The soft glow of the screen illuminated Luna's serene face. The movie had reached the part where the main couple was caught in a rainstorm, laughing and soaked, but Luna's eyelids had long since fluttered shut. Her breathing was steady now, slow, the kind that came only with a rare sense of safety.
Curled under a blanket, her head tilted slightly, and her fingers still loosely clutched the remote.
Kana, half-reclined on a chair next to her, glanced over and smiled faintly. "You dork," she whispered, keeping her voice light even as she quietly tucked the blanket tighter around Luna.
She gently stood, straightened her clothes, and tiptoed to the door. As she opened it, the waiting maid gave a small bow.
"Miss Kana," the maid said. "Will you be staying the night? We've prepared the guest room just in case."
Kana shook her head with a tired but grateful smile. "Thanks, but I've got a stack of postponed shoots and a very grumpy stylist waiting to chew me out. I should go."
"I understand," the maid replied. "Thank you for today."
Kana's hand rested on the doorframe. "Make sure Luna eats something sweet and savory. Also, I advise giving her some bath salts when she takes a bath. It eases her. And tell her to text me tomorrow or I'll show up again with twice the snacks."
The maid gave a warm smile. "Of course."
Kana turned and descended the grand staircase quietly. Just as she reached the front door, it opened—revealing Emmerich waiting there.
"Miss Kana," he greeted with a nod, wearing his usual composed demeanor, though there was a softness in his eyes that hadn't been there the night before.
Kana blinked. "Oh. I didn't expect to see you here, Sir."
"I heard you were leaving," Emmerich said, then offered a rare, genuine smile. "I wanted to thank you."
"For what?"
"For helping Luna relax again. It's… not something I can always do on my own."
Kana shrugged, trying to play it cool, but her throat tightened a little. "Well. That's what best friends are for, right?"
"She's lucky to have you," Emmerich said, his tone sincere. "If you ever need anything, Kana—anything at all—don't hesitate to ask. My debt to you isn't small."
Kana looked a little surprised at his words, but only nodded. "I'll keep that in mind. But for now, just keep her safe. That's all I want."
Emmerich's gaze turned solemn. "I will."
With a wave and a soft "Goodnight," Kana walked to her car, got in, and drove off into the ever-darkening night.
Emmerich stood in the front hall for a long moment, hands clasped behind his back. Then he turned and walked with quiet purpose down the hallway to his study, where layers of protection protocols hummed silently in the air.
He looked over the digital tablet on his desk, opened a live report feed, and tapped in a command.
A notice had already been drafted: Temporary Closure for Renovation — Café Whiskers and Beans, effective immediately for one month.
It wasn't just a front. Emmerich had already arranged for a full reinforcement of the café's infrastructure. Bullet-resistant glass, panic buttons, secure exit routes, an embedded drone signal blocker, and an enhanced surveillance network—all to be installed discreetly and efficiently.
His next command ensured the staff would be well compensated. In fact, each of them would receive a bonus described as "extended wellness support," and if any of them needed to take a longer leave, they'd still be paid.
No one would ever get that close to Luna again.
Not on his watch.
As the confirmation came in, Emmerich leaned back in his chair, briefly resting his head in his palm.
He exhaled slowly.
"You're safe now," he thought silently to his daughter. "Sleep well, Luna. And dream of simpler days."
The light dimmed in the study as the night deepened.
And somewhere upstairs, wrapped in warmth and Milo's quiet purring, Luna finally slept without trembling.
Sunlight slipped through the tall windows of Luna's room in gentle slants, casting warm golden lines across her bed and the soft rug below. A small yawn escaped her lips as she slowly stirred beneath the covers. For a long moment, she remained still, blinking at the ceiling, listening to Milo's contented purring near her pillow.
The nightmares didn't come this time.
But the weight of memory remained.
A light knock on her door drew her attention.
"Miss Luna," a maid's voice called gently, "It's already past ten. Would you like help getting ready?"
"…Yes, please," Luna murmured.
The maid entered with a warm smile and fresh towels in her arms. "We've drawn a bath for you. I've also brought your favorite bath salts—the cherry blossom blend."
Luna offered a faint, grateful smile and let the maid assist her. Soon, she was submerged in a deep soaking tub, the steam curling around her shoulders, the warmth sinking into her bones.
She closed her eyes.
But unlike before, this time… she didn't push the memories away.
She faced them.
The sudden snap of gunfire. The splatter of blood. The wide-eyed stare of a guard who never got the chance to say goodbye. The rough lake water pulling her down. The trembling of her hands as she wrapped fabric around a bleeding pilot.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Instead, she let herself feel every moment. Every breath. Every decision.
She was alive because others chose not to be.
"I won't waste it," she whispered to herself, gripping the edge of the bath.
When she emerged, clean and dressed, there was a fresh steadiness in her steps. Her eyes, though ringed with fatigue, were clear. The maid who awaited her by the dressing mirror noticed it and straightened unconsciously, as if sensing a shift in the air.
"Could I speak with my father?" Luna asked.
"Of course," the maid replied, bowing her head. "I will escort you now."
Emmerich stood before the tall glass shelves of his private collection, pretending to read an archived report. The butler approached with precise, soft steps.
"Miss Luna is on her way, sir."
Emmerich nodded. "Thank you. Please see that she's brought in directly."
The butler bowed and left.
Emmerich closed the folder and let it rest on the desk. He straightened the cuffs of his shirt and let out a breath. Though no longer tense, he couldn't help the feeling of curiosity laced with a tinge of concern.
What could she want to say this morning?
The door opened with a quiet click.
Luna stepped in, now dressed in a soft cream blouse and navy skirt. Her hair was loosely tied, and Milo trailed dutifully behind her, tail upright.
"Good morning," she said, voice even.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Emmerich replied, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Would you like tea? Juice?"
"Tea, please."
He poured the light blend into a delicate porcelain cup, handed it over carefully, and poured a cup for himself. For several minutes, neither of them spoke—just the quiet clink of teacups and the occasional rustle of Milo adjusting himself under the desk.
Then Luna broke the silence.
"I want to personally say sorry to the families… of the people who died protecting me."
Emmerich slowly set down his teacup.
"Luna…"
"I've thought about it," she said quickly. "And I need to do this. I need to see them with my own eyes. To thank them. To apologize. To honor their loss. I won't take what they did for granted."
Emmerich leaned back slightly, studying her face.
There it was again—that steel beneath the softness, the calm insistence, the light of willpower that refused to be extinguished even in the face of trauma. So much like Lin… especially in the eyes.
"I worry it may be too soon," he said at last. "You've only just started to recover."
Luna met his gaze directly. "Then let me recover through this. Let me walk toward healing, not hide from it."
A long, tense silence passed between them.
Then Emmerich sighed, something almost proud flickering in his expression.
"You're your mother's daughter," he said softly. "Eyes like hers. Filled with quiet storms."
He stood and moved around the desk, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.
"Alright. I'll make the arrangements," he said. "And I'll go with you."
Luna's shoulders relaxed with relief, and she smiled, just a little.
"Thank you, Dad."
He returned her smile, gently squeezing her shoulder. "Let's make sure they know their loved ones didn't fall in vain."
The convoy of matte-black, nondescript vehicles moved silently through the city, guarded but without fanfare. Emmerich rode beside Luna, his expression unreadable, save for the occasional sidelong glance to check on his daughter.
Luna, dressed in a muted black coat and simple dress, sat silently, her hands curled tightly on her lap. Her gaze was fixed on the window, but she wasn't seeing the passing buildings.
Her mind was full of names—ten of them.
Ten protectors.
Some she remembered clearly, their faces contorted in pain or bravery.
Others she didn't even get to see fall… but they died for her all the same.
The door opened to a modest home on the outskirts of the city. An elderly woman with tired eyes blinked in surprise as Luna bowed low at the entrance.
"I'm Luna," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "and your son… Roland… died protecting me."
The woman said nothing for a long moment. Then, with a soft, trembling smile, she stepped aside and invited them in.
Inside, pictures of a proud son in uniform filled the walls.
Luna sat with the woman as she poured tea with shaking hands. Emmerich remained quiet nearby.
"He was always chasing after heroes," the mother said. "I suppose… he became one."
Tears rolled down Luna's cheeks as she bowed once again, forehead to the table's edge.
"I'll live every day to honor him. I swear it."
The visits blurred together—each unique, each painful.
A widow holding her newborn in arms, eyes red from exhaustion and grief.
A teenage brother who stared at Luna with resentment before breaking down in her arms.
A silent father who could not bring himself to speak, only nodding once before turning away.
Each time, Luna bowed.
Each time, she offered her deepest apology.
Each time, she promised to remember.
She listened to stories, looked through old photos, and accepted tearful anger without flinching. Not once did she try to defend herself.
By the seventh house, Emmerich gently touched her shoulder before they entered.
"You don't have to finish all of them today."
Luna shook her head, voice hoarse. "They didn't get to choose to stop. Neither will I."
The final visit was to the family of Agent Ignacio Velasco, one of the men she'd never met—killed while covering an exit point.
His little daughter opened the door, no older than eight. "You're the lady Papa saved," she said matter-of-factly.
Luna dropped to her knees, eye to eye with the girl.
"I… I am. I'm so sorry."
The little girl touched her hair. "Papa said protecting good people is the bravest thing a person can do."
Behind her, the agent's wife wiped her eyes, quietly ushering them in.
Luna sat with them, letting the girl curl beside her on the couch. Her tears were long gone now. Replaced by something else.
A cold weight. A new steel spine.
The price had been etched into her bones.
The sky was painted in hues of burnt orange and ink-blue.
Luna stared out the window again, this time not lost, but thinking.
"I never realized," she said quietly. "Being your daughter… it's not just power. Or safety. Or wealth. It's a responsibility. It's great weight."
Emmerich said nothing for a moment. Then he finally nodded.
"It is."
"I carry the cost of others' lives now. I don't get to be careless. I don't get to be normal."
Her voice didn't tremble.
"I think… I'm okay with that," she added after a moment. "Because if they gave everything to protect me… I'll become someone worth that sacrifice."
Emmerich looked at her again, his jaw tightening with something unspoken—pride, sorrow, awe.
He reached over and placed a hand over hers.
"You already are, Luna," he said softly. "But I'll walk beside you while you prove it to the world."
Luna looked at her dad and smiled.
I'll walk beside you while you prove it to the world…
Those words repeated in her mind as she gazed upon the rushing scenery outside the car window.
The chandeliers in the grand dining hall cast a warm, golden glow, but the atmosphere was hushed. The long table, usually filled with laughter and light conversation on peaceful nights, held only two occupants now—Emmerich and Luna.
They sat across from each other, their meals untouched at first. The silverware clinked softly as Luna finally picked up her fork. Emmerich mirrored her action, but his eyes never left his daughter.
There were no guards stationed inside, no aides lingering in the corners. Just father and daughter, eating in silence, the weight of the day pressing gently down on them.
Eventually, Luna set down her fork, dabbed the corners of her lips with a napkin, and stood.
"I'll head to bed now," she said softly.
Emmerich nodded and rose with her. "Let me walk you."
They walked in step, quietly, the silence oddly comforting. Outside her door, Luna paused and turned to face her father.
"Dad… thank you. For today. For letting me face it… for standing beside me."
Emmerich opened his mouth to respond, but Luna continued, her voice firm and low.
"And just so you know… I don't regret it. I don't regret being your daughter."
That caught him off guard. Her tone held no hesitation—only resolve. She looked at him, not as a child seeking comfort, but as someone carrying the weight of truth with grace.
"I know something in me has changed," she added, "that I'll never be as carefree again. But even so, I won't run from what being your daughter means. Even if that means staying here longer than we agreed before."
Emmerich's breath hitched slightly as he looked into her eyes—clear, steady, and composed. The quiet fire he once saw in Lin burned now in Luna, gentler perhaps, but just as unyielding.
"Thank you," he whispered, voice thick. "Good night, Luna."
"Good night, Dad."
She closed the door gently behind her.
The room was dark save for the warm glow of his desk lamp. The shelves of books and artifacts loomed silently, witnesses to his solitude.
Emmerich sank into his chair, his hand covering his mouth. The weight he'd borne all these years to keep Luna safe had shifted because he failed, and now Luna had to carry the weight of that failure.
He pressed a hand over his eyes. The tears were quiet, invisible in the dim light, but they fell all the same, mourning not a death, but the loss of Luna's innocence.
She would never return to the girl she had been.
And the cruelest part?
She hadn't run from it.
She'd embraced it.
Milo purred softly by her pillow, but Luna lay back in bed with her phone in hand.
She called Kana.
The call connected almost immediately.
"Luna?!" Kana's voice was sharp with worry. "You okay? You sound… different."
Luna smiled faintly, though her eyes were still distant. "I just wanted to say thank you. For staying beside me… when I needed it."
Kana was quiet for a moment. "Luna… what happened to you? You sound a bit, I dunno, distant? Are you okay?"
Luna hesitated, then whispered, "I'm not okay. But I will be."
There was a pause.
"You don't have to be strong all the time, you know," Kana said quietly.
"I know," Luna replied. "But I have to be. For everyone who died protecting me."
Another pause.
"Looks like you're in the middle of some great resolve or something. Let's hang out tomorrow," Kana said. "Come over. We'll talk, laugh… eat something ridiculous. Let me check on you properly."
Luna smiled at that. "Okay. I'd like that."
Later, Luna slipped into a warm bath. The water rippled around her as she leaned back, letting the heat soak into her muscles, her bruises, her soul.
She closed her eyes, and faces rose in her mind. The families. The children. The grieving parents.
Her breath caught. A sharp pang twisted in her chest.
But she didn't turn away from the pain.
She sat with it. Let it mark her.
Because it was hers to bear now.
When she opened her eyes again, they were no longer clouded by fear, only clarity. She reached for a towel, stepping out with steady hands.
Tomorrow, she would see Kana.
But tonight, she would mourn in silence.
And then… she would begin again.