I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 142: A Moment That Belongs to Us

The winds over Elaraiya had quieted.

For once, there were no council summons. No demons. No archives filled with world-breaking secrets.

Just the sound of wind in the trees, the gentle ripple of leaflight across silver stone… and Isaac, sitting alone on a carved balcony edge beneath the recovering canopy of Yggdrasil.

He was staring into the distance when he heard footsteps.

Soft. Familiar. Precise.

Sylvalen.

He didn't turn.

She stood beside him for a moment in silence before speaking.

"You've been here every evening since the Archives."

"It's quiet," he said simply.

"Too quiet," she replied. "So let's change that."

He looked up.

She was wearing a light cloak over a sleeveless royal tunic—elegant but informal. Not a councilor's robe. Not a warrior's mantle.

She looked… relaxed.

Almost.

"Come with me," she said. "No politics. No magic. Just tonight."

They walked through the palace's upper terraces in silence, following a winding stair that spiraled into a garden he'd never seen before.

It wasn't large. It wasn't guarded.

It simply was.

Lit only by the glow of silverleaf blossoms and moonstone orchids, the garden stretched like a pool of starlight beneath a silver-petaled tree that shimmered under the moon's gaze.

Isaac slowed.

"I didn't know this was here."

"Only those born into Thalara do," Sylvalen replied. "I used to come here when I wanted to disappear."

"Why bring me?"

She looked at him, her violet eyes catching the faintest glow of silver flora.

"Because you never asked to be seen. You just kept doing the impossible anyway."

They sat beneath the tree.

The silence between them wasn't awkward. It felt earned.

"When I was young," Sylvalen said, "I thought duty and affection had to be separate. That loving someone was weakness. That everything meaningful came after permission."

She looked at her hands, then back at him.

"But now I'm starting to think… maybe choosing someone without obligation is the only choice that matters."

Isaac's gaze softened. "You sound like someone who's carrying more than she lets on."

"We all are," she said. "But you carry it differently. You make the weight look light."

He gave a half smile. "I've dropped it a few times."

She looked at him—truly looked—and for the first time in a long while, her expression wasn't composed.

It was open.

"What would you be doing right now if none of this had happened? No gods. No systems. No Spiral Cult."

He thought for a moment.

"Probably walking home from work. Listening to music. Wishing I had a reason to stop somewhere."

"And now?"

"Now I'm sitting next to you."

She smiled—small, but real.

And for a while, they said nothing else.

As they made their way back through the empty corridor halls of the palace, the silence followed—but it had changed.

It felt anticipatory.

Like something was waiting between each heartbeat.

When they reached the fork in the hallway, Isaac started to turn toward his guest quarters—but Sylvalen stopped him with a single word.

"Wait."

He looked back.

She was standing there, backlit by the golden glow of a rootlight orb.

"My rooms are closer."

He blinked.

"And?"

She stepped closer, gaze steady.

"And I'm not asking you as a princess. Or a diplomat. Or a descendant of a divine dynasty."

"I'm asking you as someone who doesn't want tonight to end."

He said nothing for a moment.

Then stepped forward, and gently took her hand.

"Then lead the way."