Darkness wrapped around me—not the suffocating kind, but something gentle, like sinking into warm water after a long day.
Someone was there.
I couldn't see her.
No matter how hard I tried to focus, her face refused to form. It wasn't blurred like fog; it was simply… absent, as if my mind had been instructed to skip over that detail entirely.
Yet my chest tightened the moment I felt her presence.
I know her.
I didn't need sight. I didn't need memory. My heart already knew.
I reached out.
Our fingers touched.
The instant our hands met, warmth spread through me—quiet, familiar, devastating. The kind of warmth that comes not from passion, but from time. From shared days and ordinary moments that pile up until they become irreplaceable.
"You're doing that again."
Her voice was soft, carrying a hint of amusement.
"Doing… what?" I tried to ask, but my voice wouldn't come out.
"Overthinking," she replied gently. "You always do, when you're scared."
Scared? Of what?
She squeezed my hand lightly.
"You don't need to remember everything," she said. "You never did."
Something in her tone made my throat tighten.
"I'm just glad," she continued, "that you're alive."
The warmth deepened, almost painfully so.
Then, casually—almost teasing—
"Enjoy your life, Itsuki—"
She paused.
Corrected herself.
"—I mean… Rio."
The world shattered.
Fragments of another life surged up violently.
A cramped apartment filled with sunlight.Shared meals eaten too late at night.Arguments over nothing, resolved with laughter.A ring placed awkwardly on a finger, hands trembling more than necessary.
Linda.
I didn't see her face.
I didn't need to.
"Linda—!" I called out, my voice finally breaking free.
She smiled. I knew she did, even if I couldn't see it.
"I can't stay," she said gently. "Not yet."
Her hand slipped from mine.
"Live properly this time," she said. "Even if you forget me… your soul hasn't."
The warmth faded.
I woke up sharply.
My hand was stretched forward, fingers curled around nothing.
My heart was racing.
Linda…
I remembered her name.
Her presence.
Her love.
But her face—
Still gone.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes.
I was married once. I loved someone once.
And now I was engaged again.
Before that thought could fully settle—
"Oi. You breathing, or should I check your pulse?"
Something poked my cheek.
I groaned. "Five more minutes…"
"That's what corpses say."
I opened my eyes.
Princess Tesselia stood beside my bed, hands on her hips, smiling brightly.
"Morning," she said. "You sleep like you're dead."
That smile again.
Easy. Natural. Too well-practiced.
"I'm awake," I muttered, sitting up.
She tilted her head. "Barely."
Then she turned toward the door. "Breakfast's ready. And don't be late."
She paused, glanced back.
"Oh—and His Majesty might drop by later."
"Might…?"
She winked. "Relax. He doesn't bite."
Then she left, humming lightly.
She jokes so easily.
But she's hiding something.
The morning air was cool in the courtyard.
Father was already there, leaning lazily against a pillar.
"You look terrible," Amane said. "Nightmare or romance?"
"…Both."
He laughed. "Worst combo."
Mother gave me a gentle look but said nothing.
"Oh yeah, we have to go somewhere, King wants to see you."
"Huh, wasn't he here yesterday?"
"Yeah, but now he has gone to the next town for some meeting, you know, boring stuff."
We rode out shortly after—toward a regional palace used for administration, not the Royal Capital.
The journey took hours.
At least reality still obeys distance.
King Edward was waiting.
Not on a throne.
Just seated at a table, tea steaming gently.
"Sit," he said casually.
I did.
"So," he continued, lifting his cup, "tell me. Who founded Eryndor?"
I hesitated.
"…I don't know."
"And the man's name?"
"…I'm afraid I don't."
Edward sighed—not annoyed, just thoughtful.
"I thought as much."
Tesselia stiffened beside him.
"You are disciplined," Edward said. "But ignorant of history. That's a problem."
I lowered my head. "I accept that."
Edward nodded.
"Tesselia," he said. "Teach him."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"…Me?"
"You know this better than anyone," he replied.
She glanced at me.
Then smiled—bright, teasing.
"Guess you're stuck with me."
The lecture began that afternoon.
"Originally," Tesselia said, pacing slowly, "Eryndor wasn't divided."
"One nation," she continued. "Huge. Powerful. Annoyingly unified."
"Annoyingly?" I repeated.
She grinned. "History's boring without commentary."
She spoke easily, jokingly, gesturing with exaggerated confidence.
"The Founding Ancestor ruled it all," she said. "Strong, smart, and apparently terrible at naming things."
Then she spoke the name.
"Touya Esford."
My breath caught.
That's… Japanese.
She noticed immediately.
"Oh?" she teased. "That reaction—ring a bell?"
"…Yes," I admitted.
She nodded. "Figures."
She continued lightly.
"He wielded two blades. A katana and a talwar. Life and Death. Order and Chaos."
She shrugged. "Very dramatic."
"And very lost," she added cheerfully. "No one's found them."
"So they're just… gone?" I asked.
"For now."
Her tone shifted.
Just slightly.
"There are two prophecies Touya Esford left behind."
The joking stopped.
"One day," she said, voice calm, "all continents will unite against something greater than nations. Something… purely evil."
The air felt heavier.
"And the second?"
"When the true successor steps into the Royal Capital," she said, "the blades will return on their own."
I swallowed.
So that's why the capital matters. And even after 6 centuries, it is at same place...
She resumed after a pause.
"Eryndor split into seven kingdoms. Blood was shed. Names were forgotten."
She spoke of her grandfather—a mage who nearly transcended humanity.
"He died in the Demon Realm," she said quietly.
Then—
"My mother—Isolde—"
Before she could continue—
"Oi, history class still going?"
Father walked in, grinning.
"Perfect timing," he added. "I was about to fall asleep."
Tesselia sighed. "You're impossible."
He laughed.
And the tension finally broke.
That night, as I lay awake, I stared at the ceiling.
I don't know who I'll become.
But this time… I won't look away.