[Edward]
"I'm sorry for your loss, Thomen."
The man speaking had dark green hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck, his hand resting on the shoulder of the grey‑haired duke beside him.
Thomen Falkrona only nodded.
His eyes never left the glass coffin in front of him.
Inside, a black‑haired woman lay as if she were simply napping. Her long hair fanned around her head like a curtain of night. Her eyes were closed, lashes resting gently on pale cheeks, and there was the faintest smile on her lips.
If not for the stillness of her chest, anyone could have believed she'd wake at any moment.
The dark‑green‑haired man—Draven Stormdila—watched his friend's rigid profile and felt a tight knot of worry twist in his chest. Thomen's lack of reaction wasn't strength; it was something colder. Numb and hollow.
It wasn't the first loss for Thomen, someone else important to him had died today.
Draven's gaze slid away to the boy standing a short distance from Thomen.
Edward Falkrona.
Seven years old, dressed formally, small hands clenched at his sides, staring at the glass box that held his mother. His expression was… empty for a child.
Too blank.
Draven hesitated seeing that.
"Don't you think it's time to tell Edward about—"
"Draven."
Thomen finally turned his head.
"Edward is our child."
He said with a warning in his tone.
Draven met his friend's gaze and understood.
Thomen wasn't going to allow any talk of secrets here. Not today. Not like this.
Once Draven nodded in acknowledgement, Thomen moved away to greet the people lined up to offer their condolences.
"…Sigh."
Draven exhaled slowly and turned his attention to the ones suffering the most.
The children.
At the center stood Edward, the small heir of the Falkrona line, flanked by two girls around his age. On his right, Miranda his daughter. On his left, Elona Falkrona—Thomen's second child, Edward's younger sister.
Miranda's hand was looped around Edward's arm, her brows drawn together in genuine concern. Elona clung to his other side, eyes red and swollen from crying, her grip desperate.
"Edward, are you okay?" Miranda asked quietly, looking up at him with innocent, worried eyes.
She didn't understand death yet. Not fully. Not the way adults did. But she understood Edward. He was the boy she'd spent most of her childhood with, the one she'd already loudly declared, more than once, to the horror and amusement of the adults that she would marry one day.
As a doting father, Draven had always bristled at the idea of giving his daughter to anyone.
But if it was to his best friend's son… maybe. One day. When they were older. When childish declarations became something more real—or faded into something they could both laugh about.
It could all just be a phase.
But Draven knew his daughter.
If their bond stayed this close for a few more years, he had very little doubt: Miranda would fall for Edward for real.
And he wasn't against it. Edward was kind. Talented. The next Duke of Falkrona, already groomed to lead one of the most powerful duchies in the kingdom. A boy raised under Thomen's strict but fair hand.
He could trust his daughter to those hands.
That was what Draven believed.
He looked at Edward again, ready to kneel beside him and offer some clumsy comfort.
He froze.
Edward's small face was utterly blank. No tears. No anger. No confusion. His lively amber eyes, the ones that usually lit up when he laughed or got excited about something were dark now.
On one side, Elona sobbed openly, hugging Edward's arm and pressing her face into his sleeve, shoulders shaking. Her grief was loud and obvious.
Edward… had none.
At a glance, he looked like Thomen had a few seconds before—frozen, shut down—but there was something different there. Something darker. Like a shadow behind his eyes that didn't belong on a child.
For the first time, Draven had trouble recognizing the boy he'd thought he knew.
"Hey, boy," Draven said softly.
He knelt down to Edward's level and rested a hand on his head, fingers brushing through the grey hair so many people in the family shared.
Edward didn't flinch. Didn't look away from the coffin.
"You can cry, you know," Draven went on. "Edward… your mother loved you and your sister more than anything."
He shifted his hand, briefly patting Elona's head too when the little girl glanced up at him with wet, pleading eyes at the mention of their mother.
"She'll always be with—"
"She didn't love me."
Draven stopped mid‑sentence.
"What…?" He managed, thrown by the strange tone.
"Edward?" Miranda said, frowning, tilting her head. She'd never heard him speak like that.
"I'm unloved," Edward said.
Draven's heart clenched.
"Ed—"
"I'm despised…"
"Edward, look at me."
Draven put both hands on the boy's small shoulders and gently turned him to face him.
"No one hates you here," Draven said. "Everyone loves y—"
" 'He' told me."
Draven's words trailed off.
"Edward?"
"Big Brother?" Elona sniffled, wiping her eyes, staring up at him.
Miranda stepped a half‑step back, looking at him more closely, unease twisting in her small features.
Edward's eyes shimmered, not just with unshed tears, but with something fractured.
"W—Why," he asked, voice breaking into a twisted little smile, "should I give something I won't receive in the future?"
Draven couldn't answer.
That face.
That expression.
Those tears, clinging to his lashes but not falling.
And that smile that shouldn't belong to a child at all.
Draven knew, even in that moment, that this was something he was never going to forget.
***
'No one loves you.'
'No one likes you'
'They hate you.'
'Everyone wishes your death.'
'Do not trust anyone.'
'Do you want to see them again?'
"N—No!"
'It's for your sake…and my sake.'
"My-Myra! Lona! Father and moth-"
'They are not your family.'
'You are merely a pawn in the larger scheme of other greedy beings.'
'Do you want to keep living like this?'
"I—I don't understand…please leave me—"
'He will come.'
'Live only for yourself and show them what true entertainment is, Amael.'
"N—No…Mom, Dad…"
'Do you wish me to leave...'
"No! Don't leave me here! I beg you! I don't want to see that!"
'I am everything against Eden.'
'You are my hope and I am yours…"
"Ho-Hope…?"
'...utopian ruin.'
'Everything is for my sake and yours.'
***
"…"
The wind on the little hill was a bit cold.
It slid fingers through my grey hair and tugged at the loose strands, carrying the damp smell of grass and earth. The night sky stretched above, the moon hanging high and bright, its light bathing the world in pale silver.
I sat on the grass with my knees bent, arms draped loosely over them. No one else was around.
The world felt so distant right now…
Only the moon kept me company.
[
Cleenah's voice nudged at the edge of my thoughts, hesitant.
"Yeah?"
[
"It's me," I cut in.
[
I couldn't help a small smile at her pouty tone.
"Yeah, I'm still Nyrel," I said slowly, "but…"
[
"I'm Edward as well."
The words tasted strange, honest and uncomfortable at the same time.
I grimaced, pressing my fingers to my temple as another wave of memories pushed through. Faces. Voices. A glass coffin. A child's warped smile. The poisonous whisper of that unknown 'being'.
I still felt like Nyrel—my awareness, my way of thinking, my instincts were all mine.
But I also felt like Edward.
Enough that remembering the moment I'd first arrived in this world and casually insulted 'Edward' now just felt like I'd been talking shit about myself.
It didn't feel like I'd replaced someone.
It felt like I'd recovered something.
Almost as if I'd just gotten back Nyrel's memories from Earth… instead of Edward's from here. Like two timelines finally snapped together.
Was that scene after my mother's death a hallucination?
The one with the voice. The promises. The threats.
I remember talking to someone. He showed me something, told me things, and I believed him enough to twist myself into what he wanted—for years, apparently.
Until now.
With Nyrel's rational mind in the mix, I felt… steadier. More grounded at least.
So why did I still feel that lingering resentment toward my sister, my foster brother, Miranda…?
It was weaker now, yes. Muted. I even felt this weird, sudden urge to see them. To see my aunt Belle. To sit in the same room and just… exist together.
But at the same time, I knew I couldn't go back to the way I'd acted before. Not fully.
I wasn't just Edward anymore.
And I wasn't just Nyrel.
I sure as hell wasn't some 'game character' either.
The thought alone made my skin crawl. The idea that everything I was…the pain, the choices, the people I loved and hated might have been someone else's script.
I refused that.
I was Nyrel.
I was Edward Amael Falkrona, son of the strongest Duke in the Kingdom of Celesta.
Not some puppet.
[
Cleenah asked me.
What kind of question was that?
It was more like she wanted to verify something than asking me actually.
"Well, something like that."
[…]
"Jarvis," I said, glancing at the quiet space in front of me, "I know you're hiding something from me."
[…]
"I hope you won't betray your master," I added lightly.
[You are not my master.]
"Yeah? A shitty system though, huh?"
I snapped, more irritated than I wanted to admit. Being stonewalled by the thing living in your head was never fun.
I flopped back onto the grass, staring up at the sky.
"Hey, Cleenah."
[
"You sure like to hide things too," I muttered. "I thought only Jarvis was doing that."
[
"Stuttering shamelessly and you expect me to believe you?" I snorted.
[
"Since when are there two other people renting free space inside me?"
[<…!>]
"Cleenah."
[
"Yeah. After getting my memories back, my senses sharpened. So explain to me what the hell is going on inside my freaking body?!"
[
What?
Wait.
"That's why I suffered more than 'Edward' in the game? In the story I know, it wasn't like this. He only ended up with one god."
What the hell is going on…?
Could that guy from Tokyo have done something?
No. When I made the death pact, it was with Ante‑Eden, and I already diverged from the original plot. So it was possible the outcome changed. But two extra gods?
I huffed a laugh.
"Tell them they don't need to be shy and to hand over their power already."
[
"…"
She'd been laughing non‑stop for two minutes straight for some reason.
"Finished?" I asked dryly.
[
"Can the jobless goddess tell me why she found that so funny?"
[
"Yeah, and you're still jobless inside me. Now talk."
I pushed, wanting her to get to the point.
[
I blinked.
"They don't care about me?"
[
"Then why the hell are they inside me? Tell them to get out."
[
"…"
[
"No, I don't understand!"
I got to my feet, anger sparking hot in my chest.
I'd hoped that having three gods bound to me might let me close the gap with the Edward from the game catch up to that broken, overpowered version.
But apparently not.
Those two had been hitchhiking in my soul for a month and hadn't bothered to speak up once.
"Shouldn't they be grateful and help me a thousand times over?" I grumbled.
[That sounds like something a young master would say.]
"Shut up," I growled, dragging a hand over my face and standing up.
[
"Buying a gift for my aunt."
I pulled the guild receipt from my pocket and checked the total, a small smile tugging at my lips.
[200 ED]
Enough.
I could get some new clothes and a proper present for her before heading back.
[
Cleenah's tone softened.
[
"Well, yeah…"
But Belle had always been kind and different for me.
I could still see her clearly in my mind, laughing, scooping me up when I was small, slipping me sweets behind my parents' backs. Before… everything.
Before my mother died.
Speaking of my parents—
Something about them felt off. Not the memories themselves, but the edges around them. Like there was a piece missing that I couldn't quite grab.
I'd have to dig into that later.
"Oh, right. Jarvis, my profile."
A familiar screen popped into view.
[Edward Amael Falkrona] [16]
[3rd Ascension]
[Charm: 19]
[Affection Points: 10]
[Falkrona Bloodline ~ 1st Wing ~]
[Vysindra's Oath ~ 1st Ring ~]
[Spirit Lord ~ 1st Anima's Core ~]
[???]
There were a few interesting changes.
First: my Charm had gone up by one point.
One more, and I'd finally hit 'average'.
Progress.
I nodded to myself, oddly satisfied.
Next: Vysindra's Oath.
I'd unlocked the first ring, which meant—
I snapped my fingers.
A burning bracelet of dark purple fire coiled around my right wrist, flames licking the air with a hungry, unnatural light. Even in that brief instant, I felt the strain on my already exhausted body, so I canceled it immediately.
Still, the activation had felt smoother than before.
[
"You've said that ten times this month," I replied.
She wasn't wrong though as it did take a toll.
Then again, even the original protagonist had trouble handling his element. This level of burden was expected.
[
"Don't worry so much. Look, at least I've got your power unlocked."
I pointed at the line on my profile.
[Spirit Lord ~ 1st Anima's Core ~]
Anima's Core, huh?
[
"Mary," I called.
A small sphere of black light appeared in front of me, then unfolded into the familiar silhouette of a girl.
She stood there in her dark tunic, long black hair falling like a curtain, expression as blank as the first time I saw her in that coffin.
"Do you remember me?" I asked.
Mary's head dipped in a small nod.
"How?" I asked.
I needed to understand what I'd really done. The 'illusionary' time travel hadn't been true time travel. It had been more like sending a dream—me—into Mary's final days. A hallucination crafted to keep her from losing her mind before death.
If she hadn't trusted that hallucination enough, I wouldn't have been able to bond with her now.
But here she was.
Which meant the connection had stuck.
"I… don't know how," she said slowly, voice quiet and a bit rough. "But… you were with me. When I was…"
She trailed off.
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her small frame.
Because of the contract, some of her emotions bled through to me. I could feel echoes of that coffin—cold, cramped, suffocating. The terror. The pain. The endless loneliness.
Mary's body was cold at first, stiff against mine, but she shivered faintly at the warmth of the hug.
I rested a hand on the back of her head and gently patted her messy hair until the tension in her shoulders eased a little.
She'd never be that cheerful village girl again. The poison and the burial had carved too much out of her.
But at least now, she could still see the world she'd wanted to explore.
Even if it was at my side.
"You should tie your hair a little," I said lightly. "Don't you think so?"
My tone was gentle, but I meant it. With her hair hanging forward like that, half‑covering her face, she looked exactly like one of those ghost women from the horror movies back on Earth.
And it scared me…
Mary's fingers brushed through her hair, expression hardly changing, but I felt something faint ripple through the bond. My words had reached her, even if her face didn't show it.
"That's good enough," I said.
"I'll buy some clothes for you too while I'm at it."
We had a long way to go.