The Dragonkin vanished at dawn. I woke up because my roommate, shining like a freshly polished shield, tripped over my sofa while trying to sneak out for his date with Alexia.

  Then Alastia materialized. Her suggestion to "take a walk through the city" sounded far too casual to be true. I sighed, pulled on my jacket, and followed. I knew exactly where this was headed, and it only made me feel more miserable.

  We walked for a long time. Through the entire protective forest, past suspiciously quiet trees, until we reached the city blocks. And there… it was a sanctuary of madness. Thousands of couples had occupied every single bench. The air was thick with the scent of pheromones and cheap flowers; I seriously considered conjuring a gas mask.

  We ducked into a small cafe and ordered tea. Alastia stared into her cup for a long time before looking up at me. There were no more sparks in her eyes—only a hope so fragile it made me uneasy.

  — "You know, Greg..." she began softly. "My feelings for you have changed. I can't pretend we're just friends anymore. I... I love you."

  She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  — "Will you be my boyfriend? Like... officially?"

  I looked at her. That familiar void stirred in my chest, but this time it was bitter. I gave her a soft smile—the saddest of all my smiles.

  — "No."

  Alastia froze.

  — "Nothing good will come of being with me," I continued, staring out the window. "I’m a bad person, Alastia. Broken. A fake. You’re better off finding someone else. Someone who won't disappear in a few years."

  — "I see..." she whispered, and I heard her voice crack. "You really just dropped me in the friendzone, Greg. Cold."

  CRACK.

  The cup in her hand couldn't take it—a web of fractures raced across the porcelain. I was bracing for a mana surge when suddenly, a bright, mocking laugh rang out from the next table.

  — "Oh, Zenhald... You’re still the same incorrigible heartbreaker. Time passes, cycles change, and you’re still shattering the hearts of poor little girls. No progress at all!"

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin, almost flipping the table. That voice... that tone...

  I spun around.

  Leaning back casually in her chair was a girl, but her eyes danced with shadows that were clearly over a thousand years old. She was looking at me with a wide, knowing grin.

  — "MIRA?!" I shouted, feeling my blood run cold.

  — "Yes, little brother," she winked, stirring her drink with a spoon. "I see you haven't changed a bit. Still the same cold, mysterious 'man from the fairy tales'."

  She leaned forward, her gaze turning frighteningly sharp.

  — "Though, it looks like you’re starting to break again."

  I sat there, gripping the edge of the table, not knowing whether to run or cry. My past hadn't just knocked on the door—it had reserved a table in the same cafe.

  I didn't think. My body moved on its own, driven by an instinct older than any of my recorded memories. I lunged forward and threw my arms around Mira, clutching her as if she were the only solid object in a blurring world.

  — "You... you..." my voice trembled, breaking into a rasp. "You’ve been gone so long. Where were you? Why now?"

  Mira didn't push me away. She pressed my head to her shoulder, and I felt the familiar hum of her aura—it was lulling me.

  — "Don't worry, Zenhald," she whispered directly into my ear. Her voice sounded like the rustle of pages in an ancient book. "I’m here. I’ve always been here; you just forgot how to look in the right direction."

  It felt like a supernova exploded in my skull. Hundreds of images, scents, and screams flashed before my eyes, too fast to grasp.

  — "Mira..." I squeezed her coat, feeling the reality of the cafe begin to melt. "I'm losing control. Again. Why can't I remember? Why does everything I care about turn into grey fog?! WHY?!"

  I wanted to scream, to vent the unbearable weight accumulated over millennia, but...

  CLICK.

  The world simply went dark. It wasn't like falling asleep. It was as if someone had simply pulled the plug. No sound, no pain, no "me."

  Absolute, silent emptiness.

  I sat there, paralyzed, holding the cracked cup.

  A minute ago, Greg had broken my heart, coldly and casually. And now he was standing there, face buried in the shoulder of some stranger, shaking as if he’d been struck by lightning.

  — "Greg?" I called out, but my voice was drowned in the cafe noise.

  He was whispering something incoherent to her about control and memory, and then...

  Greg just went limp. His hands slid off the girl’s shoulders, and he would have collapsed if this "Mira" hadn't caught him with unnatural ease.

  She looked at me over his lifeless body. There was no hostility in her gaze. Only an infinite, frightening exhaustion.

  — "Too many triggers for one day," she said quietly, smoothing the hair of the sleeping Greg. "His mind is fragile. And you children shake him far too much."

  I wanted to jump up, to use my Destruction, to demand answers—but her presence pressed down on me, paralyzing my mana.

  — "Who are you?" I managed to squeeze out.

  Mira only gave a cryptic smile and touched Greg’s forehead.

  — "I am the one who remembers the real him. And now... it's time for us to go. Other matters await him."

  POP.

  They vanished. Right before my eyes. In the cafe, all that remained were me, the cracked porcelain, and a broken heart.