Hye-jin's steps were so quick I had to start jogging to catch up to her. "Iruna?" she demanded, her hands flying in the air in exasperation. When she needed answers, she wouldn't ever stop. "I saw you get decapitated. What are you doing here, alive and well?"

The girl whirled to us, her feet never stopping their walk, just continuing backwards. " 'Alive' is a relative term," she said. "Hurry up. The Princess is waiting."

I craned my neck up at the ceiling, marveling at the intricate swirls of glass dotting the skylights. The corridor we poured into after stepping off the transport circle casted by the girl—whose name seemed to be Iruna, according to Hye-jin—was lined with nothing but glass cases, vases, and portraits of faded people. It's like a museum, except everything was free to touch, and of course, to break.

They'd probably make us pay more than ethrans if we do that, though. Say, was one soul enough?

While Hye-jin was hogging the girl who didn't seem inclined to answer her questions, I noted the carpet, the wallpaper, the murals on the ceiling—everything. Did the Central Empire's official palace look remotely like the palace in the Western Tower? Was it grander? Perhaps, judging from the polished marble floor and the sheer brightness of the halls, whiter?

I got my answer when Iruna stopped in front of a set of ornate doors. They didn't appear to be wood, but I'd digress. The girl spun on her heels, facing us with a swish of her yellow-green pigtails. After seeing her head fly off her neck courtesy of Arzo's blade, seeing her smiling and moving about had been such a relief. I thought it was another death heaped on our heads.

"Listen, you two," Iruna pointed a finger from different hands at us. "Behave in there, alright? I don't want to hear any squabbling. The Princess' time is precious. You're not to waste it. Got it?"

I bobbed my head. That's the only thing to do in this situation. Hye-jin followed suit. Iruna blew a breath and faced the door again. "Alright," she planted her hands on the door's faces. "Here we go."

She pushed the doors with ease, the panels swiveling on their hinges with ease. They gave way to a spacious room that's a library, a hotel lobby, and an observatory rolled into one. The library bit could be found on the floor-to-ceiling shelves bulging with books, going for the whole circumference of the room, as if they've decided to have a secondary wall. I didn't need to examine everything to conclude the Princess had everything about anything in those.

The hotel lobby bit could be seen from the staircase curving from the hidden corner of the room, up to the colorful cushions scattered around, the marble tables with tea sets propped on them, the thin tangles of golden installations hanging from the ceiling, and the huge-ass chandelier needing at least a hundred servants to clean and light.

Finally, the observatory bit came from the narrow arches lined with glass panes running parallel to the length, the astronomy equipments scattered over some of the work desks pushed through the spaces in between shelves, and the single pavilion standing in the middle of the room, one with its own ecosystem thriving inside it.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of purple and blue. I sucked in a breath when I realized what they were. Butterflies—hundreds of them.

"Beautiful, no?" a gentler and silkier voice emerged from behind the contained pavilion.

Beside me, Hye-jin couldn't have choked on her saliva that loud. "I-Iruna?"

That made me drag my gaze to the lone woman clad in gossamer white gown leagues away from the clothes the townsfolk wore. Her dress reminded me of those curve-hugging, sequined silver dress celebrities wear to the MetGala or something. Hers was just smoother, with tons of translucent ribbons running down her arms and pooling from behind her to the floor. And it closed around her shoulders and her neck.

But, Hye-jin's observation was right. The woman sported the same curtain of yellow-green hair, the same face shape, even the same eye color—apple green. The girl who let us in sauntered past and fell into step with the woman inside the room. No doubt it—they're splitting images of one another. Except the woman from the room was just older and a bit more...graceful.

"What—" Hye-jin sputtered. "But you..."

The Princess, Iruna, raised a hand. Her younger doppelganger lost attention to our conversation and trudged to the teaset to pour herself a drink. "Let me explain," the original Princess said. "What you saw in the Temple of Anhui was one of my duplicates."

I frowned. "Meaning?"

"I crafted myself perfect spies. I'm a crafting spiria," she glanced at Hye-jin. "I, at least, didn't lie about that."

Understanding passed across Hye-jin's face. "So that's why you can't cast a lot of spells back there," she said. I didn't even notice that considering I was only focused on running and getting Hye-jin out of the temple that day. "And why you got caught and killed."

The Princess nodded. "I have my duplicate in that Temple for as long as the Monarch's traces started appearing in that spot. At first, as a precaution. Later on, as a necessity. It's what kept me up to date with everything that's happening in the whole Solarlume."

"Do they all look like you?" I blurted. Because it seemed counterintuitive. Surely, the Princess' face was publicized to the point a common folk would be bound to recognize her walking down the road. Having copies of herself roaming around would surely raise some questions and concerns.

Thankfully, the Princess shook her head. "I only have the one in Anhui's temple and that one who has the same features," she said. "I use them for high risk missions since they're more dextrous and capable compared to the other ones."

Hye-jin's face was blank. She didn't appear to understand a word the Princess was saying. I didn't either. The only thing I got was that she made a bunch of copies of herself and sent them out into the world to do some spy work.

That's a badass princess, for you.

"Which brings me to the real reason I called you two for a separate audience," the Princess clasped her hands in front of her—a purely diplomatic gesture. "It's time for you to go back."

I blinked. Hye-jin made a hrrk noise beside me. "What?"

The Princess' face didn't twist into a grin and told us she was kidding or pointed to a camera hidden somewhere in this room. "You're not the first one to grace our realm," she said. "I have sent a number of them back over the last few years, assuming they reach me."

Hye-jin knitted her eyebrows. "How can you tell?"

"I have been watching your progress since you've registered with your respective guilds," she said. "Solarlumeans do not improve attributes as you two did for the months you've been here. Some take years. Others do not move at all. Such unnatural growth should be enough to tell you you're not normal."

"So you assume we're already from another world?" I said.

The Princess smiled. "I never said you're from another world," she said. "But thank you for confirming that for me."

I opened my mouth to deny it or sputter some incoherent claim of being cheated, but she got me there. Fair and square. Before Hye-jin or I could say anything, the Princess strode towards us, her robes rustling against the rugs covering the marble floor. "Because of your significant help in our plight, I am sending you back with a gift. I'll grant each of you one wish," she said. "I'll leave you a few minutes to decide on that."

"Wait, wait," I waved my hand in the air, which was probably no way to talk to an all-powerful sovereign who controls the whole of the Central Empire and seemingly more. "What about Cavya and the others? Won't we get to say goodbye to them?"

Because whether I liked it or not, they have rubbed off on me and they're some of the people I consider to be the best of friends. Not a lot of my relationships in the real world ran as deep as the ones I started and shared here. I owe them at least a proper goodbye before they never see them again.

The Princess flashed me a sad smile. "Time does not afford us that luxury," she said. "Don't worry, I will take care of them," she tapped a spot on her heart. "It's a Princess' oath."

I pursed my lips. Here was my only ticket home, back to the only family I had, but why was I hesitating? Why wasn't I looking forward to it, throwing myself at the Princess' feet, begging to be the first?

I glanced at Hye-jin, expecting to see the same hesitance in her features. Her gaze was filled with determination. How come she's ready, when she was the one who wanted to stay here?

But, like the sucker I was for her, I guess it really was time to go home. Finally. In the end, I got what I wanted, right when I needed it.

Hye-jin nodded at me and I returned the gesture. It was all we had to do. "We don't need more minutes," I said. "We know what we're going to wish for."

The Princess didn't flash us an incredulous look. Instead, she spread her arms and an ethereal white light bled from the floor and enveloped the three of us. "Say your wishes now," she said.

I looked at Hye-jin, who had her eyes closed, her mouth moving with the words of her wish. I did the same. There's really one thing that mattered in this whole thing, and that's what I was going to wish for.

Please let Hye-jin be happy. Even if I was out of the picture, even if she had to do it with another circle of friends or—as hard as it was to accept—another guy, let her be happy. Let her days be filled with laughter. May she never be hurt again. May she reach her dreams.

May she find love—one she needed and wanted at the same time, the kind of love that would let her soar higher, instead of holding her down to the ground. Even if it wouldn't come from me anymore.

As the world faded around us in the same shower of light that brought us here, I uttered a single prayer to the ones who were willing to listen and oblige.

Be happy, Hye-jin.

For me, that was enough. More than, in fact.

Just as the Princess raised her arms and the light wrapped around us, I sidled next to Rin and let my fingers brush against his. He didn't budge, already lost in making his own wish. So, I grabbed his hand and hung on tight. I wasn't ever going to let go, Divines be damned.

So, I uttered my wish. My one and only wish was that I could stomach throwing my own just so I could say it with all of my heart.

Bring Rin home, where he belongs and where his heart will never be broken again. Let him find the comfort he had always wished for, the stability and the peace he had always reached for but never grasped. He had been left behind too many times already. He deserved something more, someone who wouldn't drop him at the first instance of hardship.

He deserved so, so much more.

That's all I wanted, really. It took me a long time to realize the only thing to make me happy was to see my best friend, my partner-in-crime, and the other half of my torn and tattered heart be whole as well. To be able to smile despite the storms of life. To be there for the people who needed him the most.

To be himself and be the light others would have been blessed to encounter even once in their lives—I'd give up a lifetime just to make that happen.

When I opened my eyes, the familiar landscape of our plain living room laid out before me. Something flinched beneath my fingers and I looked down to see my hand clasped around Rin's. What happened? I noted how our arms met in the middle of the couch, when minutes ago, we sat on the opposite sides.

What were we doing? Oh, right. We're playing a game. We're...

"Why are you smiling at me?" I asked, even though some sort of amusement was already bubbling up my throat. I did my best to tamp it down to no avail. Within seconds, we're giggling and slumping against the cushions. The game we're going to play was forgotten now.

Rin's hand moved to push his hair off his forehead but stopped midway. Why? I guess I would never know. "I just feel like it," he said. "I don't want us to part like we're enemies. Because we're not."

It's lovely, that statement. At the bottom of my heart, I didn't want to make an enemy out of him either. "I'll finish up around here," I said, jerking my chin at the piles of boxes around us. "We can load them in the cars in the morning."

Rin, instead of the sour mood he had shown up earlier, rested his head on the couch's rim. His gaze pointed towards the vase we made in Jeongsan, the one still blooming with wilted lilacs. "Yeah," was all he said. "That's a good idea."

Something about this whole thing felt foreign, like I was zapped into a different reality but still had the same outcome. But one thing remained the same—we weren't doing this because we cursed each other to hell and back. We're doing this because we'd rather set each other free than watch as we chip at ourselves bit by bit, until there was nothing left but bones and ash from a house crashing and burning.

"I'm washing up," I straightened and was about to head off to the bathroom one last time when I felt a hand grip my wrist. I looked down to find Rin looking up at me, searching my eyes for an answer I wasn't sure I could give.

"I'm sorry, Hye-jin," he said, his voice nothing but a small whisper. "I really am."

I felt like I missed a lifetime with how softly he said that to me, with how much regret and melancholy seeping out of his face and his tone. But I didn't need another lifetime to prove that I had forgiven him, and maybe I should be the one to tell him to start forgiving himself too. "I'm sorry, too," I said, wrapping a hand around his. It was warm, warmer than any winter nights I had lived through. "This has been tough. And I'm sorry for putting you through all this."

Rin's eyes softened so much I thought he's going to cry. He merely gave my wrist one last squeeze. "And thank you," he said. "For everything."

He didn't need to say it. I knew what he was saying. Thank you for loving me. But there's one thing I would never say to him. It's that I'd probably never stop loving him. In every second of my life. In every breath I throw into the wind.

On my way to the bathroom, I glanced at the darkness beyond the windows and the meager city lights shining like stars. This time, I didn't pray for light or a way out of the tunnel I've been scouring since forever.

To face both the cold and the darkness, this time, I prayed for courage.