CHAPTER 51: CHAPTER 51 – THE HAND OF REALMS (PART 2)

Chapter 51 – The Hand of Realms (Part 2)

Zane’s breath caught in his throat.

The moment his eyes found the source of the lullaby, he felt... weightless. Every note seemed to tug at his chest, winding around his heart like silk threads soaked in nostalgia. Without even realizing it, his legs began to move, drawn toward the haunting melody. The cold stone beneath his feet, the gentle whisper of night air—it all faded into background noise.

He stepped through the quiet garden, navigating between trees and lantern-lit paths, until the space opened up into a wide terrace that overlooked the sea.

The waves rolled gently against the cliffside wall, their rhythm syncing perfectly with the humming voice. The breeze carried a soft spray of salt, mingling with the sweet scent of nearby flowers.

And there—framed against the dark shimmer of the sea—stood a girl.

She wasn’t dancing, not quite. But her hair—long and midnight black—moved with such grace that it felt like a dance. Her back was to him, posture calm, arms resting loosely by her sides. Only her voice moved.

It was enough.

Zane stood motionless, watching her. The world had slowed to a crawl. Every sound became her lullaby. Every motion lost its meaning.

’Who... is she?’ he thought, eyes narrowed. He didn’t know how long he stood there. A minute? Ten? An hour?

Then, as if pulled by some invisible thread, the girl turned around.

Their eyes met.

And in that instant, Zane knew.

’Wait—no way...’ His breath hitched. That face. That pale, radiant skin. Those piercing eyes, sharp and gentle at once. It was unmistakable.

Lune Starpiercer.

The miracle of Lower Earth. The S-Rank Candidate. The living myth that had been the center of attention across every channel, screen, and paper since the day of her awakening.

And here she was. Singing alone by the sea.

Neither of them spoke. For a long moment, they just stood there, eyes locked, the air between them shimmering with something unspoken.

They weren’t sizing each other up.

They were reading.

Searching, silently, for any crack in the mask. For a glimpse of what might lie behind the calm exterior.

But there was nothing.

Zane couldn’t read her. And judging by her subtle change in expression, she couldn’t read him either.

Layers of mystery, wrapped around iron walls.

Lune raised an eyebrow—just slightly.

Finally, her voice broke the silence, as smooth as velvet.

"Can I help you?"

Zane blinked. "Hm? No. I was just out for a walk. Have a nice evening."

He turned to leave, brushing past a vine-laced trellis. But her voice called out again.

"Are you one of the Candidates?"

He paused. "...Yeah."

"I am too," she said softly.

"I’m aware," he replied, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Your face has been plastered on every screen I’ve passed for the last three days."

A faint sigh left her lips. "I didn’t ask for that. I never wanted to be treated like this."

Zane snorted. "You’re asking the impossible. People worship stories, and you’re the best story to come out of this world... ever."

And it was true. He’d seen the footage. Heard the rumors. There were even fringe cults forming around her image, already elevating her to near-divine status. In a world as desperate and broken as theirs, Lune had become more than a person.

She had become a symbol. A divine being who was revered as the true savior of this ruined world.

"You’re quite... aware," she said, tilting her head.

"I’ll take that as a compliment."

"It is."

A flicker of amusement passed between them—too brief to settle.

Zane gave a half-wave. "Right. I’ll leave you to it. Didn’t mean to interrupt."

He turned again, this time more determined to leave. He wanted no part of whatever spectacle might follow if someone caught them speaking. The last thing he needed was to be noticed.

’Of all the people I could have stumbled into... it had to be her,’ he grumbled internally. ’This has to be some kind of cosmic joke.’

Behind him, Lune watched his retreating figure with quiet curiosity. She could still see his eyes in her mind—sharp and unreadable, but not cold. Something about them stirred a feeling she hadn’t felt in ages.

Interest.

’Those eyes...’ she whispered to herself. Then she turned back toward the sea and resumed her lullaby, the melody carrying a new weight.

Elsewhere on the terrace, Zane stopped near the edge, resting his arms on the metal railing. The sea stretched out endlessly before him, blanketed under moonlight. The Gate loomed in the distance, a towering giant watching the world sleep.

"This is nice..." he muttered, closing his eyes.

The wind tugged gently at his hair. The night was quiet, the air clean, and the sea’s rhythm soothing.

All the tension, all the stress of the past few days, melted away.

"Hah... what an interesting time to be alive," he whispered with a chuckle. "Last night on Earth. Not a bad way to say goodbye."

His lips curled into a faint smile.

Despite everything this world had done to him... despite all the pain, loss, and resentment he carried... this moment felt pure.

Hopeful.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

And for once, he was ready.

***

Zane eventually returned to his room and managed to get a bit more sleep. The nightmares didn’t spare him—but even then, he woke up rested, if not entirely at peace.

As dawn crept over the city, he took a long shower, changed into the sleek black uniform prepared for the candidates, and made his way to the dining hall.

He expected it to be empty.

But the moment he stepped in, he saw someone already devouring half the buffet.

A lone silhouette hunched over a table, surrounded by towers of plates. The smell of fresh croissants, coffee, and something suspiciously sweet filled the air.

"Mmm, this tiramisu thing is amazing... I’m definitely taking some with me later," the woman mumbled with her mouth full.

Zane blinked.

She looked up.

"...Oh." A beat. Then a sheepish smile.

"O-Oh, if it isn’t my dear boy Zane..." Fiora said, quickly reaching for a napkin to wipe the cream off her lips.

He stared blankly, then silently pointed to the corner of his mouth.

She paused... then realized her blunder.

"Ah! Right, uh, just—cream—y’know..." she fumbled with a laugh, wiping it hastily.

"I didn’t expect to see you so soon," Zane said as he took a seat across from her.

"Well, we’re heading out today, remember? I figured you’d show up eventually." Fiora leaned back, patting her stomach. "I’m glad to see you made it in one piece."

"Barely," he replied, cracking his knuckles.

"I heard about the monster attack," she said, eyes narrowing slightly. "You’ve got some seriously shitty luck, kid. That sort of thing almost never happens."

"Tell me about it. I nearly lost a leg out there. Thankfully, the conductor helped."

"Hm... the conductor," Fiora muttered, her tone darkening. "At least those bastards are still useful as ever, huh?"

Zane raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing, just remembering that they exist."

"..."

"They’re... strange. We call them ’Escorts’ or ’Guides’ officially, but no one really knows what they are."

"What, like a special rank?"

"Technically, yeah. But their purpose is... oddly limited. They just ferry candidates from one place to another. That’s it. And yet, they’re always around. Always watching. No one really talks to them, and honestly? I don’t trust them."

’So even Fiora finds them unsettling...’ Zane thought.

"They don’t even feel human," she added with a shrug. "Soulless, quiet, always smiling. Gives me the creeps."

"...Noted."

"Anyway!" Fiora clapped her hands together. "Enough of those creepy weirdos. Go grab some food. Let’s eat together. Like old times!"

Zane tilted his head. "Old times? We ate together, like, yesterday."

"Apples and oranges, boy! Don’t sweat the details. Now move it—I’m not saving you any tiramisu."

Zane sighed but stood up anyway.

Maybe this morning wouldn’t be so bad after all.