The light was soft, filtered through gauzy curtains that swayed faintly with the breeze. Luna stirred with a slight twitch in her fingers, eyes fluttering open to the gentle glow of her familiar bedroom ceiling.
For a moment, she was unsure where she was—only that her body felt sore, her skin tender, her head heavy with fragments of memory.
Then she saw the silhouette beside her.
Her father, Emmerich, still dressed in a crisp shirt though slightly wrinkled now, slumped forward in the chair next to her bed, arms folded on the edge, head resting quietly beside Milo, who had taken up position curled protectively near his lap.
Luna blinked, and the moment peace faded, the memories came rushing back.
The chase.
The helicopter plunge.
The icy lake.
Gunshots.
Blood.
Her guards collapsing—lifeless.
The cell.
The running.
The bullets grazing her skin.
The eyes of the man who injected her.
Her breath caught.
A sharp, audible intake.
Her fingers clenched at the blankets as her entire frame trembled uncontrollably. Her heart thudded wildly against her ribs. Her eyes darted to every corner of the room, expecting to see shadows lurking.
Emmerich stirred instantly.
He was awake before he even lifted his head. Years of hardened instinct kicked in, his eyes immediately finding Luna.
"Luna," he said gently, voice low and calm.
She looked at him, her lips trembling. "Dad… I—I still hear the gunshots. I can't stop seeing them."
He was beside her in a second, wrapping his arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other gripping her shoulder with the strength of someone who would never let her go again.
"You're safe now," he whispered. "They can't touch you. Not anymore."
Luna buried her face against his chest. Her tears returned, hot and fast, but her sobs were quieter this time—less like panic, more like relief battling through the trauma.
Emmerich held her until the trembling subsided.
When she pulled away, he offered her the clean handkerchief from his pocket. She wiped her face and gave a weak, grateful smile.
"Thank you, Dad," she murmured.
He cupped her face gently, inspecting her closely with the protective eyes of a father who had nearly lost everything. "You don't need to thank me. Just keep breathing. That's all I want."
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of their breakfast tray. Emmerich waved it in, and the staff quietly set it by the side table, then vanished just as silently.
They ate there—Luna still propped up in bed with pillows behind her, and Emmerich seated close beside her, cutting her toast into neat pieces.
"I remember," Luna said slowly, breaking the silence as she stirred her tea, "when it all started… I didn't think I'd make it."
Emmerich looked at her carefully, saying nothing yet.
"I—I felt so powerless. I've never been shot at before, never saw someone die in front of me." She let out a sharp breath, pressing the cup to her lips. "Even now I keep wondering if I'm really safe or just… waiting for the next attack."
Emmerich set his fork down, his tone soft but unwavering. "You've gone through a traumatic event, Luna. Your mind is doing everything it can to protect you. But you don't have to carry this alone."
She looked at him, lips parted.
"I'll call the best trauma therapist I know. Discreet, experienced, and kind. They'll help you make sense of the things you've seen… and help you get stronger from it."
Luna nodded slowly. "Yeah… I think I'll need it. I—" Her voice faltered. "I don't want to be afraid forever."
"You won't," Emmerich promised, brushing her hair behind her ear. "And until then, I'll be right here."
Luna smiled, faint but real.
"Thanks, Dad."
A peaceful silence stretched between them, broken only by Milo's contented purrs and the clinking of cutlery.
After a few more bites, Luna leaned back and exhaled slowly. "I think… I'll sleep a little more. My body still feels like lead."
Emmerich stood, pulled the covers higher over her, and bent down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"I'll be in my office. Call if you need anything. No nightmares this time—my kiss is a shield."
Luna gave a soft giggle, her eyes fluttering shut. "Cheesy."
"Only for you," he whispered, smiling faintly.
He stepped out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.
And in the safety of her warm sheets, surrounded by light, Luna drifted into sleep—this time without fear.
______________________________________________
A warm ray of sun peeked through the window as Luna stirred beneath the soft blankets. The events of the past day still clung to her bones, but this time, when she opened her eyes, there was no tremble—just a hollow ache in her chest.
She stared at the ceiling a moment, letting the silence of her room wrap around her. Her body still felt heavy, her mind cluttered with echoes and blurred images, but something mundane suddenly drifted to the surface of her thoughts—her phone.
Her breath hitched.
The phone…
She sat up slowly, rubbing her arms as reality sank in.
It was gone.
Sunk with the helicopter—cracked, drowned, unrecoverable. And with it, not just her playlists or messages, but memories.
Photos from the cabin trip—the one where Mary had teared up after their group picture. The selfies with Kana when they had boba the week before. The dozens of pictures of the cats at the café: Ken's ridiculous wacky faces behind customers, Leroy napping like a loaf on the register, Miso trying to squeeze into a teacup, and even that one blurry but precious photo of her and her dad smiling together during her first week at the mansion.
Luna's shoulders slumped.
Of course, she could ask her dad to retrieve the wreckage from the lake just for the data. She knew he would. But after what happened… asking felt like dragging everyone through the chaos again. And really, what were a few memories compared to lives?
Still, her chest tightened at the loss.
Just as the thought sank deep into her gut, a knock came to the door and a gentle voice followed.
"Miss Luna? May I come in?"
"Yeah," Luna answered softly.
The door opened, and one of the mansion maids—Marisa, one of her favorites—stepped in with her usual grace, holding a sleek white box.
"We thought you might need this," she said, placing the box carefully on the side table.
Luna blinked. "A new phone?"
Marisa smiled. "With all your old contacts restored. And don't worry about your photos."
Luna stared. "Wait—what?"
"The ones from the cabin, the café, the cats… all backed up to your private cloud account. We've downloaded everything already." She opened the new device with practiced ease, showing Luna the screen.
There it was. The group photo at the cabin, with Mary teary-eyed in the background. Ken's exaggerated grin behind an oblivious customer. Leroy's judgmental loaf face. All there. All safe.
Luna's mouth fell open. "Marisa… are you a superhero or something?"
The maid's eyes twinkled with a chuckle. "If you want me to be one, I can be."
Luna burst out laughing, shoulders shaking, the tension finally breaking free. She felt the warmth of the room, the comfort of being safe, and the simple joy of having a piece of her normal life returned to her.
Marisa curtsied slightly. "Now, I'll go fetch your cookies and cream ice cream."
Luna froze. "Wha— How did you—?"
The maid only winked. "Superhero senses."
Luna watched her leave, still laughing, eyes glassy with tears of gratitude this time.
She picked up her new phone and whispered, "Thanks, Dad…"
And thanks to the quiet miracles of people who cared, the day felt a little brighter.
______________________________________
The gates had barely finished swinging open when Kana's car skidded to a stop in the circular driveway. She bolted out the moment it parked, not even bothering to close the door. Her hair was disheveled, her makeup barely retouched from her hurried prep earlier that morning, and her phone clutched tightly in one hand—knuckles white, nails digging into the case.
A maid opened the front door even before Kana could reach it.
"Miss Kana," the maid said with a warm but apologetic smile. "She's awake. You may go straight up."
Kana didn't even answer. She just dashed inside, her heels echoing across the pristine marble floors, past the foyer, up the familiar staircase, heart pounding as hard as it had last night when she—
—
[Flashback]
The café hadn't answered. Neither had Luna's phone.
Not once. Not twice. But twelve times. All calls dropped.
Kana had been in the middle of a beach photoshoot, smiling at the camera, the wind perfect, the sun golden—until a passing crew member casually mentioned the news: a shooting downtown, near the old convenience corner. Near the café.
Her blood ran cold.
She didn't even ask for permission. Just dropped her water bottle, grabbed her phone and keys, and left.
The scene was already roped off when she arrived. There was a crowd, gawkers whispering about the gunfire and the chaos. No mention of names—only that several civilians were injured. Kana pushed her way to the yellow line, demanding answers, her heart racing, until a convenience store clerk remembered her.
"You know the girl with the silver hair? Kinda short but sharp eyes?"
Kana's breath hitched. "Yes?"
"She was my last customer before it started. Bought cup noodles. For her cat, I think."
Kana nearly collapsed right there. But she didn't.
She remembered—the landline.
Trembling fingers dialed the Arklight mansion. And when the maid told her, gently, that Luna had been taken to safety… Kana broke into sobs, clutching her phone like a lifeline.
"I waited… all night," she muttered now as she stood in front of Luna's door.
[Now]
Kana knocked once, but before Luna could even answer, she opened the door and stepped in.
Luna, curled up in bed with Milo on her lap, looked up.
"Kana?"
And Kana didn't say a word. She marched to the bed, dropped her bag on the floor, and flung her arms around Luna. Tightly. Desperately.
"You idiot," she choked. "Why didn't you answer your phone?! I thought— I thought you were—"
"I'm sorry," Luna whispered, voice cracking. "I dropped my phone in the chopper. I didn't mean to—"
Kana pulled back just far enough to cup Luna's face. "I called the café. The store. The landline. I was about to start calling the embassy and renting a private investigator! You—!" She stopped herself, her voice trembling. "I cancelled a ten-figure shoot just to come find you."
Luna reached up and gripped Kana's hands, her eyes wet. "I'm okay now. I promise."
Kana looked at her—really looked. She saw the bandage near Luna's collarbone, the shadows under her eyes, the small winces when she moved too fast.
"You look like crap," Kana muttered softly.
"I feel like crap," Luna replied with a broken laugh.
Then both girls started laughing and crying at the same time.
Kana pulled Milo up and kissed his furry head. "You better have taken good care of her."
Miso meowed with a sleepy blink and climbed into Kana's lap, as if to say, always.
Kana exhaled deeply, brushing Luna's bangs aside. "Next time something happens—anything happens—you better find a way to let me know. Got it?"
"I got it."
"Good," Kana said, sniffling and nodding.
Luna gave a small smile, voice tender. "...Thanks for coming."
Kana rolled her eyes, already reaching into her bag. "Shut up and eat these mochi. You look like you haven't had real sugar since you got abducted."
Luna blinked and grinned. "I just ate cookies and cream ice cream, but I'm up for more."
Kana tossed her a box of assorted flavors. "Then buckle up, drama queen. I brought snacks, gossip, and three days' worth of reality show spoilers. And I'm not leaving until you laugh so hard you pee a little."
Luna's heart lifted.
"…I'm glad I'm back."
"Me too," Kana said with a wink. "Now scoot over. I'm commandeering this bed."
And just like that, the warmth returned to Luna's room—along with the anchor of friendship she didn't realize she so badly needed.