“The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.”

  [ 39th Lumiran 1749 | Fardin | 23:57 | Dormitory Room 231 ]

  Evening bled into the deep of night. A cool breeze, smelling of ozone from a distant storm, slipped through the open window. I sat on the edge of my bed, dressed in my uniform shirt and skirt, the fine fabric cold against my skin. Catherine was still at the window, her silhouette traced by the ghostly light of the three moons. In her fingers rested the golden hair clip I’d given her for her birthday—the only spark of warmth in the cool palette of the room.

  Suddenly, Catherine’s voice cut through the silence.

  “You know… Arta… I feel more and more lost in who I am. But I’m even more lost in who you are. You speak with such precision, move as if you’re following a script only you can read. But sometimes… sometimes it feels like I don’t know you at all. No, that’s not right. I don’t fully understand you. And I’m not afraid of that. I just… I want to know where your mask ends and the real you begins.” She turned, her eyes meeting mine. “Why does it always feel like you’re right here beside me… and still a world away?”

  I allowed myself a smile, just enough for Catherine to perceive it as sincere.

  “I’m not distant. You are closer to me than anyone. Closer even than my own parents.”

  Catherine looked away, not out of confusion, but to rein in something that had almost escaped. Her lips parted, but she quickly regained her composure. A faint glimmer flickered in her eyes—perhaps pain, perhaps something yet to be given a name. She took a step toward me, her gaze unwavering.

  “That’s a half-truth, Arta. And you know it. You’re avoiding the heart of it again. Why do you do that? Don’t you—” She cut herself off, taking another step, but this time back toward the window. “I stopped trying to find logic in myself… or rather, in my feelings, a long time ago,” she said, her eyes fixed on the academy spires, bathed in the light of the three moons. “You know… with you, I can’t be the person I want to be. You…” She fell silent. The pause wasn’t awkward—it was simply beyond words. “All I know for certain, Arta… is that without you, this version of me wouldn’t exist. The one you see right now.” She turned her gaze back to me. “I love you, Arta.” Her voice trembled. “But I’m not expecting you to say anything back. I just… I needed to say it. So you would know.” She faced me fully, and as if shedding every layer of her defenses, she looked me in the eye.

  In an instant, my conversations with Ren, my plans—everything I’d been focused on—crumbled to dust. Her words—I love you, Arta—were painfully familiar. What was love? How many times had I heard that word from mortals? From world to world, from one being to the next: “Love. Love. Love.” A banal concept, worn thin with overuse.

  I looked at her, truly looked at her. At the way the moonlight was tangled in her lashes, where a single, unshed tear glistened. At the way she clenched her fists, trying to contain the storm she had just unleashed.

  And yet, over countless lifetimes, I had been a father, a mother, a husband, a wife. And always, there was a “loving” partner at my side. Over trillions of years, I had arrived at a simple truth: love does not exist. It is a collection of chemical reactions and psychological constructs: attraction, a hormonal surge, attachment, fear of loneliness, gratitude for being saved. The need to be needed. The fear of being forgotten.

  She took a quiet, shuddering breath. The sound was barely audible, but in the crushing silence of the room, it rang out like a scream.

  Yes, this is what mortals call “Love,” but it is a lie. They love only a convenient mask, comfort, and predictability.

  “Love? You speak of it… as if it were butterflies in your stomach. Or a deep sense of gratitude. You are important to me, Catherine. But love?” I paused, letting the silence hang. “You do realize that love between two women… contradicts the very fabric of the world. It is wrong, and it is meaningless,” I finished, hoping the words would make her forget this foolishness like a bad dream.

  “There it is.” Her voice grew harder, but not unkind. “And you know… I expected something like that. Just so you understand—that confession… it was damned hard for me. And no—this isn’t the ‘love’ they write about in the cheap novels Ren reads.” She narrowed her eyes, a new firmness in them. I have never been attracted to women, Arta. Not in any sense. Ne....”—she forced herself to say each part—“ver. And now… it’s not about who you are. It’s about what you mean to me.” She froze. “This isn’t about habit, or roles, or attraction. I can’t explain it. You… you just became the center. And everything else lost its shape. I just don’t know what else to call it. Except… love. It’s like air. Like a necessity. Without you, it feels as if everything is collapsing, even when nothing has changed.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The tear I had noticed finally broke free, tracing a slow path down her cheek. Catherine didn’t wipe it away. She silently turned, and each step toward her bed was filled with a leaden weight. She sank onto the edge, her shoulders slumping. It was not a posture of rest; it was an unconditional surrender to a force she could not control.

  A thick, viscous silence fell between us, and every second of it was like the strike of a hammer on an anvil.

  “I’m not going to beg you, Arta.” Catherine’s voice was firm now, almost calm. “But you have to understand: for me, this isn’t weakness. It’s a choice. A difficult one.” She stood and took a step toward the door.

  I watched her and felt something slipping away. Something important. Another malfunction. Was this just another error in perception? Or something else entirely?

  “Wait, Catherine. Don’t go.” I stood, walked to her, and reached out to stop her. “It’s after curfew. You should stay.” I paused for a moment. “What does love mean, in your view? Do you see it as something different from what I described?”

  She didn’t resist when I took her by the wrist. She just stood there, and I could hear her uneven breathing. Then she turned to me, her gaze clear and sharp, filled with the deep honesty that was so uniquely hers.

  “What is love? For me, it isn’t just an emotion. It’s when someone becomes such a part of your world that you can no longer imagine it without them. Not because you’re dependent. But because with them… you become yourself. Your real self.” She glanced away for a moment, as if searching for confirmation within. “Next to you, everything seems clearer. As if the world gains a structure. A purpose. You’re not like anyone else. Sometimes you’re frighteningly cold, sometimes too precise. But that’s what makes you so… alive. You keep everything inside. But I see you watching. Thinking. Feeling. Just not like everyone else.” She looked me straight in the eye, her voice growing softer, deeper. “I’m not asking you to return my feelings. But you won’t hide behind silence. I will get an answer from you—any answer. Even if I have to overturn the entire world to get it.” She paused. “You are like ice, Arta,” she took a step closer, and it seemed the air around her grew warmer. “But even so—I will be the fire to your ice.” She relaxed, as if she had finally voiced everything that had been weighing on her soul.

  Emotions. She was like a child, not fully understanding what lay behind her words. I am Order-Darkness; I am incapable of emotion. Emotions are primordial Chaos, and Chaos within a structure of order leads to either transformation or the entropy of the initial structure.

  “Catherine. This is all emotion. Love is merely a collection of factors. Perhaps it’s gratitude? For the path I’ve given you? Or am I just an anchor you’ve clung to when everything else was losing its shape?” I looked her in the eyes, impassive. “Sometimes, behind the wall of ice they write about in Ren’s novels, there is nothing. Sometimes the wall itself is the only thing that has form. Take it away, and only a void remains.”

  “No, Arta. Even if there’s nothing behind that wall, I will still melt the ice. Just to see that what was behind it was water.” She didn’t look away; her gaze only grew more serious. “And if you tell me that my heat will cause the water to evaporate and turn to steam… know this—I will still gather it. Drop by drop. When the steam returns to the earth as rain.”

  “There is nothing behind this wall. Even the ice itself isn’t real. It’s dry. Fake. If it disappears, nothing will be left. No form. No meaning. Only the void.” I looked away. “The ice of order doesn’t melt. It only shatters.”

  “That’s not true, Arta. There is always something. Maybe not water. Maybe something unclear. Undefined. But it exists. And that is what I want to see,” her voice was steady, leading me where I never wanted to go.

  I shook my head and uncurled my fingers, releasing her hand. The warmth of her skin vanished too quickly. I walked away and sat again on the edge of my bed, feeling strangely vulnerable. She stood silently by the door, her gaze like a drill, piercing through all my defenses.

  For the first time, I allowed my body’s perfect posture to break. I hunched over and buried my face in my hands. My investment had failed. Catherine’s emotional instability had breached my system. Millions of solutions flashed through my mind, but all of them were… wrong. Incomplete. Meaningless. I took a heavy breath, but it brought no relief.

  What do I feel for her? A perception error? Attachment? Duty? What if this isn’t a malfunction, but… an evolution? Something new that doesn’t fit any formula I know? What if my nature cannot withstand it? Or what if it withstands it—but is irreversibly changed? Love? No. That is an error. That is chaos.

  And in that moment…

  For the first time in trillions of years…

  My mind fell silent. The analytical streams ceased. The processing of variables stopped. Not because there was no answer, but because the answer was uncertainty. And that emptiness, that silence within me, was more terrifying than any chaos I had ever known.