I never liked goodbyes—not even the temporary kind.

  I was always the type of person who preferred to stay on the sidelines, watching from the shadows with the na?ve hope that if I didn’t get involved, the bad things wouldn’t reach me. But here in Aincrad, there were no shadows deep enough to hide in.

  I stood at the entrance to the dungeon, watching my teammates sharpen their weapons and check their inventories again and again. Their ughter was so calm, it was as if they were ignoring the fact that every step inside that byrinth could be their st.

  And me... I couldn’t do anything but stand still, that invisible weight pressing harder and harder against my chest.

  “Sachi.”

  I heard my name in his voice.

  Kirito. I turned, forcing my lips into a smile I didn’t feel, as he approached with that serene expression of his—one that seemed immune to fear.

  “Everything will be fine,” he said, with that unshakable confidence I’d always found unreal.

  I nodded, as if that simple gesture could chase away the terror eating me from the inside.

  He never said it aloud, but I think I could see it in his eyes: he knew the truth—that I was scared, that I had always been scared.

  The group began moving toward the dungeon, and my legs trembled so badly I could barely take a step. The echoes of steady footsteps rang out ahead of me, each one sounding like a sentence.

  “Just follow them,” I told myself. “Just one more step.”

  But I didn’t take it. Fear took hold of me.

  I felt my body refuse to obey, as if the floor had turned into an abyss holding me down. My hands shook, my vision blurred, and my breathing turned into a choked whisper.

  And then I took a step. Not forward, but back.

  My body moved before my mind could catch up. I ran—I don’t know how or when—but by the time I came to my senses, I was back on the first floor, hidden behind a corner, gasping for air as tears burned my eyes.

  I stayed there for hours. I didn’t have the courage to return, nor to come up with an excuse.

  And then the rumors started spreading.

  One by one, pyers spoke of a party that had been ambushed in a dungeon. Of how they had fallen, barely given a chance to fight back.

  And they mentioned the name.

  Moonlit Bck Cats.

  My world shattered into pieces.

  It felt like the ground disappeared beneath my feet, and even though I was no longer in the dungeon, the sensation of falling was real.

  All because I didn’t take that step. All because I ran away. I didn’t have the courage to search for them, nor to confirm what I already knew.

  I simply watched from afar, like a coward, seeing Kirito walk alone through the safe zone streets. He didn’t cry, didn’t show pain—but his expression said it all. His steps were slow and heavy, as if he carried every loss on his back.

  I, hidden in the shadows, became a silent witness to his loneliness.

  And the guilt… the guilt clung to me like a sticky shadow I couldn’t escape.

  Day after day, I looked for his silhouette in the crowd, wishing I could go to him, wishing I could say I was sorry. But something was always missing. Courage, maybe. Or perhaps, hope.

  I watched him when he trained alone, when he helped nameless pyers and vanished as if it meant nothing. I wondered if he ever thought of me, if he’d erased me from his mind—or if his silence was just another punishment.

  Winter came, along with a mencholy heavier than the cold. The lights of holiday decorations flickered across the streets, but no matter how beautiful they were, they couldn’t warm that empty corner inside me since that night.

  Sometimes I wondered if things would’ve been different had I taken that step. If maybe just one of my actions could’ve changed everyone’s fate.

  But questions don’t change the past—they only poison it.

  As the days passed, my reflection in windows felt more and more like a stranger. I stopped recognizing the person who looked back at me. My life in Aincrad—if I could even call it that—had been reduced to breathing, eating, and hiding in the least crowded streets.

  And still, every night I closed my eyes wishing I could return to that moment—at the edge of that door. Where maybe, if I had just gathered the courage... things would be different.

  One afternoon, I saw him again.

  He was walking alone, as always, but there was something different in his eyes—a kind of cold determination, hardened by pain. Kirito was a lone warrior, yes, but also someone bearing scars I helped carve.

  My feet tried to follow, as if my body was tired of hiding.

  I didn’t catch up. And maybe that was for the best.

  I wasn’t ready. And neither was he.

  Weeks passed, and little by little I began to understand that I couldn’t go on living like this—dragging around that endless shadow. I couldn’t change what happened, but maybe I could face what came next.

  One day, when the streets were quieter and snow had begun to bnket the cobblestones, I saw him again. Alone, like always—but this time, I didn’t hide.

  I didn’t approach him. I didn’t say anything. But for the first time, I let my eyes follow him until he disappeared from view, without flinching or turning away.

  It was a small step, insignificant to anyone else.

  But to me, it was the first step toward something different.

  I knew that sooner or ter, our paths would cross again. Not by chance, but by necessity—because some people don’t vanish from your life, no matter how hard you try to let them go.

  I still don’t know if I’ll ever find the words to tell him how sorry I am. Or if I’ll ever get the chance to try. But I want to believe I will. That, even if it’s te, it’s still possible to step through that door again.

  After all, I’m only one step away.