Ignoring the throbbing in my ears, I swiftly blocked the strike coming from my right with a sharp elbow, countering with a powerful kick that left the sneering specialist in front of me momentarily stunned, forcing him to retreat. He quickly regained his composure, the mockery on his face replaced by a look of pure disgust as he glared at me. The eerie shapes carved into his shaved head by those odd-colored scars had given me chills the first time I saw him, and that feeling hadn't faded. It was almost funny—tragically funny. No matter how often people gawked at me with their mouths agape in the face of my beauty, it meant nothing against the hatred they harbored. Unfortunately, I couldn't use my femininity as a weapon unless I was truly desperate. Though I'd never actually considered using it, knowing I had the option brought me some comfort.

But that wasn't entirely true—if I wanted to, I could use it. Yet I couldn't bring myself to go that far. Not with Brandon's lips still etched in my memory. I couldn't. The notion that there was some unspoken vow, some sacred bond between us that prevented me from using my femininity even in self-defense, was absurd. But thinking of Brandon, even as it threw off my balance, didn't lower my guard. In fact, thinking of him seemed to make my attacks more agile, as if he were watching over me. The events had escalated so chaotically that now, even though we were on the same planet, at the same school, he wouldn't even look at me. And that was because he'd made a confession, and I had simply stood there, staring.

Normally, I wouldn't have expected such a reaction from Brandon, but he hadn't made a simple confession—it had been a difficult one for him. Even the fact that he had expressed his feelings at all was a shock in itself. I didn't know why I had frozen, why I hadn't shared what I felt. Not long after, I had passed out, but it seemed I had lingered just long enough for Brandon to misinterpret my silence.

I grunted at the specialist attacking me before my breath caught painfully as his fist connected with my stomach, my eyes widening in shock. Struggling to regain my breath, I doubled over, clutching my stomach as I fell to my knees. The specialist, showing no signs of mercy, kicked me in the back, sending me sprawling to the ground. I didn't squirm, whimper, or cry. I had no intention of showing weakness in front of these men who hadn't even bothered to hide their hatred and disgust since we arrived. I lay silently, waiting for the breath that stubbornly refused to fill my lungs, but it was no use.

"Stupid girl. That was for those arrogant looks of yours." Arrogant looks? Narcissistic bastard. Even if I were sure they weren't, it was clear they wouldn't bother trying to understand what my looks really meant. Their prejudice against faeries was that simple to explain. All of them were so filled with the hatred they'd concocted in their minds that even the things we hadn't done were willingly portrayed as if we had. I hit the ground twice with my hand, weakly, signaling my defeat. Yet he didn't stop; as his boot pressed against my hand, a muffled groan escaped my lips, but another voice filled my ears—his voice.

"Enough. It's unbecoming of a specialist to attack someone who's already surrendered. Stay back."

The specialist, who had left me in such a battered state, obeyed his commander with a quick salute and began to walk away. I remained on the ground, still struggling to catch my breath. Damn it. Brandon had reverted to that cold, monstrous persona, and this time, I was the only one to blame. I wasn't unfamiliar with the way Brandon had been raised—my father had once been a specialist himself, and that despotism, even if it was never directed intentionally at my mother or me, sometimes emerged. It was a hard habit to break. Imagine eating every meal, starting with salty first, then finishing with something sweet—once you start with sweet, it might seem appealing, but it won't taste the same. Brandon had fallen into such a habit because my lack of response had been enough to make him think I didn't love him.

As air slowly filled my lungs, I pressed my hands to the ground and managed to sit up, my gaze first landing on the black boots in front of me. Damn it. If he would just listen to me once, he would see that all this behavior, all this coldness, was meaningless. But he was so stubborn, so bull-headed, that we couldn't meet halfway. And the worst part was, I wasn't so different from him. Without lifting my head, I let my eyes travel from the boots up his tall, imposing figure, admiring his breathtaking physique, but knowing that the disgust in his eyes was just a mask didn't stop it from hurting.

"As long as you don't take your lessons seriously, you'll be crawling like this for the rest of your life."

I rolled my eyes, pushing myself up with my hands, and sat on my rear, finally looking up at his face. The clenched fists at his sides made it clear that seeing me like this was painful for him, and I knew the moment he finished scolding me, whoever had put me in this state would suffer much worse. No one understood, but I did. No one understood because Brandon was so good at hiding it. His anger, his ambition, his rage—they were all so mesmerizing that no one thought to question what happened to the specialists who disappeared after confronting me. Not that it mattered—even if they did, Brandon would deal with them too.

"Brandon."

His muscles, already tense from my eye-roll, tightened even further as I spoke. The stupidity was mine—why had I kept quiet? Okay, you were in shock at the time, but girl, are you still in shock after all these weeks? Just say it!

As he turned to leave, heading for the exit, I couldn't suppress a groan and grabbed the ground for support again. I hadn't meant to be dramatic; my whole body was throbbing, and my breath was probably struggling to circulate through my likely bruised lungs. But when he stopped as soon as I groaned, I realized I could turn this into an opportunity. Maybe if I played it right, I could get the alone time I desperately needed with him. So, I let myself collapse again, guessing he wouldn't expect that. For three weeks, we had supposedly been sent to Red Fountain to be trained by specialists, to learn how to protect ourselves when our strength was depleted, like in a cave. For three weeks, Brandon had been silent, cold, and incredibly harsh. It was understandable that he would be different here, in this environment where he'd been raised, but not this different! Not to me.

After three weeks, I finally decided to change tactics, breaking my stance that I could handle it and pretending to faint. This was probably the best act I could pull off, one I often used to trick my parents, fooling even the doctor into thinking it was real. How did I get so good at this? It's pretty easy when you're perpetually low on blood pressure, anemic, and anorexic. When Brandon didn't react, I hesitated for the first time, but stayed still.

Before long, I heard the sound of heavy, solid footsteps on the ground, and I had to fight the urge to do a victory dance. His hand cupped my cheek, and this time, an involuntary and genuine groan slipped from my lips. There was a bruise on my cheek, the price of the punches I had taken. As Brandon held my cheek, likely realizing the damage, he let out a string of curses and swiftly scooped me up into his arms. The joy of being back in his embrace filled me with a sense of sorrow, and I struggled not to snuggle closer. I heard an automatic door open. Since all the rooms opened this way, it wasn't much of a clue, so I kept my eyes closed.

"Helia!" Oh, damn it, did you really have to call someone else? As my frustration choked in my throat, Brandon quickly moved toward the approaching footsteps. They must have met in the middle of the room because both sets of footsteps stopped simultaneously, and my body was gently laid onto a firm bed. The disappointment of losing Brandon's scent made me want to scrunch my face, but I managed to keep my emotions in check. It didn't take long to realize I was in the infirmary—Helia was frequently here, and the distinct smell of medication and disinfectant was unmistakable. We girls visited this place so often that recognizing this bed by the scent of the sheets was inevitable.

"Damn it! Brandon, what the hell is this? How could you let this happen to her?" He did, Helia, oh, how he did. When Brandon didn't respond, a wave of fear washed over me, but the sound of his irritated sigh instantly calmed my nerves.

"Take care of her; I'm going to find that bastard." Even though I knew I was right, hearing it from him was something else. Seeing that he cared gave me a bit of comfort, even though I knew I wasn't imagining things. Brandon had changed so much and was acting like his old self again, but for a moment, I started to doubt myself.

"Don't be ridiculous, Brandon! We're barely managing to keep it hidden—poor Timmy hasn't slept a wink because he's busy covering up for the men you've taken down. Instead of making them pay, why are you letting it get this far?"

"You don't expect me to give her special treatment, do you?" Now, that hurt. Under normal circumstances, I would advocate for equality and fight to earn my place with my own efforts, but seeing myself reduced to just another person in the eyes of the man I loved tore me apart.

"Brandon, you're already giving her special treatment. I haven't seen you go after anyone who put Bloom or Musa in the same position. The same goes for Flora, Aisha, and Tecna. You start by doing the same damage they did to Stella, but then you go further, beating them until they're nearly dead. If you keep this up, you're going to lose your command. Stop, man, just stop!"

The soft touch I felt on my cheek wasn't like the firm, distant care Helia usually gave. It couldn't be, because I recognized Brandon by the way he gently stroked my hair and tucked it behind my ear, just like he did back in the underworld. As Helia tended to the bruise on my stomach, Brandon's fingers brushed through my hair and began to caress it.

"I can't stop." The small touch on my forehead made me realize his lips had been there, and the butterflies in my stomach, which had been on the verge of despair, suddenly decided to live it up as if they'd just taken in a ton of serotonin. Oh, Brandon, I've missed you so much. I was in shock, overwhelmed by an indescribable happiness. Thinking about the past; I was already about to faint; after all that medication and exhaustion, the inevitable outcome had finally arrived. My reaction was perfectly natural! I would've had a lot to say if you hadn't jumped on your bike and left before I could pull myself together! And it wouldn't have just been talk—I wasn't ready, but my body was more than ready to respond to the slightest glance from Brandon. As my chest rose with a deep breath, Helia must have thought it was due to pain because he pulled his hands away from me.

"Brandon... buddy, you both look terrible. While the other girls are fighting twice a week, Stella is pushing her limits by fighting four times a week just to get your attention." Shut up, Helia. Hearing someone else point out what I was doing was enough to make me realize how foolish I'd been. But I wasn't going to give up. I wasn't going to stop until I had a chance to talk to him alone.

"I know. She's a real pain in the ass."

Unable to bear it any longer, I opened my eyes, but Brandon wasn't looking at me. His gaze was fixed on the wound Helia had bandaged on my stomach. That night, Brandon had personally taken care of the wound in the same spot, and because of the excessive painkillers he used out of concern, I had to sleep before I could say everything I wanted. It was all so ridiculous, wasn't it? No surprise—I don't expect anything different when it comes to us. I don't do anything but wait for someone to come out and say we're siblings, because only then would we truly be impossible. My eyes, burning with anger, were fixed on him, but Brandon was unaware of it. Helia noticed, though, and he gave a discreet smile before quietly stepping away. Finally, Helia, after all the effort I put into helping Flora and you get some time alone, it's about time you returned the favor! As the door's lock clicked, signaling that he'd left us alone in the infirmary, Brandon looked around as if he'd just woken up. When his gaze found me, the attentive and caring look in his eyes immediately hardened, and he stepped back, pulling his hand away from my skin.

"It seems I made the stupid mistake of trusting you again." This time, I didn't push away the pain rising in my throat. I didn't swallow it. I couldn't—this was too much even for me. "Oh, for God's sake, cut it out!" Ignoring the throbbing pain, I sat up in the bed, but Brandon had already turned toward the door, ready to leave—again! I couldn't play dead this time, so I quickly tried to stand, but my own stupidity caught up with me. My weak legs immediately buckled under the weight of my body, and as I fell to my knees, a pained whimper escaped my lips from the harsh impact with the hard floor. It was enough for Brandon, who, with lightning speed, was at my side and scooped me up, laying me back down on the bed.

"Stop being a nuisance!"

"You're the nuisance! Believing the lies you create in your own head, you're a menace! I didn't say anything to you, yet you blame me!" Brandon let out a contemptuous sound through his clenched teeth and turned his gaze to the door. Despite my body's protests, I sat up in bed, grabbed his chin firmly, and turned his face toward mine. It was a relief for my fingers to feel his skin. His beautiful, handsome, charismatic, and breathtaking face. "You have to listen to me!"

When he shoved my hand away and pushed me back down on the bed, leaning over me, my lips parted involuntarily. The blinding desire I had for his lips burned through me; the only reason I wasn't clinging to him and locking my lips with his was because he had my wrists tightly gripped. I craved him—his lips, his touch, his scent, and his voice.

"I don't need anything from you! And there's nothing I'm forced to do. Go your own way, Stella, and stay out of mine."

I swallowed those words, just as I had swallowed countless others before. "I love you!" When my lips parted to utter those very words, I no longer cared about my pride or stubbornness. I waited with hope, expecting him to soften, to blink in surprise. But nothing—not even the slightest reaction. As I slowly began to realize how late I was in giving voice to all that I had held back, I knew I was retreating back into my shell. "Brandon, I was hurt, exhausted, and confused. That was the only reason for my silence! I love you!"

When his grip on my wrists loosened, I still looked at his face expectantly. I didn't know what I was waiting for, but I was waiting. "Pathetic. And to think I talked too much because of the same reasons."

For a moment, I was left alone with the darkness that descended upon me as if the sun had set on Solaria. He was lying, of course, but why? "Why are you lying?"

I recognized that look. Although he always had a cold demeanor, his gaze had always given him away. When I extended my hands to him, he harshly pushed them away. He wasn't aware that he was also pushing away my patience. "Then get lost. You don't need to be by my side, or track down and eliminate those who hurt me afterward! Close your eyes and don't see me! Stay out of my way!"

When our seemingly endless stare-down finally ended, I couldn't recall ever feeling so weak and helpless. He turned away, heading for the door without feeling the need to say another word. When he realized it was locked, he swiftly and forcefully broke the door mechanism and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The automatic door which would already do its job if he didn't break it.

"Damn it." Unable to hold back my tears, I pulled my knees to my chest on the infirmary bed and began to sob like a child. My tears carried the weight of everything my nerves, aching body, and broken heart could no longer bear. If it wasn't the unsaid words that were the problem, then what was? If he didn't think I didn't love him, why did he suddenly turn away from us so quickly? Why was he leaving me so abruptly, without even letting me savor him? Coward!

"Coward!" I was now pouring out my anger and sorrow, as if I no longer had control. He loved me. Every word that fell from Brandon's lips was like a vow. He wouldn't have said it in vain, and he wasn't denying what he had said—he only admitted he had spoken too much. What he really meant was that he had spoken too soon, but that didn't explain his attitude toward me! As memories of what my mother had told me flooded back, the brutal and cruel death of Brandon's mother echoed in my ears. Just as there were good witches, there were also merciless, ambition-fueled fairies. Brandon's mother, like mine, had suffered at the hands of these fairies, and in the end, a life was taken. It wasn't easy, of course. Especially not growing up with a father like Brandon's—strict and cold, a man who had turned soulless after losing the woman he loved. Becoming a commander at such a young age, knowing nothing of love, was cruel.

Before the distance between us grew, Brandon had made me a promise. It was our first and last mission after the war.

"I will stay away from you; the distance between the planets will be insufficient to bridge the gap between us. You're wrong, Stella. You're wrong because you're right for me. And I'm too much of a coward to walk the right path."

His hands gripped my waist tightly, and it was clear he was holding himself back. It never surprised me that he would pull me close only to let go, to lift me up so high and then push me down from there. He had already tried to kill me once, so why was he saying these things now, accepting them? Maybe it was because we might not make it out of the cave; maybe it was because there was a high chance that this could be our end. When his gaze fell to my lips, I silently prayed to all the stars, hoping that if this was his farewell, it wouldn't be like this, but with those beautiful, full lips I had always wondered about and never forgotten.

The tears threatening to spill from my eyes would have to wait, for I wouldn't shed them for a man who had betrayed me, even if I died from love. Not for the man who had been willing to kill me without a second thought.

"Coward." As our foreheads touched and our eyes closed, our farewell concluded there. Brandon would no longer be a part of my life.

"Coward." When I pressed my hand to my lips to stifle my sobs, I realized too late that I was saying it to myself. I was the coward. Brandon was running from love because he knew what it meant to lose it once he had it. But just as he had never shown the courage to embrace that love, I had never supported him. The reason was that I had expected him to, that I had seen his coldness as pure hatred. Brandon hadn't put much effort into convincing me otherwise. He was afraid of weakness and soullessness, so he chose not to feel. Yet, even though I knew all this, instead of pulling him back, I had run away. I knew I could easily break every word Brandon had spoken, that with his sensitivity to my touch, I could soften all his rigidity. His sensitivity to my tears, his reaction to my voice, his body that responded to everything I did…

As I wiped my tears, my gaze shifted from the broken door mechanism to my bruised and battered arms. This was the man who would burn the world down over the slightest scratch on me, the man who would lose his mind at the thought of someone forcing themselves on me. This man, who had lost his mother as soon as he came into the world before he even knew what was happening—he was incomplete. As I licked my lips and slowly rose from the bed, unaware of the determination reflected in my eyes, I knew that this time, my knees held the strength of my decision. Perhaps I wasn't silencing my pride enough to apply pressure, but I wouldn't let the man I loved be swallowed by darkness again. If I could be the light guardian of the entire universe, I could illuminate the path for the man I loved. And I would do it without hesitation, without having to suppress my emotions or console myself any longer just to reach him. Tonight, I would push myself toward him before he could push me away. I would overwhelm him with love, making sure that even if he lost me, he would never fall back into that darkness. Because I loved him—loved him enough to heal his soul, to take on the fear of following in his father's footsteps onto my own shoulders.