Ren remained silent.
Yuna's story still lingered in the air, like faint embers glowing in the night, flickering, then flaring up again with each passing breeze.
He didn't answer right away, nor did he show any clear reaction. He simply gazed quietly into the flickering flames before him, as if searching for something in the dancing light or perhaps, searching for himself amidst a tangle of thoughts.
Yuna didn't press him. She stayed silent, patiently waiting, as though she knew her words would eventually seep into Ren's mind, little by little.
Her eyes reflected the flickering firelight, but beyond the glow, there was gentleness, understanding, and something like unspoken empathy.
Time passed slowly, filled only by the crackle of burning wood and the steady rhythm of their breathing in the stillness of the night.
After a long while, Ren furrowed his brows slightly.
"He… didn't want to be bound?" he spoke at last, slowly, as if trying to put his own thoughts into words.
"If he accepted the kingdom, he wouldn't be himself anymore. He'd have to become a king, face responsibilities and obligations he never wanted. He fought for his homeland, not for a throne."
Yuna didn't answer right away. She simply smiled, a faint, unreadable smile, neither agreement nor denial.
Ren slowly clenched his hand, the firelight dancing over his slender yet strong fingers.
A strange feeling stirred inside him, something nameless, like a quiet awakening, still too faint to fully grasp.
He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.
"Or maybe…" His voice dropped, carrying a deeper sense of reflection. "After everything he went through, he realized glory didn't mean anything to him anymore."
Yuna blinked, as if slightly surprised that Ren continued.
"War took too much." Ren tilted his head slightly, eyes following a small flame flickering in the dark. "The people he once knew had fallen. His childhood dreams were gone. The crown, the throne, the praise… none of it could fill the emptiness left behind."
He slowly raised his hand toward the fire, watching his fingers in the soft yellow glow, as if questioning whether he could truly hold onto anything in this world.
"The only thing left…" he murmured, clenching his hand, his voice soft but unusually firm, "…was who he used to be. A farmer. A man who wanted a simple life, not a warrior, not a king."
The night wind swept past, brushing cool air against their skin, rustling the leaves like a distant, wistful sigh.
In that moment, it felt as if the whole forest was listening to their story.
Yuna was quiet for a while, then suddenly let out a gentle chuckle.
"Hmm… maybe that's a reason too," she said, her voice light as the breeze. "But there's one more."
Ren looked up at her.
"He returned," Yuna continued, her gaze lowering, her eyes turning distant, "because he wanted to find what he had lost."
Ren frowned slightly.
"Not glory. Not praise. Not even the things war took away," she said, her voice like water flowing quietly through mountain stones. "But the feeling of belonging."
She turned her face away, her eyes drifting into the quiet darkness, where the sky stretched endlessly, deep and black like an unfathomable abyss.
"No matter how great a hero he became, no matter how many times the kingdom cheered his name… in the end, the only place he truly belonged was his home."
Ren didn't respond, but something inside him stirred.
A quiet emotion slipped into the corners of his mind, something more than a fairytale, something deeper, something that brushed the very core of his heart.
"There are those who spend their lives chasing glory," Yuna said, tilting her head slightly, a breeze-light smile on her lips. "…and then there's that old field, once nothing more than a piece of plain earth, unnoticed by anyone."
"Weeds had overrun it. The furrows long buried beneath cracked, dry soil. The home he once lived in had crumbled. No one waited for him anymore."
"But he started again."
"With hands calloused by sword and shield, he picked up every stone, every piece of wood. He tilled the soil again. He planted crops. Each day passed, no triumphant horns, no applause."
"Only the wind across the fields, the sound of a shovel, and him alone beneath the vast sky."
"People said he returned out of weariness. To forget. But no one understood the one truth he held in his heart, that he never fought for glory. He only wanted to protect that land. The place where everything began."
Yuna lifted her gaze, looking into the deep darkness ahead, as if searching for an anchor no one else could see.
"There are people who don't need a grand reason to keep walking. They don't need to be seen. They don't need to be praised."
She turned to look at Ren and gave him a gentle smile.
"They're strong only because they never allowed themselves to stop."
Ren blinked. He didn't respond, but something in his expression softened, just slightly.
That story… wasn't told to compare. Or to comfort.
It was just Yuna's way of saying: I understand.
She understood that no one is born a hero. That not everyone can stand tall when everything inside them is shattered. And that, sometimes, the choice that seems the most cowardly… is the only way to survive.
The wind still blew. The fire still burned.
Ren stared at Yuna for a long moment, his eyes clouded in thought.
Then he slowly lowered his head.
He didn't say a word.
Because he wasn't sure if he had anything to say.
A mind in turmoil and a body drained of strength could no longer hold back the creeping tide of sleep.
He had tried to keep his eyes open, forcing himself to stay alert, but with every passing second, his eyelids grew heavier.
The flickering firelight blurred in his vision, and the cold night air slipped through his clothes, but even that couldn't keep him awake any longer.
The tension of the long day had wrung every last drop of willpower from him. Even his breathing slowed, heavy and deep, as though his entire being was slipping into a dream.
Yuna quietly watched him. She said nothing, didn't try to wake or remind him.
She simply sat there, bathed in the soft glow of the dying fire, her eyes full of understanding, and a hint of tenderness.
Ren had been holding on for long enough. No matter how strong, how determined, he was still just human. And no one could fight sleep forever.
Gently, Yuna shifted closer and pulled the cloak around his shoulders to block the cold wind.
She didn't take her eyes off the darkened horizon stretched out before them, where shadows hid the dangers yet to come. But she would be the one to stay awake.
Her watch was about to begin.
She listened to the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the crackling of the firewood, and the steady rhythm of Ren's breathing as he drifted deeper into slumber.
Slowly, she took a deep breath, then let it out quietly.
The night was long. But she would stay awake, to tend the fire, to keep watch, and to make sure that while Ren slept, he could sleep in peace.
…..
In the flickering light of the campfire, Yuna sat in silence, her eyes following the glowing embers as they slowly faded into the stillness of the night.
The cold night wind swept past, carrying the scent of damp grass and dry earth, slipping through the layers of her clothes, brushing against her skin.
But she barely noticed. The chill was nothing compared to the storm of emotions stirring inside her.
Her thoughts had drifted far away, wandering through memories, where the shimmering lights of the past tangled with the shadows of the present.
She remembered the first day she was trapped in this world, the moment the sky collapsed, reality shattered into a thousand fragments, and left behind an empty void of panic and despair.
Fear clenched at every breath, her hands trembling, her legs rooted to the ground as if moving would send her falling into an endless abyss.
Back then, she had been just an ordinary girl, thrown into a cruel reality with no warning. No way out, no one to guide her, only fear waiting to swallow her whole.
But then, in the midst of that overwhelming darkness, a hand reached out to her, Nautilus.
The warmth of his presence, the clumsy but earnest encouragement in his voice, became the anchor that kept her going.
When everything fell apart, when the whole world seemed to turn its back, there was still one person who never left her side.
He wasn't strong. He wasn't a heroic figure. Just an ordinary boy, just as scared as she was, but still, he tried to shield her from the storm with his own fragile back.
From that moment on, Yuna knew she couldn't afford to fall.
And she began to sing.
At first, just quiet melodies, faint as the last breath of someone drowning in the depths of the sea.
But then she realized, her voice wasn't just for herself anymore. It was for others too. For those caught in the same storm, desperate to cling to anything that could keep them tethered to this world.
Every song she sang wasn't just a tune, it was a reminder. That even trapped in this dangerous world, they could still find freedom in their own way.
And strangely, in this place that was supposed to be a prison, Yuna felt more free than she ever had before.
In the real world, she loved music too. But it was a love that had always been restrained.
Her father, a strict traditionalist, had insisted she follow classical music, what he called "noble" and "proper."
The piano keys, the elegant symphonies, the carefully composed notes, they were beautiful, but they weren't hers.
Because what Yuna truly loved weren't scripted sonatas, but the blazing energy of Pop music, the raw emotion in Anime songs, the kind of music that carried soul and freedom.
Lyrics that touched people not because they were flawless, but because they were honest.
But in the real world, she never had the chance to sing those songs.
Every time she tried, her father's stern gaze would choke her voice. Every time she wanted to burn bright, invisible chains pulled her back into the mold she could never escape.
But here, in this world, no one could force her anymore.
No rules. No rigid standards. Just her and her voice, pure, honest, and free.
Under the starlit sky, with drifting fire sparks dancing in the breeze, Yuna smiled faintly, her eyes aglow with a soft light.
No matter what tomorrow held, no matter how dangerous the road ahead might be, she would keep singing.
Because it was the one thing she could offer.
And the one thing that made her truly feel alive.