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Chapter 11 - Ch-10 Going home(2)

Henry sat on the cold library floor, his head buried between his knees as flashes of memory stabbed through his mind — a black-haired girl, and another with soft, mixed blonde and brown hair. His whole body ached, and it felt like his soul was being torn into pieces.

He could hear them — their voices overlapping — talking about the same things as always: space, anime, dreams. He couldn't hear his own name, but a strange, aching longing bloomed in his chest. Their faces were blurred, unreachable, but he wanted so badly to embrace them.

Somewhere inside him, his voice — older, tender — called out to them: "Ru." And then: "Lan."

It hurt most when their solitude matched his own, when their voices echoed together in that haunting harmony.

The pain sharpened, unbearable now, and his body instinctively teleported — landing him in Xaio's room.

In a faint, cracked whisper, he managed, "Xaio..."

Warm blood trickled from his nose as his vision blurred, and before he could hit the floor, Xaio — who had been sketching — sprang forward and caught him in his arms.

Henry drifted into a void.

A soft, melodious woman's voice reached him, pulling him upward.

When his eyes focused again, he saw an older version of Lan smiling down at him, gently ruffling his hair as he leaned against her shoulder.

"Wakey wakey, Henry," she murmured, her voice warm and full of love. "We have a meeting today. Do you really want to be late?"

She was wearing an oversized black hoodie, her touch light and reassuring. He could feel — clearly — that he wasn't in control of his body. He simply leaned into her, unable to stop himself, and with a low hum, he murmured back, "Morning, love. Did you sleep well?"

His voice startled him — it was older now, rougher, deeper than he remembered.

When he glanced down at their hands, he froze. They were intertwined, both wearing rings.

Heat rushed to his face as the realization hit him.

And then he woke with a gasp, back in Xiao's room.

Xiao was crouched beside him, still holding his shoulder.

Henry swallowed hard and asked, "Xiao is it possible to... see the future? Because I... I saw that I was married to Lan. But it doesn't make sense. It feels like I've already experienced it — like I've been with her since I was sixteen. That's... weird, right?"

Xiao leaned back, crossing his arms, and gave him a knowing look.

"Looks like someone's been messing with the timeline," he said evenly. "Those memories you're getting? They can belong to a forgotten thread — a version of events that doesn't exist anymore. We'll look into it later."

He stood and offered Henry a hand.

"But first," Xiao continued, "we need to hide a princess. Maya already set up a fake identity for her. Come on — let's see what we can handle for now."

Henry followed Xiao into the tech room, the faint hum of machines filling the air.

But the moment they stepped inside, Henry froze.

She was standing there — Ru — her back to him, bathed in the blue glow of holograms and screens.

Maya glanced at Henry, then gave a subtle gesture toward the girl.

She turned.

And his heart stopped.

Her voice was the same — soft, familiar, carrying that playful edge.

"Henry," she said, smiling faintly, "this is amazing. I've completely hidden my identity. I couldn't think of a better name, so..." She raised her chin proudly. "I went with Kita Toru."

For a split second, he almost believed it — that Ru stood there before him.

But then the illusion shimmered, fading away — and Lauran stood in her place.

And that was when he really saw her — her real hair falling loose around her shoulders, that unmistakable shade of mixed blonde and brown.

His breath caught in his throat.

Henry stood frozen, staring at her — at both of them.

For a fleeting second, it was Ru standing there, her quiet loneliness echoing his own. But as the illusion dissolved, he saw Lauran beneath it — and somehow, the same solitude lingered in her eyes too.

It unsettled him.

Two solitudes, layered over each other. Familiar. Foreign. Painful.

He took a slow breath, forcing his expression back into calm, hiding the churn of questions inside him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low but steady.

"Why did you come here?"

His gaze stayed on her — searching, guarded — as though the answer might unravel everything he thought he knew.

Meanwhile, back at the academy—

Arron stood outside the director's office, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. The weight of the summons pressed heavy on his shoulders, and the faint murmur of voices beyond the door made his chest tighten.

With a quiet breath, he pushed the door open.

The room smelled faintly of tea and old paper, the air warm but heavy.

And there—by the tall window, bathed in pale afternoon light—stood the teacher who had helped him find his classroom on his first day.

He hadn't noticed before just how still the man was, how his golden eyes caught the light like glass.

The teacher lifted his cup, took a slow sip of tea, and turned his head just enough to meet Arron's gaze.

That faint, knowing smile curved his lips.

A chill ran down Arron's spine.

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