Noah looked down at the small woman he held in his arms. He'd never held another woman in his arms before, so he knew it was her. Jet-black hair, a small, pale face, and delicate features. His lover, his wife, his ex-wife. He didn't want to call her that, so he called her Diana. He could vaguely see her bare shoulders and curves, bathed in the soft light of the water lamp. He grabbed her slender shoulder, determined not to let her slip away, and spoke.
“You should dress warmly and sleep.”
It was a worry completely different from what he had in mind. It was an unavoidable instinct to feel lustful at the sight of his woman lying in a thin slip. In fact, it wouldn't have made much difference even if she were fully clothed. He was a man with a strong, possessive nature. She tilted her head, her ash-gray eyes half-open.
"Why?"
“It’s dangerous. You might catch a cold.”
Noah, with his exceptionally sharp mind, quickly realized this wasn't reality, but a dream. He'd never had a dream like this in his life. Yet, the smooth skin, the soft texture, the fragrant body odor—everything was vivid. Dreams, they say, generally stem from a lack in the unconscious. It's nothing more than a vain play on words, like the presence of absence.
“Hmm, is it sexual frustration?”
It's a shame.
Diana covered her small lips with a beautiful smile at the fleeting muttering.
"Suddenly frustrated? You're the one in the most danger."
"I know, I know," he muttered to himself, unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze focused on a corner of the room. Beneath her hair, the color of the night sky, her face was still pale and clean. Her characteristic calm, and expressionless demeanor almost seemed noble. In fact, it was the opposite. Her slender waist and languidly relaxed face aroused possessiveness and lust at every moment. She was an object of perpetual desire. And he was a healthy young man in the prime of his life. He could hold her, bite her, and suck her all day long without ever being satisfied.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you're pretty.”
Her slender fingers touched Noah's cheek. Her hand was rather cold. He placed his own hand over her small one, closed his eyes, and rubbed his face with longing.
"I miss you."
“While watching.”
“Still. You won’t be coming every day.”
He approached her and brushed his lips as if asking for permission. Only after watching her slowly lower her eyes as if granting permission did he close his own. The sensation of her sweet lips, her caressing fingertips, was vivid. Dreams are made of memories of experiences, he thought, carefully stroking the spot where he could feel her pulse. When was this day? He tangled Diana's hair with one hand, brushing his lips along the ridge connecting her neck and shoulder, yet he was aware that it wasn't real.
“You seem to know everything about me. Why are you so good at it?”
“I don’t know either.”
Noah mumbled, his hand gently nipping at her earlobe, causing her to flinch and arch her back. Her breathing was disjointed, a faint nasal sound. Her lips, the tip of her tongue, every touch felt so intense that she felt her entire body tingle with sensitivity. She asked.
“At that time, the painter who painted the portrait said that the couple had been a couple in a previous life as well.”
"Yes."
“Would we have done the same?”
The two hit it off from the start, and for the most part, they enjoyed a happy and satisfying time together. Orgasms from the first time weren't common, but she'd always reached the end of pleasure, both on their first night and afterward. The way she held back tears of pleasure, trembling with pleasure, was truly artistic.
“It was mine from the beginning. Only I can have it.”
Suddenly, his mind raced, threatening to wake him from his dream. He desperately clutched his small body. It was already quite heated. Slowly sinking in, he let out the breath he'd been holding. The feeling of connection was all too vivid. His excited breath brushed against her ear as he moved. "I know it's a dream, but..." he asked, holding her tightly, trying to keep her from escaping his dream.
“Diana. You’re not coming back?”
Diana looked up at him silently, her face flushed red.
“Answer me, Diana.”
Despite his impetuous movements, no sound was heard. He gritted his teeth, overcome with a mixture of emotions, even as he surged with elation. After pouring his futile yearning into the void that resembled Diana, reality gradually returned to him. He spoke.
“Then I’ll stay here with you.”
The neat face that looked sad seemed to have a hint of a smile.
“As in the beginning, now, always, forever. That was your promise to me.”
She never said anything like that.
But he had a strange feeling that he had heard it before.
Noah woke from his dream, unable to catch the faint, fading voice. Diana was gone, even though the feeling of her in his arms was vivid.
Noah stared up at the familiar ceiling, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. There was no way she'd come back like that. He should've asked if she wasn't lonely. He ended up acting like a shallow man trying to take her body first. Thank goodness it was a dream. No, he wishes it were. A long sigh escaped his dislocated lips.
"Please."
As time passed, Diana's condition only worsened. Her face had turned so pale, almost blue, that it was hard to believe she was alive.
One day, her nose started bleeding. Even doctors, who were considered experts in this field, couldn't find a solution.
"It seems her body can't hold on any longer. With current medical technology, it's impossible... Even if she wakes up, it seems impossible to live a normal life."
The Queen had assembled and deployed a medical team. They searched the country and abroad for a solution, but to no avail. Noah wondered if the soul in this body had lost its way. Perhaps the dream had been a farewell.
Noah sat silently beside the bed where Diana lay. Time seemed frozen, not a single movement. Noah tried to place a strawberry pudding in Diana's hand.
“Diana, why aren’t you coming back?”
The pudding he been holding in her hand rolled limply down. The small pudding jar, rolling across the floor, finally stopped moving after hitting a chair leg. Noah watched with a blank expression.
"Now it's just what you wanted. We can be together, and I've done everything you wanted. I haven't done anything you didn't like. I..."
Yes, that was just what I wanted. He made excuses, saying it was what she truly wanted. She simply returned to her original world, finding her place. She hated it; she was miserable.
When he thinks of her in this world, the world itself feels meaningless. Even for him.
He was lost in the memory of Diana smiling at him. An unidentifiable emotion, tearing and tearing at him. It was so painful, so unbearable. Yet, as if by necessity, he yearned for it. A longing that suffocated him. Her pain was more painful than his own. This was his sorrow.
“Diana, if it’s hard, it’s okay if you don’t come back.”
"If you're happy even if I'm not there, that's fine," he said with a sad smile.
“You said you could die in my place.”
He slowly raised his hand holding the pistol. He aimed the gun at his own head and smiled affectionately.
“If you die, I’ll die with you. Because you are my world.”
I was in a deep, deep abyss. I guess this is what it feels like to die.
Soon, as if a curtain was being lifted, my vision slowly brightened, and I saw the familiar sight of the inside of the car.
I thought maybe I had a bad dream.
"The knight defeated the enemies and rescued the Princess from the tower. The Princess and the knight fell in love at first sight. However, the King broke his promise to marry her if she was rescued, and instead banished her far away. The brave Princess decided to rescue the knight who had saved her."
A voice was heard that was cold and indifferent, but somehow had a gentleness to it.
I was sitting alone in the backseat of the car, and I saw the backs of two familiar faces in the front seat. The woman in the passenger seat turned to me, holding a book.
“Are you awake?”
She handed me an untitled book with the author's name, 'J. Evergreen', on it.
“It’s a fairy tale that hasn’t ended yet.”
Long-tailed, cold, indifferent eyes. Her features were defined by her firmly closed lips and high nose. She was my real mother, a woman whose memory was hazy even in my own. My father, sitting in the driver's seat, silently stared ahead, driving. Our car sped off, aimlessly, to nowhere.
“Where am I?”
“Where? In the car.”
Mother answered in a gentle voice.
I looked out the car window at a modern landscape that felt unfamiliar: tall gray buildings, the sea dotted with yachts, countless cars lined up on both sides of the road.
I looked at my parents.
It was only then that I realized I was driving to a hotel with my parents to celebrate my birthday. I was utterly confused. I asked cautiously.
“Is this... a dream or reality?”
My father, who had been looking straight ahead silently, answered.
“A dream is something that reflects the memories of reality.”
"I just went into a book, got married, and got shot. Is that real?"
“It must be real since it’s in your memory.”
“Going into a book... is not realistically possible.”
“You think it’s an illusion.”
My mother said.
"Everything humans can imagine has either happened somewhere or could happen. Imagination is grounded in reality."
Did my mother ever say something like that? Could she, too, be a phantom figure, a figure of my mother's likeness? Just like the unrealistic situation I found myself in in the book.
"Did I dream through a book? Or did it revive dead memories? We are reborn countless times, each with a single soul. The human soul is like a book that records life. Together, they form the world's memories, recording all the events and emotions of the past, present, and future. Like a vast library. This means that humans form the world."
It was my father's voice.
He was speaking as if he had read my every thought.
"Are you saying it's a past life? But it was a different world from my original one. The country name was different, and the history was different. It was similar, though."
"Does the world exist only here? They say Earth is just one of the countless stars in the sky."
"Another world? But... how do you know? I don't think we've ever had this conversation before."
“Because we are dead.”
Does death make you master all things? It's hard to grasp. I hastily raised my hands and looked down. They were the hands, feet, and body of a child.
“That’s right. You passed away when I was young.”
“Yeah. It was your twelfth birthday.”
“Then what is all this?”
“It’s the unconscious mind where you remember and forget memories.”
My mother gave an abstract answer. We'd never had such a long conversation before. It was hard to tell what was real and what was a dream. Who am I? Am I dead? Are these people, the grim reapers pretending to be my parents, and I'm on the train to the afterlife?
It was confusing, but I think the moments with my parents weren't so bad.
"I'll think whatever I want. Dreams are also unconscious, so this must be a dream, right?"
"Yes, even though we're gone, we remain in your memories. Humans are creatures of forgetfulness, but forgotten memories remain in our souls, buried in our subconscious, no matter how many times we're reborn. This place could be considered a graveyard of memories."
"I am..."
Yes. I accepted the world I belonged to as reality. As I became absorbed into it, I gradually forgot who I was. Before I knew it, I had entered a dark tunnel. White lights streaked past, drawing long trails.
I'd decided it was a dream, but it was slowly becoming more and more real. As we emerged from the long, dark tunnel, the cityscape illuminated by the setting sun unfolded before me. I gazed out the window, taking in the familiar scenery. My father slowly pulled over, approaching a fork in the road.
"This is all we can offer you. Now, it's your choice."
“What?”
"What kind of present do you want to live in? Your consciousness has been able to return to life in the modern world. In the world you were in just now, you probably wouldn't be able to survive with a healthy body. If you could return to a time of peace, not a time of war, it would be the perfect ending. Wasn't that the outcome you secretly hoped for?"
If I returned to my original life, would my life as Diana end? I had mixed feelings. I wiped my face with one hand.
“It’s a ridiculous story, but... did I get a chance to change that life?”
"Yes. You persevered through the trials given to you by your own will and changed many things. So, now is your chance. If you choose modern life, the painful experiences that wounded your soul and the unconscious memories that tormented you will all disappear. As if nothing had happened, like a nightmare you quickly forget after waking."
“Can I meet him there, too?”
"That person and you were destined to bring misery to each other. This life will be the last of your ties. But he will forever yearn for you, who no longer exists in this world, and wander in search of you. Perhaps, you could see it as a sacrifice for your happiness."
Is it truly happiness to abandon his suffering and dismiss the memories of those who stayed by my side as mere dreams? I bit my lip and shook my head.
"That's not what I want. It's just an unfinished story, not complete at all."
I must take responsibility for my choices and the changes I make. He and I tried to tame each other, but ultimately, we became one another. I don't want to dismiss the trials and tribulations of the past as a distant memory, forgetting them. Happiness is determined by your thoughts. Overcoming these harsh trials and being together is also my happiness.
My mother spoke in a worried voice.
“In return, you will have to live with unbearable despair, unhappiness, and hurt.”
"I don't live with a distant future in mind. Diana's life is my life, too, and I want to take full responsibility for it. My future self will take care of my present life."
It'll work out somehow.
My mother smiled kindly at my calm answer.
"That's your choice. They say a lot can change depending on the choices you make in the moment. Now, follow your will and follow the path you've chosen."
My father, who had been looking straight ahead, turned his head towards me.
“Happy birthday.”
I remembered how my parents, who were so indifferent and cold, would always be with me on my birthday.
“We spent our birthdays together every year, so why weren’t you with me that day?”
“In your memory, we were together on your twelfth birthday.”
“No way. The two of you died in a car accident that day, and I...”
What was I doing then? I can't remember at all, and the more I tried to recall, the more a terrible headache struck me, throbbing in my entire head. At the time, I resented my parents for abandoning me and ending my unhappy marriage.
"There's something I've always wanted to ask, Mom and Dad. What on earth did I mean to you both?"
"Our only daughter. You were our only reason for living."
This time, my mother answered. I looked extremely uncomfortable.
"You weren't in love, were you? Why didn't you just get a divorce? I only remember feeling suffocated and constantly on edge between you two."
“Yes. But I had to spend your meaningful days with you as your parent.”
Why do you talk as if you loved me? I wanted to vent my resentment, but for some reason, I didn't want to, so I kept my mouth shut. My father spoke.
"It's okay if you don't understand my feelings, or if you forget them. Sincerity never fades. The fact that you're alive is proof of that."
My heart ached with a pang. It felt like it was the end, so I reached out to my parents.
“Mother, Father. I...”
With those words, the sound of wheels skidding and the roar of a long horn mixed with the blinding light of headlights drew closer.
I saw, very slowly, a large truck approaching at a rapid pace. Shards of shattered glass slowly scattered before my eyes. Just before the devastation was etched vividly into my mind, my father and mother, who had turned their backs on me, turned to me and smiled brightly.
"We loved you until the moment we died. This was our choice. No matter how many times we turned back time and repeated it, it wouldn't change."
It was a gentle smile I'd never seen before. No, not the first time.
Time, which had slowed down, sped up again. My heart sank, and the car tilted sharply to the left, plummeting down the road. I saw my mother reaching out her arms. And wrapped in her arms, I felt a scent and warmth I'd forgotten. No, I remembered it.
The emotions and memories of that time were returning. A car accident involving multiple trucks killed many. I was the only survivor. My father, who swerved toward me to avoid the trucks, died instantly at the scene, while my mother, who had protected me just before the crash, died instantly.
Memories tend to be forgotten and distorted.
I realized I'd been escaping my loss by distorting the truth that my parents, who had died in an accident, never loved me. I didn't want to suffer and be in pain, so I refused to believe I was loved.
It was a memory of a love that I had killed myself for.
Countless shards of glass were scattered before my eyes, reflecting countless reflections of myself. At the same time, dead memories buried in my subconscious were revived.
My name was 'Dohana'.
It's a name my parents gave me, meaning it's my only reason for living.
I was a princess named Diana, and I died at the age of 17.
And, the beginning of misaligned fate and cause and effect.
A record of causes, processes, and results from the distant past.
"I spent a long time on the battlefield, and I took countless lives. It was all for you. Because I loved you."
The first time I met him was in a life long past, long before I was born as Diana.
“You should dress warmly and sleep.”
It was a worry completely different from what he had in mind. It was an unavoidable instinct to feel lustful at the sight of his woman lying in a thin slip. In fact, it wouldn't have made much difference even if she were fully clothed. He was a man with a strong, possessive nature. She tilted her head, her ash-gray eyes half-open.
"Why?"
“It’s dangerous. You might catch a cold.”
Noah, with his exceptionally sharp mind, quickly realized this wasn't reality, but a dream. He'd never had a dream like this in his life. Yet, the smooth skin, the soft texture, the fragrant body odor—everything was vivid. Dreams, they say, generally stem from a lack in the unconscious. It's nothing more than a vain play on words, like the presence of absence.
“Hmm, is it sexual frustration?”
It's a shame.
Diana covered her small lips with a beautiful smile at the fleeting muttering.
"Suddenly frustrated? You're the one in the most danger."
"I know, I know," he muttered to himself, unbuttoning his shirt, his gaze focused on a corner of the room. Beneath her hair, the color of the night sky, her face was still pale and clean. Her characteristic calm, and expressionless demeanor almost seemed noble. In fact, it was the opposite. Her slender waist and languidly relaxed face aroused possessiveness and lust at every moment. She was an object of perpetual desire. And he was a healthy young man in the prime of his life. He could hold her, bite her, and suck her all day long without ever being satisfied.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you're pretty.”
Her slender fingers touched Noah's cheek. Her hand was rather cold. He placed his own hand over her small one, closed his eyes, and rubbed his face with longing.
"I miss you."
“While watching.”
“Still. You won’t be coming every day.”
He approached her and brushed his lips as if asking for permission. Only after watching her slowly lower her eyes as if granting permission did he close his own. The sensation of her sweet lips, her caressing fingertips, was vivid. Dreams are made of memories of experiences, he thought, carefully stroking the spot where he could feel her pulse. When was this day? He tangled Diana's hair with one hand, brushing his lips along the ridge connecting her neck and shoulder, yet he was aware that it wasn't real.
“You seem to know everything about me. Why are you so good at it?”
“I don’t know either.”
Noah mumbled, his hand gently nipping at her earlobe, causing her to flinch and arch her back. Her breathing was disjointed, a faint nasal sound. Her lips, the tip of her tongue, every touch felt so intense that she felt her entire body tingle with sensitivity. She asked.
“At that time, the painter who painted the portrait said that the couple had been a couple in a previous life as well.”
"Yes."
“Would we have done the same?”
The two hit it off from the start, and for the most part, they enjoyed a happy and satisfying time together. Orgasms from the first time weren't common, but she'd always reached the end of pleasure, both on their first night and afterward. The way she held back tears of pleasure, trembling with pleasure, was truly artistic.
“It was mine from the beginning. Only I can have it.”
Suddenly, his mind raced, threatening to wake him from his dream. He desperately clutched his small body. It was already quite heated. Slowly sinking in, he let out the breath he'd been holding. The feeling of connection was all too vivid. His excited breath brushed against her ear as he moved. "I know it's a dream, but..." he asked, holding her tightly, trying to keep her from escaping his dream.
“Diana. You’re not coming back?”
Diana looked up at him silently, her face flushed red.
“Answer me, Diana.”
Despite his impetuous movements, no sound was heard. He gritted his teeth, overcome with a mixture of emotions, even as he surged with elation. After pouring his futile yearning into the void that resembled Diana, reality gradually returned to him. He spoke.
“Then I’ll stay here with you.”
The neat face that looked sad seemed to have a hint of a smile.
“As in the beginning, now, always, forever. That was your promise to me.”
She never said anything like that.
But he had a strange feeling that he had heard it before.
Noah woke from his dream, unable to catch the faint, fading voice. Diana was gone, even though the feeling of her in his arms was vivid.
Noah stared up at the familiar ceiling, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. There was no way she'd come back like that. He should've asked if she wasn't lonely. He ended up acting like a shallow man trying to take her body first. Thank goodness it was a dream. No, he wishes it were. A long sigh escaped his dislocated lips.
"Please."
***
As time passed, Diana's condition only worsened. Her face had turned so pale, almost blue, that it was hard to believe she was alive.
One day, her nose started bleeding. Even doctors, who were considered experts in this field, couldn't find a solution.
"It seems her body can't hold on any longer. With current medical technology, it's impossible... Even if she wakes up, it seems impossible to live a normal life."
The Queen had assembled and deployed a medical team. They searched the country and abroad for a solution, but to no avail. Noah wondered if the soul in this body had lost its way. Perhaps the dream had been a farewell.
Noah sat silently beside the bed where Diana lay. Time seemed frozen, not a single movement. Noah tried to place a strawberry pudding in Diana's hand.
“Diana, why aren’t you coming back?”
The pudding he been holding in her hand rolled limply down. The small pudding jar, rolling across the floor, finally stopped moving after hitting a chair leg. Noah watched with a blank expression.
"Now it's just what you wanted. We can be together, and I've done everything you wanted. I haven't done anything you didn't like. I..."
Yes, that was just what I wanted. He made excuses, saying it was what she truly wanted. She simply returned to her original world, finding her place. She hated it; she was miserable.
When he thinks of her in this world, the world itself feels meaningless. Even for him.
He was lost in the memory of Diana smiling at him. An unidentifiable emotion, tearing and tearing at him. It was so painful, so unbearable. Yet, as if by necessity, he yearned for it. A longing that suffocated him. Her pain was more painful than his own. This was his sorrow.
“Diana, if it’s hard, it’s okay if you don’t come back.”
"If you're happy even if I'm not there, that's fine," he said with a sad smile.
“You said you could die in my place.”
He slowly raised his hand holding the pistol. He aimed the gun at his own head and smiled affectionately.
“If you die, I’ll die with you. Because you are my world.”
***
I was in a deep, deep abyss. I guess this is what it feels like to die.
Soon, as if a curtain was being lifted, my vision slowly brightened, and I saw the familiar sight of the inside of the car.
I thought maybe I had a bad dream.
"The knight defeated the enemies and rescued the Princess from the tower. The Princess and the knight fell in love at first sight. However, the King broke his promise to marry her if she was rescued, and instead banished her far away. The brave Princess decided to rescue the knight who had saved her."
A voice was heard that was cold and indifferent, but somehow had a gentleness to it.
I was sitting alone in the backseat of the car, and I saw the backs of two familiar faces in the front seat. The woman in the passenger seat turned to me, holding a book.
“Are you awake?”
She handed me an untitled book with the author's name, 'J. Evergreen', on it.
“It’s a fairy tale that hasn’t ended yet.”
Long-tailed, cold, indifferent eyes. Her features were defined by her firmly closed lips and high nose. She was my real mother, a woman whose memory was hazy even in my own. My father, sitting in the driver's seat, silently stared ahead, driving. Our car sped off, aimlessly, to nowhere.
“Where am I?”
“Where? In the car.”
Mother answered in a gentle voice.
I looked out the car window at a modern landscape that felt unfamiliar: tall gray buildings, the sea dotted with yachts, countless cars lined up on both sides of the road.
I looked at my parents.
It was only then that I realized I was driving to a hotel with my parents to celebrate my birthday. I was utterly confused. I asked cautiously.
“Is this... a dream or reality?”
My father, who had been looking straight ahead silently, answered.
“A dream is something that reflects the memories of reality.”
"I just went into a book, got married, and got shot. Is that real?"
“It must be real since it’s in your memory.”
“Going into a book... is not realistically possible.”
“You think it’s an illusion.”
My mother said.
"Everything humans can imagine has either happened somewhere or could happen. Imagination is grounded in reality."
Did my mother ever say something like that? Could she, too, be a phantom figure, a figure of my mother's likeness? Just like the unrealistic situation I found myself in in the book.
"Did I dream through a book? Or did it revive dead memories? We are reborn countless times, each with a single soul. The human soul is like a book that records life. Together, they form the world's memories, recording all the events and emotions of the past, present, and future. Like a vast library. This means that humans form the world."
It was my father's voice.
He was speaking as if he had read my every thought.
"Are you saying it's a past life? But it was a different world from my original one. The country name was different, and the history was different. It was similar, though."
"Does the world exist only here? They say Earth is just one of the countless stars in the sky."
"Another world? But... how do you know? I don't think we've ever had this conversation before."
“Because we are dead.”
Does death make you master all things? It's hard to grasp. I hastily raised my hands and looked down. They were the hands, feet, and body of a child.
“That’s right. You passed away when I was young.”
“Yeah. It was your twelfth birthday.”
“Then what is all this?”
“It’s the unconscious mind where you remember and forget memories.”
My mother gave an abstract answer. We'd never had such a long conversation before. It was hard to tell what was real and what was a dream. Who am I? Am I dead? Are these people, the grim reapers pretending to be my parents, and I'm on the train to the afterlife?
It was confusing, but I think the moments with my parents weren't so bad.
"I'll think whatever I want. Dreams are also unconscious, so this must be a dream, right?"
"Yes, even though we're gone, we remain in your memories. Humans are creatures of forgetfulness, but forgotten memories remain in our souls, buried in our subconscious, no matter how many times we're reborn. This place could be considered a graveyard of memories."
"I am..."
Yes. I accepted the world I belonged to as reality. As I became absorbed into it, I gradually forgot who I was. Before I knew it, I had entered a dark tunnel. White lights streaked past, drawing long trails.
I'd decided it was a dream, but it was slowly becoming more and more real. As we emerged from the long, dark tunnel, the cityscape illuminated by the setting sun unfolded before me. I gazed out the window, taking in the familiar scenery. My father slowly pulled over, approaching a fork in the road.
"This is all we can offer you. Now, it's your choice."
“What?”
"What kind of present do you want to live in? Your consciousness has been able to return to life in the modern world. In the world you were in just now, you probably wouldn't be able to survive with a healthy body. If you could return to a time of peace, not a time of war, it would be the perfect ending. Wasn't that the outcome you secretly hoped for?"
If I returned to my original life, would my life as Diana end? I had mixed feelings. I wiped my face with one hand.
“It’s a ridiculous story, but... did I get a chance to change that life?”
"Yes. You persevered through the trials given to you by your own will and changed many things. So, now is your chance. If you choose modern life, the painful experiences that wounded your soul and the unconscious memories that tormented you will all disappear. As if nothing had happened, like a nightmare you quickly forget after waking."
“Can I meet him there, too?”
"That person and you were destined to bring misery to each other. This life will be the last of your ties. But he will forever yearn for you, who no longer exists in this world, and wander in search of you. Perhaps, you could see it as a sacrifice for your happiness."
Is it truly happiness to abandon his suffering and dismiss the memories of those who stayed by my side as mere dreams? I bit my lip and shook my head.
"That's not what I want. It's just an unfinished story, not complete at all."
I must take responsibility for my choices and the changes I make. He and I tried to tame each other, but ultimately, we became one another. I don't want to dismiss the trials and tribulations of the past as a distant memory, forgetting them. Happiness is determined by your thoughts. Overcoming these harsh trials and being together is also my happiness.
My mother spoke in a worried voice.
“In return, you will have to live with unbearable despair, unhappiness, and hurt.”
"I don't live with a distant future in mind. Diana's life is my life, too, and I want to take full responsibility for it. My future self will take care of my present life."
It'll work out somehow.
My mother smiled kindly at my calm answer.
"That's your choice. They say a lot can change depending on the choices you make in the moment. Now, follow your will and follow the path you've chosen."
My father, who had been looking straight ahead, turned his head towards me.
“Happy birthday.”
I remembered how my parents, who were so indifferent and cold, would always be with me on my birthday.
“We spent our birthdays together every year, so why weren’t you with me that day?”
“In your memory, we were together on your twelfth birthday.”
“No way. The two of you died in a car accident that day, and I...”
What was I doing then? I can't remember at all, and the more I tried to recall, the more a terrible headache struck me, throbbing in my entire head. At the time, I resented my parents for abandoning me and ending my unhappy marriage.
"There's something I've always wanted to ask, Mom and Dad. What on earth did I mean to you both?"
"Our only daughter. You were our only reason for living."
This time, my mother answered. I looked extremely uncomfortable.
"You weren't in love, were you? Why didn't you just get a divorce? I only remember feeling suffocated and constantly on edge between you two."
“Yes. But I had to spend your meaningful days with you as your parent.”
Why do you talk as if you loved me? I wanted to vent my resentment, but for some reason, I didn't want to, so I kept my mouth shut. My father spoke.
"It's okay if you don't understand my feelings, or if you forget them. Sincerity never fades. The fact that you're alive is proof of that."
My heart ached with a pang. It felt like it was the end, so I reached out to my parents.
“Mother, Father. I...”
With those words, the sound of wheels skidding and the roar of a long horn mixed with the blinding light of headlights drew closer.
I saw, very slowly, a large truck approaching at a rapid pace. Shards of shattered glass slowly scattered before my eyes. Just before the devastation was etched vividly into my mind, my father and mother, who had turned their backs on me, turned to me and smiled brightly.
"We loved you until the moment we died. This was our choice. No matter how many times we turned back time and repeated it, it wouldn't change."
It was a gentle smile I'd never seen before. No, not the first time.
Time, which had slowed down, sped up again. My heart sank, and the car tilted sharply to the left, plummeting down the road. I saw my mother reaching out her arms. And wrapped in her arms, I felt a scent and warmth I'd forgotten. No, I remembered it.
The emotions and memories of that time were returning. A car accident involving multiple trucks killed many. I was the only survivor. My father, who swerved toward me to avoid the trucks, died instantly at the scene, while my mother, who had protected me just before the crash, died instantly.
Memories tend to be forgotten and distorted.
I realized I'd been escaping my loss by distorting the truth that my parents, who had died in an accident, never loved me. I didn't want to suffer and be in pain, so I refused to believe I was loved.
It was a memory of a love that I had killed myself for.
Countless shards of glass were scattered before my eyes, reflecting countless reflections of myself. At the same time, dead memories buried in my subconscious were revived.
My name was 'Dohana'.
It's a name my parents gave me, meaning it's my only reason for living.
I was a princess named Diana, and I died at the age of 17.
And, the beginning of misaligned fate and cause and effect.
A record of causes, processes, and results from the distant past.
"I spent a long time on the battlefield, and I took countless lives. It was all for you. Because I loved you."
The first time I met him was in a life long past, long before I was born as Diana.
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