Days passed in quiet wonder.
Ren Kai sat across from the author, small hands resting on the edge of a table that seemed both ordinary and insignificant in the presence of infinity. The author stared, pen forgotten, eyes wide and filled with awe. Words came slowly at first, hesitant.
"You… you came here. How… why…?"
Ren Kai's Lumen-white eyes glimmered faintly. "Because it is allowed. Because you exist here, and I wished to see."
The author's hands shook. "I… I don't understand. I've written everything. I control nothing. And yet… you are here."
Ren Kai's expression was calm, serene, and impossibly patient. "I am not bound by control. I exist beyond. But I notice. And I observe. And I speak, when I choose."
Time stretched, yet days passed in the mundane world. Conversations unfolded like gentle rivers: no hurry, no tension, only the quiet recognition of connection. The author laughed softly once, amazed at the child's insight into worlds, stories, and the very nature of existence. Ren Kai smiled faintly, a small curve of lips that held the weight of infinity yet looked like the innocence of a child.
And then, without warning, Ren Kai's presence shifted. No movement, no journey, no bridge was crossed—he was simply gone. The world, in an instant, changed around him, leaving the author staring at empty air, a lingering sense of awe radiating from the child's absence.
Ren Kai arrived in his own dimension immediately. Nothing had bent to allow passage; he was simply there. His gaze swept across the foundations of all ends. Not destruction, not collapse, not finality—but the very concept of end itself, laid bare. Layered structures, infinite in scope, revealed their mechanisms: functions, systems, possibilities, probabilities, all existing and all distinct. Not just one "function" or law, but countless interwoven layers of reality, abstract and concrete, observable and unobservable.
He inhaled quietly. Even sealed, even in a child's body, the comprehension of absolute structures, of the origin and terminus of everything, filled him.
And yet, amid the vastness, a tether of warmth remained. His mother, running breathless from her search, reached him first. Her arms wrapped around him, trembling, seeking to hold a child she had feared lost.
Ren Kai returned the embrace, small body pressing into hers, yet the weight of infinity settled within that hug. For a brief, perfect instant, the unmeasurable, unknowable being was simply a child, safe, held, and known.
And in that quiet space, between worlds, between infinity and the human heart, existence paused—not out of fear, not out of awe, but out of a gentle, unspoken acknowledgment: here, the child allowed it.