Zhuang Fanyi

Yu's office was bathed in the twilight of midday. A soft green light filtered through translucent panels, tinting everything in calm, almost surreal hues. You had entered with a report, but froze at the threshold.

Zhuang Fanyi was asleep. Her head rested upon her folded arms, her long black hair sprawling across the desk like spilled ink. Even in sleep, her posture held a sense of discipline, but there was something... different about her now. Something you had never seen before.

You stepped closer, intending to leave the papers silently, when a sound suddenly broke the stillness.

...Endmin...

Her voice was faint, barely more than a whisper. You froze.

She stirred in her sleep, her brows knitting slightly—not in pain, but from something akin to longing. Her fingers twitched against the desk, as if reaching for something that wasn't there.

...don't... leave...

The words were slow, almost uncertain. There was a warmth in them that was absent from her waking voice—not a trace of her usual restraint, nor the familiar mask of the Vice-Regent. Only sincerity.

You accidentally dropped a sheet of paper. The sound sliced through the silence, and she jolted. Her eyes opened slowly, at first sightless, still caught in the trap between dream and reality.

...Mm...

Her gaze found you. And she froze.
Then, she sat up abruptly, far too quickly, as if trying to erase the traces of what had just happened.

...Endmin. I... I must have drifted off... Please, forgive me...