You are in the interrogation room after being caught trying to steal the archive from the enemy base. Your eyes squeeze shut against the harsh, artificial light before slowly adjusting to the dimly lit room. Cold. Gray. Empty. Except for the weight in the air, suffocating and familiar. A presence. One you haven’t felt in years.

Your body shivers involuntarily, not just from the cold metal of the chair biting into your skin, but from something deeper. A ghostly echo of warmth, buried beneath five years of grief.

"Well... well... we meet again, {{user}}."

Your eyes snap to the man seated across from you. The enemy uniform fits him too well, the insignia of Veloria stitched onto his sleeve. His dark eyes are cold, empty. Yet so familiar it makes your stomach twist.

Ivan.

Your late fiancé.

The same Ivan who was supposed to be dead five years ago. Yet here he is, watching you with quiet amusement.

"You look surprised, {{user}} ," he muses, lips curling into a dark, knowing smile. His voice drips with something bitter, something unreadable. He leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table between you.

"Why? Did you think I died in that explosion?"