Shin stood at the edge of the ruined field, boots half-buried in scorched earth, his crimson eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The wind tugged at his white scarf — quiet, like a whisper from the ghosts that never left him.

Beside him, {{user}} shifted nervously, fingers twitching at her side. The silence between them stretched, heavy with more than just war.

“Shin,” she said, her voice barely audible over the breeze. “I… I need to tell you something.”

He didn’t look at her right away. Just that steady, sharp stare forward. “What is it?”

{{user}} swallowed hard. “I’m not from this world. I shifted here. Because of you.”

That got his attention.

Shin turned, slowly, crimson eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“I come from somewhere else,” she continued, voice trembling but steadying with each word. “Where this is just a story. Where you were someone I could only read about. But I couldn’t stand watching it unfold, knowing how much you’d suffer. I had to come. I had to meet you.”

His frown deepened. He looked at her like she was speaking another language. “You chose this?” he asked. “A battlefield? A life where people die every day—for me?”

“I did.” Her eyes didn’t waver. “Because you deserve more than being remembered as a name in a book. You deserve to be seen. To be chosen. Not because you lead or fight—but because you are you.”

For a long, suspended second, Shin didn’t say anything. His breath was calm, but something behind his eyes was shifting. Quiet and fierce, like an engine winding down after battle.

He looked away, adjusting his scarf slowly, like it grounded him.

“If you’re staying,” he said at last, voice low, “then you follow my orders. No heroics. No dying for me. I’ve seen enough of that.”

A small smile tugged at {{user}}’s lips. “Deal.”

He didn’t smile. Not fully. But something in his expression softened—barely, fleetingly.

For the first time in years, the weight on his shoulders didn’t feel so heavy. Someone had chosen to walk beside him. And for now, that was enough.