Chapter 156 - Last Ramen Date

I forgot to close my blackout curtains last night (or morning), so the afternoon sunlight came crashing through my windows like an uninvited guest. Its harsh glare painted the walls in a fiery gold, prying my eyelids open and dragging me out of my fragile slumber. Blinking against the brightness, I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand. Two in the afternoon.

My stomach twisted and growled like a feral beast, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since—hell, I couldn’t even remember. Hunger clawed at my insides, sharp and insistent.

I lay there for a moment, sinking into the sheets, trying to piece myself back together. Even though I stumbled back into the dorm at five in the morning, I’d slept like a corpse. My body was dead weight, and yet exhaustion still gripped me like chains. It felt as if last night had drained something deeper than just energy.

And then the memories surged—unbidden, merciless. The sky torn open by the birth of Planet Seraphoss. Waves upon waves of Cosmic Beasts devouring the heavens. The clash with the Cosmic Goddess, her voice echoing like the judgment of eternity. My head throbbed as fragments of last night’s nightmare bled into reality.

“Neil… Fei…” The names slipped past my lips, fragile and trembling.

For a heartbeat, I wished it was just a dream. Some fevered hallucination. But the hollow ache in my chest told me the truth—they were gone. Forever.

My phone buzzed in my hand, breaking the silence. One unread message. My breath caught when I saw the name: Myrrh. Sent an hour ago.

Myrrh: Good afternoon! Are you awake already? Please reply. Agent Feena wants to talk to us tonight.

Guilt prickled through me. She’d been waiting. I didn’t even hesitate—I typed back as fast as my fingers could move.

Me: Good afternoon, Myrrh. I’m sorry, I just woke up. Sure. I’ll fetch you in front of your dorm later.

Almost instantly, her reply popped up on the screen, bright and warm against the dull ache in my chest.

Myrrh: Have you eaten already? Want to go eat first?

A small smile tugged at my lips.

Me: Okay. Let’s have a brunch. I’ll fetch you after fifteen minutes then.

Myrrh: Great! See you!

The tension knotted in my stomach began to loosen. Somehow, just seeing her messages made the shadows in my mind scatter a little. After everything that happened last night—the chaos, the loss, the war that carved scars into the sky—her words felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

I couldn’t deny it. I wanted to see her. Right now.

Excitement fluttered in my chest, mixing with an odd sense of relief. For a moment, I wasn’t the survivor of a cosmic war. I was just… me. A guy heading to brunch with a girl who made the world seem less cruel.

I threw off the sheets, feet hitting the cold floor as I rushed to get ready. It was ridiculous, really—doing my morning routine when the sun was already leaning toward dusk. Still, I brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, and grabbed my bath towel, swinging it over my shoulder like a soldier gearing up for battle—only this time, the enemy was messy hair and exhaustion.

With my basket of bath essentials tucked under one arm, I headed down the corridor toward the shower room. The quiet hum of the dorm felt heavier today, almost suffocating. And then, halfway there, I froze.

Neil’s room.

The door stood silent, its number gleaming faintly under the fluorescent lights. I stared at it longer than I should have, a strange chill creeping up my spine. The room looked… abandoned. Not just empty—abandoned, as if no one had set foot in there for the entire school year.

Was it because of last night? Because Neil tapped into the Cosmic Tree’s power? Could that kind of force really warp reality itself, the same way Dianca once did?

“Huh…” The sound slipped out, flat and hollow. I raked my fingers through my hair and let out a weary sigh. “Better get going.”

And with that, I turned away, but the silence of that door followed me like a ghost.

The shower hissed softly as I stepped under the stream, letting the warm water cascade over me like a gentle waterfall. I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and just… stood there. Droplets traced down my face, mingling with the faint scent of soap that drifted in the humid air.

I didn’t scrub right away. I didn’t even move. I just stared at the silver drain beneath my feet, watching the soapy bubbles spiral downward in lazy circles before being swallowed into the darkness like a black hole.

For some reason, my mind was empty—a hollow expanse where thoughts should be. No clarity, no recollection, just static. All I could hold on to was a single fragment: Myrrh’s hand on my shoulder last night, steadying me as I stumbled back to my room like a hollow shell.

“I should probably pay for her lunch today,” I muttered under my breath, the words scattering in the mist.

Eventually, I dragged myself through the motions—soap, rinse, shampoo, rinse again. When I stepped out, the foggy mirror reflected a stranger with tired crimson eyes and dripping red hair. I didn’t bother drying it. I just ran a comb through the wet strands, slipped into a casual outfit, and left the room with damp hair clinging to the back of my neck.

The dorm hallways buzzed with a restless energy. Finals were over, and though classes had ended, the building wasn’t empty yet. Students moved in clusters, dragging luggage, chatting about travel plans, laughter echoing faintly against the sterile white walls. A few were even bragging about vacations on Earth. Their voices felt like they belonged to a different world—a world untouched by what happened last night.

When I reached the entrance of the girls’ dormitory, I spotted her. Myrrh. She stood there waiting, sunlight pooling behind her like a soft halo. Her outfit was simple—a black sweater that looked cozy enough to melt into, a pink short skirt that brushed against her thighs, and knee-high socks that framed her legs like soft porcelain. She raised a hand and waved at me, her lips curving into that warm, familiar smile.

Something loosened in my chest. I waved back.

“Good afternoon, Zaft! I’m quite starving,” she said with a jolly tone, the kind of brightness that felt practiced. I could tell. She was trying to make the air lighter than last night—to dilute the heavy silence that still clung to me like chains.

“May I recommend the ramen store near the edge of the district?” I replied, forcing a smile of my own. “My treat.”

“Ramen, huh.” Myrrh tilted her head, her green ponytail swaying slightly. Then her eyes met mine, and for a second, I saw a flicker of something—relief? Maybe hope. “Okay! I will never say no to free food.”

“Great,” I said softly, though it felt like that single word carried a weight neither of us wanted to name.

Myrrh and I walked side by side, our footsteps echoing faintly on the stone pavement. The streets were alive with chatter and the clinking of distant dishes, but between us, there was only silence—a fragile, awkward thing hanging in the space where words should have been. I could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us.

Neither of us tried to break it until we stopped in front of the ramen shop. The faded red curtains swayed lazily with the afternoon breeze, carrying with it the rich aroma of simmering broth and soy. The sign above the entrance was chipped and weathered, but the warmth of the place was still intact—a nostalgic little haven untouched by time.

This was Neil’s place. This is where he did his first part-time job.

We pushed the door open. A bell chimed overhead, soft and hollow, and warm air enveloped us like a sigh. Inside, the restaurant was nearly deserted, save for a few crew members in aprons scrubbing ramen bowls at the sink. It was well past lunchtime, and the lull made the space feel heavier, almost sacred.

We slid into a booth for two, the vinyl seats cool against my palms. Neither of us bothered to look at the menu—we both ordered the same thing, the standard shoyu ramen. Not out of preference, but out of something quieter, heavier. This was what Neil always made. This was what tied him here.

As the staff shuffled off to prepare our order, the silence stretched again—until Myrrh spoke.

“This is where Neil had his first part-time job, right?” she said softly, her voice barely louder than the hum of the overhead fan.

“Yeah.” I leaned back against the booth, eyes tracing the familiar walls, the faint grease stains that Neil used to complain about. “This is where he first asked Fei out. They celebrated their pairing here on the first day.” A faint, bitter smile tugged at my lips. “Though honestly, that celebration looked more like a terrorist meeting than a date. Neil probably hacked the AI to make sure they got paired.”

Myrrh chuckled faintly, the sound light but tinged with something hollow. “Come to think of it, maybe we should thank them for their hacking. If not for that, we might never have been partners for the Midterms.” She tilted her head, offering me a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You have a point there,” I said, letting out a dry laugh. “Everything went into a downward spiral after I got partnered with you.”

“Huh?” Her smile vanished as her piercing blue eyes narrowed into a glare that could cut steel.

“N-Nothing! Forget I said anything!” I raised my hands in surrender, panic bubbling up in my chest.

For a moment, her expression stayed icy—and then she scoffed, her laughter spilling out like a soft breeze breaking through the storm. “I see you’re back to your old self, roasting me first thing in the afternoon.” Her grin widened, playful now. “Here I was, trying to be wholesome and raise your spirits, and this is how you repay me?”

“Oh, sorry, Miss Mary Sue. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine now… I think.” I forced a smile, though the words tasted awkward on my tongue. “Thank you for supporting me last night, Myrrh.”

Her face immediately flushed crimson, almost matching the pink of her skirt. With a quick flick of her long greenish-blonde ponytail, she turned her head away in mock indignation, puffing her cheeks like an irritated cat. “It’s nothing. Just a basic skill to calm you down. Hmph!”

I couldn’t help but laugh quietly. This was the Myrrh I knew—the classic Myrrh. Acting all tough, pretending she wasn’t soft-hearted when she absolutely was. Somehow, that little act of stubborn pride was enough to lift the heaviness pressing down on me. She reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this, no matter how shattered the world felt.

Leaning back, Myrrh crossed her arms, her sharp blue eyes glinting with a strange mix of pride and sincerity. “Well, I’m pretty sure that if we hadn’t gotten partnered on the first day, everything would’ve fallen apart. The whole world, gone. You wouldn’t have been able to save us.”

“Agreed,” I said with a small nod. For once, no sarcasm. Just truth.

At that moment, the clatter of bowls on the wooden table broke our gaze. Our ramen had arrived, the rich aroma of soy and broth curling into the air like an embrace. Steam rose in gentle swirls, carrying the salty-sweet promise of comfort. Beside the bowls sat tall glasses of red iced tea, droplets of condensation sliding down their sides like tiny rivers.

We didn’t waste time. Chopsticks clacked, noodles lifted, and we slurped like survivors at the end of the world—which, honestly, wasn’t far from the truth. Each bite was savory warmth, the broth soaking into the noodles with the perfect blend of umami. For a few precious minutes, it felt like nothing existed outside this booth. Just us, ramen, and the hum of an old restaurant.

Then, Myrrh set her chopsticks down, wiping a bead of broth from the corner of her lips. “Hey, Zaft,” she said casually, though her tone hinted at something more. “Are you free after this? Agent Feena told me we can head to their office earlier.”

I took a sip of the broth, letting it warm my throat before answering. “I’ve got nothing planned, so yeah, let’s go earlier than scheduled.” Then a thought sparked in my head, and I smirked. “But before we hit the KAWAII Office, let’s grab some tteokbokki for takeout.”