Chapter 87
When she woke up in the morning, everything felt unfamiliar. The poor young lady looked around the room, which was completely different from her own bedroom, her eyes wide with fear and bewilderment.
“What is going on? Where is this? And why are you… dressed like that…?”
The man sitting gracefully in front of the bed, gazing at her sleeping face, looked identical to the servant she had known, but the aura he exuded was entirely different.
“From now on, this will be your home, Hermane.”
The formerly polite servant looked at her with the posture of a ruler, calling her by a strange name. The only thing that hadn’t changed was his gentle tone and eyes—but now, even that felt more creepy than comforting.
“You will never return to the place you originally lived.”
The broken hero smiled widely, just as he had long ago, half-mad, when he barged into the underworld and snatched his lover’s soul from paradise while she cried in resistance.
It took the young lady quite some time to accept this absurd reality. After all, even just last night she had slept comfortably in her familiar bed, and waking up in an entirely different place overnight was not a change anyone could easily accept.
To make matters worse, the identity of her kidnapper was someone she had trusted and cherished deeply. Beyond the emotional betrayal, the rational confusion shook her as well.
“Why… why? What do you want from me?”
Was he holding her for ransom? Or did the servant harbor lust for his master?
Yet, judging by his meticulous demeanor, it seemed unlikely he had abducted her for money or exploitation.
And there were far more oddities than just that. How had she moved across the continent in just one night? Whose house was this strange place? And how did a mere servant dress so elegantly and treat her with such noble manners? She could not fathom it.
“The only thing I’ve ever wanted from you has always been one thing. You know what it is, Hermane.”
The man approached with a soft, almost whispering sound. He gently cupped her cheeks with both hands. Seeing the fear in her eyes displeased him. He spoke solemnly.
“I’ll make you remember everything again. Remember me, Hermane, okay? I’m too lonely alone.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead. When his palm touched her cheek, glowing white, she screamed.
“Ahhh!”
Memories of a past life and the underworld, forcibly awakened, violently tore through her mind. The fragments of Hermane’s soul, awakened against her will, tore through the barriers of her unconscious and engulfed her present life.
“Do you remember me now?”
“Ugh… ugh…”
“Now, look at me, Hermane.”
The man pleaded, like a pitiful puppy craving his master’s affection, staring desperately into her tearful eyes. Then he held her jaw and kissed her.
The long-awaited kiss was sweet—at least, Promeon thought so. The scent of damp saliva, the warmth of his tongue, the soft pressing of their lips—it was as if the countless long years of loneliness were finally being compensated.
Promeon closed his eyes and drew her closer, tangling his hands in her silky hair, sharing his breath. Lost in memories of a past lover, intoxicated by past and present sensations…
Smack!
The slap on his cheek barely hurt, but Promeon froze as if struck by unbearable pain.
“You insane man.”
The woman spat out, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes, completely unlike the king of her past life, were filled with sharp anger.
Promeon no longer smiled.
He had once been so mad as to invade the underworld to steal his lover’s soul, so he could indulge in the illusion that reuniting with a past love who regained her memory would magically fix everything.
Had he been even slightly less unhinged, perhaps he could have easily inferred a simple truth: forcibly reviving the memories of someone living in the present and keeping them by your side would not allow the love from before to resume.
She could not fully love her past-life lover again. As she had clearly warned in the underworld, once a life ends, all connections tied to that life also end. Their romance belonged to the past. Clinging to it only brought mutual pain.
The problem was that only one of them had accepted this truth. Hermane understood, but Promeon did not. Or rather, he refused to understand.
Hermane, furious at her stubborn former lover, demanded he send her home immediately. When he did not even twitch, she cried, cursed, knelt, and begged like a slave.
Promeon silently ignored all her attempts. He merely wiped the tears from her wet cheeks and gently pressed a warm cloth to her reddened eyes.
She pushed his hands away. Despite caring for her so delicately, he had no intention of granting her deepest wish, and that was revolting to her.
The days they had loved each other passionately now felt unbearably distant. In truth, they were far in the past—a completely different life story to her.
“It’s too late to love you again.”
With tearful eyes, she glared at Promeon. Even seeing him, still cautiously glancing at her like a wet dog, filled her with emptiness.
The man who had trampled her wishes, ignored her opinions, and imprisoned her far from family and friends. The one whose human emotions had slowly broken, trapped between humanity and divinity.
She hated him, pitied him, resented him, and felt sorrowful—all at once. Memories of the love they once shared intensified her suffering.
“If you hadn’t stolen the fire back then… would we both be in paradise now?”
She whispered sorrowfully. For the first time since she had struck his cheek, Promeon smiled.
“Well, we would have both died early for sacrilege anyway.”
It was not a happy smile. Hermane, seeing the bitter mockery of her former lover, somewhat agreed, and sorrow replaced her anger.
“I’m sorry I let you sacrifice yourself alone…”
She whispered faintly. Promeon shook his head immediately.
“It was my choice. You don’t have to take responsibility.”
He once again reached gently to wipe the moisture from her eyes. This time, Hermane did not resist, and Promeon dared to hope.
After that day, Hermane became calmer. Whether out of resignation, pity, or a slowly rekindling affection, her attitude toward Promeon softened.
At first, he was wary, fearing it might all be a fleeting whim, but the steady gentleness reassured him. Promeon smiled at Hermane again, and occasionally, she returned a faint smile.
Though most of her smiles carried sorrow more than joy, Promeon still dared to hope.
Weeks, months, years passed. In the remote mountains, where no one else ventured, he savored the time alone with his lover. He thought they could be together forever.
“No!”
That hope was brutally shattered one day. Perhaps it had been an overly ambitious wish from the start.
“No, no, no, Hermane, no…”
The tragedy occurred in the brief moment Promeon’s attention wavered. Usually so careful to avoid even the slightest injury to her, he let his guard down just once.
Hermane’s calm demeanor had lulled him into complacency. At last, her long-planned escape succeeded.
With a kitchen knife, she cut her throat—deep, swift, without hesitation.
Normally, even with a resolute mind, fear would make one hesitate at the last moment, but Hermane did not falter. Having faced death once before, she was not afraid of the afterlife. Death was no longer an unknown.
Though physical pain was not insignificant, if it meant returning to paradise, she could endure it. Even Promeon could not revive her from this wound. The pain was intense, the death swift.
“Hermane… Hermane…!”
I’m sorry for making you cry. Hermane barely moved her blood-tinged lips to whisper. But I’m tired now. I do not want to remain trapped in this life as a ghost of the past.
She could not be sure if he heard her. The last sight of her old love, as seen through her blurred eyes in her second life, was one of devastating sorrow.
She closed her eyes in agony. The king and the hero parted for the second time.
The second prince of the Hermeon Kingdom, Elenon Hermeon, occasionally had dreams.
In his dreams, he was with a girl he did not know. Her hair was sweet chocolate brown, and her irises were a fresh green, reminiscent of a sunny spring day.
She was not strikingly beautiful, but when she rounded her eyes and smiled brightly, warmth seemed to fill his chest. She left a gentle, heartwarming impression.
In the dreams, Elenon shared many experiences with her. They strolled through the academy campus, shared cakes in a teahouse, or sat together in the villa garden, chatting for hours.
Sometimes, in secret secluded spaces away from prying eyes, they engaged in intimate acts. Moments of heated breath and skin touching were sweetly thrilling.
Each time, Elenon was shocked to realize such lewd imagination had been hidden deep in his subconscious.
A royal of all people, having such erotic dreams—if anyone discovered them, it would not end with mere ridicule.
Fortunately, there was no one around with the power of mind reading. Even if there were, no one could uncover the prince’s shameful dreams.
