Chapter 159 - Back to Earth

After nearly an hour, our luxury trip around the glittering metropolis finally came to an end. The train hissed as it slid into the station, its polished frame reflecting the neon lights that painted the city night. Myrrh and I stepped off the platform, the hum of engines and chatter of late commuters trailing behind us as we began our walk back to the dorms.

The night air was crisp and carried the faint scent of rain on concrete. The city was still alive with distant laughter, car horns, and the glow of hovering billboards, but for me, the evening had already reached its closing note—I still had a space shuttle to catch at six, and sleep was now worth more than the night’s thrills.

“Man, that was quite a scene. My first time in first class, and it was amazing!” Myrrh clapped her hands together, her face bright with childlike delight.

I chuckled, raising my phone and opening my online wallet app, only for my expression to flatten at the numbers staring back at me. “I’d love to say we should do it again, but… my poor balance is crying. That trip burned a hole through it.”

“First class is meant to be a once-in-a-lifetime treat. You don’t need to splurge like that every time.” Myrrh pouted dramatically, forcing her lips into a frown. “I even told you earlier that business class was enough, didn’t I?”

“Fine, fine. Next time, if we ever space out and ride it again, we’ll go business class.” I scoffed, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

She mimicked my scoff perfectly, and our laughter blended with the faint echo of our footsteps. We passed through the quiet walkways of the Orbital Tech campus, where only a handful of students lingered, shadows stretching long under the lamplights. Most had already left for their breaks, leaving the grounds strangely hollow.

“Oh, Zaft,” Myrrh’s voice softened, tugging me out of my thoughts as we neared the dormitories.

“What’s up?” I asked, glancing at her.

She lowered her gaze, brushing a strand of lime-green hair behind her ear. “I’ll be sleeping at the hospital tonight. With my mother. She… might get lonely if I leave her alone again. So, this is as far as I can walk with you.”

“Oh, right. I never dropped by to say goodbye to Mrs. Mirana Alicent, huh.” I rubbed the back of my neck, guilt tugging at me. “Please… give her my regards.”

“Don’t worry,” Myrrh smirked, her lips curling with playful mischief, though her tone carried a warmth I couldn’t miss. “You’ll see your childhood crush again next week. I’ve been saving up for both of us to take a vacation back on Earth, so… we might be staying there for quite a while.”

I chuckled faintly, though my heart skipped at her words. “Alright. Just hit me up once you’re back on Earth.”

“Got it.” She lifted her phone like a little banner of promise.

Silence stretched between us, the kind that presses on your chest without asking permission. The streetlights bathed Myrrh in a soft golden glow, outlining the delicate curve of her cheeks. Her blue eyes shimmered faintly, betraying a loneliness that her smile couldn’t quite hide. I felt my lips curve upward in spite of myself, a helpless, quiet smile.

Then, as if shaking herself free, Myrrh waved with a sudden burst of cheer. “See you on Earth then! Goodbye!”

“Yeah… see you.” I lifted my hand, slower, almost reluctant.

She turned and began to run, her long hair swaying behind her as though even the night breeze wanted to keep her from leaving. Maybe she was rushing to catch the next bus, or maybe her heart was pulling her toward her mother’s bedside. Either way, the echo of her steps faded quickly into the emptiness of the street. She had already given me more than enough of her time tonight.

A sigh escaped me, unbidden, as I turned back toward the dorms. The walkway stretched ahead, quiet and dim, shadows stretching long across the pavement. My mind drifted toward practical matters—packing my luggage, catching the shuttle at dawn—but something tugged sharply at the back of my thoughts.

As I descended the dorm steps, the feeling grew heavier. It was as if a hand reached out from memory, tapping insistently at my conscience.

Neil. Fei. Dianca.

They had all told me the same thing, time and time again. They had urged me, pushed me, teased me—never letting me forget. And now, with them gone, their voices seemed to linger in the night air like ghosts, whispering at the edge of my hearing.

What was it? What was I forgetting?

Then it struck me.

Oh, right.

I was enjoying every moment with Myrrh that I forgot to confess.

I had an ungodly early start—4:00 AM. By 4:30 I was at the space terminal, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, and stuffing a lukewarm burger into my mouth until the clock ticked to five. That’s when I remembered, with a sharp, embarrassed pang, that I’d forgotten to buy souvenirs for my parents.

So I dove straight into the obvious tourist traps: racks of Archonlight Tower keychains that glittered like tiny spires, and gaudy neon trinkets that flashed the word XYRAXIS in every color. Thirty minutes later, pockets lighter and conscience marginally soothed, I shoved myself into my seat on the shuttle. The cabin felt familiar — the same airplane-style layout, the same touch-screen TV embedded in the seatback, the same always-too-bright overhead lights.

As the shuttle peeled away from the terminal and climbed, I flicked the screen on. A news channel filled the small display: a studio backdrop, a reporter’s crisp voice, and a middle-aged man being interviewed.

“So, Professor Wingate, how do you explain the phenomenon that happened two nights ago?” the reporter asked.

“This is indubitably a Reality Rewrite — the same event as fifteen years ago,” Professor Wingate replied, his voice steady and unnervingly calm. “The mysterious planet seen in the Xyraxis skies is real. We have witnesses on Earth who reported the alien planet manifesting out of nowhere. The fact that it vanished while people woke up somewhere they shouldn’t be is the evidence of a reality warp.”

“Do you think the Cosmic Beasts were involved? Are we in danger?” the reporter pressed.

“We are not sure; much of the information is highly classified. The Kaiserin has, however, promised that everything on Xyraxis is under control.”

The words floated in the cabin, distant and clinical. I turned my attention to the window. From up here Xyraxis dwindled into a jewel of neon and chrome, its skyline a jagged heartbeat against the dark. Beyond it hung the blue curve of home—Earth—palely magnificent.

As we reentered the atmosphere a shimmering forcefield bloomed around the shuttle, a halo of light that seared and then settled as we pushed through the upper layers. When the haze cleared, the planet’s face opened beneath us: endless blue oceans, swathes of green continents, and the tiny, fragile patchwork of cities.

A soft, stupid grin crept across my face. The sight hit me like a pinch—relief, disbelief, and something like gratitude. I was home.

As soon as I stepped out of the space terminal, I drew in a deep breath. The air of Earth flooded my lungs—cool, clean, and alive in a way that Xyraxis’ recycled, sterile atmosphere could never hope to mimic. Oxygen here wasn’t just air; it was a luxury, a memory of what it meant to feel human. If given the choice, I’d take this breath of Earth a thousand times over the mechanical drafts of Xyraxis.

I boarded a bus that wound its way through the familiar streets, the city gradually giving way to greener stretches and quieter lanes. By the time the old, rural part of town rolled into view, the clock struck eight in the morning. At first, the math didn’t make sense—five hours from Xyraxis to Earth shouldn’t have placed me here this early. Then it clicked: the time discrepancy. My WEEB watch had already auto-adjusted the timezones, though my brain lagged behind. For a moment I wondered if I was dreaming, but no—just plain old jet lag playing tricks on me.

When I finally reached our humble bungalow, I felt something unclench in my chest. I pushed open the door and the warm scent of breakfast greeted me. At the dining table, my father and mother sat side by side, enjoying bowls of oatmeal studded with fruit.

“I’m home,” I said softly, setting my luggage aside.

“Oh, Zaft!” My father’s face broke into a wide grin. “Come, join us! Have some breakfast!”

“Don’t mind if I do!” I grinned back, sliding into a chair.

My mother ladled a bowl for me, her hands careful but practiced. She topped it generously—bananas, blueberries, strawberries, even slices of orange that caught the light like tiny stained glass. She set it in front of me with a gentle smile. “Here, eat.”

I stared down at the vibrant bowl, my stomach growling. “Man, this looks fresh and healthy!” I cried, raising the spoon like a knight with his weapon. “This might be the first time I’ll ever eat something this good for me!”

I plucked a single blueberry from my bowl and held it up to the light, admiring its plump curve, its dusky skin, the tiny crown at its tip. A masterpiece of nature.

“Ah! North American blueberries! A timeless classic!” I declared before tossing it into my mouth. The pop of juice, sweet with just a whisper of tart, made me hum in delight. “Mmm!”

Next, I scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal, thick with slices of banana and strawberry. As it touched my tongue, the flavors burst like fireworks in my mouth.

“Oooh la la! The freshness of the oat fields! The tender embrace of banana! The sweet-and-sour kiss of strawberry!” My eyes stung. I actually cried. Tears streaked down my face as I clutched the spoon. “No more greasy pizzas, no more soulless instant noodles! Nothing—absolutely nothing—beats real, fresh food!”

Across the table, my parents exchanged a look somewhere between a cringe and a chuckle. Still, my mother wordlessly set down a glass filled with creamy yogurt.

I clasped it reverently. “Ah, greetings, Greece! Land where yogurt flows like rivers!” And with one mighty slurp, I downed the glass in a single go. “Yes! A delight to the senses!”

One bite led to another, then another. I devoured fruit, yogurt, and oats like a pilgrim starved of salvation. I chugged a glass of cold milk to crown the meal. Every taste sent me spiraling higher. My body shuddered with joy; my spirit sang hallelujahs.

“Mmmh! So good! Perfectly prepared! Aaaah! Ooooh! Yesss!” I practically shouted, clutching my bowl like it was divine scripture. “I love being at home! I love what I’m eating! I love—what—I’m—having!”

And then I broke. Tears welled, unstoppable. Joyful, ugly sobbing as I stuffed another spoonful into my mouth. “Uwaaaah… s-so good… Uwaaaah…”

My parents froze. My mother leaned toward my father, whispering through her grimace.

“…Is he on drugs?”

“Definitely,” my father muttered back, lips twitching.