That night, they returned to the penthouse. Milo handed her a cold drink without ceremony as they stepped onto the balcony.

Artificial stars flickered overhead—too symmetrical, too serene. Aurora caught the can, turned it in her hands, and looked at him, as if betrayed. “This isn’t tan slush.”

“No.” Milo leaned against the railing. “I have my methods.” She didn’t laugh. Just stared at the skyline like she was trying to see through it.

“You’re drifting,” he said.

What was she supposed to tell him? That she anticipated he would betray her? No, she simply said. “I want to go out. Alone.”

He paused, but only for a second. “So go.”

She looked at him, a bit surprised. Was he really not trying to control her all this time? She finally said, “I’ll need a forged ID.”

“Wait right there.”

She nodded once. The fizz of the drink hissed between them. She stood still while he worked. Outside, the city glowed without noise, lights without life. Ten minutes later, he returned and handed her a thin plastic strip. It shimmered faintly between his fingers.

“This will get you anywhere,” he said. “Including platform access. You just need to figure out how to choose your destination.”

Aurora took it, weighing it in her hand. “This isn’t a trick, right?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“It…doesn't track me or have a camera?”

He crossed his arms. She shook her head.“Will it let me back into this dome?”

That made him pause. His eyebrows rose, just slightly. “The outer dome?” He paused, grinning with surprise. “Oh, yes.”

He didn’t offer any additional questions or warnings. Just unwavering acceptance.

She pocketed the slip and stood.

“Great,” she said. “I’ll be back. Don’t wait.”

Milo’s eyes shimmered as he watched her leave. He didn’t move an inch – just shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the balcony, eyes fixed on her retreating back. “I won’t,” he called back.

And she left.

—-------------------------

Aurora stumbled in just after sunrise, the metal door hissing shut behind her. Her clothes were rumpled. Dust clung to her sleeves. Her eyes were red-rimmed and distant. She knew if she looked in the mirror, she’d ask ‘what the hell happened to you?’ Her wry smile didn’t match the careful way she moved, like each step cost something. Finding and convincing Karl had been…

Milo was already awake, seated in the corner of the kitchen, sipping from a matte black mug. The coffee steamed faintly in the filtered light. He didn’t rise. Didn’t demand an explanation.

“Good morning,” he said evenly.

Aurora paused, caught off guard by the calm. She looked at him then, really looked, like she’d expected judgment or interrogation. She knew what she must have looked like – hopefully he didn’t guess the hell she just went through. “Morning.”

But Milo just took another sip. She didn’t know why she had expected him to be indulgent, probing. But this was Milo – there was no trace of suspicion or jealousy. She crossed the room slowly, her limbs stiff from the ordeal she'd been through. She dropped the borrowed ID card on the counter. It slid, spun once, and stilled. Milo didn’t look at it. Just tilted his head slightly, still watching her.

“Do you need sleep?” he asked.

“Do we have time?” she retorted.

“I hope whatever you did,” he said, eyeing the weight in her posture, “was worth it.”

“It… might pay off.” Her voice came out shakier than she wanted. She crossed the room and opened a cabinet. Mugs, perfectly arranged. Like nothing had ever broken.

“You’re really not going to ask me anything?”

“Do you want me to?”

She hesitated. “Make me a cup of that,” she said roughly. “I’ll be fine.”

He set the kettle to boil, but his eyes never left her. She wondered with annoyance if they were always amused.

She sat, letting the fire’s warmth settle around her. The light spilled over books and paintings. Outside, the kingdom sprawled – quiet and orderly. It was a paradise for robots.

She shook it off and met his gaze, sharp now. “This time, you tell me the whole plan. Or Cerceras or not, I’m leaving.”

Milo smiled gently. He studied her. “We’re partners now. Equals. That’s all I ever wanted. As for a plan? I don’t have one. Not this time.”

He gestured toward the glass. “If this were your revolution—what would it need?”

She watched the city. Sipped her coffee. Steam curled around her fingers.

“If I were the one leading,” she murmured, “I’d start by reawakening emotion. Art that stirs. Food that comforts. Then access to chip-removal tech.”

“Good.” Milo’s voice was low. “Goals?”

“Free the magic users first. Then give everyone else a choice.”

He twitched, annoyed. Of course she’d say that.

“And?”

“Teach the citizens of the Stone Kingdom what feeling is for, what meaning is.”

He nodded once and set down his mug. “Then lead it.” His eyes locked on hers. “It’s your war now. Your plan. It’s time I follow, not you follow me. Everything I know, I’ll lay bare. All my resources and efforts are yours.”

She blinked. “You’re kidding me.”

Milo crossed his arms. She studied him up and down before realizing: this is what he wanted the whole time. All of this – everything we went through – was really for me. Why? Just because he remembers me?

The memory of their previous life flashed before her eyes. “And if I fail?”

“Then you’ll fail beautifully. And I won’t regret it.”

The silence that followed held something heavy. Milo was here to create his own meaning. And it was her. She looked down at the still, mechanical city. Set her mug aside.

“Okay,” she said. “I got it.”