"I'm glad... that everyone was worried about me."
Asfinne's voice was soft, almost fragile. It trembled slightly as the words left his lips, carrying a warmth that spread through the still air of the small kitchen. His golden eyes lowered for a brief moment before he looked up again, offering a faint smile—one that seemed to hold both gratitude and guilt at once.
"And… I'm sorry for making everyone worry."
His voice was quiet, nearly drowned out by the soft bubbling of the pot on the stove. The scent of warm broth filled the room—fresh vegetables simmering slowly in water that had turned slightly golden. A light hiss came from the side where steam rose from a pan, as if the morning itself was breathing around them.
Asfinne tilted his head downward again. Those words—I'm sorry—were not merely politeness. They carried truth. He really did feel guilty for worrying everyone. He felt guilty for waking up in someone else's body, for living a life that wasn't his, for accepting kindness meant for another person.
Alenya smiled in return, her expression glowing with that calm, gentle warmth that made everyone around her feel at ease. Her eyes, a soft sky blue, caught the golden morning light that filtered in through the half-drawn curtains.
"It's all right," she said in that melodic voice of hers—smooth and kind, like a breeze moving through a sunlit meadow. "But you should thank Sonia, you know. She's been looking after you every single night."
There was a faint, almost playful undertone to her words when she said the name Sonia. It wasn't teasing exactly—more like she was testing something. There was something behind her smile, a shadow of curiosity or intention. The corners of her lips curled in a way that told him she was waiting—not for his words, but for his reaction.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement as they lingered on him, as though trying to read the thoughts behind his calm expression.
Inside, however, Denato—now living as Asfinne—was completely thrown off.
Sonia? Who is that supposed to be?
His thoughts raced. His brow twitched slightly before he forced it to relax again. Someone new? Great… another person I don't know.
He didn't know everyone in this orphanage-like home yet, nor how close "Asfinne" had been with any of them. The name "Sonia" meant nothing to him—but the way Alenya had said it told him enough. The girl was probably someone important to Asfinne.
And judging by the subtle, knowing tone in Alenya's voice, Sonia wasn't just another caretaker or classmate. She was someone special.
Asfinne quickly analyzed her smile, reading every small motion of her face. She's watching me. She's waiting for something—maybe surprise… maybe embarrassment.
He took a slow breath.
If I look too shocked, she'll know I don't remember Sonia. If I look too indifferent, she might think something's wrong. I need to sound natural.
He lifted his head slightly, curving his lips into a light, bashful smile. A soft laugh escaped him—gentle and almost nervous in tone.
"Well… Sonia doesn't really seem like the kind of person who'd take care of me," he said lightly, raising one hand to scratch the back of his neck. "She's usually kind of rough with me, actually."
His laughter echoed softly in the cozy kitchen. It sounded genuine—though he could still feel a hint of nervousness behind it.
Alenya's smile widened just a bit, her eyes narrowing in amusement as if she could see right through his little performance.
Hmm… is that so?" she said slowly, stretching the words with playful suspicion. "She sure looked worried about you. I'd say she was the most concerned of all."
Her tone had a teasing warmth to it, and while she spoke, her hands kept moving gracefully—stirring the pot, slicing vegetables with practiced rhythm. The metallic sound of the spoon striking the pot went clink… clink in a gentle, steady rhythm, blending with the sound of bubbling broth.
The room smelled of warm food—of soup and bread freshly baked from the nearby oven. The steam from the stove drifted lazily into the sunlight that streamed through the window, turning it into a soft, golden mist.
Asfinne's eyes followed her for a moment. Her hair, a soft shade of gold-brown, caught the morning light and shimmered faintly with each movement. The air felt alive, glowing.
And in that moment, he found himself smiling without realizing it.
He could guess what kind of person Sonia was. From Alenya's tone, he imagined her as the type who pretended not to care, but secretly stayed up worrying all night. A person who would act distant or even mean, just to hide how much she actually cared.
So she's the type who can't say what she really feels, huh… he thought to himself with a quiet sigh.
The realization made his chest tighten a little. He didn't even know this Sonia, but just hearing about her filled him with a strange warmth—and a heaviness that wasn't his own. It was like he could feel Asfinne's emotions stirring faintly inside him, overlapping with his own.
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the soft bubbling of the soup and the gentle scrape of the spoon. The atmosphere felt heavy yet peaceful, as though the air itself carried both comfort and uncertainty.
Then, breaking the silence, he spoke again—quietly, almost as if he didn't want to disturb the calm around them.
"She's probably just worried about me… you know, as a friend. Since we live in the same place and all."
His voice carried a tone that was light but slightly flustered, like someone trying to sound casual while brushing off an embarrassing truth. His hand moved up instinctively, rubbing the side of his neck again, and he looked slightly away, avoiding her gaze.
Alenya's soft laugh broke through the warmth of the kitchen. It was clear and bright, like a wind chime ringing on a gentle breeze. She shook her head slightly, still smiling at him.
"If that's what you want to believe, then sure," she said kindly, still wearing that knowing grin.
Her voice was gentle but filled with the sort of playfulness that said she didn't quite believe him. Yet there was no mockery in it—only affection, and the calm patience of someone who had watched these kinds of shy exchanges many times before.
Asfinne chuckled weakly, scratching his cheek with a slightly embarrassed expression. He didn't say anything more. Words might only make things worse.
In truth, his heart was beating faster than he wanted it to. Sonia… who are you, really? he thought. And what kind of person was the real Asfinne to you?
But he couldn't ask. He couldn't risk revealing that he didn't know. All he could do was maintain the illusion—be Asfinne, act as if he remembered everything. Every small mistake could shatter the fragile mask he'd built.
The ticking of the wall clock filled the silence again, tick… tock… tick… tock… marking each second with almost unbearable clarity.
He inhaled slowly, letting the scent of the soup fill his lungs. The air was warm, rich, almost comforting. He looked up again, watching the way sunlight poured through the small window, spilling over the wooden table, the shelves, the simple plates stacked neatly nearby.
And in that gentle light, with the warmth of food and laughter surrounding him, Asfinne felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—something almost like peace.
Even though he was lost, pretending to be someone else, even though his heart carried the weight of confusion and fear—he could still feel the quiet beauty of the moment.
The warmth of the kitchen, the softness in Alenya's voice, the smell of the morning—these simple things made him feel alive again, if only for a little while.
He smiled faintly to himself, his thoughts softening like the mist curling through the sunlight.
Maybe… this world isn't as cold as I thought.
She continued speaking, her voice soft and full of genuine warmth.
"At first, when you came here, I thought you were the kind of child who didn't care much about others. But now… my thoughts have changed. You're such a very sweet boy."
Her tone carried an affectionate sincerity that made the words seem to hang in the air like a gentle breeze that brushed softly against his heart. Her smile bloomed naturally, filled with kindness and gentle affection—the kind of smile that could make the walls of loneliness within someone's heart quietly crumble.
Asfinne (Denato) stood there silently. Inside, however, his heart twisted painfully. Every word that left her lips struck him deeper with guilt, for the person she was speaking to wasn't truly Asfinne. The real Asfinne—whoever he was—no longer existed in this world. And Denato, the man now standing before her, was only a foreigner inhabiting that name and body.
Her voice continued, soft yet full of remembrance.
"But at the beginning, it's true—you didn't really talk to anyone. You always kept to yourself, didn't you?" She paused for a moment, as if replaying an old memory. "But perhaps that's because you had just arrived here, in this orphanage, and didn't know how to behave around others yet. I remember those first days—you would always sit near the window, quietly watching the others play. It was as if you were part of the world, yet not completely in it."
Asfinne listened carefully, his expression calm, but his mind raced. Every word she spoke painted a clearer image of the boy named Asfinne. A quiet child. Observant. Intelligent. Hesitant to connect, but not cold-hearted.
Alenya's eyes softened further as she continued.
"Until the time came for the study sessions. Then, you suddenly began to show everyone who you were. You answered questions before anyone else, and most of the time, you were right."
Her voice carried both pride and nostalgia.
"And after that, the others started talking to you more, little by little. You didn't notice it, but you had started to smile more often too. You might not have realized it, but your presence changed the room—made it calmer, somehow."
Asfinne lowered his gaze slightly. The image that Alenya described was vivid enough that he could almost see it—this boy sitting at a wooden table, surrounded by others, sunlight falling softly across his pale hair as he raised his hand to answer a question. The picture almost felt real enough to belong to him, but he knew it didn't. It belonged to someone who no longer existed.
Then, in a tone that softened even further, she murmured, almost to herself,
"You're just like your father…"
Her voice was barely a whisper, so faint that perhaps she hadn't intended for anyone to hear it. But Asfinne heard it clearly. Every syllable struck his consciousness like a bell ringing in the silence of his thoughts.
"…Father?" he repeated inwardly.
His heart skipped a beat. He hadn't known that Asfinne had a father—at least, one who was known to this place. That single word revealed more than she might have realized. Alenya knew Asfinne's father, or at least, had known him once.
He tried to maintain composure, though his chest felt tight. So Asfinne's father might be someone important to this orphanage? The thought flickered in his mind, bringing both curiosity and apprehension.
He lifted his eyes to meet Alenya's and asked, gently and politely,
"What did you just say?"
Her eyes gleamed with faint amusement, as if she had been waiting for that exact question. A playful curve formed on her lips, a smile that carried warmth but also a trace of mischief.
"Oh, nothing," she said lightly, her tone teasing. "I was just wondering how everyone else would react when they see you awake again."
Her deflection was gentle yet intentional—she didn't want to speak of the father just yet. But to Asfinne, it became obvious that she wanted to keep the conversation going. Her voice had the rhythm of someone who didn't want the silence to return, who wanted to maintain a bridge between them through conversation.
Asfinne nodded slightly. He could sense her intention. It wasn't just small talk—Alenya wanted to bring back the sense of warmth and connection that had been absent while he slept. Maybe she wanted him to feel safe here, to remind him that this place was a home, even if he had forgotten it.
Then she continued, her tone filled with gentle humor,
"Perhaps Galax will be overjoyed in his usual grand way, Sonia will probably scold you and say, 'Why didn't you just keep sleeping longer?' And Merian… well, she'll probably just smile at you, like she always does."
Asfinne froze slightly. Three names—Galax, Sonia, Merian. He committed them instantly to memory. His mind started to race again.
Who were they? Friends? Other orphans? Staff members? Each name carried a faint sense of familiarity, though he knew he'd never heard them before. He analyzed Alenya's tone as she said each one—
"Galax" sounded like a boy, perhaps loud or energetic.
"Sonia," he already knew, was a girl, one who likely had a fiery or teasing personality.
"Merian," on the other hand, sounded quiet, perhaps gentle, like a calm melody beside the others' noise.
He looked at Alenya again, trying not to show the confusion swirling behind his calm eyes.
She noticed his thoughtful silence and tilted her head slightly, smiling with quiet amusement.
"So?" she asked, her voice lilting playfully. "What do you think?"
Her question carried multiple meanings—it wasn't only about his thoughts on her list of names. It was a gentle test, a probe into his reactions, into whether he remembered them or not.
Asfinne's mind worked rapidly. He had to respond in a way that didn't sound suspicious. He couldn't appear confused or detached. He needed to sound like Asfinne—the Asfinne she knew.
His lips curved slowly into a faint, nervous smile, one that seemed genuine enough to pass as shy amusement. He let out a quiet chuckle before speaking, his tone calm and faintly embarrassed, as if recalling old memories.
"I think…" he began softly, "that Galax would probably shout loud enough for everyone to hear, Sonia would definitely scold me, and Merian—" he paused slightly, feigning nostalgia, "—Merian would just smile like always."
Alenya's smile brightened instantly, her eyes sparkling like morning sunlight reflected off clear water. "Ah, you still remember them," she said softly, her tone full of warmth and approval.
Inside, Asfinne exhaled in silent relief. Good. That worked.
The faint aroma of cooked food began to fill the air—a mixture of toasted bread, warm soup, and something faintly sweet like honey. The light from the window above the kitchen counter poured in at an angle, scattering across the polished metal surfaces, the silver utensils, and the clean plates that glowed faintly under it.
Alenya stirred something in a pot while continuing to speak, her movements graceful and practiced. "They really missed you, you know. Every single day they'd ask me if you'd woken up yet. Even Sonia—though she pretended she didn't care, she kept coming to check anyway."
Asfinne smiled faintly, pretending to be touched by the story. But deep inside, he felt the familiar ache of guilt return. Every moment he stayed here under this name was a lie—a delicate act that could crumble with a single misplaced word.
Alenya turned slightly toward him, her expression softening again. "You know, Asfinne… you've always had a quiet strength about you. It's something I admire. Even when you're unsure or frightened, you still face things without running away."
Her words, though meant for the real Asfinne, struck Denato to the core. Because in a way, they described him too—the Denato who had survived in worlds full of monsters, who carried burdens that weren't his to bear.
He looked away slightly, his voice low but steady. "Thank you, Miss Alenya. I'll… do my best to keep being that kind of person."
She smiled, her eyes filled with pride. "That's the spirit."
For a few seconds, the room fell into a comfortable silence—the sound of the simmering pot and the faint clinking of utensils filled the air. Sunlight gently painted the walls golden, and the faint smell of food and soap lingered together, creating an oddly comforting warmth.
Asfinne looked around the kitchen again, trying to take in every detail—the polished wooden shelves, the neatly arranged pots, the faint scratches on the countertop that told stories of years of use. It was a place full of life and care, and for the first time since he arrived in this strange world, it felt… peaceful.
He exhaled quietly, his eyes softening.
But deep within that calm, a question continued to echo: Who was Asfinne's father? And why did Alenya speak of him with such quiet reverence?
That mystery stayed in his heart, waiting for the right moment to unravel.