Vale drew in a slow breath as his hand settled around the back door's handle. For a moment he didn't move, his fingers tightening slightly against the cool metal while the sound of his own heartbeat echoed louder than it should have in his chest. Then, before he could overthink it any further, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The hinges gave only the faintest creak. Vale entered carefully, almost instinctively trying not to make noise, his eyes moving across the room with quiet caution.
The interior caught him off guard.
Compared to the worn exterior of the district, the house felt strangely modern. White walls reflected the soft daylight spilling through the windows, giving the space a clean, open warmth. A modest kitchen occupied one side of the room, connected seamlessly to a small living area furnished with a couch, low lamps, and shelves lined with neatly organized books and supplies. There were no electronics anywhere, no screens, no humming appliances, nothing artificial beyond the structure itself, but despite that, the place felt grounded in a way the rest of Irea never did.
Vale let out a faint breath of amusement as he looked around. "So she really settled in here…" he murmured quietly.
Oddly enough, Nym wasn't visible.
Relief surfaced on vale his face.
'Maybe she isn't home after all.'
The thought was embarrassingly comforting. A part of him considered taking the opportunity and leaving before this became even more awkward. He could come back later. Or tomorrow. Or-
His gaze shifted toward the kitchen counter.
Clothes had been folded there carelessly, as though someone had changed in a hurry. Vale stepped closer instinctively, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the uniform: white fabric reinforced with layered stitching, insignias sewn carefully into the sleeves.
Royal Guard's their attire.
His fingers brushed lightly across the material. "So you joined too…" he whispered.
The realization settled in his chest. Somehow he hadn't pictured Nym becoming part of the Royal Guard, yet now that the evidence sat directly in front of him, it felt obvious. It suited her far too well.
She was a fine warrior, quite like vale himself though to a much greater degree.
Then the atmosphere changed.
Vale felt it in his bones.
His instincts reacted before his thoughts did. His hand snapped toward the hilt at his waist as he turned,
and stopped cold.
A rapier hovered inches from his face.
The blade was incredibly thin, elegant in design and terrifying in its precision, its point aimed directly between his eyes with such steadiness that Vale knew she could kill him before he fully moved.
But his attention barely lingered on the weapon.
It locked entirely onto the person holding it.
Nym stood in front of him wearing loose jeans and an oversized shirt slipping slightly off one shoulder, looking less like a royal guard and more like someone abruptly dragged from sleep. Yet the ease with which she held the rapier erased any illusion of vulnerability.
Her emerald eyes were fixed on him sharply.
And her hair,
Vale's breath caught slightly seeing it.
The golden streaks were gone.
What remained was pure black, long and slightly disheveled, falling past her shoulders in uneven strands that framed her face differently than before. She looked older now, not physically, but emotionally, as though the past two months had settled onto her quietly.
Finally, Vale swallowed.
"H-Hey… Nym," he said carefully, forcing a weak smile. "It's… good to see you again."
Nym stared at him like he had said something incomprehensibly stupid.
Then her grip tightened around the rapier.
"What," she asked coldly, "are you doing here?"
There was clear hostility within her face, her expression didn't help exactly either..
Vale slowly released the hilt of his blade and raised his hands slightly in surrender. "I just came to say hi," he answered awkwardly. "You know… since things didn't exactly end well between us."
Silence followed.
Nym didn't lower the blade.
She simply stared at him with an expression caught somewhere between anger and something far more peculiar, and somehow that made Vale feel worse than if she had attacked him outright.
He exhaled quietly.
"…Right," he muttered.
Turning slowly, he stepped back toward the door, his usual energy gone from his voice. "I'll leave."
He forced himself not to look back.
Then,
"Wait."
Vale stopped immediately.
Behind him came the quiet sound of metal lowering. He glanced over his shoulder to see Nym lowering the rapier to her side at last. Her expression remained tense, the anger still there, but something beneath it had shifted now, softened slightly by hesitation, uncertainty, and emotions she clearly hadn't decided whether she wanted him to see.
Nym took a slow breath, though despite being the one who had stopped him, she clearly had no idea what to say next. Vale recognized the feeling, the awkward hesitation, the scramble for words that refused to come, and decided to spare them both the silence.
"Is… something wrong?" he asked cautiously.
Nym looked at him for a long moment.
She studied him carefully, her gaze moving across his face, his posture, the clothes he wore, as though she were confirming he truly existed and hadn't simply appeared out of exhaustion or grief. There was something unsettled in the way she looked at him, like part of her still expected him to disappear if she blinked too long.
Finally, she spoke.
"Your hair…" she said awkwardly, glancing away almost immediately. "It's longer."
Vale blinked, caught off guard by the comment. Instinctively, he reached up and grabbed one of the loose strands hanging near his face. She was right, it had grown enough to brush into his vision now unless he tied it back.
A nervous laugh escaped him. "Yeah," he admitted. "I guess it is."
Another silence settled between them, painfully awkward in a completely different way than before. Vale could practically feel the tension drifting through the room like static.
'This is hell,' he thought.
Then Nym spoke again.
"Let me cut it."
Vale stared at her blankly for a second. "…You want to cut my hair?"
She nodded once, still refusing to meet his eyes directly.
Vale opened his mouth, closed it again, then sighed internally. "…Sure," he said carefully. "Where do you want me?"
Without speaking, Nym gestured toward one of the tall chairs near the kitchen counter. Vale obeyed without argument, moving over and sitting down with his back toward her.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then soft footsteps approached behind him.
At some point, without him even noticing, Nym had retrieved a pair of scissors. He heard the metallic click of the blades opening and closing before the first strands of dark hair drifted quietly to the floor.
Neither of them spoke.
But the silence no longer felt as awkward as it did before.
Vale stared ahead while locks of hair slid past his shoulders, watching their reflections dimly through the mirror hanging above the counter. Nym worked slowly, far more carefully than he expected, her movements occasionally hesitant, as though she was concentrating on the act itself to avoid thinking too much about everything surrounding it.
Eventually, her voice broke the silence.
"Until yesterday," she said softly, "I thought you were dead."
The words settled within Vale his chest with a strange feeling.
His eyes widened slightly, and he turned his head just enough to glimpse her through the mirror. Her face was partially hidden beneath loose strands of black hair on her head, her head lowered as she continued cutting quietly.
But he could hear it in her voice.
The bitterness grief left behind when it lingered too long.
Vale swallowed.
"…Are you disappointed?" he asked quietly.
Nym froze mid-motion. The scissors hovered beside his head while another strand of hair drifted lazily downward. For a moment she simply stared at his armor through the reflection, her emerald eyes carrying a restrained, conflicted look Vale couldn't fully decipher.
He held her gaze for a second before exhaling faintly.
"You know," he said softly, "seeing you this quiet is really strange for me."
Nym's eyes widened ever so slightly. Then, despite herself, the corner of her mouth lifted into a small, reluctant smile.
"Sure it is," she muttered.
The hostility from earlier had dulled considerably. She resumed cutting his hair, the steady rhythm of the scissors filling the room once more as dark strands gathered around the chair beneath him. The silence between them still felt delicate, but no longer suffocating as it did before.
Vale noticed she had completely ignored his earlier question, though strangely, he didn't mind. Her answer had already been there in her expression. If she truly hated him, she would never have let him stay. She would have thrown him out the moment he walked through the door.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Nym's hand stopped again.
The scissors remained suspended beside his head as something darker settled into her expression.
"That thing…" she said quietly. "Why do you call it your friend?"
Vale's eyes sharpened immediately.
He already knew who she meant.
Chrome.
Nym lowered her gaze slightly, fingers tightening around the scissors.
"Do you not know," she asked softly, "about the genocide it caused?"
The question settled heavily into the room, cutting through the fragile calm they had managed to build.
Vale stayed silent for several long seconds, weighing his response carefully. He understood why Nym asked. In this world, Chrome was not remembered as a person but as a calamity, a machine tied to massacres, destruction, and a kingdom drowned in blood. The stories surrounding him weren't exaggerated myths either. Thousands truly had died because of him.
And that was what made answering difficult.
Vale lowered his gaze slightly, his fingers brushing loose strands of freshly cut hair from his shoulder. When he had first arrived at the academy, confused, isolated, unable to understand the world around him, Chrome had been the first one to help him without hesitation. He had answered questions no one else bothered to explain, protected him when he didn't know how to protect himself, and treated him like an equal long before anyone else did. He never demanded loyalty, gratitude, or friendship in return. He had simply remained beside him.
That was the Chrome Vale knew.
Not the monster whispered about in fear.
At least… he wanted to believe they were not the same.
After a quiet breath, Vale finally spoke. "When I first came to the academy, I didn't understand anything," he said softly. "Everything felt.... Confusing. But Chrome helped me through it without asking for anything back." His eyes drifted toward the floor as he continued. "He never tried to force trust out of me. He just stayed."
Nym remained still behind him, the scissors resting quietly in her hand.
"I know what people say about him," Vale admitted. "And honestly… I don't think they're wrong. I know what he's done." He paused briefly before adding, more quietly, "But the Chrome I know doesn't feel like the same being everyone fears."
Silence settled over the room again.
Nym studied him, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to understand whether he truly believed what he was saying. "Do you really think that machine can change?" she asked at last. "The same way people do?"
Vale blinked once, then let out a tired but genuine laugh beneath his breath. "Honestly?" he murmured. "Chrome feels more human than some actual people I've met."
He glanced toward her reflection.
"So yeah. I think they can."
Nym's expression shifted faintly at that, though whether from disagreement or uncertainty, Vale couldn't tell. The scissors closed one final time around a loose strand of hair.
Snip.
The last lock fell to the floor.
"I see," she murmured quietly.
She stepped away from him after that, carrying the scissors back toward the counter while Vale remained seated for a moment longer, watching her in silence. Her back was turned now, shoulders tense beneath the oversized shirt hanging loosely from her frame. Whatever softness had briefly returned to the room seemed to retreat behind that silence again.
Then, without looking at him, she spoke.
"I'm done."
A pause followed.
"You should leave now."
Vale's eyes flickered slightly. The fragile warmth between them cracked almost instantly.
Slowly, he rose from the chair and brushed the loose hair from his clothes. "Are you sure?" he asked carefully. "I mean… we could still talk-"
"I said you should leave."
Her voice cut through his sentence.
Vale fell silent.
For a moment he simply stood there, staring at her motionless figure as disappointment settled heavily in his chest. Part of him had hoped this meeting might repair something between them, even slightly. Instead, it felt like trying to stand on fractured glass without putting weight in the wrong place.
Still, he forced a small smile onto his face.
"You know," he said softly, "I really do hope we can be friends again someday."
Nym stiffened at the words. Her hand moved instinctively to grip her sleeve, fingers tightening against the fabric as conflict flickered across her face.
"I don't…" she began quietly.
But the sentence never finished.
Vale understood anyway.
His expression dimmed slightly, though he nodded as if accepting an answer she could not bring herself to say aloud. With a quiet sigh, he turned toward the door once more and rested his hand against the handle.
Then,
"Hey."
He stopped instantly.
Hope flickered across his face as he looked back.
Nym stood awkwardly near the counter, avoiding his eyes now. The hostility from earlier had faded, replaced by something far less certain. Embarrassment, maybe. Hesitation.
After several seconds, she finally muttered, almost reluctantly,
"Your hair looks better short."
Vale blinked once.
Then, slowly, a real smile spread across his face, small, genuine, unforced.
"…Thanks."
Nym immediately looked away afterward, as though regretting speaking at all.
Vale chuckled quietly under his breath before opening the door. Sunlight spilled into the room, briefly illuminating the strands of dark hair scattered across the wooden floor between them like remnants of something neither of them quite knew how to fix.
Then he stepped outside.
And the door closed softly behind him.