As Alice spoke, her voice carried a blend of emotions—nostalgia, joy, sorrow, and even a touch of regret.
She unraveled her mories before , painting vivid images of the ti she had spent in the White Realm.
From the monts of laughter and freedom to the tis of despair and loneliness, she shared it all as if recounting an epic bedti story, her words weaving together a tale both grand and intimate.
I listened, completely imrsed.
At tis, I laughed alongside her; other tis, a pang of sadness settled in my chest.
So of her mories left feeling uncomfortable, unsure of how to respond, but I played along nonetheless.
I could tell this wasn't just idle reminiscing—Alice was letting out emotions she had kept bottled up for far too long, using this mont to share pieces of herself she had never shown to anyone else.
This was a side of her I had never seen in the ga.
A side of her that existed only because I was here, experiencing it firsthand.
A side of her that would stay with forever.
Eventually, her words trailed off, and a soft silence settled between us.
She turned her gaze upward, staring at the vast, white sky above.
The faint glow of the realm's light reflected in her golden eyes, making them shine like molten gold.
Then, slowly, she turned to , her expression softer than ever.
I could see it in her eyes—she was about to ask sothing she had been curious about for a long ti.
"Junior… how did you manage to find ?"
Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she was ready for the answer.
I leaned back slightly, eting her gaze with a small smile. "I had my ways."
Alice narrowed her eyes, clearly skeptical of my vague response.
But I knew she wasn't entirely in the dark.
Cheshire had likely given her the gist of it, so she probably had a general idea of where I was coming from.
Alice's voice was quiet yet trembling, her golden eyes searching mine for an answer she wasn't sure she was ready to hear.
"Were you aware of the danger I was in? And that saving might put you in even greater danger?"
A part of could tell she wanted to ask how I even knew about her situation in the first place, but she didn't push for answers anymore.
Maybe she had already co to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to give her a clear explanation.
Or maybe she just didn't care anymore—what mattered now was that I was here, and she was safe.
"Yes," I answered without hesitation.
"Then why did you do it…?" Her voice wavered as she spoke. I could see the slight shimr of tears welling up in her eyes, the weight of the emotions she had been holding back finally surfacing. "Why did you save ? Risking your life like that…"
I let out a small sigh, looking straight at her.
Did she really need to ask?
"Did you really think I'd just stand by and let my lover—soone I care about—disappear into nowhere and let herself die?" I said, my voice firm yet gentle.
Alice flinched slightly at my words, but I wasn't finished.
"And besides…" I paused, leaning in closer, closing the distance between us.
Then, without another word, I kissed her.
Our lips t—soft, warm, and lingering, but not too long, nor too short.
It wasn't just a kiss—it was a silent answer, a reassurance, a promise.
When we finally parted, Alice had her eyes closed, as if trying to savor the mont.
Her face was flushed, a deep pink dusting her cheeks.
But what caught my attention the most was the tear that slowly trickled down her cheek.
She was silent for a mont, her expression caught between disbelief and sothing deeper—sothing far more vulnerable.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she asked,
"Junior… why do you love so much?"
I could tell this was a question that had gnawed at her from the very beginning—the very first mont we t.
That look in her eyes… she really didn't want to doubt , didn't want to question my feelings.
But at the sa ti, I could tell—she needed to hear it, needed to understand why.
Why do I love her so much, huh…?
Alice had the ability to perceive emotions in their purest essence.
I don't know exactly what she saw in the first ti we t, but if I had to guess, it was probably sothing more than just love. Sothing deeper, sothing unshaken by ti.
Because even now, after everything we had been through, that feeling remained unchanged whenever I looked at her.
I smiled.
She was searching for a genuine answer, even though, deep down, she probably already knew it.
I could have given her sothing poetic, sothing flowery to lighten the mood, but there was no need for that.
I had told her before, and I would tell her again.
"I believe I already told you, Senior," I said softly, eting her gaze. "You make feel warm."
Alice's breath hitched slightly as she rembered my words back then...
Her golden eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she quickly averted them.
"T-that can't be the only thing, right…?" she mumbled, clearly flustered.
"Haha… While that's partly true, my answer will never change, Senior."
She looked back at , still unsure.
"To , you're like a beacon of light," I continued. "Ever since I t you, you beca a goal—soone I wanted to reach, to be by, to protect. That hasn't changed."
Her blush deepened, creeping all the way to the tips of her ears. I could see her gripping the hem of her clothes tightly, struggling to find a proper response.
"I don't know what kind of answer will truly satisfy you, Senior," I admitted, leaning back slightly, my expression unwavering. "But all I know is that I love you."
Silence stretched between us.
Then, Alice suddenly hid her face in her hands.
"…Junior, you're so unfair," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
I grinned. "I know."
This mont felt like déjà vu—like my confession during the date, when I stood before Alice and the other girls.
But this ti, there were no uncertainties.
It was just the two of us, and the emotions between us felt more raw, more genuine than ever before.
I knew Alice had questions—countless questions.
About my existence, about the absurd strength I possessed, about who I really was.
I could see it in her eyes, in the way she hesitated sotis.
But she hadn't asked, hadn't pushed for answers.
Maybe she was waiting for to tell her in my own ti.
Maybe, deep down, she already understood that so things couldn't be put into words so easily.
After taking a mont to calm herself, Alice finally looked up at again.
"Junior—" She paused, then shook her head, correcting herself. "…Riley."
Hearing her say my na like that sent a strange warmth through my chest.
"Can you promise sothing?" she asked, her golden eyes filled with quiet determination.
I nodded. "Of course."
"From now on… we're not going to do anything alone," she said firmly. "No more carrying burdens by ourselves. No more keeping secrets just to protect the other. From now on… we share everything. From now on… we are one."
Her voice held an unwavering resolve, and I could tell that those words weren't just for —they were for herself, too.
A declaration, a vow.
I felt my lips curve into a small, genuine smile.
"I promise, Alice," I said, my voice steady.
For the first ti, we looked at each other not as people bound by fate, not as individuals caught in the tide of sothing bigger than ourselves—but as two people who had made a choice.
A choice to be together.
A choice to trust.
It was a promise.
One I wasn't going to break.
"…Riley," Alice suddenly said again, as if testing the na on her tongue.
"Hm?"
"Nothing," she murmured, a small, shy smile gracing her lips. "It just… has a nice ring to it."
I chuckled softly. "Alice has the sa as well."
A light, joyful laugh escaped her lips, and before I knew it, we were both laughing, our hands instinctively reaching out for each other.
Fingers intertwined, hearts beating in sync.
Slowly, our faces drew closer, her soft breath brushing against my lips before they finally pressed against mine.
This ti, the kiss wasn't fleeting.
It wasn't hesitant.
It lasted—longer than any kiss we had shared before.
Warmth spread through , an intoxicating heat that neither of us wanted to pull away from.
And as our bodies pressed closer, the crimson barrier Alice had conjured shimred softly around us, cloaking us in a private world where only the two of us existed.
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