Not soft. Not distant.

It came like a song he used to know-

half-remembered, half-forgotten-

still humming in the marrow of his bones.

A scent of jasmine in sun-warmed halls.

The rustle of silk caught in wind.

The way light spilled through a palace window like it was trying to touch someone before fading.

---

He was young again.

And she-

She was still alive.

---

II. The Woman in Orange Light

Mercedes.

She wore no crown. No veil.

Just a plain gown of dusk-colored cloth, her feet bare, tucked beneath her on the cold stone balcony.

The sun clung to her hair like fire-

orange and gold, glowing, alive.

She didn't look like royalty.

She looked like a lullaby.

Something the world should've never let go.

She was humming-

an old tune he couldn't place, but his heart knew it anyway.

He was just a boy, peering around the archway, afraid to break the moment.

She didn't turn.

"Come here," she said, gently. Like she already knew he was there.

And he moved.

He always moved when she called.

---

"You'll get scolded again," she murmured as he sat beside her. "Skipping drills. Climbing roofs. Ignoring your tutors."

"I don't care," he mumbled. "They're teaching me how to fight wars I don't believe in."

"And what do you believe in?"

He hesitated, then looked at his hands.

"I don't know. Not swords. Not crowns. Just... this."

She glanced at him. "This?"

"This moment. When it's quiet. When you're not gone. When I remember who I am."

Something passed across her face.

A flicker. A fracture.

Like the light on the balcony faltered, but didn't break.

"I'll always remember who you are," she said.

And for a breath, the ache in his chest loosened.

---

He turned toward her. His voice barely carried.

"If I disappear one day..."

Her hand reached for his before he could finish.

"You won't."

"But if I do," he whispered, "will you find me?"

She cupped his face with both hands. Her fingers were warm, trembling just a little.

"I'll find you," she said, voice breaking like dawn. "Even if you forget me. Even if you change your name."

He closed his eyes.

And for a single second-

just one-

he believed her.

---

Dantes woke before dawn.

No screams. No burning scar.

Just cold air. And silence.

And a name on his lips.

"...Mercedes."

He sat up slowly, like a man surfacing from deep water.

The fire had gone out. The others still slept.

His hand hovered near his heart.

And for the first time in years-

he didn't know if the ache was for the woman he'd lost...

or the boy he used to be,

who once believed in promises made in golden light.