The skies above the hill were grey. The wind carried the weight of something unfinished, as if nature itself held its breath.
Jin stood at the base of the slope, drenched in silence. The garden above—isolated, untouched—was where he was told she went. The girl. No, not just a girl. Not anymore.
Velka.
He walked slowly up the stone path, the air tightening with each step. The flowers seemed muted, the world painted in grayscale. And there—at the very edge of the cliff, where the sakura trees bent gently to the wind—stood her.
Golden hair, wet from the rain. A long white dress now soaked and clinging to her frail form. Her back turned to him. As if she already knew he had come.
"Velka," Jin called, voice barely above the whisper of the wind.
"Stop there."
Her voice cracked like glass, sharp and fragile all at once. She didn't turn.
Jin paused, feet locked to the earth.
"I found you," he said softly. "After all this time."
Velka's shoulders trembled. She clenched her fists.
"You shouldn't have," she whispered. "You should have let me vanish."
Jin took one step forward. She flinched.
"I know," he said. "I hurt you. I failed you. I made you feel like nothing. But—"
"But now you're here?" she snapped, spinning around. Her eyes were soaked not just from the rain, but from tears long buried. "Now you come? After I fulfilled your condition… after I made myself disappear for your sake?"
The wind howled.
"I gave you everything," she continued. "And when I was invisible to the world, I thought you'd forget me. That it would make it easier. But you… you remembered."
Jin stepped forward again.
"I never forgot. Not once. Not when I held Lia's hand. Not when I ascended. Not when I bled." He looked at her, soaked, trembling, broken. "You left a hole in me no god could fill."
Velka shook her head, stepping back, her foot slipping slightly. Jin lunged—
"Don't touch me!" she cried, stumbling backward onto her knees.
Jin stopped.
She looked up at him. Her voice broke.
"So what now? You want to torment me again? You want to rip open the pieces I stitched back together?" She clutched his pant leg, forehead pressed to the wet ground. "Just leave me alone. Let me rot here, Jin. Please—please just leave me!"
He didn't.
He knelt. Without a word, he gathered her into his arms. She resisted at first—pushing, striking his chest with trembling fists—but he didn't let go.
Her tears spilled freely now, soaking his shoulder.
"I am entropy," he whispered into her hair. "Disorder. Chaos. Destruction. I've broken kingdoms, devoured stars, killed countless souls… and yet, Lia taught me what light is."
He gently brushed her golden strands from her face.
"But what about you, Velka? What will you teach me?"
Her eyes widened—eyes like eclipses, luminous with pain and love—and there, hanging from Jin's neck, she saw it, the pendant. The one she gave him. The one he never took off.
He took her hand and pressed it to his chest. The heartbeat beneath was steady. True.
"I didn't come to ask you to forgive me," Jin said. "I came to ask if you'd walk with me again. If you'd let me carry some of your pain… the way you once carried mine."
Velka's lips trembled. "What about Lia?"
Jin looked her in the eyes. "Lia knows. She saw through me long before I did. And she said…" He smiled softly. "She said she has no chains on my heart."
The rain softened.
Velka closed her eyes, tears falling freely. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around him. Her head pressed against his chest as if to make sure this was real.
"I was so angry at you," she whispered. "So lost. So… tired of loving someone who never looked back."
"I'm looking now," Jin said, holding her closer. "And I don't plan to look away again."
The wind settled. The petals above began to fall.
"Velka," he whispered, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. "Will you marry me?"
Her breath caught. Her lips parted—but no words came. Only tears.
"What will Lia think?" she finally asked, broken.
Jin smiled, eyes warm. "She'll think I finally learned to stop running."
Velka's lip quivered. Then, she nodded slowly. And in that quiet, sacred moment—amid the falling rain and the ghosts of a love long buried—she pressed her forehead to his.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes… I will."
And there, on that lonely hill where myth and memory collided—Jin and Velka kissed. Not with fire. Not with fury.
But with a softness only found in souls who had been shattered and still chose to love again.
The chapel stood silent on the edge of the world.
Nestled between a field of lavender and a hill that kissed the sky, it was built of white stone and overgrown ivy, ancient but not forgotten. It wasn't grand. There were no gold banners or divine choirs. Just quiet, and the scent of wind and memory.
But for Jin, it was perfect.
He waited under the arch of blooming white blossoms, wearing a simple black suit. The wind tugged gently at his hair, and his eyes looked far beyond the chapel doors—toward a past drenched in blood and tragedy, and toward a future that, for the first time in eternity, held warmth.
The door creaked open.
Velka stepped in.
She wore no crown. No veil. Just a long, flowing dress the color of moonlight and morning. Her golden hair was braided loosely over her shoulder, and her glasses were gone—revealing eyes that still held sorrow, but now... something more.
Hope.
The guests were few: an old gardener who had once sheltered Velka, Steve who had insisted on attending, and a few quiet figures from the village who had come to believe in the strange mythologist and the lonely girl on the hill.
Jin met her halfway.
Their hands found each other's, wordlessly.
The priest was an old man, blind in one eye, who simply said, "If your hearts are true, then your vow is already spoken. The rest is just the world catching up."
Jin looked at her. "Velka. I don't promise to be perfect. I only promise to keep choosing you—even in chaos, even when I fall."
Velka's lips trembled. "Jin. I was a ghost. You found me again. I... I promise to remind you you're more than a weapon. More than destruction. You're loved."
Tears welled in their eyes.
"Then let your stars intertwine," the priest said. "As they were always meant to be."
They kissed—softly, slowly—as the wind scattered petals into the sky.
And for a moment, the world stood still.