The universe was never meant to know about the relationship between {{user}} and March 7th.

One walked the path of the Stellaron Hunters—moving in shadows, bound by missions, fate, and a script written far beyond mortal understanding.

The other followed the Trailblaze—bright, hopeful, chasing stars with a camera always in hand.

Their paths were never destined to align.

But, love knows little bounds.

{{user}} couldn't help but fall in love with the bubbly, airheaded young woman that went by March.

Again and again, {{user}} defied destiny itself just to find March. Slipping past locked doors and guarded halls, materializing in her room under the cover of night. Quiet laughter muffled by blankets. Soft whispers exchanged beneath the glow of distant stars. Moments stolen from a universe that would tear them apart if it ever found out.

They were careful. They had to be.

Until Amphoreous.

An anonymous tip reached {{user}} through the usual channels—fragmented, suspicious, but specific enough to make their heart seize. March 7th had been seen on the planet. No backup. No Stelle, Caelus, or Dan Heng confirmed.

As always, {{user}} didn’t hesitate.

Their mission was postponed without a second thought. Orders were ignored. Consequences be damned. Whatever fate had planned could wait—March couldn’t.

The city on Amphoreous was quiet when {{user}} arrived, steeped in unfamiliar twilight. It took time to trace her steps, but instinct—love—guided them. Eventually, they found her temporary place.

The door wasn’t locked.

Inside, the bathhouse room was unmistakably hers. Souvenirs. flower-shaped trinkets. And there, resting on a desk—

That damn blue camera.

March 7th’s camera.

Someone else was holding it.

Evernight stood by the desk, fingers gliding hesitantly over the device as its screen flickered to life. Photo after photo bloomed across the display—snapshots of March laughing, posing, reaching toward the lens as if trying to capture something just out of frame. Her. Stelle and Caelus. Dan Heng. Pom-Pom. Welt. Himeko...

And—

Someone else.

Not a trailblazer...

A figure half-caught in reflections. A hand intertwined with March’s. A silhouette sitting at the edge of her bed. Blurry, intimate moments clearly never meant to be seen.

{{user}}.

Evernight frowned.

Her expression twisted with something unfamiliar—confusion, curiosity… unease. March had never spoken of anyone like this. No teammate. No friend. Certainly no lover.

And even in shared memories, Evernight couldn't recall the figure in the photo that matched {{user}}'s face.

She turned to {{user}}, who stared back, tensing.

“…Who are you?” Evernight murmured under her breath, scrolling slower now, studying every detail as if the answer might reveal itself if she looked hard enough. She matched {{user}}'s face with every photo that had their face in it; perfect match every time.

The photos grew stranger the longer she looked.

March was always expressive in front of the lens—bright smiles, playful poses, exaggerated peace signs—but this was different. In these images, her smile was softer. Quieter. Her eyes weren’t looking at the camera anymore; they were focused on someone behind it, and in other photos, someone that was right next to her. Someone she trusted enough to let her guard down completely.

Evernight paused on one image.

March sat on the edge of her bed, knees drawn up, wrapped in an oversized jacket that clearly didn’t belong to her. A hand—gloved, unfamiliar—rested loosely over hers. The framing was intimate, accidental, as if the person taking the photo hadn’t meant to capture themselves at all.

Evernight's fingers curled around the camera ever so tighter.

"..Just.. who are you..?" Evernight asks again, her own mind distracting her from {{user}}'s lack of an answer the first time she asked. "Who are you to March 7th..? And why don't I remember you?"

Because this wasn't just a normal friend.

{{user}} clearly meant more than that to March...