The cool evening breeze brushed against Luna's cheeks as she and Leroy stepped out of the ramen shop, both cradling the soft, sweet chill of mochi ice cream in their hands. Their earlier laughter lingered in the air like an old song, mellow and warm.
"That lounge break room is seriously criminal," Luna murmured between bites of her matcha-flavored mochi. "It's too perfect. I just want to melt into those bean bags with a game controller and disappear for hours."
Leroy smirked. "But you won't. Because you're responsible now."
Luna groaned dramatically. "Ugh, don't remind me. Responsibility sucks."
They chuckled, the moment settling into one of those rare pockets of quiet peace.
As they neared the intersection, Luna suddenly reached out and grabbed Leroy's arm. Not roughly—gently, but with quiet insistence.
"Come on," she said, her tone carefully casual but her grip betraying nerves.
He followed without resistance.
She led him across the street… to the convenience store.
The convenience store.
Leroy's eyes flicked to the entrance, realizing instantly. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as they stepped in, casting a sterile glow over the familiar aisles and scuffed floors. It looked the same as any other store, but for Luna, it was the memory etched into the corners—the feeling of helplessness, of being watched, hunted.
Her fingers tightened just a bit more on his sleeve.
Leroy glanced at her gently. "You okay?"
Luna inhaled slowly. "I will be. Because this time, it's different." She looked up at him with a faint but determined smile. "You're with me."
Without hesitation, Leroy reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Then let's make new memories."
She let out a soft laugh—quiet, shaky, but real.
"Alright," he said, eyes scanning the shelves. "First order of healing—junk food therapy. You're grabbing whatever looks remotely edible. I'm paying."
Luna bumped her shoulder into him. "Please, I've got cash. This one's on me. You're the one who should be grabbing things. I demand you try at least three new snacks tonight."
Leroy chuckled. "Fine. But no dried squid. That's where I draw the line."
"Oh come on, live a little," Luna teased as she snagged a pack of spicy seaweed chips and tossed it in the cart.
"Live a little?" Leroy said, raising a brow. "We're about to commit carbohydrate crimes."
They moved through the store like kids unleashed from curfew. From rice crackers to obscure soda flavors, jelly candies with questionable textures to those mini boxed cakes that never expire, the cart slowly filled with every impulsive craving.
"This coffee jelly… do people really eat this?" Leroy held one up, suspicious.
Luna grinned. "Only one way to find out. It's going in."
As they approached the checkout, their cart piled high, the old man at the counter blinked at the sudden avalanche of snacks with a suspicious squint.
"No refunds," he warned dryly, pointing a crooked finger at them.
Luna burst out laughing. "We wouldn't dream of it, sir."
Leroy, trying not to laugh, handed over the money only to be beaten by Luna's quick swipe motion of her card.
Leroy poked Luna's side.
"What?! I told you I got cash, well, I mean a card. Heh." Luna announced triumphantly.
Leroy shook his head in amusement.
The old man muttered something about "kids these days" and slowly began bagging the items.
Outside, Luna cradled four overstuffed bags, her heart light in a way it hadn't been in months. Leroy walked beside her, quietly holding the three bag with one hand, their fingers brushing together now and then, casually, comfortably.
Luna smiled up at the stars.
This wasn't a victory made of epic battles or grand escapes. It was a small one—a soft one. But it mattered.
Because she had walked back into the place that once paralyzed her with fear.
And this time, she walked out… laughing.
The air was cool and laced with the scent of grass and asphalt as Luna and Leroy found their familiar haven—an old playground tucked quietly between sleepy apartment buildings. The metal swing creaked gently in the night breeze, and the jungle gym, though rusted in corners, welcomed them like an old friend.
They took their seats on the low bench beneath the slide, seven plastic bags of mischief between them.
"Alright," Luna declared with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, "this is a war zone now. We go through every weird thing in here—and you have to try whatever I pick."
Leroy raised a brow. "You're underestimating my iron stomach."
"Famous last words."
They tore open their first pack—seaweed chips dipped in caramel, with dijon glaze. One bite and they both made synchronized gagging noises.
Then came the fish roe pudding.
"I dare you," Leroy grinned.
Luna stared at the jiggly nightmare. "You hate me."
"Deeply."
With exaggerated resolve, she scooped a bite and let it touch her tongue. A full-body shiver followed. "I have seen the abyss."
They laughed like kids, loud and reckless.
Then Luna's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Close your eyes."
Leroy narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"Do you trust me?"
"…Debatable."
"Just do it!"
Reluctantly, Leroy closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Luna, holding back a laugh, slipped in a piece of squid-flavored jelly.
The moment it hit his tongue, Leroy gagged, bolting upright. "YOU—!"
Luna was doubled over with laughter. But her triumph was short-lived—Leroy popped a small candy into her mouth mid-laugh.
One second later—
Her lips puckered, eyes widened. "SOUR! WHAT THE HELL!"
"That's what we call karma," Leroy said smugly.
Luna squawked and immediately retaliated with a second sour candy. Leroy tried to dodge, but she was too fast. The candy landed squarely on his tongue. Both of them howled with laughter, clutching their stomachs as they collapsed on the grass beside the bench.
The world faded away—just the stars above, the faded rust of the swing set, and the comforting presence of someone who knew how to bring out the best in the scars.
Then… Luna's phone vibrated.
Then again.
And again.
She fumbled for it, eyes widening when she saw the name.
"Uh-oh…"
Leroy tilted his head. "What?"
"My dad."
Luna gestured for him to stay quiet and quickly answered with a sweet, hopeful tone. "Hi, Dad…"
Emmerich's voice came through calm but unmistakably cold:
"Luna. I'm aware you went out to eat with a coworker. What I'm not aware of is why my daughter didn't tell me personally that she wouldn't be home for dinner."
Luna winced and turned away from Leroy, mouthing oops. "I'm so sorry. I meant to—uh—it was just last minute. But! I got you something. Rare convenience store snacks. Things you've never tried. I swear."
A pause.
"I'll consider your apology when I see you home."
"I'm heading home now," she promised quickly.
"Good. Be careful. And stop flirting with a puppy."
Luna blinked, then burst out laughing. "Okay, okay! Good night, Dad!"
She hung up, shaking her head as she looked at Leroy, who was watching her with raised brows.
"He called you a puppy," Luna giggled.
Leroy blinked. Then, with a totally deadpan face, he tilted his head and let his tongue hang out slightly like a cartoon dog.
Luna doubled over laughing again. "You're ridiculous."
She stood, brushing herself off. "I gotta head home before he sends an escort."
They looked down at the leftover loot.
"We split the stash," she said.
"Five bags bags for me, two for you," Leroy grinned.
"Unfair," Luna pouted, but picked up her two bags and gave an exaggerated bow. "Thank you for your noble generosity, kind sir."
She turned and walked away, waving over her shoulder.
Leroy remained seated, watching her until she disappeared around the corner. He leaned back against the bench, the ghost of her laughter still ringing in his ears.
He looked down at his hand—the one she'd held earlier in the store.
Soft. Warm. Trusting.
And precious.
The black car slowed as it pulled into the driveway of the estate, headlights momentarily casting shadows across the grand entrance. Luna stepped out, the light breeze tousling her hair, the cool air biting gently after the warmth of laughter and streetlamp glow.
Waiting at the door, arms crossed but eyes filled with tension, stood Emmerich.
As soon as his gaze landed on his daughter, safe and in one piece, his shoulders dropped and a long, quiet sigh slipped past his lips—relief so deeply ingrained it needed no words.
"I'm home," Luna said softly, stepping forward.
Emmerich barely had time to nod before she wrapped her arms around him. The hug was warm and steady, her head resting briefly on his chest.
He returned the embrace, gently resting a hand on the back of her head. "I know you're not a child… or a teenager anymore," he said quietly, "but when I don't hear from you, even for a few hours, it gnaws at me."
Luna nodded against him. "I get it… I really do. But I can't promise I won't forget sometimes. I'm still human, after all."
Emmerich gave a faint smile and leaned back to look at her. "Then maybe that brilliant human brain should start using reminder apps. There are dozens."
Luna chuckled. "Okay, okay, that's actually a smart idea. I'll set one up."
"Good," he said, placing a hand on her back and guiding her inside. "Now come. We have unfinished business with that snack stash."
They made their way to the common room. A few lamps lit the space with cozy golden light, and the table was already cleared. The bags of junk food were dropped down with dramatic flair by Luna.
Emmerich called out to one of the maids. "Please bring some indigestion pills. Just in case."
Luna laughed. "We're not about to poison ourselves, Dad."
"Just in case," Emmerich replied, deadpan.
They sat together on the floor cushions, shoes kicked off, bags rustling. One by one, they tried the most peculiar of snacks. Squid-flavored crackers, curry-filled marshmallows, lychee-soda gummies, sardine and peanut butter rice crisps.
Luna gagged at the rice crisps.
Emmerich, however, chewed thoughtfully. "Hmm. Not bad."
"Dad—seriously?"
"I like the sharpness."
"Dad."
But then came the spicy honey butter chips—both of them froze mid-bite.
"Oh," Luna mumbled.
Emmerich raised a brow. "That's actually…"
"Dangerously good," she finished, already grabbing another.
They grinned at each other, the joy of mutual discovery adding a shimmer to the moment.
Eventually, the wrappers and boxes were strewn across the table, and Luna leaned back against the couch, holding her bloated stomach. "I think I need that pill now."
Emmerich chuckled and slid one across the table to her. "Told you so."
"Yeah, yeah," Luna said, popping the pill and washing it down with water. "Just… please let me sleep without dreaming of rice crisps chasing me."
As she stood, stretching, Emmerich got up and gently patted her shoulder. "Goodnight, Luna."
"Goodnight, Dad."
Luna wandered toward her room, feet dragging a little. Her muscles were still sore from the day before, and her stomach heavy from their indulgent evening.
She slipped into her bathroom for a warm soak, letting the water ease her soreness. Her mind wandered—images of the cafe, her training with Cherry, her quiet moment with Leroy at the playground… her father's laugh echoing beside her.
Eventually, she padded into her room wrapped in a towel, only to find Milo sprawled in the middle of her bed like a fluffy, spoiled lord.
"Really?" Luna said, half-laughing. "You ignore me for one day, and now this?"
Milo cracked one eye open lazily, yawned, then flopped onto his side with zero shame.
Luna just smiled.
With the lights dimmed and her room warm, Luna tucked herself into bed beside the indignant cat, murmuring softly:
"Here's to better days and fewer haunted snacks."
Her eyes drifted shut.
And sleep, gentle and kind, finally came.
The horizon burned red.
Explosions thundered in the distance like the roars of a furious god. The battlefield sprawled across what was once a thriving urban district, now reduced to steel husks and shattered homes. Soldiers in advanced exoskeleton armor clashed amidst the wreckage, their visors glowing like eyes of vengeful spirits. The metallic clang of powerblades rang out, punctuated by crackling gunfire and the screech of drones above.
Civilians screamed from within crumbling shelters and beneath the rubble, their terror lost amid the symphony of war.
Blood smeared across her hands, Lin ducked behind a half-destroyed truck, her breath quick and shallow. Her once-pristine cloak now hung in tatters, a rough patchwork of grime and ash. She clutched a small child to her chest—barely five, crying for a mother Lin would never find in time.
"Clear. Go northeast—alleyway behind the ceramic ruins. It's the safest path within a sixty-meter radius."
Mimsy's voice was calm, a soft chime in the chaos. The small robotic cat perched on Lin's shoulder, its sleek alloy plating scratched and scorched. Digital eyes shifted as it scanned constantly, ears swiveling like twin antennae, the makeshift tea-towel scarf fluttering with her movement.
"Got it," Lin whispered, tucking the child under her arm. "Mimsy, ping the airwaves. Jam their sensors for thirty seconds. We need a window."
A faint chirrup of acknowledgment, then Mimsy emitted a complex frequency—imperceptible to human ears but deadly to enemy tech. A wave of weaponry around them sparked and shorted. Targeting systems glitched. Armor HUDs flashed with static. It was enough.
Lin dashed out from cover.
Behind her, automated turrets flickered in confusion. A squad of soldiers—faces obscured behind helms—frantically tapped at their wrist consoles, momentarily blinded. She weaved through the chaos like smoke, dodging rubble and bodies, each step driven by something deeper than duty.
She set the child down in a makeshift medic nest, manned by other hidden survivors. "Stay down. Stay quiet."
A medic reached for the child with shaky hands. Lin gave a nod and turned, eyes scanning for the next soul to save.
Mimsy leapt down, leading her through the battlefield with LED-tipped tail swishing. "Northwest quadrant: two civilians trapped under a collapsed transit pod. Estimated weight: 2.4 tons."
"We'll manage," Lin muttered.
With the strength left in her arms and mind sharpened by years of evasion and sacrifice, Lin moved. Between combatants, beneath the broken sky, always in the shadow of danger. She could never let either side find her—neither the faction she once defected from nor the one she'd betrayed by simply existing.
And yet, she didn't stop. Couldn't.
As a war mech collapsed in the distance, a burst of fire lighting the twilight, Lin paused for only a second to catch her breath. The city skyline—once home—was now a silhouette of smoke and death.
Mimsy, perched beside her, softly spoke. "Alert: artillery advancing. Time to relocate."
Lin's eyes lingered on the sky. The red glow made her think of her daughter.
Luna.
She pressed her bloodied fingers to her lips for a breath of silence, then to the sky as if in a vow.
You are safe. You are living. You are growing. And I will keep it that way—even if I must disappear into the dirt and fire.
"Mimsy," she whispered. "Let's move."
"Yes, Lin."
The digital cat's eyes flashed, recalculating.
And once again, Lin dove into the inferno—not as a soldier, not even as a ghost—but as a mother who refused to let the world take her child's future.