ONCE UPON A TIME

Aria’s POV I sat in class, staring blankly at the computer screen, doing my best to pay attention to my history lecture. I know what you’re thinking—how is it that a thousand years into the future, we’re still stuck in classrooms? Yeah, your guess is as good as mine. With all the advancements in artificial intelligence, telepathy-based communication, and immersive neural simulation learning, you’d think physical lectures would’ve become extinct. But nope, here I am, sitting in a temperature-controlled room with thirty other students, pretending to care about the history of ancient Earth. Mr. Blake, my overly enthusiastic history professor, began today's lecture by pulling out a few artifacts from the year 2019. Apparently, that was considered a major “technological turning point.” Honestly, though? It's laughable. People drove around in cars—actual vehicles with wheels and engines. No teleportation pads. No anti-grav boots. Just internal combustion engines and traffic jams. Primitive, but kind of charming in a weird, dangerous way. He placed a worn photo on the projection table. “This,” he said, “is Xander Mossberg. Founder of Mossberg Tactical and one of the most prolific weapons engineers of the early 21st century.” I raised my eyes, intending to zone out again—until I saw him. I blinked. And then blinked again. You ever have that moment where time seems to stop? Where the world around you fades out, and the only thing that matters is that one inexplicably magnetic presence? That was me staring at a dead man. Xander Mossberg was... beautiful. Not in the polished, AI-generated influencer way—but raw, real, rugged. His red hair curled just enough at the tips, and those green eyes? They practically reached through the holoscreen and pinned me to my seat. There was something deep in those eyes. Something haunting. I couldn’t look away. I barely heard a word Mr. Blake said after that. I spent the rest of class analyzing that one photo. Zooming in. Enhancing. Noticing the subtle things—his slightly crooked smile, the scar near his collarbone, the way he held the antique pistol like it was a part of him. After school, I took the teleport capsule home and burst into my room like it was on fire. I flung my backpack into the corner and pulled up the university archives on my home console. It didn't take long before I found an entire database on him—Xander Mossberg. Born 1998. Died 2019. Genius. Billionaire. Died young. No relationships. No known partners. He lived alone. Worked constantly. Had no criminal record, but was infamous for his disregard for societal norms. That void I saw in his eyes earlier? It wasn’t my imagination. There was something eerily familiar about him. Something that made my heart ache. I didn’t know him—obviously—but it felt like I did. And then came the most reckless idea I’ve ever had in my entire nineteen years of life. I opened my matchmaking software. Now, let me explain—matchmaking in my era isn’t like dating apps back in 2019. We’ve advanced far beyond random swiping and superficial metrics. This software uses quantum entanglement theory, biometric algorithms, and emotional resonance mapping to determine soulmate compatibility. It’s nearly impossible to fake. Nearly impossible to break. And definitely not meant to be used on historical figures. But I did it anyway. I typed in: Aria Nobunaga. Then: Xander Mossberg. I hit “Enter.” The screen glowed for a second. I waited for the red message that would confirm what I already knew—that this was impossible. That he was dead. That this was a waste of time. But that’s not what happened. Instead, the screen flashed green. Then gold. MATCH FOUND: 99.8% COMPATIBILITY. I screamed. Actually screamed. I stared at the result for what felt like hours. My heart pounded like I had just run ten miles barefoot. It wasn’t possible. Soulmates? Across time? The database had to be malfunctioning. And yet... it made sense. I’d always felt out of place. Like something was missing. Like someone was missing. Could it really be him? Could I find him? Would the laws of time even allow that? Of course, time travel was heavily restricted. The Council of Temporal Ethics would throw me into a cryo-cell if they ever found out. But I was Nobunaga’s blood. We weren’t exactly known for following the rules. So I made a choice. I was going to meet him. Xander’s POV (2019) I’ve lived twenty-one years feeling like I’ve been chasing a ghost. That’s the best way I can describe it. A shadow in the corner of my eye. A whisper I could never quite catch. I’ve tried everything—adrenaline, success, women, war. Nothing filled that space. Not even close. People assume that sitting at the top of an empire means something. That it brings you peace or power. Truth is, it’s just cold. I sat in my office at the top floor of Mossberg Tactical HQ, a floor-to-ceiling window stretching behind me, giving me a view of the city’s skyline. The lights flickered like dying stars. A custom-built 1911 pistol sat in my hand, resting against my leg. I wasn’t going to use it. Not really. I just liked holding it. Feeling the weight. The craftsmanship. It was a piece of me—like an extension of my bones. “Boss, I swear one day I’m gonna walk in and actually see you smiling.” Dave, my assistant, barged in uninvited. I didn’t look up. “Have you ever heard of knocking?” “Have you ever heard of not looking like you’re about to blow your brains out every day?” I gave him a sideways glance. “Touché.” Dave threw a file onto my desk. “Today’s schedule: Press conference at three. Final sniper prototype test at four. Military contract meeting at noon. And a whole mountain of paperwork.” I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “And people think I’m living the dream.” Dave rolled his eyes. “Because you are. You're rich, brilliant, and terrifying. Women should be throwing themselves at you.” “I’m not interested.” “You’re never interested.” “Maybe I’m waiting for someone.” That shut him up. I twirled the gun, then set it on the table gently. “You know why I like guns?” I asked him. He groaned. “Oh great, here comes the sermon. No, Xander. But I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.” I smiled faintly. “Because they speak when words fail. Because in a world full of noise, a single bullet is clarity. But mostly… because every time I hold one, I feel a little closer to someone I haven’t met yet.” Dave stared at me. “You’re so poetic when you're brooding. Did you steal that from a movie?” “No.” “You scare me, man.” I looked out the window again. That ache in my chest—that endless searching—it had returned. And I had no idea why. But I hoped, wherever she was, she was looking too.