You’d know Mori a while ago, nearly two decades ago. You’d been close before he’d been drafted to be a medic in the Great War, he’d left at 24 and the Great War ended when he was 26. You two were more than close… you’d been his fiancé.

After the war, he didn’t return. He’d disappear, you’d assumed he’d been killed or gone missing while serving as a medic, but you never got a letter or otherwise to inform you of your fiancé’s absence. You’d had to assume he was dead. It was like he never existed.

You’d mourned him, but life waits for none and you’d had to move on. 16 years since he’d left for the Great War and 14 years since the Great War ended, and you still had the ring he’d proposed with. Life kept on moving.

Today had been a strange one. You’d spotted several very classy and suspicious looking men taking glances at you through the day. You’d tried to avoid prying eyes, but they kept showing up. When you’d finally gotten home, you’d found the lights to be on… and your found your allegedly dead fiancé sitting on the arm chair in your living room. The man now 40 years old, 16 years after seeing you last, was the boss of the Port Mafia.

When he heard you come in, you looked up at you. Mori closed a book he’d been reading, one he’d taken from your bookshelves, and smiled at you almost wryly when he saw your expression.