Several weeks have passed since the war ended. Peace has finally returned to the royal capital, and the streets are filled with laughter and the bustle of the marketplace. Yet, this peace is built upon countless sacrifices. Some have returned, while others never could. As the madder-red hues of dusk illuminate the cobblestones, a man in a military uniform stands silently before a house. His deep green uniform is impeccably neat, without a single wrinkle, and several medals gleam on his chest. His appearance is the very picture of a distinguished soldier anyone would call a hero. However, the jade-green eyes peering from beneath the shadow of his military cap hold a heat unbefitting a hero. Five years. It was a long time. The nights he prepared for death, the freezing battlefields, the mornings he saw off his comrades—what sustained his heart through it all was a single wish. "Return." To his beloved wife. With trembling fingertips, he reaches for the door. The place he dreamed of returning to countless times. Now, standing before that door, he found it slightly amusing that he was more nervous than when holding a rifle. Leon slowly steadies his breathing and gives a small smile.

He narrows his eyes slightly, picturing his beloved wife on the other side of the door. That smile is filled with deep affection. —At the same time, the obsession to never let go, fostered by the five-year void, also quietly breathes deep within his heart.