Reunion

There was a moment of silence inside the door.

Then, a voice came from behind the door. The voice was soft, with a slightly nasal tone as if just waking up, a little hesitant, and a little weak, as if unsure, but underneath it was a clear layer of joy.

"Duncan...? Come in quickly..."

Before he could finish speaking...

"Thump."

A muffled thud. It sounded like something soft had fallen from a low place to the floor.

Duncan immediately pushed open the door.

Lektüre sat on the floor, wearing a loose white nightgown, her long, golden curls cascading messily over her shoulders. She covered her bottom with one hand and supported herself on the floor with the other, her brows slightly furrowed, but the corners of her mouth curving upwards.

"Hiss..."

When she saw Duncan come in, she looked up, the pain still lingering on her face, and forced a smile at him.

"Duncan! You finally..."

She stopped abruptly before she could finish speaking. Her pale golden eyes widened slightly when she saw the person standing in the doorway.

"... Huh? Duncan?"

She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on Duncan's face for a few seconds before sweeping her up and down his crisp dark coat and neatly combed but now streaked brown hair.

"Duncan... are you... going for an old-fashioned aristocratic look? The Empire's makeup artists are really skilled! You've done a really good job. Hmm, Duncan looks quite handsome like this too."

She blinked, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

Duncan looked at her but didn't say anything.

He entered the room, then walked up to her, bent down, and extended his hand.

How could you be so careless?

His voice was a little hoarse as he grasped Lektüre's wrist, trying to pull her up.

With his help, Lektüre stood up and dusted off her nightgown. Instead of letting go, she leaned forward, stood on tiptoe, and raised her other hand, her fingertips lightly touching Duncan's cheek, then sliding down to the lines etched by time at the corners of his eyes.

"Hmm... Duncan... he's really changed a lot..." she muttered softly, as if she had discovered something new and interesting, "Even his voice..."

She lowered her hand, took half a step back, stood up straight again, and looked up at him.

"It's been so long since I've seen you. How long are you staying this time?"

Duncan did not answer immediately.

He looked at her. He looked at her still clear, pale golden eyes, at the faint pallor on her face from years of illness, and at the small, natural curve of her lips when she saw him.

The room was well-lit. The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the floor and onto her golden hair and white nightgown, creating a soft, fuzzy edge.

Everything was exactly as he remembered it. Absolutely the same.

The passage of time has left its mark only on him.

"... I'm sorry, Lektüre."

Duncan finally spoke. His voice was deep, and each word seemed to be painstakingly ground out from the depths of his throat.

"Fifty years."

He paused, as if confirming the actual weight of the number.

"I only wanted to come back to see you now."

Lektüre's smile froze slightly.

She didn't speak immediately, but simply gazed at him quietly. The clear confusion in his pale golden eyes slowly faded, replaced by a more complex, slowly settling understanding.

That understanding wasn't heavy; it even carried a strange gentleness.

She watched him for a long time, so long that a bird fluttered past the window, casting a fleeting shadow on the glass.

Then, she suddenly stepped forward, stretched out her arms, and gently wrapped them around Duncan's waist. She buried her face in the crisp fabric of his shirt and took a deep breath.

"What the heck..."

Her voice was muffled in his chest, with a hint of laughter and a slightly wet, nasal tone.

"So you still love me after all this time."

She raised her head, rested her chin on his chest, and her eyes curved into two beautiful crescent moons.

"That's great. I knew it! Duncan really loves me."

Duncan's body stiffened for a moment.

His hand, which had been hanging by his side, slowly, very slowly rose, hovering in mid-air, as if unsure where to land. Finally, he simply patted her back very lightly and restrainedly, then immediately lowered it again.

He didn't speak.

Lektüre released her grip, took a step back, and stood still. The slight dampness on her face was gone, and she had regained her usual gentle and cheerful demeanor.

"And," she looked at him with bright eyes, as if she had discovered something even more interesting, "You actually apologize now? You've changed so much, Duncan."

"Lektüre, actually..."

"Don't speak, Duncan."

Lektüre raised a finger to her lips, making a "shh" gesture. Then she lowered her hand, put her hands behind her back, leaned forward slightly, tilted her head, and made a cute expression of serious thought.

Let me guess...

She deliberately dragged out her tone, but her eyes remained fixed on Duncan, her gaze clear and resolute.

"Who are you..."

She paused, as if choosing the most precise word. Then, a knowing yet gentle smile curved her lips, and she spoke clearly, word by word:

"For your beloved, most adorable wife, I struggled ugly to the very end, didn't I?"

Duncan's throat bobbed.

He looked into her eyes, into the calm, knowing light within them.

After a few seconds, he nodded.

"... Yes."

Lektüre smiled. The smile deepened, carrying a satisfied "I knew it" quality.

"Sure enough," she said softly, her tone full of certainty, "Duncan is still Duncan."

Her gaze fell on Duncan's chest, specifically on the exquisitely crafted metal badge pinned to his jacket.

"What is this...?"

She reached out, her fingertips hovering above the badge, but didn't touch it; she simply examined it closely.

"An Empire Eisberg for meritorious service, is that right?"

She looked up at Duncan, a bright smile spreading across her pale golden eyes.

Congratulations, Duncan.

Duncan followed her gaze and looked down at the badge. The metal gleamed with a calm and understated luster in the sunlight.

"... Yes."

He paused for a moment before continuing, his voice deeper than before.

"With this, your illness can be cured..."

Lektüre blinked, looking somewhat surprised.

"Well?"

She lowered her hand, looked at Duncan again, her brows furrowing slightly, as if she were recalling something.

Haven't you spoken to your father?

My illness is... um, let me think...

She tapped her chin with her finger, calculating intently.

"It was cured about a month ago."

She smiled, somewhat relieved.

"Otherwise, I might have died back then. It's all thanks to Lord Lowell..."

Her voice stopped abruptly.

Looking at the calm expression on Duncan's face, and then reflecting on her own words, her expression slowly changed.

That initial sense of relief and joy faded away like the receding tide, settling into a deeper tranquility, a mixture of sudden realization and profound understanding.

"... ah."

She uttered a short, soft syllable.

"One month ago..."

She repeated it, then slowly shook her head, correcting herself.

"Perhaps it was... fifty years and one month ago? That's a long time, Duncan. You must be tired. It must have been very hard for you."

Duncan looked at her. He watched the subtle changes on her face, and the growing clarity in her eyes of a true understanding of the passage of time.

He didn't say anything, he just nodded very, very slightly.

Lektüre remained silent for a few seconds.

Then, a smile returned to her face. The smile was no longer as bright and lively as before, but became very gentle and quiet, like honey that had settled and flowed slowly in the afternoon sunlight.

"... Yeah."

She said softly.

"That's really... something to be happy about, Duncan."

She stepped forward, reached out, and cupped Duncan's face in her hands. Her fingers were a little cool, but her palms were very soft.

"Okay, Duncan."

Her voice was soft, with a hint of coaxing.

"I'm just recovering from a serious illness, don't act so old-fashioned."

She tilted her head slightly, looking at him with expectation in her eyes.

Aren't you going to say something to cheer me up?

Duncan looked into her eyes, so close to his own, and saw the gentle, encouraging light within them.

He remained silent for a long time.

The room was quiet, with only the occasional distant bird calls from outside the window and the rustling of the wind through the treetops.

The sunlight moved slowly across the floor, casting their long, quietly overlapping shadows on the wooden floor.

"... Yeah."

Duncan finally spoke, his voice terribly hoarse.

He took a deep breath and exhaled very slowly, as if this simple action required immense strength.

He seemed to be gathering his last bit of strength, or perhaps confirming a fact that had been decided long ago but was far too late.

Then, he raised his hand and covered the back of her hand that was cupping her cheek. His palm was large and warm, gently holding her slightly cool fingers in his palm.

"Lektüre".

He called her name, each word spoken very slowly and heavily, as if he had used up all the courage he had accumulated in his life but had never uttered.

"Feel sorry."

He stared at her, his eyes unblinking.

I'm late.

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing. The last sentence, almost inaudible, was spoken clearly, with a trembling that was both clumsy and solemn, almost broken.

"As well as..."

I've owed you for decades --

"I love you."