The True Reason

For a moment, he just looks at me.

Then, with a steady breath, June answers, "Because I have been saved by the Savior. I also want to save."

His words are simple. So simple.

But they strike something deep in me—something sacred. Something soft and burning.

My heart warms in the cold morning air, swelling with something more than admiration—something like awe. And love.

"Right…" I whisper. "You're right."

He lowers his gaze for just a second, then looks back at me with a softness I haven't seen before.

"Now… go, Hannah…" he says, but this time, his voice wavers.

His smile falters.

Just for a flicker of a second—but I see it.

And that faltering smile feels heavier than anything he could've said aloud.

I turn back slowly. The port is alive with motion—people filing into a line that snakes toward the waiting ship. The hull glints under the early morning sun like a promise, or maybe a threat. My eyes follow the line, my feet frozen in place.

I want to turn back.

I want to run to him, ask him to come with me, tell him to stay safe, to wait for me, to not disappear like so many others have.

But I don't turn back.

Instead, I blink away the sting rising behind my eyes. I take one step forward. Then another. The line moves, and so do I.

Tears brim quietly, catching in the corners of my vision—but I keep walking. Straight ahead. No turning around.

"My God… my Savior… Please protect June. Please protect everyone in the Society," I whisper under my breath as I climb the boarding ramp, one hand brushing the rail.

The wind brushes against my cheeks as if it wants to carry my prayer straight into heaven. I don't know what lies ahead. I'm not even sure if my family is still alive. The gunshots from that terrible scene—they haunt me. Sometimes I think I still hear them in my sleep. Sometimes I think they already took everything I love.

But I keep moving.

Step by step, I go forward. Toward Costan. Toward my family whom I want to believe is still alive, waiting for me there.

Slowly, the door to Room 805 creaks open, and Julian steps inside.

The lights are dim. The room is quiet.

Empty, he thinks, glancing around. Grace's aunt and uncle must have went home already.

His footsteps are slow, deliberate, as he crosses the room. By the bed, Grace lies still, her eyes gently closed, her breathing soft and rhythmic beneath the pale sheets. Her face looks peaceful—almost as if she's simply napping, lost in some quiet dream.

Julian pauses, gazing at her for a long moment. Then, he turns toward the window where snow is falling silently outside, brushing against the glass like whispered memories.

He walks to the wall, removes his long dark coat, and hangs it on the wooden hook with a quiet sigh. Then he sinks into the guardian's chair by the bed, the leather cool against his back.

On the bedside table, two small aloe drinks sit unopened—the kind with the little green cap. He imagines her aunt and uncle left them for him, perhaps remembering how often he'd been visiting, watching over Grace day after day.

Julian picks one up, turns it slowly in his hand, then glances at Grace again.

He smiles faintly. For some reason, he just knows she'd like it.

"Wake up, Grace," he says softly, his voice almost playful. "You like aloe drinks, right?"

He lets out a small smirk at his own words.

As if she can just wake up like that, he thinks. Like it's that easy.

The breeze creeps in through the open window, brushing against his skin like ice. He stands again, walks over, and gently pulls the window in—not fully, just enough to dull the chill while still letting in the sound of winter.

When he returns to his seat, he watches her.

He misses her eyes the most. The way they used to lock onto his with such clarity—so round and full of life. He misses the way her lips curled when she smiled, how her cheekbones lifted when she laughed. The mischievous sparkle in her expression. That fierce certainty when she spoke what she believed.

He can still see her—how she looked at him, how she looked at Hannah. So vivid. So present. As if she's still doing it now.

"This Saturday," Julian begins, voice low and calm, "it's Eugene's wedding day."

He lets the words linger.

"And I'm the MC."

Silence fills the room, soft as snowfall.

Julian chuckles to himself and shakes his head. 

"Isn't that ridiculous? I've never done that before. Not once. Not in the hundred and thirty-five years I've been alive. And here I am—finally doing it."

Saying it aloud feels strange.

Strangely freeing.

That number. 

A hundred and thirty-five years. 

He's kept that part of himself hidden for so long. A truth reserved only for a few—Eugene, the other members of the Society. No one else. Certainly not anyone like Grace.

Until now.

"This… immortality," Julian says slowly, "it drags on, Grace. It just keeps going."

He stares at her, his voice growing gentler.

"And I'm kind of nervous, to be honest. Doing this wedding. Being up there in front of people." A small, sheepish laugh escapes him. "But when Eugene asked… I couldn't say no. He's been there for me. Over ten years. He's been a true friend. And you know what that means for someone like me."

Julian leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. He gazes at her, really gazes at her, like she might open her eyes at any moment.

"And you… You've been with me for more than a century, Grace," he whispers. "Not in the way Eugene has. But in my heart."

He swallows.

"I don't even know how to explain it. But you're just… here. Always."

Julian gazes at Grace, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that speaks volumes. There's a quiet depth in his gaze, a reflection of emotions he can't fully put into words. In that moment, it's as if time slows, and all that matters is the way she stands there—her presence, her essence, an anchor in the chaos of the world around them.

Every glance at her is a subtle yet powerful reminder of how intricately their lives have been woven together by a higher hand. It's not just fate; it's divine orchestration. He feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude, almost like he's witnessing a beautiful piece of art unfold with every moment they share. She's not just a person in his life; she's the embodiment of something greater, a promise fulfilled.

I stand at the edge of the ship, gazing out at the dawn ocean, watching as the vastness stretches out to meet the distant shore of Costan. The air smells salty, the waves rhythmically crashing against the side of the boat, and there's an eerie calmness among the passengers. The deck is filled with people, but almost all of them are silent, absorbed in their thoughts. I can feel it in the air, this collective sense of purpose—of searching, of longing. We're all here for the same reason, even if we don't speak it aloud. We're on our way to Costan, a place where we hope to find the missing pieces of our lives. For me, it's the dream of finding my family, the hope that they're waiting on the other side.

My chest tightens at the thought. The ache of wondering if I'll see them again, if I'll be whole again, is almost too much to bear. But then, I remind myself that I'm here. That's something. I'm on my way, and that's more than I had a few days ago.

I shift my gaze, my eyes tracing the ever-changing patterns of the ocean waves. The sun is setting now, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and my mind starts to drift back to the moment before I boarded the ship, that moment with June.

I can almost feel the tap on my shoulder again, the jolt of recognition as I turned and saw him standing there. June. My heart literally dropped at the sight of him. It wasn't just relief—it was like a surge of emotions all at once. I hadn't expected him to come all the way to the port, to make sure I had the fake ID. I had been so focused on leaving, so certain I'd never see him again. And yet, there he was, standing before me, like the universe had conspired to give us one last moment together.

And that moment, that connection, made everything feel a little more bearable. I wanted to thank him then, for just showing up. For being the one to get me the ID when no one else would have. For making sure I had a chance, even if it was just a small one.

But now, standing here, facing the sea, I can't help but wonder…