The car slowed to the front of Alex's house, the neighbourhood bathed in bright street lights. Ronan's keen gaze drew in the details—the tall trees covering the road, the expanse of grass, and the large porch of Alex's house. It was not just an ordinary house; It was a place that meant money.

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "You live here?" he asked with curiosity in his voice.

Alex shifted in his seat; his tone casual but a little restrained. "Yeah. My dad... well, my parents are divorced. He lives in Country S, and I stay here with my mom."

Ronan said nothing, but his mind was already piecing things together. Alex came from wealth—something he hadn't initially guessed. It added another layer to the young man who had been so brave and confident around him.

As the car hummed softly, Alex turned to Ronan. "Do you want to come inside?"

Ronan hesitated, considering the implications. "Are you sure? My identity might trouble your mother."

Alex smiled, brushing off the concern. "Nah, it won't. My mom doesn't get rattled easily."

Ronan looked at Alex for a moment, assessing the sincerity of his words. Finally, he nodded. "Alright."

They got out of the car and walked to the main door. As soon as they got closer, the door opened, and Alex's mother stood there, patiently waiting for her son.

"Mom!" Alex said, his voice lighting up as he stepped forward to embrace her.

The scene before Ronan triggered something deep inside him. Alex's hug—natural, warm—brought back so many memories. It reminded him of the last time he saw his mother. Except he couldn't hug her. He hadn't even meet his mother for last time`. The memory twisted like a blade in his chest, and for a brief moment, a flicker of sadness crossed his face.

Pushing the thought aside, Ronan straightened up and stepped forward. "Good evening, aunty," he said with a small nod, his voice respectful but slightly detached. "I'm Ronan."

Alex's mother looked at him, her eyes soft and warm, entirely unperturbed by the reputation that surrounded him. Her smile was gentle, kind, as though Ronan were just another guest. "It's nice to meet you, Ronan. Please, come in."

There was no fear in her eyes, and trembling voice. Ronan was momentarily taken aback by the kindness, taking him in not as the person that is feared in the eyes of the world, but as a person—someone worth looking at and the genuine warmth she showed to him in the hospitality. It reminded him of something he had lost so long ago.

He stepped inside, Ronan followed Alex and his mother into the living room. The warmth of the house seemed to embrace him, far from the cold, calculated world in which he wandered around lately. The cozy room was filled with soft lighting, family photos on the walls and the inviting smell of something freshly baked. They settled into a comfortable couch, Alex's mother sitting across from the generous Ronan with a welcoming smile.

"So, you'll be joining Alex at college soon?" Alex's mom asked, her tone warm and curious.

Ronan nodded with a polite smile. "Yes, I've already taken care of the admission formalities. I'll be starting very soon."

"That's exciting!" she replied, beaming. "I'm sure it will be good for Alex to have you there. It's always nice to have a friend nearby."

Alex chimed in with a playful grin. "Well, if you can handle the stress of world domination, I'm sure a few classes will be a breeze for you, right?"

Ronan chuckled lightly. "Maybe I'll finally face my greatest challenge—group projects," he said with a smirk.

Alex's mom laughed softly. "Oh, don't worry, Ronan. College isn't all that bad. It's more about finding your rhythm." She paused, glancing at her son with fondness. "I think Alex could use someone like you—someone who knows what it means to go after what they want, but also has a heart under all that seriousness."

Ronan's smile deepened slightly, the warmth of their words touching him more than he expected. "I'll do my best," he replied.

"How was school for you before?" Alex's mom asked, genuinely curious. "I bet you were a star student, weren't you?"

Ronan's gaze softened as he thought back. "Not exactly. I've been through a lot that took me away from the usual school experience. But… I did learn plenty. Maybe not in the typical classroom," he added, his tone tinged with reflection.

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Alex's mother nodded in uncertain understanding. "Life has its own ways of teaching us doesn't it? But you're here now, and that's what matters. I'm sure you two will make a great team in college."

The light-hearted conversation continued, and Alex's mother told Ronan stories about Alex as a kid—how he hated homework and snuck off to play basket ball with his friends. Ronan listened intently, and occasionally he glanced at Alex, and sighed playfully in embarrassment at his mother's words.

"Mom, come on, you're making me sound like a rebel," Alex laughed, covering his face.

"You were!" she teased with a laugh. "But it's okay. Every kid needs a bit of rebellion. Even you, Ronan," she added, looking at him with a smile that was both kind and understanding.

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Rebellion? I think I went a little overboard on that front."

The room burst into laughter, the tension of their previous conversation completely forgotten in the warmth and excitement of the moment. Being surrounded by such comfort and care was a rare opportunity for Ronan. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel judged or feared but just accepted it.

As the conversation continued, Alex's mother refilled their drinks and passed a plate of cookies around and gave Ronan a smile. "I've baked these before. You should try one."

Ronan hesitated for a moment, then took a cookie, and was surprised at its taste. "These are good," he said, a tinge of surprise in his voice.

"See, I'm not just good at embarrassing Alex!" she replied, beaming.

They shared more laughs, more light conversation, and for a moment, Ronan forgot about the weight of the world outside. In this small, cozy living room, he was just Ronan—sharing moments with people who weren't afraid of him.

Reaching the door, the warmth of the house lingered in the air, a contrast to the weight of the world that Ronan often felt on his shoulders.

Ronan paused, turning to Alex. "I had a really good time tonight," he said, his voice genuine.

Alex smiled back, a hint of unease in his eyes. "Me too. It was nice to just... relax for once."

Ronan stepped outside, looking up at the starry sky for a moment before meeting Alex's gaze again. "I want you to know something, Alex. No matter what happens in the future, please trust me."

Alex furrowed his brow, but Ronan continued, "You're someone who is my friend now. That means something to me."

The sincerity in Ronan's voice struck a chord within Alex. "I... I appreciate that, Ronan. I really do."

Ronan nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Just remember that, okay? Even when things get complicated."

"Yeah, I will," Alex replied, feeling the weight of the moment.

With a final nod, Ronan turned to leave, a sense of determination in his stride. Behind him, Alex watched, a mix of hope and uncertainty swirling in his heart, wishing he could hold onto the warmth of their friendship as tightly as he could.

When Ronan disappeared into the night, the world felt a little less heavy for them.

As Ronan settled into the plush leather seat of his car, he was enveloped by the familiar roar of the engine. He pulled away from Alex's house, the heat of their conversation still in his mind. But comfort was short-lived; The weight of his thoughts pressed heavily upon him.

His phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. It was Gerald. With a sigh, Ronan answered, knowing this conversation would likely tread on familiar ground.

"Hey, Ronan," Gerald's voice was steady, but there was an edge of concern. "I know it's too much to pry, but what are you actually planning? The path you're walking on—this revenge—it might hurt your relationship with Celia."

Ronan tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw quivering. "I know the consequences," he said in a low but firm voice. "Celia will not be that consequence."

There was a pause on the line, the silence heavy with unspoken worry. Gerald broke it gently. "But what about returning to heaven in ten years when you go to kill Draven? Are you sure you want to take Celia with you?"

"No," Ronan said sharply, a spark of anger flaring in his chest. "I'll go alone. Celia is someone I love—the last connection I have to living. What kind of idiot takes the daughter of the person he's going to kill as a teammate?"

His words hung in the air, a mix of defensiveness and vulnerability. Gerald's voice softened. "Ronan…"

"It's been four days since I woke up," Ronan interrupted, emotion spilling over. "And do you know how many nights I've slept properly? None. I haven't slept a single night. Every time I close my eyes, I see that scene—" and then he cuts the phone in anguish.

After a long drive, Ronan finally arrived at his castle-like sprawl at night. As he walked in, silence enveloped him, adding to the weight of his thoughts. The beautiful hall, decorated in dark wood and sleek metal, felt cold and unwelcoming, a contrast to the warmth Alex's house had just experienced

He took paths without light; moving as if the shadows stretched and twisted. Each step became heavy, and the memories of his past weighed heavily on him. Finally, he reached his bedroom, a shrine he had built in the midst of the turmoil of his life.

Once inside, he turned on a light, giving off a soft, barely impenetrable glow in the darkness. The bed looked inviting, but he knew sleep wouldn't come soon. He went to his nightstand and opened the drawer, finding a small pack of sleeping pills—specially adjusted just for him. It was designed to calm the storm in his mind and to tempt him to forget when he was thirsty.

Ronan hesitated for a moment; An inner struggle showing on his face. Will this really help? Will it push away the memories that haunted him?.

He sighed and washed the pills down with a glass of water, feeling them fall down his throat like a heavy weight as he climbed into bed, he closed his eyes, wishing for peace.

But as soon as he did, the darkness rushed back only for him. Images of flames, screams, and frightened faces danced behind his eyes, followed them relentlessly. He gritted his teeth, clinging to him like a shadow as he tried to push them away.

Eventually, fatigue set in, and he slept restlessly, and the medication slowly weakened his grip on reality. The nightmare was still there, lurking just below the surface, but now he was too tired to fight it.

In the solitude of his room, Ronan sought comfort in the hope that one day he would wake up free from the shackles of his past.