"Can you always see me?" he asked quietly.

Somewhere along the way, the sword stopped aching. Not gone—just quieter. Like an old wound finally healing wrong but healing nonetheless.

Jin-ah lowered her book. For a long moment, she studied him—the exhaustion behind his handsome face, the way his hands trembled slightly at his sides, the weight of centuries pressing down like a second spine.

Seo-jun looked down. He wasn't dripping. Mortals couldn't see him when he didn't wish to be seen. But her eyes—dark, tired, startlingly direct—were fixed right on his face.