... sothing heavier?"
I stared down at the untouched slice of pizza on my plate.
"Soone important," I said quietly. "From a ti that doesn’t exist anymore."
Noel leaned forward, elbows on the table, squinting at like he was trying to piece together a puzzle only I could solve.
"Wait..." he began, lowering his voice. "Could it be... your girlfriend before?"
I didn’t answer at first. I just stared blankly at the street outside the pizza shop—at the people walking by, laughing, chatting, completely unaware that ti once fractured and bled across endless deaths.
Noel tilted his head. "Dude."
I sighed, then looked him straight in the eye.
"She was my fiancée," I said, voice low but clear. "In the last tiline."
Noel froze, his mouth halfway open, suddenly unsure whether to say anything at all.
"She died with ," I continued. "On the final floor of the Rift."
My hand tightened around the edge of the table. "But not before sacrificing herself to buy ti. She used everything she had—every spell, every drop of mana—just to keep alive a few seconds longer."
A long pause settled between us.
Noel leaned back slowly, his usual energy tempered by the weight of my words. "Shit," he muttered. "I didn’t know it was... like that."
"She was the strongest healer I ever knew," I said. "Stronger than any combatant, not because of power, but because of who she chose to save. Even at the end."
Noel didn’t speak for a while.
"Does she... rember anything?"
I shook my head. "No. This version of her probably hasn’t even entered the upper floors of the Rift yet. She hasn’t lived through it."
"Then are you gonna—?"
"No," I cut in, firm. "Not yet."
Noel nodded slowly, understanding. Respecting it.
We sat in silence for a mont longer. Two survivors of a world no one rembered, trying to catch their breath in the ruins of ti.
Then Noel let out a long breath, trying to lift the tension. "Well, damn. And here I thought I was the dramatic one."
I couldn’t help but smirk.
-
Unseen from the pizza shop’s interior, across the street and partially tucked behind the awning of a tea stand, Katherine stood frozen in place.
Her team had already begun walking ahead, chatting casually, unaware she had stopped.
But she wasn’t listening to them.
She had heard him. Every word.
Her eyes were fixed on the shop’s glass window—on the masked figure who had called her na, then tried to pass it off as a mistake. On the one who had just uttered the words:
"She was my fiancée... in the last tiline."
Katherine’s brows furrowed, her heart skipping a beat. "Last tiline...?"
The phrase felt so ridiculous it shouldn’t have made sense—but it did. Sowhere deep in her chest, it resonated.
Sothing in his voice. Sothing in the way he said her na. The weight in those eyes—eyes she could barely see but felt.
And more than anything else, the ache in her chest that shouldn’t have been there.
"Kat!" one of her teammates called from ahead. "You good?"
She blinked, then turned her head.
"Y-Yeah," she called back quickly, forcing a smile. "Coming."
But as she finally tore her eyes away from the window and walked after them, her thoughts refused to settle.
"Fiancée...? Past life?"
The words rang again, stuck like splinters under her skin.
She didn’t believe in fate. Not until today.
And as she followed her team away from the shop and disappeared into the crowd, one final thought gnawed at her—
"Who was that masked man?"
’And why did hearing his voice feel like rembering sothing I’ve never lived?’
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