Episode: -13 The Second Abandonment: She Was the Winter Sun

The afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the winding path to Oakwood Sanctuary, filtering through the ancient trees like dappled memories. The air was thick with the scent of earth and growing things, but beneath it lay a quiet tension—subtle as the rustle of leaves before a storm.

Mee-Toh led the way, his steps measured but his mind restless. The loose white T-shirt he wore billowed slightly beneath the dark gray hoodie, and the faint glimmer of a silver bracelet caught stray light as he moved. His dark jeans hung comfortably, but the calm they suggested was a fragile mask. His eyes, usually so guarded, flicked downward, catching the uneven dirt beneath his feet—as if seeking solid ground where none existed.

A breeze stirred the trees, and for a second, he paused. A chill slid down the back of his neck. Familiar. Unwelcome.

His jaw tightened for a moment. Fingers twitched near the pocket of his hoodie.

Carel walked beside him, carrying a bundle of groceries with effortless grace. Her pastel knee-length frock was soft and elegant against the roughness of the forest, and a delicate cream pendant swung at her throat, catching the light in quiet defiance of the gathering shade.

She gave him a sidelong glance, part concern, part exasperation.

"Do we really need all this? I thought your appointment was with the doctor today. Wasn't it supposed to be just a check-up?"

Her fingers tightened briefly around the strap of the grocery bag—subtle, but telling.

Mee-Toh shrugged, voice even but faintly strained.

"Better to prepare. You never know what the institute's going to throw at us next. Might as well keep the basics close."

The edge in his tone didn't go unnoticed.

Trailing behind, Ana's arms were crossed tight, her dark wolf-cut brushing her cheekbones. Her pale face stood out stark against the forest's softness.

"I'm only here because I'm bored out of my mind. Alex locked himself up again, and I refuse to sit there twiddling my thumbs. Besides—" she gestured lazily at Carel, "someone has to stop her from buying out the entire store like some sugar-crazed gremlin."

Carel rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Right, because you're the voice of reason. I love shopping—but that doesn't mean I spend money recklessly. My grandfather would scold me into next week. Or worse—another tendentious speech. I can handle a collision, but not that. Arghhh..."

She shifted the grocery bundle slightly, adding with a teasing edge,

"And that is why I need our silent strategist here to fund this very secret operation. I might run a business, but I'm morally opposed to spending my money on just snacks. Cheesy."

Ana snorted.

"Wow. Market-logic woman with strict grandparents. No wonder. So, does that mean you're not going to treat us? How mean."

"Rich in impulse control? Absolutely not." Carel tossed her hair like it was currency. "And I didn't say I would treat you."

Ana folded her arms and gave a dramatic side-glance.

"You know, you're still so mean for someone who acts so sweet."

Carel chuckled.

"Oh really? I'm just being me. Got bored of being sugary all the time. Thought I'd spice things up."

Ana stuffed a handful of chips into her mouth and mumbled.

"Come on, stop fighting like kids."

Mee-Toh sighed.

"Ana, if you want a treat, I'll get it for you."

Ana perked up instantly.

"Mee-Toh, you're a real gem. Way better than Miss Business Mogul over here. You know what? I'll treat you to ice cream later. Deal."

Mee-Toh raised an eyebrow.

"That's enough cheesy for today."

Carel raised a hand in mock offense.

"Excuse me? What about me? Don't I get any ice cream love, Dear?"

Ana pointed at her.

"Nope. Not her. She's mean. Right, Mee-Toh? You saw it too."

Mee-Toh shook his head slowly, lips twitching faintly.

"Come on, Ana..."

Ana turned away with playful indignation.

"I'm not sharing."

Carel leaned forward, her grin mischievous.

"Hey now—I'll treat you to something spicy. Something you like."

Ana narrowed her eyes.

"Didn't you say your grandfather would scold you, My Dear Carel?"

Carel grinned.

"This is from my salary, not unnecessary stuff, sweetheart. I can handle those expenses just fine."

Ana finally smiled, tapping Carel's shoulder.

"Finally. You shouted out."

Then—without warning—Ana grabbed her hand and bolted toward the shop, laughter trailing like ribbons in the breeze. Carel giggled, stumbling behind her.

Mee-Toh watched them go, his expression unreadable.

"By the way, I am part of this group. Someone buy me a coffee, yeah?"

The girls were already halfway to the shop, lost in laughter and bright mischief.

And then—

A pause.

A shift.

As Carel and Ana continue there shopping trip.

Carel tugged Ana toward another rack of snacks with an expression of tragic urgency.

Mee-Toh followed them a few paces behind, hands in pockets, shoulders relaxed—but his eyes quietly pleading with the skies for rescue.

"Maybe we're not here for groceries anymore, that's not shopping Trip, right?" he muttered.

Carel glanced back, smirking. "What gave it away? The fifth pack of chili crackers or Ana comparing the spice level of chips like it's an arcane science?"

As Ana try to bit cheesy on him and said, "Oh Mee-Toh. you're damn good. I swear. Can you wait for a moment." As she grabbed carel hands again.

He sighed theatrically. "Call me when you need someone to carry your bags. Clearly, the doctor can wait—but the ladies cannot."

"Now you're catching on," Ana said, stuffing a bag of sweets into Carel's arms. "Adapt, Mee-Toh. This is survival training."

"Right," he said flatly. "I'll be outside. Trying to remember what peace and quiet used to feel like. Tell me, when you're done."

He stepped out of the small shop, the muted forest breeze brushing his cheek like a memory. The trees swayed gently. Somewhere far off, a bird called once and then fell silent.

Mee-Toh moved slowly to the edge of the path, where the forest deepened. His gaze drifted across the shadows.

The breeze curled strange. The birds went quiet.

And through the hush, a voice threaded through the air—soft, trembling, but unmistakable.

"Are you still there, Mee-Toh?"

He froze.

The blood drained from his face—not in fear, but in recognition.

That voice. He hadn't heard it in a long time.

But he hadn't forgotten.

Not even close.

It was like the sky fell away for a second—just for him, just behind his eyes.

And in its place: a memory, a warning, and the flicker of a past never truly buried.

_______

The silence snapped like a string.

Mee-Toh froze mid-step, heart skipping as Estella stepped from the shadows of the trees. She moved like memory—quiet, certain, impossible to forget. Her dark green dress hugged her form, tailored but forgiving, the hem brushing against the undergrowth. A long, elegant coat trailed behind her. Her silver hair, loose and catching flecks of light, shimmered in the slanting sun like a dream half-remembered.

But her eyes... her eyes were the same.

Pale gray. Sharp. Sad. Searching.

Her presence was like winter sunlight: beautiful, but cold enough to sting.

"You're still too stubborn, kid," Estella said, voice soft—almost kind—but edged like broken porcelain.

Mee-Toh's chest tightened. His instinct screamed retreat. Close up. Lock down. But his heart... traitorous, undisciplined thing... it surged forward. The ache he'd buried so carefully rose fast and raw, tearing through the quiet space he'd spent years building.

"You said you cared about me, Estella Aunt." His voice came low, thin with effort. "Didn't you?"

His eyes met hers, trembling but unflinching.

"Then why'd you leave me behind like I didn't matter? What are you here for now? Guilt tapestry? Or just looking what happened after that collision?"

The words landed hard—wet cloth in the rain, heavy and cold.

Estella's expression faltered. Just a flicker. But Mee-Toh caught it: the regret hiding behind grace. The ache she wore like perfume. She didn't need to answer. He could feel it leaking from her—slow, quiet, and poisonous.

Then, with a softness that felt almost frightened, she asked, "Do you still want to be my student?"

His breath caught. The question cracked something inside him.

He had once wanted nothing more than to be like her. Her shadow. Her echo.

But shadows are cast by distance, and echoes always fade.

"I—I still want to be like you," he whispered. The words came ragged, pulled from a place too old to name.

"But does it even matter anymore? You left me. You left me to rot, Estella. Aunt Estella."

She stepped closer. Her fingers trembled as she reached for his face. The touch was delicate, cautious—as though she were trying to comfort a ghost she wasn't sure would stay.

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"I-I'm sorry, Mee-Toh," she said, so quietly even the forest leaned in to listen. "I thought I was protecting you. Thought I could shield you from what I was running from. But I was wrong. You deserved more than what I gave."

Mee-Toh didn't flinch. But he didn't lean into her, either. He stood caught between hurt and hope, feet planted in the hollow ground between them.

Then—everything changed.

A shift in the wind. Shadows moving.

Too silent. Too fast.

Figures emerged—masked, precise, gliding through the underbrush like death rehearsed.

The trees shrank around them. Blades gleamed like teeth. Their intent was clear and merciless.

Mee-Toh's breath hitched. Instinctively, he stepped forward.

"...For what now, this time?"

But Estella was already moving.

She slid in front of him like it had always been choreographed—her coat flaring, her posture unshakable. A wall of will and training. A silhouette against danger.

"Stay behind me," she said. Calm. Cold.

Steel sliding from sheath.

Mee-Toh hesitated. Something in her voice—something final—made him freeze.

The assassins closed in... but not on him. Their eyes burned past him, focused. Determined.

On her.

They weren't here for him this time.

They were here for her.

One lunged. Estella moved like lightning—elegant, practiced violence. A precise strike to the chest dropped the man, but her breath was too quick, too shallow.

"You shouldn't have come back," she murmured—not to him. Not even to them.

To herself.

Mee-Toh stepped forward. His fists curled, useless and shaking.

"Estella—!"

"No." Her voice cracked like a whip. "You don't belong in this fight."

But the blade found her anyway.

A poisoned cut to her side. She staggered—just for a breath—but her face tightened.

She stood straighter. Bled, but refused to bend.

Mee-Toh's panic shattered through the space between them.

"No! Estella, please!" he shouted, voice breaking.

He surged forward—but an assassin broke through her defense and intercepted him.

Steel flashed—bright and cold.

Mee-Toh barely had time to raise his arms.

And then, faint—

"Never block. Redirect. Don't fight the blade. Move with it."

Her voice. Echoing from memory, from a training day long buried in dust.

He remembered—just a second too late.

The impact cracked through him.

But he did not fall.

Not yet.

Mee-Toh didn't even register the scream.

Or the final, awful clang of Estella's blade hitting the ground.

He only saw the blood.

Her body crumpled—not like a hero, not like the stories. Just like someone undone. Her coat spread beneath her. Her silver hair soaked red.

His knees wanted to give out. His mind refused to accept it.

She's still breathing. She has to be.

But then—click.

Cold steel touched his neck. Another spike pressed against his ribs.

A voice followed, quiet and smooth, like oil sliding over stone.

"So... are you going to tell anyone?"

Mee-Toh didn't move. His throat pulsed against the blade.

He couldn't scream.

He couldn't lie.

He could barely breathe.

Behind him, the masked man didn't press harder. He didn't need to.

The silence was doing the work.

Then—another voice from deeper in the trees.

Firm. Detached. Commanding:

"Target done. Right to back. Now."

The blade lifted.

The man stepped back—not in fear, not in haste—just with perfect obedience.

"Consider this your second chance," he said softly. "Don't waste it."

And just like that, they vanished—slipping between shadows like ghosts with nothing left to haunt.

Mee-Toh stood there.

Alive.

Alone.

Shaking.

His eyes dragged back to Estella's body.

"She was the strong one. Not me..."

"She told me to stay out of the fight... and I listened. Like a coward."

His lips parted. A whisper escaped, barely audible.

"God, I hate this feeling."

He clenched his fists, but they were trembling too much to matter.

Behind him—footsteps. Light and fast.

A sudden crack—a sharp kick collided with the returning masked man, sending him flying into a pile of crates with a crash of metal and air.

Ana stepped into view, out of breath but steady, already scanning for the next threat.

"So this wasn't on your itinerary, was it?"

Mee-Toh blinked. Once.

Then again.

"Ana?"

She flicked a snack wrapper off her shoe like it was just another Tuesday.

"Don't go all soft now. You almost got stabbed."

"Ana—behind—!"

"I see it."

From the other side, a second blur came crashing through the brush.

Carel.

No hood. No armor. Just raw fear in her eyes and something heavy clenched in her hands—probably yanked off a shelf on instinct. Her coat flared behind her with the force of her sprint, panic carved into every line of her face.

"I swear, I don't even know who that woman is," she gasped. "Mee-Toh—are you okay? Mee-Toh? Say something. Blink, dummy!"

He blinked again.

"She's Estella. My... my mentor. My aunt. The one who— He stopped. His voice had already said too much.

The one who abandoned me."

Another blade flew.

Carel didn't scream—just grabbed him by the collar and yanked.

"Duck now. Trauma later!"

He hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his chest.

Ana didn't hesitate—she spun a broken polearm she must've snatched from the shop's weapon rack. No one knew where or how, but she moved like she'd been waiting for this fight.

Mee-Toh sat up, staring at them both.

"I have to help her," he whispered. "I can't just stand there anymore."

Ana didn't look at him—just shifted her grip with quiet precision.

"Then do it. But if you die, I'm reviving you just to yell at you."

Carel reached for his wrist, her hand trembling, voice low but fierce.

"You're not going alone," she said. "But I am going to scream about this later. Just warning you."

Mee-Toh nodded slowly.

The forest roared around him.

But inside—clarity.

He turned toward where Estella had fallen.

She was still standing—barely.

Blood staining her side, breath ragged, but her back unbent.

She stood straighter. Bled, but refused to bend—

like breaking was something she'd already mastered.

And this time, he moved.

----

As Mee-Toh tried to run to her side—

someone attacked him from behind.

But Ana.

She blocked the blow meant for Mee-Toh—not just turned it.

Mee-Toh stumbled.

He lunged toward Ana in panic—

but Estella steadied herself, if only for a moment.

She turned to him, her vision blurred, her mouth trembling into a small, aching smile—

the kind carved from lifetimes of regret.

"You've grown, my child," she whispered. Her voice barely reached him.

"You'll be fine. Just... don't be like me. Don't make the same mistakes I did..."

Then she fell.

Mee-Toh dropped beside her, hands trembling as he pulled her into his lap.

"Estella... Estella Aunt!"

His voice broke with every syllable.

He pressed against the wound, trying to stop what was already beyond saving.

The cold in her skin crawled into his bones.

The assassins had come for her.

And she—the one who had left him behind—had chosen to die for him.

Her breath stuttered, faint and rattling.

But something flickered in her eyes.

A memory. A tether to a life before shame.

A little boy. No more than six years old.

Bright. Stubborn. Unshakably full of hope.

"Estella Aunt! Estella Aunt! Listen to me!"

He had stumbled toward her, grinning, nearly tripping over his own feet.

She had knelt down, brushing his wild hair back.

"What's the hurry, kiddo? I told you I'd be back tomorrow morning."

But he had clung to her hands. Wouldn't let go.

"You know how awesome you are? I want to be awesome like you. Please be my mentor and just... just make me awesome like you. You know how much everyone loves you."

And she had laughed. Really laughed.

Something in her heart softened—something that had never quite hardened again.

"Mee-Toh... you're already amazing. The most amazing kid I've ever met.

You don't need to be like me to be loved. Just be yourself. That's more than enough."

The memory cracked through the fog of death.

Her fingers, frail and shaking, brushed his cheek.

"Mee-Toh... my boy," she breathed. Her voice trembled with a mother's guilt.

"Listen, you're my son. My child. I'm so sorry..."

Her eyelids fluttered, but her voice forced through one last time.

"Beware the ones who wear masks... the ones who smile as they lead you into cages. They're more dangerous than blades.

Leave this place, Mee-Toh.

Leave before you're caught in their labyrinth.

For your own sake, child... please. Trust me."

He wanted to scream. To say no, to undo time, to beg for a different ending.

But her eyes... they had gone still.

And in that stillness, Mee-Toh saw something too heavy to forget.

A truth that struck like lightning.

A truth he had never prepared to hold.

He knelt in silence. And then—

"She told me... she said I was her child," he murmured. As if saying it aloud made it less impossible.

Carel's breath hitched.

Ana blinked—once. Hard.

"Her mouth said sorry," Mee-Toh continued, quieter now, like the words were crumbling in his mouth. Said I was hers. Said she cared. But she always ran. She always ran...

She left me, guys. And now, she just told me what..."

His voice cracked again.

"I want to hate her. Curse her name. Erase her from me. I want to scream for what she took.

For making me feel like I wasn't enough to stay for. Not even for a while."

He bowed his head.

"But I can't."

His voice thinned, almost lost.

"In the end, I don't have reasons. Not real ones. Right?"

A shudder ran through him.

"Because when she looked at me... when she said those things at the end... it felt real." His voice broke.

"Even if it was too late. Too late. It felt real."

Then softer, almost not a whisper:

"But still... too late than Who the hell am I?

I don't know if I deserved it.

I don't even know... who she was running from."

The wind stirred the trees again, brushing past them like a breath not quite finished.

Like someone was still listening.

Carel stepped forward. Not touching him. Just being near.

A weightless kind of comfort.

"You don't have to figure it out today," she said, gently.

But Mee-Toh shook his head.

"I do, Carel. Because if I don't... if I let this just sit inside me... it'll rot. I'll take everything I can't handle and swallow it.

I'll turn into silence.

And one day... I'll vanish on the people who need me."

He looked up. Finally.

His eyes were hollow, but something still burned.

"She didn't just die. She chose to. For me. After everything."

He swallowed. His voice hoarse.

"And I don't even know if I wanted that."

Ana's jaw clenched. Her arms folded.

But her voice came through like fire meeting frost.

"Then use it, Mee-Toh. Let it make you stronger.

Not colder."

And the wind passed.

The moment held.

Estella was gone.

But even in death,

she had stood between Mee-Toh and the blade.

_______

Mee-Toh closed his eyes, pressing his blood-streaked hand to his chest.

"I don't know what to believe. Her voice lied... but her eyes... they couldn't."

The silence held. This time, no one dared to break it.

Then he stood — slowly, like dragging his soul up through cement. His hoodie was soaked, stained red where her blood had dried against him. His face? Blank. Masked. But something in his jaw was clenched tight enough to crack bone.

Carel rose too, ready to catch him if he fell —

but he didn't fall.

Ana watched, arms crossed. Sharp-eyed. Silent.

He didn't cry. He wouldn't.

Only a single tear slipped down his cheek, unwanted and damning — a crack in iron.

Carel reached for him, but he didn't even flinch.

He simply clenched his fists and swung one down —

hard —

into the dirt.

The blow jarred through his bones. A punishment. A tether.

His knuckles throbbed, but it grounded him more than anything else could.

His white shirt — the one Estella had always said made him look like he "belonged" — was now a ruined canvas of red and grit. He stared at it. The stains. The shaking in his hand. The weight pressing on his ribs like a stone slab.

"She died armored in secrets," he said quietly. "And I — like an idiot — believed she'd run out of lies."

"But no. Even at the end... she was still hiding something."

No one answered.

Ana crouched beside him slowly, voice firm but not unkind.

"Mee-Toh. It's not your fault."

His laugh was soft and hollow — a sound with no warmth left in it.

"Isn't it, though? She chose to die for me. Not as a mentor.

As a mother.

And she told me that after the blade had already found her."

His gaze dropped again, and his voice lowered.

"I'm just the charity kid from Oakwood Sanctuary.

Built my whole damn life on stories that weren't even mine."

Carel's breath caught. Ana's brow creased — harder now.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" His voice cracked but he didn't soften.

"Just because I'm her son?

No. I don't know if that was the truth...

Or just the last lie she thought I'd believe."

He dug his nails into his palms. Blood welled beneath the dirt.

"She left. She trained me. Lied to me.

And then she threw herself into a blade to save me."

He bit down on his next breath.

"I don't even know if I wanted that."

Ana stared at him. "You want to avenge her?"

"No," he replied coldly. "I want to understand her.

Why she spent her life running from me...

Only to die in front of me."

A long silence. His eyes were storm clouds. His voice was frost.

"But I'll hunt the ones who did this.

And this time — it won't just be their bones that regret it.

It'll be everything they are."

Ana and Carel exchanged a glance. But said nothing.

"Why the hell should I care?" Mee-Toh muttered to himself, voice fraying.

"What's the point of anything now?"

Carel moved forward, slowly. Her voice low.

"Mee-Toh. We're still here. You're not alone."

"Yeah?"

He gave a bitter smile. "Well, that's nice, Carel. But guess what — you can't fix this.

You can't bring her back. You can't make this clean."

Ana's jaw tightened.

"We're not here to clean it up.

We're here so you don't drown in it."

Mee-Toh's breath hitched. Then broke.

"Funny, isn't it? They say pain makes you stronger. But no one tells you it bleeds you first."

"And I've been bleeding for years. For people who always leave."

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, a single ragged breath hitching in his throat.

"I just need time. I can't... I don't think I can hold it together right now."

Ana softened. Carel gave a quiet nod.

"Take all the time you need," Carel said. "We're not leaving."

Mee-Toh didn't answer.

But for a second — just one — he looked at them.

And though his voice was gone, his eyes spoke it all:

Grief. Guilt. Rage.

And somewhere, buried beneath.