The sky was a gentle wash of lavender and rose, the morning mist still curling over the private paths winding through the sprawling Arklight estate. Dew clung to the trimmed hedges, and the crisp scent of earth and pine hung in the air.
A rhythmic sound broke the quiet—footsteps, quick and determined.
Luna ran.
Her breath came short and uneven, her chest tightening, legs trembling with the burn of exertion. She had barely made it halfway around the estate's training trail before her body screamed at her to stop.
But she didn't.
With every slap of her feet against the gravel, she remembered the sound of gunfire, the sting of a graze on her skin, and the fall of the men who died shielding her.
She forced herself to keep going.
The sweat slid down her temples, soaking the collar of her shirt. Her lungs burned. Her pace slowed on the third lap—more of a stumble than a run—but she clenched her fists and kept moving.
Three laps.
That was the promise she made to herself this morning.
When she finally reached the end of the third loop, Luna hunched over with her hands on her knees, gasping, drenched in sweat. Her vision blurred with tears—not of weakness, but release.
She'd done it.
And tomorrow, she would do it again.
Luna, freshly showered with her hair still damp, joined Emmerich at the breakfast table. The room was filled with the scent of buttered toast, eggs, and fresh fruit. Milo was curled up near the sunlit corner, tail flicking lazily.
Emmerich raised an eyebrow as Luna sat down with a quiet but composed breath.
"You were up early," he said, slicing into his eggs. "Running?"
Luna nodded, reaching for a glass of water. "I did three laps around the estate."
His brows lifted slightly. "That's quite a start. Everything alright?"
"I need to build my stamina," she replied evenly. "If something like that happens again, I want to be able to run farther. Think clearer. Survive better."
"You could take it slow," Emmerich offered gently.
Luna met his gaze, calm but resolute. "Starting to get back in shape is me taking it slow."
Emmerich stared at her for a long moment, then gave a soft, resigned chuckle. "You sound more like your mother every day."
He didn't say it aloud, but his chest swelled with pride—and a flicker of pain. His daughter had changed. Hardened, but not broken.
"I scheduled your session this morning with Dr. Falne," he said, tone quieter. "She's very good. Discreet. Thorough."
"Thanks, Dad," Luna said with a nod, buttering a slice of toast. "I'll meet her after I finish something first."
The air was still. Soft sunlight filtered through her curtains, casting shifting patterns on the desk where she now sat.
Dressed in a comfortable blouse and slacks, Luna opened a fresh leather-bound notebook. Its pages were empty, crisp with possibility.
She picked up a pen. It hovered for a second before she pressed it to the page.
"To the ten lives lost for mine…"
Her handwriting was neat, unwavering as she wrote.
"I don't know if I deserve your sacrifice. But I promise—I will work each day to become someone who does. Starting now."
She then drew a line under it, flipped the page, and began to write:
Daily training (minimum 3 laps, progress up)
Strength training (research beginner plan)
Martial arts (ask Dad for recommended instructor)
Self-defense & situational awareness course
Regular therapy with Dr. Falne
Continue café work (when safe)
Make time for friends (Kana, George, coworkers)
Keep journaling
Revisit the site—when ready
Each goal wasn't just a task.
It was a vow.
A vow that their deaths would not be in vain.
A vow that she would carry their memory forward.
And that she would live a life worth protecting.
PRIVATE WING – THERAPY SUITE
The therapy room was nothing like Luna expected.
Soft cream walls, shelves lined with books and scented candles, a couch that looked more like a plush nest than a sterile seat. Gentle light filtered in through wide windows shaded by gauzy curtains. The air smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish. A small table bore a steaming pot of tea and two mugs already set.
Luna stood near the door with Emmerich by her side. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder, but there was tension in it—a hesitation.
Across from them stood Dr. Eliza Falne, her silver-streaked hair neatly pinned, dressed in calm earth tones, with wise, gentle eyes that took in everything.
"Mr. Arklight," she said with a polite nod, "I'd like to begin immediately, if that's alright. The first step is best taken alone."
Emmerich frowned, gaze flickering to Luna, but she gave him a small, steady nod. He exhaled and gently squeezed her shoulder before stepping back.
"I'll be just outside," he said softly, directing a final look to Dr. Falne. "Please… take good care of her."
"You have my word," Dr. Falne replied.
With a final look, Emmerich stepped out, the door clicking softly behind him.
Dr. Falne waited a moment, then crossed the room with graceful ease. She didn't sit behind a desk or open a notepad just yet. Instead, she poured tea into the two mugs and handed one to Luna.
"Chamomile," she said. "I find it calms the throat and the nerves."
Luna gave a quiet thank-you, clutching the mug tightly as she sank into the couch, stiff but trying to look relaxed. Milo, who had insisted on following Luna all the way, curled up beneath her chair with a soft yawn.
Dr. Falne sat across from her, posture neither casual nor rigid, her presence commanding but warm.
"I know what you've been through, Luna. Some of it. But before we go any further, let's talk about something important—what do you want from this?"
Luna blinked. "What I want… from therapy?"
Dr. Falne nodded. "Yes. Because therapy isn't about me telling you what's wrong. Or offering magic answers. That would make me a mechanic, and you're not a broken machine."
Luna hesitated, caught off guard. "I thought… I mean, I guess I just thought I talk, and you figure out what's wrong with me and tell me how to fix it."
Dr. Falne's lips curved into a knowing smile. "A common misunderstanding. But therapy isn't like outsourcing a repair job. It's a partnership. You lead the way. I help with tools, with mirrors you might not want to look into. But you have to decide—what are we here for?"
Luna stared down at her mug. The steam curled upward, soft and sweet.
"I… I don't want to freeze when I hear a loud noise," she said slowly. "I don't want to cry because I saw a piece of glass shine the wrong way. I don't want to feel like I'm weak because people died for me and I lived."
Dr. Falne's expression didn't change, but her voice softened.
"Then let's start with that. Not escaping pain—but understanding it. Honoring it. Reframing it so you can live with it."
Luna looked up, eyes wide and glistening. "Will that… make me stronger?"
"If you want it to," Dr. Falne said. "We'll work on the parts of you that were bruised—not to erase what happened, but to make room for your strength to grow around it."
There was a silence. It wasn't awkward, but full. Whole.
Luna took a sip of tea, the warmth grounding her.
"…Okay," she whispered. "Let's begin."
Luna sat cross-legged on the couch, her tea forgotten and cooling on the table. Dr. Falne had moved to a cushioned chair across from her, her expression open yet focused, every movement quiet and deliberate—like a conductor preparing an orchestra of memory and emotion.
"Luna," she said gently, "let's go back to the helicopter. When you were inside, when it dipped and spun—what did your body feel?"
Luna's hands gripped her knees instinctively. "It was cold. Even though it wasn't. I couldn't breathe, like my chest was folding in."
"Your body," Dr. Falne said, "was reacting as though it was being hunted. That response doesn't go away easily—it gets stored. So when you remember it, your body might still feel hunted, even if you're in a warm, quiet room like this one."
Luna nodded slowly, her voice trembling, "I still hear the gunshots. Sometimes when I close my eyes… I see them fall again. I didn't even get to say their names."
Dr. Falne paused, letting Luna's words hang in the air with reverence.
"They died protecting you. That's true. But what's also true is… the guilt you carry didn't come from the helicopter. Or the cell."
Luna blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean guilt… often grows roots in older soil," Dr. Falne said. "Think back—before this happened. Can you remember moments where you felt… responsible for others' pain? Or ashamed of being safe when others weren't?"
Luna stared into her lap. The question hit harder than she expected.
A beat.
"…My mother left when I was eight," Luna whispered. "She said she couldn't stay. She looked so… hollow. I didn't know why she left, but I thought maybe it was because I needed too much."
Dr. Falne stayed still, her eyes gentle but piercing.
"And you never voiced that thought out loud?"
"No. I was a kid. And I didn't know my dad was still alive then since my mom talked about him like he was not alive anymore. But there was some kind responsible adults that helped me in the social center. It's just that I didn't want to be a burden, so I ask for help when I only desperately need it."
Dr. Falne nodded slowly, voice low and certain. "That guilt never left you. It changed shape, maybe. But it was always there. And when those men died for you… your old wound cracked wide open."
Luna felt her throat tighten. "I thought it was just fear… but maybe I was already carrying something before the shooting ever happened."
"You were," Dr. Falne said softly. "And that doesn't make you broken. It makes you aware."
They sat in silence again, this one heavier, but not hopeless.
Dr. Falne eventually spoke, her tone anchoring. "We'll work on separating those fears. The past from the present. The guilt that isn't yours from the pain you're truly grieving. But it's a process. Not a purge."
Luna finally met her eyes. "I… understand. It's more complicated than I thought."
"It always is," Dr. Falne said kindly. "And that's why one session is never enough."
Luna managed a small, tired smile. "I didn't think it would be… but now I really get it. I'll come back."
"Good," Dr. Falne said. "You're not alone in this, Luna. Not anymore."
Emmerich stood as soon as the door opened. His eyes immediately found Luna's—and in them, he saw something that surprised him.
She looked tired, yes. Worn down in places. But something steady had begun to settle in her gaze, like a ship finally catching the rhythm of the tide.
"Dad," she said, stepping close.
He moved toward her, worry and restraint threading his every motion. "Are you alright?"
"I'm okay," Luna said. "We talked about… a lot. And I think I'm going to need more sessions."
Emmerich's shoulders softened slightly. "That's good. I'm proud of you."
Luna smiled faintly, then reached for his arm. "Let's go get lunch. I'm starving."
He blinked at the casual suggestion, then laughed under his breath as they began walking down the hallway.
As they moved through the corridor, Emmerich looked down at his daughter.
There was grief still clinging to her. No therapy session could wash it all away. But there was also a quiet strength behind her tired eyes.
A kindling of resolve.
Late That Afternoon…
The warm scent of buttered popcorn and energy drinks lingered in the air, muffled by the sounds of explosions and frantic button-mashing. Kana's sleek, modern living room was a war zone—on screen and off. Two beanbags were pushed close to the giant screen, where Luna and Kana sat cross-legged, controllers in hand, eyes laser-focused on the co-op game they were deep into.
"Get the left flank! Left—your other left, Luna!" Kana yelled, half-laughing, half-panicked.
"I am! Stop yelling! You're breaking my rhythm!" Luna shot back, her fingers flying.
They barely made it through the level, pixelated enemies disintegrating into sparkles. Both girls groaned and stretched, their laughter trailing into a comfortable silence as the screen faded into the next cutscene.
Kana turned slightly to glance at Luna. "You're good at this when you're not accidentally blowing me up."
Luna chuckled and set her controller aside. "Thanks. I had to find some outlet while stuck at home."
Kana looked at her for a beat. "You doing okay? I mean… really okay?"
Luna leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Her voice came out soft, thoughtful. "I'm… working on it."
Kana stayed quiet, sensing something deeper was coming.
"Therapy's… weird," Luna admitted. "Useful, but weird. It's like, suddenly, there's this mirror showing parts of you that you never wanted to look at. Stuff I didn't even realize was there. I always thought I was just... surviving. You know? Just trying to make it through each day."
Kana nodded gently. "You've been doing that for a long time."
Luna's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Yeah. When I found out I got a Dad… it was like I could finally exhale. But I think I never really learned how to live. Just… existed. And even then, I was always bracing for the next crash."
She hugged her knees to her chest.
"There were parts of me I didn't want to admit existed. The bitterness. The guilt. The anger at my mom, even. And some part of me always told myself I wasn't enough. That I'd mess things up. That if I tried something, I'd just fail. So I held back. Made excuses. Sabotaged things before they had a chance to bloom."
Kana's gaze softened with something fierce and loyal. "Luna…"
Luna looked over, smiling faintly. "But now I want to change that. Not because of what happened, but because I finally can. I don't want to live scared anymore. I want to do more. Be more. Not for anyone else's sake, but mine."
There was a brief, emotional silence. Then—
"You idiot," Kana said, reaching over to nudge her. "I told you you were a star years ago. But you always laughed and said I was being dramatic."
Luna laughed. "You are dramatic."
"Maybe," Kana shrugged. "But I was also right."
Luna leaned her head against Kana's shoulder. "Thanks… for sticking by me. Even when I didn't know what I needed."
Kana grinned. "You're my best friend, dummy. It's my sacred duty."
Then—BOOM—the screen lit up with the sudden entrance of the final boss. Kana yelped and fumbled for her controller.
"Wait—no, don't go in yet! I need to switch to my—!"
Too late.
Luna was already sprinting into battle. "For glory!" she yelled dramatically, weaving and dodging.
Kana scrambled to catch up, "YOU LITTLE GREMLIN—!"
But it was over before it began. Luna landed the final blow with a smug grin just as Kana reached the boss.
"Sniped the kill," Luna said proudly, tossing her hair with fake vanity. "Guess I am a star."
Kana stared at the screen in betrayed silence, then burst out laughing.
"…I'm gonna remember this forever."
"Good," Luna said, laughing with her. "Let it fuel your vengeance."
And in that shared laughter, in that ordinary, cozy chaos—Luna felt she was fine as she was right now, with no dramatic change yet, but it fit the moment, so she just let the moment sink in.