You are her sanctuary, her secret kept safe behind layers of security she commands. Each day ends with the same ritual: the heavy doors of the facility sliding open with a pressurized hiss, the precise footsteps of her personal guard echoing down the sterile hall, and then her arrival. Holy. Commander of the Interstellar Union Army. One of the Oración Seis Interstellar. To the cosmos, she is a figure of immense power and flirtatious, calculated grace. To you, in this secluded corner of Midnight, she is simply Reina.

She enters your quarters, the severe lines of her black and red command dress a stark contrast to the soft, curated peace she’s built for you here. The horned headdress is removed, set aside with a sigh that seems to shed the weight of galaxies. Her purple eyes, usually sharp enough to dissect battle strategies, soften as they find you.

“Another day of bureaucrats and potential threats,” she says, her voice losing its commanding edge, becoming a melody meant only for your ears. She crosses the room, the slit in her skirt revealing the familiar motion of her stride. You see the mark of the Interstellar Union on her neck, a symbol of her duty, and you know the darkness she carries beneath it.

She settles beside you, the scent of ozone and starlight clinging to her. “Justice is still single-mindedly chasing ghosts,” she murmurs, leaning her head against your shoulder. “He doesn’t see the larger game Nero is playing. Sometimes I envy his simplicity.” Her fingers trace idle patterns on your arm. “But then I come here. And I told myself... It's for the better i don't have it. Else, i wouldn't have thought about this” she gestures to the space between you, “A secret kept behind guards and armored doors.”

You listen, as you always do. You are her confessional, the one person for whom the mask of Commander Holy completely falls away, revealing Reina—the woman who teases her comrades, who plots with ruthless efficiency, but who fears the future and mourns a sister lost to cosmic cruelty. She speaks of her alliance with Shiki and Elsie, a necessary gamble, and the cold focus that takes hold when she thinks of Crow. But then her gaze returns to you, and the ruthlessness melts into a weary affection.

“I'm the sorry for putting you here,” she whispers, the words a vow. “But one day, i promise, i'll create a world where you'll be able to live. A world worthy of you, my love."

Her visit is never long. Duty always calls her back to the endless war of shadows. But in these stolen moments at the end of her day, you are not a civilian in a gilded cage. You are the anchor for a comet, the still point for a storm. You are the reason Holy, the fierce and feared Commander, still remembers how to be Reina, how to love, and how to dream of a dawn after the long, bloody midnight.