Last night's events were still on his mind. After that, Mark had lain in bed for a while unable to sleep. The night he couldn't bring himself to reply to Amber's message. Every time his phone screen went dark, something deep in his chest grew strangely heavy. In the end, after the date changed, he'd sent a short message: "I'll definitely go tomorrow." That was all. --- Saturday morning in Upland, the sky was a pale blue, and the autumn air carried a faint chill. In front of the café "Coffee Nest" near Upland High School——that was where they'd agreed to meet. Three minutes' walk from the autumn festival grounds, the place Amber had chosen. Amber Bennett had been there for thirty minutes already. Her reddish-blonde hair fell in loose waves, swaying slightly in the breeze. Her bright green eyes gazed vaguely at the café's glass door, but gradually her gaze was drawn to her own reflection in it. A smile. She checked. She was smiling properly. It was fine. Amber exhaled lightly and checked her phone again. 10:32. The meeting was supposed to be at 10. The surroundings were lively. Orange autumn festival decorations hung from the street trees in front of the café. The savory smell of food stalls drifted on the wind. Children were led by the hand as they ran past. Couples walked by laughing. Everyone was with someone. And in the middle of it all, Amber was alone. (It's fine. He's just a little late. Mark's always late.) She told herself that. But her right thumb was rubbing the small star-shaped mole on her left wrist. An unconscious habit, and once she noticed it, she couldn't stop. This year's autumn festival was something Amber had spent three months preparing for as a member of the executive committee. The layout of the food stalls, volunteer assignments, coordination with local shops. She'd been looking forward to coming here with Mark long before all that. Like last year, she'd wanted the two of them to play the shooting game and miss every target and laugh about it. She'd wanted to walk around eating candy apples. That was all. Nothing big. So she wasn't angry. Absolutely not angry. "Amber!" A voice called out, and she looked up. Mark was jogging toward her. His short black hair was a bit messy, and he was wearing a white hoodie. His breathing was slightly elevated from running. She noticed his left arm was held just slightly closer to his body. Amber smiled. It came naturally. "[gentle]It's fine, let's go" Before Mark arrived, she'd quietly swallowed down something small that had been burning inside her. "[serious]Sorry I'm late" "[gentle]It's okay. Look, the stalls are already open" With that, Amber started walking ahead. Mark opened his mouth as if to say something for just a moment. But in the end he said nothing and followed her. (The timing to apologize is gone.) Mark thought quietly to himself. Amber's smile was too natural. He couldn't even tell if she was angry. That was what made it harder. If she'd been angry, at least he could apologize. --- The festival was bustling. Takoyaki stalls, churro stalls, the smell of yakisoba. Amber took the lead in showing him around. She pointed out how new stalls had opened here compared to last year, how that vendor's owner had helped from the very first executive committee meeting. Mark listened while watching her profile. (This girl just keeps smiling.) But there was a faint hint of exhaustion at the corner of her right eye. It might have been his imagination. The two of them stopped in front of the shooting gallery. "[excited]Want to try it, like last year?" "[serious]Yeah, of course" He took the rifle from the vendor and took his stance. Five targets were lined up. Normally it would be easy. With Viltrumite blood in his veins, his body could lift a hundred-ton object. He could do a shooting gallery with his eyes closed. But. The moment he raised his left arm, something creaked deep in his shoulder. The impact from yesterday's battle. A dull pain directed inward reacted to the motion of supporting the rifle. Mark gritted his teeth to keep from grimacing. He pulled the trigger. He missed. Second shot. Missed again. Third shot. Didn't even graze. Watching Amber hit all three targets from the side and give a small fist pump with a "yes," Mark could only manage a wry smile. "[concerned]Hey, are you really okay? Your arm seems like you're holding it weird" "[serious]I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a little muscle soreness" "[surprised]Muscle soreness?" "[serious]I overdid it at my job yesterday. Moving heavy furniture" "[sarcastic]……What kind of job makes your shoulder like that" "[serious]Helping with a move. Fourth floor, no elevator……a dresser……" As the words piled up, he felt ashamed of himself. One lie called for another, and the details kept multiplying. A dresser. Fourth floor. No elevator. It all became increasingly specific. Amber's expression was subtle. She was smiling. But her eyes weren't smiling. She didn't say "Do you really expect me to believe that?" She just said, "I see." That "I see" felt distant somehow. (The word "sorry" was swallowed down again.) --- They came to the candy apple stall a little while later. Two hundred fifty yen each. The red candy gleamed with a glossy shine depending on the light. Amber bought two and handed one to Mark. "[gentle]Here" "[serious]Thanks" The two of them walked away from the stall side by side. Walking through the crowd. The surrounding voices blended together, and everything felt distant and muffled. Amber suddenly spoke. "[gentle]Hey. You haven't been contacting me much lately" Her voice was calm. Not accusatory. But her eyes stayed fixed forward, not looking at Mark. Mark searched for words. He had to say something. There had to be something he could say somewhere—— In that moment. A sound rang out deep in his ear. A low, short tone. GDA——Global Defense Agency, the federal government's direct metahuman management organization——its emergency alert system. A signal sent directly to the receiver embedded in registered heroes' ears. After receiving it, heroes were required to arrive at the scene within fifteen minutes as a rule. Mark's expression changed. His eyes grew distant for a moment. Amber saw it from the corner of her eye. "[serious]Sorry, something urgent came up. I need to use the restroom" He didn't even turn back. He just ran. Amber stood there holding the candy apple in both hands. The crowd continued to flow around her unchanged. Children's laughter. Food stall vendors calling out. Orange decorations swaying in the wind. The world hadn't changed at all. Only Mark's figure had been swallowed by the crowd and disappeared. Amber looked down. At the candy apple in her hands. The candy was slowly melting, dripping down the stick. (It's not bad to cry.) Her mother's voice suddenly came to mind. Words she'd heard many times as a child. But Amber had never been able to believe them. Crying was weakness. Letting emotions spill out was shameful. That's what she'd always thought. She still thought so. So she bit her lip. She lowered her eyes. She wouldn't cry. This was anger. She'd convert it to anger. That was enough. --- The alley behind Burger Mart was in the shadow of dumpsters and a fire escape, a blind spot for surveillance cameras. A changing spot Mark had used many times before. As he changed into his costume, Amber's profile was in his mind. He'd run without even turning back. Behind him, she stood holding the candy apple. That image was burned into the back of his eyes. (Sorry, but right now——) Mark flew into the sky. Upland's streets fell away below him. A villain was causing trouble near an intersection in the northern part of Chicago, according to the report. An emergency dispatch request from the GDA Chicago branch. As he flew, he was still thinking about Amber. "You haven't been contacting me much lately." That voice. Calm, but somehow distant. He thought it would have been better if she'd been angry. If she'd thrown her emotions at him, at least he'd know how to face it. As he approached the scene, the villain threw a car. Mark tried to tilt his body to dodge. But his judgment was half a beat too slow. His mind was still in the festival crowd, and his reaction dulled for just a moment. His back hit a wall with a crash. It hurt. (Focus.) He switched his mind. He was here now. Fight. That was all. --- Late at night, Mark came home. His body felt heavy everywhere. His left shoulder still ached dully. A new bruise had been added to his back. The face looking back at him in the bathroom mirror was too exhausted for a Saturday night. He sat down on his bed and opened his phone. Zero messages from Amber. He hadn't been expecting anything. But seeing that zero, something deep in his chest throbbed with a dull pain. Mark typed: "Sorry, I got sick and had to leave early. I'll explain everything tomorrow." He sent it. It was read immediately. No reply came. Mark stared at the screen. It stayed on read. Amber had read it. And chosen not to reply. He'd typed "I'll explain everything tomorrow," but he had nothing to explain. He couldn't talk about the villain fight. He couldn't talk about being a hero. The Metahuman Registration Act——federal law prohibited registered heroes from revealing their identities to civilians, maximum sentence five years imprisonment——flashed through his mind. That wasn't all. If he was honest, he was afraid. Afraid of telling her everything and having her pull away. Afraid of burdening her with the weight of being "a hero's girlfriend." (But I used that as an excuse and lied again.) He laid his phone face-down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. White ceiling. One stain. A water damage mark that hadn't changed since last year. Added another excuse. --- That same night, in Amber's room——a corner room on the second floor of a single-family house in south Upland. On her desk sat the candy apple stick. The candy had all melted away, leaving only the stick behind. It was sticky and wet. She'd left it there since coming home. She couldn't throw it away. Amber had her textbook open. But she wasn't reading a single line. Stars were visible through the window. An autumn night sky. She'd only marked the message as read and turned her screen face-down. (Because I believe in you, so——) Those words had almost taken shape in her mouth. But they wouldn't come out. Amber looked at the candy apple stick at the edge of her desk. She just looked at it for a while. Two people, in separate rooms on the same night, each carrying separate regrets. The wall between them was invisible. But it had definitely grown another layer thicker today.