Chapter 25 : Beneath the Surface
Far below the quiet hum of the ordinary house—beneath floorboards and false walls, past biometric gates and layered silencing fields—the underground base stirred.
Elira felt it before she heard anything.
The soft tremor in the energy that ran through the walls like breath. A shift in the air, the way the artificial light above her flickered slightly—not from failure, but from presence.
He's home.
She rose from the couch in the common room he'd made for her—modest and clean, filled with soft, neutral colors. There were no locks, no chains. She wasn't caged.
But she had never left.
The moment she stood, her heart quickened—not with fear. Never fear. But with a fluttering ache that never quite left her body.
She smoothed her skirt down with trembling fingers, brushing dust that wasn't there.
Ren was close.
But… something about him was off. Again.
She pressed her hand against the smooth wall near the hallway—the one she often stood beside when waiting for him to arrive. He always passed this way. Not once had he come in from any other direction, as if even here, in this impossible place, he liked routine. Or control.
The moment stretched.
Then she heard it.
Not footsteps. Not noise. But presence—dimensional space reacting to him. The world shifted subtly to accommodate him. He didn't walk through the door. He reappeared.
Like a ghost returning to his domain.
She turned just in time to see him step through—Ren, her Ren. Pale as ever, dark-eyed, dressed in the same clothes he always wore when in the outside world. Still beautiful. Still distant.
But hollow.
Like his body was moving without him inside.
She wanted to run to him, but didn't.
Instead, she stood where she was, hands held gently in front of her, eyes wide. Waiting.
"Ren…" she whispered.
His eyes met hers—and for the briefest instant, the faintest flicker of softness crossed his face.
"Elira," he said simply, his voice low and calm.
She stepped forward carefully. "You're… tired."
"I've had a long day."
"More slave processing?" she asked, trying to sound casual, even lighthearted. "Or… something else?"
He gave her a look—not cold, but unreadable.
"A disturbance."
Her lips parted. "Here?"
"No. Not anymore."
He walked past her slowly, moving toward the central console that sat at the heart of the base. A living machine made of mirrored light and shadowed metal—it pulsed with low energy, tuned to his presence.
Elira turned and followed him. "Do you want to rest? I can bring you tea. Or just stay close. I don't need anything else."
He didn't answer right away.
Because she wasn't wrong. He didn't need anything.
But she needed him.
And she always had.
As he sat down on the bench near the console, Elira came to his side, kneeling gently at his feet. Her fingers reached for his hand—but stopped just short.
She waited.
She always waited.
"I missed you," she said softly, eyes downcast. "Even though I know I'm not supposed to say that."
He looked at her—studying her, almost as if he were trying to decide whether the words meant anything anymore.
"I know," he replied finally.
That was all.
No "I missed you too."
Not even a lie.
But still she smiled. Still she leaned her head lightly against his knee, content with even that.
And beneath the quiet hum of Ren's empire, Elira closed her eyes.
He's here.
Even if she could feel—more than ever—that part of him was drifting further away.