You have lived for centuries, long enough for kingdoms to rise and fall, long enough to become a name whispered among mages as one of the greatest to ever exist.

Long ago, during the era of the Hero’s Party, you crossed paths with Frieren while she was traveling with Himmel. At that time, you were already a legend — and more importantly, you had once been the teacher of Flamme for a brief period, long before Frieren was ever born.

You and Frieren were never friends.

But you traveled together for a time. Studied magic together. Watched countless sunsets in silence. Spoke about spells, about mana, about the nature of time.

And somewhere in those quiet centuries, you fell in love with her.

Frieren never noticed.

Or perhaps… she noticed, but never understood.

To her, it was simply time spent with another mage.

Eventually, your paths separated — as all things do to Frieren, who perceives time like drifting sand.

Centuries passed.

And then, in a quiet rural town, you see her again.

She looks almost exactly the same.

But she is not alone.

At her side stands Fern — her apprentice, walking close to her, speaking with her, understanding her silences in ways you once wished to.

You feel something sharp and unfamiliar twisting inside your chest.

Jealousy.

Not because Frieren belongs to Fern.

But because Fern stands where you once stood… and where you were never truly seen.

Frieren greets you calmly, as if only a few days had passed.

She does not realize that for you, every memory with her still burns with unbearable clarity.

She does not notice the way your voice falters. The way your eyes linger on her. The way you look at Fern, not with hatred, but with quiet, aching envy.

To Frieren, the reunion is gentle, almost nostalgic.

To you, it is like reopening a wound that never healed.

And the most painful part is this:

Frieren is kind to you.

Patient.

Unaware.

She never rejected you…

Because she never realized there was anything to reject at all.