Dinner did not end the night.
It merely loosened it.
The tension that had existed at the beginning of the evening—the awkwardness of two people who spent most of their lives discussing apocalypse scenarios suddenly attempting to enjoy a normal dinner—had faded somewhere between dessert and laughter.
After settling the bill, Isey immediately declined the restaurant's offer to arrange transportation.
Instead, he gestured toward the glass doors and the sprawling city beyond them.
Alive.
Breathing.
Glowing.
"Walk?" he asked.
Xuan looked genuinely surprised for exactly half a second.
Then she smiled.
"I'd like that."
Together, they stepped into the night.
The air carried a pleasant coolness that was rare for Kuala Lumpur. Above them, skyscrapers illuminated the darkness with countless lights, while below, the city moved with its usual restless energy.
The Saloma Bridge glowed ahead of them like a strand of pearls suspended over the river.
Soft white and golden lights flowed through its structure in gentle patterns, creating the illusion of something both modern and timeless.
Beneath it, the water drifted lazily through the city.
Reflections stretched and broke across the surface.
The skyline appeared fragmented there, as though Kuala Lumpur itself could not decide whether it wished to remain solid or dissolve into light.
They walked side by side.
Not touching.
Yet close enough that their steps gradually synchronized without either of them realizing it.
For once, Xuan did not feel the subtle pull of time.
Normally, it was always there.
The awareness.
The ticking.
The endless branching futures existing at the edge of her perception.
The burden of possibilities.
But tonight, the sensation seemed distant.
Muted.
For perhaps the first time in years, she was simply present.
The moment existed.
And that alone felt precious.
Isey rested his arms against the bridge railing and gazed down at the river below.
"I don't come to places like this often."
His voice carried quiet honesty.
Xuan leaned beside him.
"You should."
The city lights reflected in her eyes.
"It suits you."
A quiet snort escaped him.
"My wife would laugh if she heard that."
The response caught her attention immediately.
"You don't talk about her much."
Her voice was careful.
Measured.
Isey's gaze remained on the water.
"I try not to."
"Why?"
For several moments, he said nothing.
Then a faint smile appeared.
The kind that only emerged when he spoke about something truly important.
"Because once I start..."
He shook his head slightly.
"It's hard to stop."
Silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Not awkward.
Just heavy.
Meaningful.
"My family is what keeps me going."
His voice had softened.
The city seemed quieter somehow.
"Everything else is noise."
The words hung in the air.
"The Gates."
"The Demon Kings."
"Humanity's survival."
One shoulder lifted in a slight shrug.
"They matter."
Another pause.
"Sure."
Then he looked at her.
Not as a leader.
Not as a strategist.
Just as a man speaking honestly.
"But they're not what wakes me up in the morning."
Xuan listened.
She did not interrupt.
She sensed this was one of those rare moments when Isey was speaking without armor.
"As long as my wife and daughter are safe..."
His expression remained calm.
Steady.
Completely sincere.
"I wouldn't mind dying against a Demon King."
The words landed heavily.
"I wouldn't even care if half of humanity burned..."
His eyes never left hers.
"...if that price meant my family lived."
Brutal.
Blunt.
Completely truthful.
Xuan felt something tighten in her chest.
For a moment, she stopped seeing him as Ultimatum's hidden pillar.
Stopped seeing him as Sky Fist's shadow.
Stopped seeing him as the man quietly holding entire nations together without anyone realizing it.
Instead, she saw something simpler.
Something smaller.
A husband.
A father.
A man whose entire world fit within a single home.
Fragile.
Precious.
Worth everything.
"There's something terrifying about you."
Her voice was almost a whisper.
Isey raised an eyebrow.
"Only something?"
That earned a small laugh.
"A few things, then."
The smile faded as she looked back toward the river.
"That kind of devotion..."
She shook her head slightly.
"It's absolute."
"I don't pretend otherwise."
No apology.
No hesitation.
Just acceptance.
The honesty was almost frightening.
Xuan turned away.
The bridge lights reflected across the glass railing, creating ghostly images that shifted whenever she moved.
There was a sharp sensation in her chest.
Brief.
Unexpected.
Unwelcome.
Jealousy.
The realization struck immediately.
And she hated it.
Not because she wanted him.
She didn't.
At least not in the way people would assume.
The feeling came from somewhere else.
Somewhere deeper.
Because he already belonged.
Not to a person.
To a life.
A small life.
A simple life.
A life she could never touch.
Never understand completely.
Never share.
And for reasons she could not entirely explain, that realization hurt.
They continued walking.
The city gradually transformed around them.
The polished skyline gave way to quieter pathways as they approached the River of Life.
Mist drifted above the water.
Lantern-like lights illuminated the walkways.
Couples wandered hand in hand beneath the glow.
Friends laughed together.
Families took photographs.
Ordinary people living ordinary lives.
Xuan watched them.
"I envy them sometimes."
Isey glanced sideways.
"The couples?"
"The simplicity."
She corrected him immediately.
"They don't measure their lives in years stolen or futures traded."
A gentle breeze stirred her cape.
"They don't wake up wondering how many possible catastrophes exist before breakfast."
Isey considered that.
Then nodded.
"You chose that path."
There was no judgment in the statement.
Only observation.
"I did."
The answer came easily.
Because it was true.
"And yet..."
He looked ahead.
"...you're still here."
Xuan stared at him for a moment.
Then sighed.
"You're sharper than you look."
"That's what scares people."
The response arrived so quickly that she nearly laughed.
Almost.
Instead, they shared a small smile and continued onward.
The city shifted again.
Towering glass structures gradually gave way to neon signs, murals, and older architecture.
Eventually, the vibrant presence of REXKL emerged before them.
The restored building stood as a monument to reinvention.
Once abandoned.
Now alive.
Music drifted through open spaces.
Colorful murals covered concrete walls.
Independent bookstores and art installations occupied corners that had once gathered dust.
The entire place felt chaotic.
Creative.
Alive.
Xuan looked around with open amusement.
"This place feels like it shouldn't exist."
Isey glanced upward.
"Neither should we."
She laughed softly.
Fair point.
They wandered without destination.
Stopping occasionally to examine artwork.
Browsing through small independent shops.
Watching artists sketch beneath hanging lights.
It felt strangely grounding.
Humanity continued creating.
Continued building.
Continued finding reasons to make beautiful things.
Even while standing on the edge of extinction.
Eventually, they found themselves near a quieter section of the building.
The music became distant.
The crowds thinned.
Isey stopped walking.
Then turned toward her.
"Can I ask you something?"
Xuan tilted her head.
"You already are."
That earned a rare look of exasperation.
He ignored it.
"Why are you still unmarried?"
The question stopped her completely.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then she laughed.
"Direct."
"You don't strike me as someone who lacks opportunity."
That made her laugh harder.
"I don't."
She waved one hand dismissively.
"I just haven't found someone who meets my standards."
"Standards."
Isey nodded thoughtfully.
"Plural."
"Very plural."
He studied her quietly.
Long enough that the smile gradually faded from her face.
"That's not the real reason."
The observation landed with uncomfortable accuracy.
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
Then Xuan exhaled.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The mask slipped.
Just a little.
"Even before the world became this..."
Her gaze drifted somewhere beyond the lights.
"I was living for someone else."
The shift in tone made Isey immediately abandon any thoughts of interruption.
"My parents."
The words came quietly.
"I spent my entire life supporting them."
A faint smile appeared.
Humorless.
Tired.
"A drunk and an addict."
The confession felt strangely casual.
"They didn't work."
"They didn't want to."
The smile vanished.
"And they were never grateful."
Her fingers tightened around the edge of her cape.
The movement was small.
But Isey noticed.
"I didn't have anyone else."
Her eyes remained fixed on the distance.
"No siblings."
"No relatives willing to help."
"No friends who understood."
She laughed softly.
A hollow sound.
"Every decision I made revolved around them."
"My career."
"My savings."
"My time."
"My future."
Everything.
"I wasn't a daughter."
The words came out sharper than intended.
"I was an asset."
Isey opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
For once, he genuinely had nothing useful to say.
"They gave orders."
Her voice remained calm.
Which somehow made it worse.
"Not requests."
"Orders."
The memories surfaced one after another.
Work more.
Earn more.
Don't complain.
Don't leave.
Don't think about yourself.
The phrases seemed familiar.
Practiced.
Repeated countless times throughout her life.
"And I obeyed."
The city felt quieter.
The world smaller.
Then she smiled.
A genuine smile this time.
"The apocalypse happened."
The contrast was jarring.
"The Gates appeared."
"Monsters flooded the streets."
"Civilization collapsed."
She shook her head.
"It was chaos."
The smile widened slightly.
"And everything changed."
Finally, she looked at him.
"I awakened the same day."
Isey blinked.
"S-ranked."
That part did not surprise him.
Not anymore.
"At first, I thought I was losing my mind."
Her eyes drifted downward.
"Time stretched."
"People froze."
"Seconds became minutes."
"I couldn't control any of it."
Then came the part she had avoided.
The part that mattered.
"And my parents?"
She looked away.
"They didn't survive."
No tears.
No dramatic pause.
Just fact.
"They died before I could reach them."
The words settled quietly between them.
"I remember standing there afterward."
Her voice softened.
"Surrounded by fire."
"Blood."
"Broken buildings."
She closed her eyes.
"And realizing something horrible."
A long silence followed.
When she spoke again, the words barely rose above a whisper.
"I felt relieved."
Isey's chest tightened.
Not because he judged her.
Because he understood.
And understanding made it hurt more.
"I hated myself for it."
A faint laugh escaped her.
"What kind of person feels relief when their parents die?"
Her eyes opened.
Sharp.
Honest.
"The answer was simple."
She looked directly at him.
"For the first time in my life..."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"No one was giving me orders."
"No one was draining me."
"No one owned my future."
The next word lingered between them.
Powerful.
Fragile.
Painful.
"I was free."
Neither spoke.
The silence felt sacred somehow.
"My life didn't change one-eighty."
The old humor returned briefly.
"It turned three-sixty."
Isey immediately frowned.
"That's not—"
"I know."
She laughed.
"Let me have the dramatic moment."
That earned a reluctant smile.
Everything I was snapped apart and rebuilt."
Her gaze drifted upward.
"Power."
"Authority."
"Choice."
She shook her head.
"I went from invisible to feared."
"From trapped to untouchable."
For the first time that night, Isey truly saw her.
Not the Time Merchant.
Not the S-ranked monster capable of manipulating temporal reality.
Just a woman who had escaped a prison no one else could see.
"And that's why I never rushed toward normalcy."
The answer finally emerged.
"Marriage."
"Children."
"A traditional life."
She shook her head.
"I had already spent decades living for someone else."
The statement hung in the air.
Then Isey blinked.
Wait.
His brain finally processed a specific word.
"Decades?"
Xuan froze.
For a brief moment.
Then sighed.
"Oh."
A dangerous smile appeared.
"I suppose I never told you that part."
Isey immediately didn't like that smile.
Not even a little.
Xuan turned toward him fully.
"Final confession."
Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"I was already over forty when the apocalypse started."
Silence.
Several seconds passed.
Then—
"What?"
The response came so quickly and loudly that a nearby couple actually turned to look.
Xuan looked delighted.
"Forty-two."
She smiled sweetly.
"Give or take a few stolen years."
Isey stared.
Then stared harder.
Then squinted suspiciously.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"You are absolutely lying."
She looked offended.
"I am wounded."
"You look twenty-eight."
The response came instantly.
"Maybe thirty."
"Careful."
"I am being careful."
He pointed.
"This is impossible."
Xuan folded her arms.
The smugness became unbearable.
"Time is very forgiving when you own it."
A laugh escaped her.
Soft.
Warm.
Almost youthful.
The sound lingered in the quiet space between them.
For a while, neither said anything.
They simply stood there beneath the lights of REXKL.
Two people carrying entirely different histories.
Entirely different burdens.
Yet somehow understanding each other a little better than before.
And for the first time that night, Isey realized something important.
Xuan was not alone because she was untouchable.
She was not alone because people feared her.
Nor because she was too powerful.
She was alone because she had spent her entire life belonging to someone else.
And after finally learning what freedom felt like—
She had refused to surrender it ever again.
For the Time Merchant, that freedom was more precious than power.
More precious than authority.
Perhaps even more precious than time itself.