The sun had just begun to dip toward the horizon, washing the skies above the Crimson Empire in honey-gold light. Lunch had been a quiet affair, taken in one of the smaller side halls of the palace. The Empress, as always, was buried in meetings, scrolls, and the endless churn of decisions that shaped the empire. Victoria sat across from Hector, dicing her fruit absently with a silver fork. Her gaze kept drifting toward the balcony, where the city could be seen stretching beyond the palace walls.
Hector leaned in, elbows resting against the long oak table.
"Wanna sneak out?" he whispered with a mischievous smile.
Victoria blinked. "Sneak out?"
"Yeah, like one of those legendary quests commoners go on," he said, grinning. "You know, they call it a 'date'."
She let out a surprised laugh. "You mean like... just the two of us? No guards, no obligations, no royal bloodlines involved?"
He nodded. "Exactly that."
They left twenty minutes later, clad in enchanted garments crafted by the same Runemaster Hector had previously bested. The man had been more than willing to cooperate after Hector promised him ancient rune formations. The robes were woven with deception magic—they cloaked their faces in illusion, made them appear older, and masked their mana signatures. In the crowd, they would look like a young adult couple, walking hand in hand.
Only they could see each other truly.
As they exited the palace and descended into the heart of the empire, Victoria immediately noticed something odd.
There were no beggars. No children barefoot in alleyways, no mothers with sunken eyes clutching empty bowls. The streets were clean. The buildings towered high with symmetrical elegance. The people smiled. They laughed. Vendors sold fruit and bread. Street performers danced to lute and drum.
"It's so... perfect," Victoria murmured.
"Too perfect," Hector replied.
She looked at him.
His face had darkened slightly, though his smile hadn't faded. "I've dreamed of this place."
Victoria frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I was a soldier once. Or, at least, I dreamed I was one. I served in the last war. I remember sacking villages, burning down homes. I was part of the force that expanded this city's borders. I've also dreamed as a farmer who lived in one of those villages. I watched my wife get killed in front of me. My son taken. I remember that man hanging himself in his barn, because everything he loved was gone."
Victoria's steps slowed. Her grip on his hand tightened.
"How... how do you even bear it?" she asked, her voice shaking. "How do you go on living after feeling all that?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the polished cobblestones, on the happy couples and well-fed citizens.
"It feels real," he said finally. "Every dream. I can feel the blood, the fear. The laughter, too. I make decisions, but it's like I have no control. As if I'm forced to walk the paths others walked. I live them. I die as them. And then I wake up."
Victoria's throat constricted. She stopped walking.
"And when you're them," she asked, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, "do you remember who you really are?"
"No," he said quietly. "Not until I wake up."
She covered her mouth. "That's... that's horrible."
He turned to her. "Sometimes I'm the villain. Sometimes I'm the victim. Sometimes I'm the bystander. But I remember every scream. Every plea."
Victoria stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Her chin rested on his shoulder, her fingers digging into the back of his robe.
"You shouldn't have to carry all that alone," she whispered.
"But who else would?" he asked.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, really looked. There was weariness in them—not of a child, but of someone who had lived centuries. There was also tenderness, buried behind those ember irises.
"You're not indifferent," she said.
"Sometimes I feel like a shell. Like I'm only made up of memories that don't belong to me."
"No," she shook her head. "You care. I can see it. You still smile. You still reach out. You're still trying. That's what matters."
He let out a long breath. "It's strange. Everything felt dark for so long. But now, with you... it's like there's finally a light at the end of the cave."
Victoria smiled through tears. "I feel it too."
They reached a quiet park just outside the merchant quarter. The trees here were old and wide, with golden leaves fluttering in the soft breeze. A small pond sat at the center, reflecting the pink-orange hues of the setting sun. Hector found a bench tucked beneath an arching elm, and they sat together.
For a while, they said nothing.
Victoria rested her head on his shoulder.
"Do you remember every name?" she asked.
"I used to."
He stared at the sunset.
"But after I sacrificed part of myself... I lost many of them. My grimoire has the names. I just don't know who they were anymore."
"That must be terrifying."
"It is."
She reached for his hand and entwined their fingers.
"You remember them now in how you act. In how you care. In how you try to make things right. Maybe that's enough."
He turned to her. The sun was behind her now, framing her features in warm light. For a moment, all the sorrow, all the lives, all the pain melted away.
"You always say the right thing," he whispered.
"No," she replied. "I just say what I would want to hear if I were you."
And then, they just sat. Two children wearing adult faces. Survivors of war they hadn't yet fought. Bound by a song that no one had ever sung, yet echoed in their hearts like a promise.
As the sun dipped below the skyline and stars began to shimmer in the darkening sky, they watched together. Still. Quiet. Whole.
For the first time in a long, long time—Hector felt peace.
And Victoria, in that silence, knew with certainty:
This wasn't just a date.
This was a beginning.