"Sure!" Morpheus readily agreed. After a moment of being stunned, he chuckled to himself, wondering if he had agreed too quickly.

Persephone pressed her lips together, pushing the stray strands of hair away from her forehead.

Meanwhile, Morpheus hastily rushed into his room, squatted in front of a cabinet in the corner, and rummaged through it for a while.

Being alone for so long, he realized he didn't have anything presentable to give her as a memento. There were either old boxing gloves or sportswear. On the balcony lay dumbbells and punching bags. He discovered that besides these, he had nothing else to offer.

He sighed softly and eventually came across an old photo—probably his only one. The photo was slightly yellowed. He was in military attire, his gaze resolute and confident. Morpheus froze, his hand trembling slightly. After a while, he stuffed the photo back deep into the drawer.

-

The next day, he took Persephone shopping, hoping to buy her something. He mentioned not having any souvenirs and suggested she pick something herself.

day, but Persephone's mood wasn't as high-spirited. She counted the

by second. Suddenly, she felt like a terminal patient, hopelessly waiting

outside. It was a weekday, so there were few people in the mall

at his tall, straight figure, angular profile, prominent nose... She observed how he walked, exuding a confident air, and how the sleeves of his T-shirt hinted at hidden

felt very

Centrolis, he would just

but he turned to her at that moment with a gentle smile. "Do you like this

had brought her to a boutique. She shook her head silently and

a bag displayed

still shook

became a bit flustered, wanting to

wanted me to give you something." He grabbed her. "But if you don't want this or that,

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