Water dripped from Bae’s soaked toga. His hair was drenched and sticking to his face, damp and heavy. He scratched his chin, lost in thought, as he watched the figure standing before him.
A young girl. Silent. Her white gown moved in the morning breeze. Dark hair flowed over her shoulders, and her eyes—glinting in the sunlight—remained fixed on him. Unblinking. Watching.
The silence stretched between them, except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the nearby orchard.
“Alright,” Bae said at last, his fingers still resting on his chin. “Let’s go over this again. Make sure everything’s understood.”
He pointed to himself with a quick flick of his thumb.
“I am Bae—your god and sole creator.”
He looked at her for a moment, searching for something in her gaze, but there was no reaction. He continued.
“And you…” He hesitated, stealing another glance at her. “Your name is Mira. Like the ocean that surrounds the seas.”
Still, Mira said nothing. The wind tugged at her gown, but she remained still as stone.
“You’re probably wondering why you can’t speak,” he said. “I would be, too. Well… I made sure of that. Not because I didn’t want to hear you, but because some things… some thoughts… should stay hidden. Even from me. Anyway, I guess that settles it.”
He turned away, running a hand through his wet hair. Mira’s eyes followed him without moving her head. He stopped, turning back suddenly.
“Oh! Right. Ground rules. Very important. We should clear those up right away. Huh?”
His words faltered as she turned—interrupting him without so much as a glance—and began walking toward the orchard.
Bae stared for a moment, his expression frozen. Then, with a soft crackle of displaced air, he vanished—only to reappear beside her in an instant.
He watched, confused, as she reached a low-hanging branch and plucked a red apple. She brought it to her lips and bit into it, calm and content, as though he wasn’t there at all.
“The first rule,” he said, “is that you do not—and I mean never—ignore me.”
She took another bite. The crisp sound of it cut through the silence. Chew. Swallow. No glance in his direction.
“Unless,” he stepped closer, “you want to make your god extremely angry?”
Still, nothing. She continued to eat, slow and unhurried.
“Do you understand?” He began to raise his voice. “There will be consequences. Substantial consequences. Huge!”
He swept his arms wide, the gesture meant to be commanding, but Mira didn’t even blink. She chewed the last bite, tossed the core aside, and turned to wander deeper into the orchard, scanning the trees for more fruit.
Bae’s face darkened. His fingers curled into fists.
“You—” he began, the word cutting off with a growl.
Raising his hand, he flexed his fingers, preparing to snap them. The air hummed with tension, thick with power. The ground beneath his feet vibrated faintly.
But, for a moment, his fingers just hung there in the air. Something—he wasn’t sure what—made him hesitate.
No. Not yet.
With a flash of light, he vanished again, reappearing just ahead of her path.
“It seems,” he said, his voice lower now, “you’ve made up your mind to test me.”
She stopped. Her gaze lifted to meet his, calm and unflinching. A half-eaten apple glistened in her hand. Her face was blank, offering no explanation, no apology.
“Very well.”
Bae stepped back. Slowly. Purposefully. His arms rose. The air around them tightened, vibrating with the promise of power. His voice lowered to a whisper.
“Prepare yourself… Mortal… For my wrath. A thunderous vengeance!”
The air ignited with energy as Bae made a sharp sign with his hands.
A shockwave exploded outward from where they stood, rushing through the orchard in a perfect circle. The ground trembled. Trees shuddered. Leaves burst into the air like frightened birds. Apples tore free from their branches, spilling to the ground with soft thuds.
Mira blinked. Her head turned slowly, watching the apples fall around her. For a moment, she simply stared at them, her face unreadable.
Then, she understood.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Soft. Subtle at first.
And then she laughed.
She clapped her hands together once, then again, stepping in a slow circle as the apples continued to fall. The sunlight caught her hair as she spun, her laughter echoing through the orchard. Her eyes sparkled at him—bright, teasing.
Bae stared back, wide-eyed, his hands still half-raised from the display of power he had unleashed.
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“This...” he managed but a word, almost to himself. “Are you... laughing?”
Mira stopped spinning and looked at him, her eyes glinting. She nodded—slow and deliberate—before resuming her clapping.
Bae lowered his hands slowly. “Aren’t you a bit scared of me?”
With a swift shake of her head—so sudden her hair whipped across her face—she gave a clear, unmistakable answer.
Bae swallowed. He didn’t move when Mira bent down, picking two apples from the ground. She held them for a moment, examining each one carefully. Then, with the same gentle, unbothered grace, she extended one of the apples toward him.
It dropped lightly into his open palm.
Bae stared at the fruit resting in his hand. The skin gleamed, smooth and red. His fingers curled around it as he glanced back up at her. She had already turned away, biting into her own apple with quiet satisfaction.
“...Thanks,” he said after a long pause. “For the apple, I mean.”
He cleared his throat, standing a little straighter.
“Although, I’m not really used to this kind of offering. I mean, usually, it’s grain. Or precious stones. Things worthy of a god. But...” he turned the apple over in his hand thoughtfully, “I suppose I could call this a start.”
For the first time in a long while, a smile tugged at the corner of Bae’s mouth. His gaze softened as he looked at the apple. He turned back to Mira.
“You know, looks like we might be able to—”
He froze.
His smile faded.
Where the hell is she?
The wind blew along the cliff’s edge, carrying with it the scent of salt and earth. Mira walked without hesitation, her white gown brushing the rocky path. The ocean stretched endlessly below, waves crashing far beneath her feet. Behind her, Bae stood, watching as she moved away from him—again.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath. “Still ignoring me?”
He raised his hands slowly, clapping them together with a sharp, echoing sound.
The air shimmered. With a low hum, something began to descend from the sky—glinting, shining. A cascade of pure gold, smooth and flawless, fell from the heavens and landed just ahead of her, catching the sunlight like a beacon.
Surely, this would get her attention.
But Mira didn’t stop. She didn’t even slow down. Without a second glance at the pile of gleaming gold, she stepped casually around it. Her gaze had fallen elsewhere—a tiny flower, delicate and pale, blooming from beneath a rock. She knelt and plucked it gently. Tucking it behind her ear, she rose again without a sound.
Bae stared at her.
“Seriously?” he whispered.
In a blink, he appeared beside her. His gaze flicked from the untouched gold to the small flower in her hair. He stared for a long moment before forcing a smile and folding his arms across his chest.
“So… you do like pretty things. Didn’t take you for the sentimental type, but hey, I’ve been wrong before.”
He raised his hand, and with a single sweeping gesture, color burst from the earth. Flowers of every shade began blooming in neat patterns, spreading out between them—vivid reds, deep blues, soft violets, and bright yellows.
The field seemed to come alive, the blooms stretching toward Mira as though reaching for her.
She paused, her eyes fixed on the trail of color before her. Then, without hesitation, she began following the path of flowers. She plucked them one by one—carefully, with purpose—examining each before adding it to her growing collection.
“Huh,” Bae murmured to himself, “I think this might get interesting.”
The path of flowers led upward, winding slowly along the hillside. Mira followed it without looking back. Bae remained a few steps behind her, his gaze fixed on the silent girl, watching her every move.
After a while, the hill’s peak came into view.
Bae slowed his pace.
At the summit lay a meadow unlike any other.
The grass glowed with golden light under the late afternoon sun. Flowers of impossible colors covered the ground, stretching endlessly into the distance. Trees with silver leaves swayed gently in the breeze, their branches heavy with bright fruit.
Mira stood at the top of the hill, staring out at the sight before her. For a long moment, she didn’t move.
And then—
She ran.
Her laughter rang out, clear and bright. Arms stretched wide, she entered the field, brushing her fingers against the tops of the flowers, spinning through the color and light.
Bae followed slowly after her, watching.
When Mira reached a large, ancient tree at the meadow’s center, she stopped. A swing hung from one of its broad branches, the ropes worn smooth from time and use. Without a second thought, Mira climbed onto it, gripped the ropes, and pushed off gently with her feet.
She moved back and forth, higher with each pass.
For the first time since he had created her, Bae saw her smile—a genuine, unguarded smile, free of the quiet defiance he had seen before.
With a faint hum of power, he appeared beside her, seated on a second swing that hadn’t been there a moment earlier. He glanced at her, watching the way she leaned back with each arc, as though trying to touch the sky.
“You like swinging too?” he asked. “How high can you go?”
Mira didn’t answer, but she pushed harder with her legs, lifting higher and higher.
“Oh, I see how it is.” Bae grinned, and with a quiet chuckle, pushed off with his own swing.
“Alright, then. Let’s see who gets higher!”
They laughed together as they raced—higher, faster, their voices echoing across the meadow. Time passed unnoticed as the sun dipped lower in the sky.
Eventually, the laughter faded. The swings slowed. The sun hovered just above the horizon, painting the sea below in marvelous hues of gold and crimson.
Bae glanced sideways.
Mira sat quietly on her swing now, her hands loosely gripping the ropes. Her gaze was distant, watching the sun as it prepared to disappear into the sea.
The smile she had worn earlier had faded. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
Bae watched her for a moment, the grin on his face slowly slipping away.
“Hey,” he said, nudging his swing closer with a gentle push. “What’s wrong?”
No response.
“You don’t want to swing anymore?”
Mira didn’t move. She just sat there, still and silent, the breeze playing with the strands of her hair.
Bae leaned back on the swing, letting it sway lazily.
“That’s okay,” he said after a pause. “I get it. Sometimes things stop being fun, don’t they?”
He glanced up at the darkening sky, watching as the last streaks of sunlight bled into twilight.
“Even when you have everything you could ever think of. After a while, it all just feels... empty.”
His swing creaked as he shifted his weight.
“Especially when there’s no one around to share it with… No one to laugh with...”
Bae exhaled slowly.
“Guess it works the same way for people, huh?”
He looked closely at Mira. Something in her eyes had changed.
“You know what?” he said suddenly. “That’s exactly what you need.”
With a clap of his hands, the air stirred again.
This time, there was no shimmer of gold, no explosion of flowers or display of power. Instead, a soft, warm light glowed from beyond the hill.
Mira lifted her head slowly.
A gentle voice echoed up from below—soft, familiar, calling out through the evening air.
“…Mira!”
Mira turned sharply. Her eyes widened as she looked down the slope.
There, in the middle of a field, stood a small house. Smoke came out of its red chimney. The front door was open, and in its frame stood a woman. She waved, smiling, her voice reaching clearly up the hill.
“Mira! Come here, my sweet child! It’s getting late to play outside!”
Mira looked at the woman. Then back at Bae.
He met her gaze.
“Go,” he said, nodding. “They’re waiting for you.”
Mira stood still. Then, without a word, she stepped toward him. Gently, she reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek—a soft, fleeting touch. She lingered there for a moment, then turned and ran down the hill toward the house.
Bae remained seated on the swing, watching her go. The breeze stirred again, carrying the sound of laughter from the field below.
His fingers brushed absently against his cheek where she had kissed him.
“I’ve lit the skies with fire,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the fading horizon. “Raised mountains, stirred seas.”
But that… that was the first time I ever felt… complete.