"Have you ever… wondered what it would be like to live a normal life?"
The voice trembled through the rain, fragile and breaking, as a woman lay in a widening pool of her own blood. Her breath was shallow, each word shattering on the taste of iron that flooded her mouth.
A man stood over her — blond hair clinging wet to his forehead, emerald eyes sharp with pain and fury. His sword gleamed under the stormlight, the steel tip hovering just above her heart. His boot pressed down on her abdomen, pinning her in place like a fallen sinner before judgment.
"What would that even give me?" he asked, his tone cold, yet trembling with something deeper — something that reeked of heartbreak disguised as rage.
A bitter smile curved the dying woman's lips. "Hah… you are still… the same." Her eyes dimmed as the sword descended, piercing through flesh and bone. The light drained from her gaze, leaving behind a haunting stillness.
The man didn't move. The rain poured harder, soaking him to the bone as he stood over the corpse. His sword hung loosely in his hand, trembling not from fear but from the weight of what he had done.
"I had loved you ever since that day…" His voice cracked as he fell to his knees, gathering the lifeless body into his arms. "How could you betray me?" His hands, smeared in her blood, caressed her pale cheek as though trying to memorize what warmth once felt like.
Then the dam broke.
"Ahhhhh!" His scream tore through the storm — a sound that wasn't merely grief but a man's very soul splitting apart. The world seemed to echo his agony, thunder roaring in sympathy. The walls he had built — of duty, loyalty, and crown — crumbled in that single moment.
He had killed the woman he loved. And yet, even as her blood ran across his skin, he could not understand why
---
In the vast emptiness beyond life, where time was meaningless and space dissolved into void, a solitary soul drifted.
It glowed faintly — a gentle golden shimmer shaped like a woman — fragile against the endless darkness that surrounded it. It wandered aimlessly, without purpose or destination, haunted by the fragments of her final moments.
The man's voice echoed in her mind again and again:
"How could you betray me?"
Every repetition cut deeper than any blade. The scene of his sword plunging into her chest replayed endlessly, each time more vivid than the last.
But confusion gnawed at her.
Why had he said that?
She had never betrayed him.
All she had ever wanted was… to live a normal life.
She had tried to protect him, to save the kingdom. Yet somehow, fate had twisted her intentions into treason. The man she loved — the Crown Prince — had become her executioner.
Once, she had been the daughter of a Duke, her days filled with silken dresses and gilded halls. He had been the heir to the throne of Marian, born with destiny carved into his very blood. Their lives were woven together before they even understood what love was — a political engagement that, against all odds, had turned into something real.
But love, in noble courts, was a fragile thing.
The truth began unraveling the day she discovered her father's plot — a coup that would overthrow the royal line. Panic had seized her heart. She hadn't hesitated; she had rushed to the one man she trusted most, the one she believed would understand.
The forest lake — their secret refuge. The place where laughter once echoed, where he had promised her the world.
Yet when she arrived, the man waiting there wasn't the gentle prince she knew. His eyes burned with fury, his sword unsheathed, the rain hissing against the blade like the breath of vengeance.
She remembered how slowly she had approached, each step sinking in mud and disbelief.
He hadn't spoken.
He hadn't listened.
His sword had slashed across her chest before she could even form words.
Shock froze her world. The crimson bloom spreading through her gown was almost mesmerizing — the color of love turned into its cruel mirror.
"Wh…y?" she had whispered.
But there was no answer, only the storm and his rage.
She had realized then — the man she loved had already made up his mind.
There was no room left for reason, no time for truth.
So she had smiled through the pain, recalling the first question she had ever asked him by this very lake:
"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live a normal life?"
It was a question that had once made him laugh.
Now, it would be the last thing he would ever hear from her.
To the world, she was a traitor. To him, a betrayer.
But to herself — she was merely a caged bird who had dared to dream of freedom.
Then, within that void between death and life, came a voice — calm, vast, and echoing beyond comprehension.
"Child."
The golden soul flinched, looking around the endless darkness.
"Do you wish to live the life of freedom?" the voice asked again, gentle yet commanding.
"Yes," the soul whispered without hesitation. The memory of chains still lingered within her — chains of nobility, duty, expectation, love. She wanted none of them.
"Is there anything else you desire?"
Her essence quivered. "Are you… a god?"
"I am." The voice resounded with the weight of creation itself. "Now, child, tell me. Is there anything else your heart seeks?"
The golden glow pulsed softly as if deep in thought.
"I want to be strong," she finally said. "Strong enough to live that life of freedom. To protect it… if someone tries to take it from me."
The voice seemed to smile — though it had no form.
"Very well, child. If that is your wish… then I shall grant it."
The void trembled. A current of divine energy surged through the darkness, wrapping around the soul like a cocoon of light.
For the first time since her death, she felt warmth — not of the body, but of purpose.
Then the darkness shattered into brilliance.
---
A blinding light gave way to the sound of hurried footsteps echoing through marble halls.
A man ran down a corridor lined with portraits of ancestors whose painted eyes seemed to watch his desperation. His cloak billowed behind him like a storm cloud; his breathing came sharp and fast. He had been called away to an urgent council meeting only moments ago—yet the instant he heard the words "Your wife is in labor!" every notion of duty had evaporated.
He burst through the great oak doors of the master chamber.
BAM!
The thunder of his entrance startled the servants. But the moment his eyes fell on the sight before him, the world quieted. The nurse stood beside the canopied bed, cradling a small bundle wrapped in white linen. His wife lay there, exhausted yet radiant, her smile weak but filled with triumph.
"Honey… it's a girl."
Tears welled unbidden in the man's eyes. The harsh lines of command faded from his face, replaced by awe. The nurse placed the newborn carefully into her mother's waiting arms, then slipped quietly from the room, leaving the family alone.
The woman gazed down at the tiny face, brushing a fingertip across a cheek soft as rose petals. "Isn't she lovely?"
"Hmnn… she's beautiful." The man's voice was low, reverent. He took the child from her, studying the delicate features and the deep sapphire-blue eyes that blinked up at him—eyes like polished gems.
"What should we name her?" his wife asked, watching the spellbound look on his face.
The word escaped him like a prayer. "Sophia."
The name lingered in the air, gentle yet powerful—wisdom, rebirth, a promise unspoken.
"That's a beautiful name," his wife whispered, sinking back into the pillows. Fatigue overcame her, but peace rested on her face as she drifted into sleep.
-A Few Hours Later-
The mansion had quieted. The moonlight poured through tall windows, bathing the cradle in a silvery glow. The man—Lord Verdant—had returned to his duties, leaving the nursery guarded by silence and the slow rhythm of his wife's breathing.
Inside the cradle, the newborn stirred. Her tiny hands twitched as though reaching for something unseen. Her wide eyes, impossibly aware, darted around the lavish room.
'Goddamn it… He promised me a new life, but I didn't expect to keep my memories,' she thought, her newborn voice trapped within the confines of her mind.
The child—Sophia—sighed inwardly. So this is my second beginning.
She glanced around. Silk curtains, ivory furniture, golden embroidery glinting in lamplight—luxury everywhere. Her gaze fell on the plush toy resting beside her: a teddy bear with twin rubies for eyes.
'They're rich. Definitely rich,' she mused dryly. 'But freedom… freedom still depends on me.'
She tried to move her small arms, reaching for the toy, but her body betrayed her—too weak, too new. All she managed was an uncoordinated flail and a muffled gurgle.
'This is humiliating,' she grumbled inwardly. 'I just wanted to live free, not start over as an infant.'
Her limbs grew heavy. The exhaustion of birth—this rebirth—settled over her like a lullaby. Her eyelids drooped, and before sleep claimed her, a single thought echoed softly:
I'll grow strong. This time… I'll protect my freedom.
The moon watched over her cradle as the mansion slept, its light like a silent blessing from the unseen god who had kept his word.
-Next Day-
A crisp morning wind swept across the Verdant estate's training grounds, carrying with it the clang of steel and the shouts of men at arms. Rows of knights stood in disciplined formation, each dressed in dark-green training garb and polished cuirasses emblazoned with the crest of House Verdant—a silver blade wreathed in ivy.
A tall man walked to the front of the formation, his golden hair gleaming under the sun. His eyes, blue as frozen lakes, swept over his subordinates with pride and quiet authority.
The air thickened as his presence settled upon them—an aura of sheer pressure born of years on the battlefield. Even the seasoned knights found their knees heavy, their breath measured.
He smiled faintly. "Good. You've learned to stand even under killing intent. That's the mark of a true Verdant knight."
The oppressive aura lifted. Gasps of relief rippled through the ranks.
Then his voice deepened, carrying across the courtyard. "I bring good news. Today, we celebrate the birth of my daughter—Sophia von Verdant." The knights raised their fists in salute, a roar of congratulations echoing through the grounds.
"But that's not all," the Lord continued. "I have come to choose one among you to serve as her personal knight."
Murmurs stirred. Backs straightened; hearts raced. It was an honor beyond rank or title—to guard the blood of Verdant was to be bound to the house's legacy itself.
"I have watched you all for the past year," he said. "Each of you bears the mark of skill and discipline. But one among you stands above the rest—through strength, resolve, and unyielding loyalty."
He paused, scanning the lines until his gaze settled on a single figure.
"Iris," he called. "Step forward."
A woman moved from the ranks. Raven hair framed a face both youthful beauty and steeled by hardship. Her eyes reflected the same blue hue as her master's—a mirror of determination. She knelt, one fist pressed to the ground.
Whispers coursed through the ranks. Iris? The prodigy?
Jealousy flickered like sparks, but respect smothered it just as quickly.
Lord Verdant's gaze softened, almost proud. "Three years ago, you were a recruit who could scarcely lift a blade. Yet through sweat and will, you have risen higher than anyone could have predicted. A Sword Master at twenty… an achievement most only dream of."
Iris kept her head bowed, but her heart pounded in her chest.
"From this day forward," he declared, his voice carrying across the training field, "you are the personal knight of my daughter, Sophia von Verdant. Do you accept?"
"I accept, my lord," Iris answered, her tone resolute.
As the wind swept through the grounds, the sunlight flashed against the steel of drawn swords raised in salute. The ceremony marked not just a duty—but the beginning of a bond that would shape the destiny of both knight and child.
For somewhere in the nursery beyond those stone walls, a newborn girl with the memories of another life slept soundly, unaware that her protector had just been chosen.
And high above them all, unseen by mortal eyes, the same divine presence that had once spoken in the void watched in silence.
"Live well, child," the god's voice whispered across eternity. "Your freedom now carries a price."