Chapter 39 – I Will Live It However I Want
Time drifted slowly, like a lazy tide under moonlight, as Zane sat in silence, letting the warmth of Fiora's embrace soften the tight knot in his chest. His body had stopped trembling, but something in him still ached. He didn't know how long he'd cried—but for the first time in a long while, he hadn't done it alone.
When the tears finally dried, Fiora pulled away gently. Her eyes studied his face with care, but she didn't speak right away. She gave him space to breathe, to collect whatever fragments of himself were left after the storm.
Zane sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his arm. "I'm fine," he muttered, barely able to meet her gaze. His voice was hoarse and heavy with shame. 'Damn it. I cried like a kid. In front of someone. I've never done that before…'
He felt exposed—like all the armor he had spent years forging around his emotions had cracked under a single moment of kindness.
Fiora, however, didn't mock him. She didn't even smirk. Instead, she just leaned back and crossed her arms, her tone light but firm. "If you're worried I'm going to ask you why you cried, I'm not. I know when to stay out of things that aren't my business."
Zane nodded, grateful yet still a little guarded.
"But," she continued, tapping a finger on his shoulder, "I will say this—there's no shame in feeling pain. Sometimes, pain is the only thing that reminds us we're still human."
"..." Her words echoed inside him, deeper than he expected. Something about the way she said it—the calmness, the certainty—tugged at a place within Zane he had long stopped exploring.
Feel pain... That phrase twisted around in his thoughts, snagging against memories, regrets, and the questions he never dared ask himself. Hadn't he always felt pain? Hadn't his entire life been one long chain of it?
And yet... somehow, that didn't feel like the right answer.
"What do you—" he started to ask.
But Fiora cut him off gently, her eyes now distant. "Let your heart decide what it wants to feel. As Dimensional Knights, we won't always have the luxury of emotion. You'll be asked to kill without remorse, to survive without hesitation. So when you have the chance to feel... do. Those moments may become the only reminders that you're still alive."
Her voice was steady, but Zane didn't miss the sorrow hidden beneath it. There was pain in her words too—pain that had clearly been carried for years.
A silence settled between them, not awkward, but reflective. Then Fiora smiled weakly and leaned back in her chair. "Anyway, this was supposed to be a simple dinner. Let's not turn it into therapy hour."
Zane finally chuckled, a dry but genuine sound. "Yeah… guess I kinda ruined the mood."
"You did," she teased, flicking a crumb off the table. "But that's okay. I got to see a side of you that is quite rare."
"Hm..." Zane frowned, feeling very embarrassed.
"Anyway, let's eat now. I'm sure you're starving."
Zane returned to his plate and lifted the spoon again. He didn't say anything else, but as he took another bite, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curved the corners of his mouth.
'This isn't so bad.'
Dinner ended quietly, with no more heavy words exchanged. After cleaning up, Zane threw himself back into training like nothing had happened. Fiora didn't mention the tears again. She just guided him with the same calm energy, now focusing on integrating the two techniques—Flash Step and the sword slash—into a single fluid motion.
It was a major leap in difficulty, one that required precision, timing, and control. Zane failed more times than he succeeded. He stumbled, misfired, lost balance—but he kept going. Again and again.
Flash. Slash. Flash. Slash.
Over and over, until his legs shook from strain and his arms could barely lift the sword.
Finally, after what felt like hours of grinding, he collapsed backward onto the training mat, panting like he'd just sprinted across a desert.
Fiora clapped her hands. "That's enough for today. You've done good work."
"Pfft… do I look like I'm remotely tired to you?" Zane groaned between labored breaths.
"You look like you need ten more hours of training," she said with a sly grin.
"Yeah, well…" He sat up, shaking the sweat from his hair. "Too bad. I'm clocking out."
He staggered to his feet, brushing off what little remained of his tattered clothes.
"I'm heading home."
"Oh? Not staying over?"
Zane blinked. "Come again?"
"My bed's pretty big, you know? It could easily fit two people. What a bummer…"
"..."
A long pause. His face turned blank.
Then Fiora burst out laughing. "Pfft! Hahaha! That face! Oh my God—did you seriously think I was being serious?"
He stared at her, unamused.
"I'm going home," he said flatly.
"Aww, come on. My cute Zane got embarrassed." She reached out and gave him a playful pat on the shoulder. "Alright, alright. Go wash up before you go. You smell like you wrestled a gorilla."
Zane rolled his eyes, but he turned toward the bathroom nonetheless. As he reached the balcony exit afterward, he stopped and turned back to her.
"Hm?" Fiora raised an eyebrow. "Forgot something?"
Zane stood still for a moment, his face serious. "Thank you. For everything. I mean it. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't helped me. I'll repay you someday. No matter what."
Her eyes widened slightly. She hadn't expected that tone, that sincerity.
Then, her lips curved into a smile—genuine, radiant, and filled with something rare. Hope.
"Maybe our meeting was destiny, Zane." she said softly. "I look forward to seeing what you'll become. Just don't disappoint me, Zane. Or I'll hunt you down and beat your ass."
Zane smirked, shaking his head. "See you later."
"See you."
***
The walk home was long and slow. Every step felt like his legs might give out, but he pushed through. The night air cooled his skin, and the city's dim lights glimmered like dying stars above.
When he finally reached his apartment, he didn't even bother to change. He collapsed onto the bed like a corpse, barely mustering enough energy to set his alarm.
His mind faded quickly, wishing for some good rest.
That night, however… the nightmares returned.
More vivid than ever.
Next Day
The blaring sound of his alarm jolted Zane awake, snapping him out of a tangled dream of blood, flame, and red sauce on shattered plates.
He lay still for a moment, catching his breath.
Then he sat up, shook off the dregs of sleep, and began preparing. Today was the day. The day he left Earth.
The thought still felt unreal—like he had slipped into a different life while he wasn't looking. But this was real. His new reality. A path now set in motion.
After a quick shower and changing into his uniform, he hoisted the bag he had packed the day before. It held everything he needed… and everything he was willing to carry from this life.
As he approached the door, he paused and looked around.
The apartment was small. Cracked walls, faulty wiring, creaking floors. But it had been his sanctuary. The one place where he could hide from the world, even if just barely.
"This is it," he whispered to the silence. "I probably won't ever see this place again."
There was a strange weight to those words. Nostalgia mixed with something sharper—purpose.
He took a breath. "Let's make this journey worth it, Zane."
And with that, he stepped out.
This was no longer a dream.
This was the life he had chosen.
"And I'll live it however I want."
He didn't look back.
The door closed behind him with a quiet finality.
[Prologue End]