The day continued without pause, dragging Victor along with it like a tide he no longer bothered resisting.
Somewhere between the fading scent of garlic from the cooking club and the slow lull of the breeze that had begun settling over St. Freya's afternoon air, he found himself checking off more boxes than he remembered signing up for.
First stop: the field behind the gymnasium.
The sun hung lazy overhead, throwing long shadows across the grass where Bronya and Etoile sparred beneath the sharp rhythm of strikes and rebukes. Bronya's expression remained placid, focused. Etoile, on the other hand, was already scowling before Victor even stepped into view.
Victor held up two neatly packed bento boxes.
"Lunch."
Bronya blinked once, stepped forward, and accepted hers with a small nod of thanks. She opened it with clinical precision, analyzing the contents like a tactical schematic before giving the faintest of smiles.
Etoile just stared.
"...Why would I eat your cooking?" he muttered, arms crossed. "You probably ruined the rice on purpose."
Victor didn't even pause.
"Be a good kid and eat with your girlfriend, alright?"
"She's not—!"
But Victor was already walking away, hands in his coat pockets, letting Etoile sputter behind him like a broken teakettle while Bronya calmly picked up her chopsticks.
___________________________________
Next stop: Mobius's lab.
The door barely clicked open before he was pulled inside by gloved hands and kissed with the kind of fervor that made the ceiling cams short out. Interns across the room dropped tablets and knocked over beakers, frozen mid-note.
When Mobius finally pulled back, lips curved with self-satisfaction, she patted Victor's cheek.
"There. Daily vitamin delivery complete," she said sweetly.
Victor blinked. "You put something in that kiss."
"Of course I did."
"What did you put in that kiss."
"You'll find out in exactly—"
Victor suddenly convulsed with a full-body shudder, the kind that made even his coat ripple.
"—fifteen seconds," Mobius finished with a giggle.
And thus began the half-hour ordeal of Victor experiencing all seven side effects in random order: rapid blinking, temporary neon pupils, an uncontrollable craving for lemon juice, a two-minute lapse where he could only speak German, one loud hiccup that blew out an overhead light, and a brief episode of weightlessness where he floated three inches off the floor.
"Mobius—!"
"Shhh," she cooed, scribbling notes while giggling like she hadn't just chemically enhanced her lover via mouth. "It's good for your circulation. Builds character. And besides, you looked cute spinning mid-air."
Victor, now upside-down against the ceiling, sighed.
"…I hate this place."
One intern tried to hand him a chair to sit on. The other offered holy water.
Mobius just waved, humming contently as he floated out the lab door like an elegant, brooding balloon.
___________________________________
Victor lay flat on the grass, arms spread like someone who had finally lost a fight with gravity.
"…And that's what happened," he muttered.
Beside him, Yuzuki knelt in the soil, carefully pressing a blooming iris into place. His sleeves were rolled up, dirt smudged along his gloves and forearms, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"So you got kissed, poisoned, floated out of a lab, and then had a breakdown in the library… all before the bell?"
Yuzuki mused, his voice warm with quiet amusement. "Guess you really did go around the entire school."
Victor just grunted.
Yuzuki chuckled under his breath and patted the earth gently, brushing dirt from the petals like it was second nature.
On Victor's other side, Elysia lay comfortably with her head near his shoulder, humming to herself as she lazily traced hearts onto his shirt with one pink-painted finger.
Victor turned his head slightly, eyes squinting at the sky before settling on Yuzuki.
"…You know," he said slowly, "for some reason, that trowel suits you more than a sword."
Yuzuki paused.
Then grinned. "Yeah? Maybe. Helping people suits me more than fighting anyway."
They both laughed.
Soft. Honest. But fleeting.
Because even in that laugh, there was something else. Something that sat between their words—mutual understanding.
Wishes.
Wishes neither of them truly believed in.
Victor exhaled again, closing his eyes.
"…I don't know why," he said, voice lower, "but I want to say sorry to you."
Yuzuki stopped.
His hands stilled above the flower bed. The breeze shifted slightly, brushing strands of hair across his cheek as he looked toward Victor.
Elysia's hand paused mid-heart.
She smiled.
Not brightly.
Soft. Sad. Like she already knew what would come next.
Yuzuki blinked once.
Then nodded.
"…That makes me happy," he admitted. "But also… guilty. Like you shouldn't need to say it."
Victor's fingers curled slightly in the grass. "Maybe. But I feel it anyway."
Another silence fell. But this one wasn't heavy. Just still.
He went on, quieter this time.
"…I don't remember anything. Before St. Freya. Before any of this. Everyone talks like they know me, like I'm supposed to be someone—but I can't feel it. It's like I'm walking through echoes I can't touch."
Yuzuki nodded again, returning to his flowers—but slower now.
"I feel the same," he said. "Except… for me, it's less about anger. It's more regret. Like I should remember. Like I lost something."
He scooped another handful of soil, voice thoughtful.
"It's weird, right? Everyone else talks about the past like it's this giant story we're a part of. But for me… it's just blank pages."
Victor's jaw clenched. "And every time I try to move forward, someone tells me how I used to walk."
They both laughed again.
But it wasn't a happy sound.
Just familiar.
Elysia smiled softly between them, and this time she didn't trace another heart. She just listened—like she always did.
"Still," Yuzuki added, looking over, "it helps. Talking. To you."
Victor nodded once, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"Same."
They didn't need to say more.
They sat there in silence for a while longer—Victor flat on the ground, Yuzuki patting down soil, Elysia now humming a quiet melody only she could hear. A strange peace had settled over the three of them. Something gentle. Fragile.
Victor's fingers twitched once beside him, curling faintly in the grass.
"Yuzuki…" he said slowly, eyes half-lidded beneath the canopy of green above. "Do you think we ever wanted to be the people they say we were?"
Yuzuki didn't answer at first. He let the wind speak for him, brushing through the flowers he'd just planted, stirring the petals with ghostlike hands.
"…I think we had no choice," he finally said. "But I think—if we're asking that now—maybe we do."
Victor hummed at that.
Quiet agreement.
Unspoken ache.
A moment passed.
Then—
"…. Who were you working for?" Victor asked, tone low and curious. Not desperate. Not hopeful. Just… tired.
Yuzuki looked over, his brow slightly furrowed, about to speak—
"Senior."
A voice cut clean through the courtyard.
Both men turned.
Fu Hua stood a few paces behind them, hands behind her back, posture like a blade sheathed in calm. Her expression, as always, was unreadable—but her eyes were focused on Victor with something close to... familiarity.
"...'Senior'?" Yuzuki repeated, blinking.
Victor sat up slowly, brushing a leaf off his shoulder. "...Excuse me?"
Fu Hua nodded once. "That is what you were once called, in the old records."
She took a step forward.
"Mr. Yang would like to speak with you."