They say the moments before death are filled with light, memories, warmth.
For Riku, there was none of that.
Only silence.
Not peaceful, but hollow. An empty void where his soul drifted like ash in the wind. And yet, something stirred within that silence—soft footsteps, the faint scent of roses, a voice. Her voice.
"You thought you could leave me?"
The words were a whisper, echoing in that nothingness.
"No, my love. Even death… belongs to me."
Then—darkness turned to light.
---
Riku gasped.
Air burned his lungs. He convulsed, spitting water from his throat as he collapsed onto wet grass. The sky above him was vast and clear, painted in gold and violet. A soft wind blew over him, carrying the scent of pine and distant firewood.
He blinked.
Birds chirped.
The ground was rough, real. He felt everything—dirt under his nails, pain in his chest, cold in his toes. He was… alive.
He sat up slowly. His hands—smaller, softer. His body—different. Younger.
A stream rushed nearby, clear as glass. He crawled toward it, trembling, and looked into the water.
A boy stared back.
A stranger with familiar eyes.
"I... reincarnated?"
His voice cracked. He stood shakily, heart racing.
The last thing he remembered—truly—was her face, frozen in horror. His death. The triumph in escape.
And now… this.
A second chance.
---
The next few weeks passed in a daze.
Riku—now called Rion—was the second son of Lord Velin, a small noble overseeing a quiet valley called Valmere. It was a world of swords, banners, and magic. A place untouched by the noise of cities or the hum of technology.
He adjusted quickly. As a child, no one questioned his quiet moments or sudden flinches. He kept to himself, learned swordplay from grizzled instructors, read old tomes in dusty libraries. He was polite, obedient, detached.
But inside, he burned.
He wouldn't make the same mistake again.
This life, he swore, would be lived free.
No ties. No cages. No love.
Especially not love.
---
Then he met her.
Her name was Lira.
Golden hair like sun-touched wheat. Eyes of pale lavender that shimmered in sunlight. She was the daughter of a baron, brought to study under the local mage. Sweet, intelligent, graceful—everyone adored her.
And Rion's blood turned to ice the first time he saw her.
She smiled at him like she already knew him.
"Hi, Rion," she said. "We've met before, haven't we?"
His breath caught.
"No," he lied.
She tilted her head. "Hm. I must be dreaming again."
He avoided her after that. But she found him, again and again. In the gardens. At the training yard. In the library.
"I feel like I know your soul," she said once, brushing her fingers over his wrist. "It hums when you're near."
He jerked away, muttering excuses.
But the chill in his spine returned.
That voice.
That smile.
Her scent.
No.
It couldn't be.
It mustn't be.
---
But the signs kept coming.
She always stood between him and other girls. Once, when a kitchen maid complimented his eyes, that girl tripped the next day and broke her arm.
When he asked Lira about it, she just smiled. "You deserve better than flattery."
Another time, he caught her in his room, tidying his books. He hadn't told her where he lived.
"I like knowing things about you," she said, her fingers trailing across his pillow.
His heart raced—not with attraction, but alarm.
The final confirmation came one evening, in the glade behind the manor.
They were alone. She sat on the grass, barefoot, humming softly.
"I've had dreams, Rion," she said. "Of a different world. One with lights, screens, cages."
He froze.
"I was someone else there. And so were you."
He didn't answer.
Her eyes gleamed. "You died, didn't you?"
The air thickened.
"I killed you," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Or maybe… you killed yourself."
Rion's hands clenched. "Who are you?"
She smiled, soft and full of longing. "I'm your wife, Riku."
"No."
She stood. "Yes. And this time, I'll do it right. I won't rush you. I'll tame you slowly. Gently."
He backed away.
"I'll be perfect. You'll see. You'll love me again. You always do, eventually."
He turned and ran.
Her laughter followed him into the trees.
Not manic. Not wild.
But certain.
---
That night, Rion didn't sleep.
He paced the room like a caged animal, staring at the door, the window, the walls.
She had found him.
Across time, across death, across dimensions.
She had followed him.
He remembered her promise—the one she whispered in his ear just before the cord tightened around his throat.
"If this is the only way to keep you, I'll follow you into the next life… and the next… until you understand."
He hadn't believed her.
He should have.
---
Morning came, and Lira greeted him with a basket of sweet bread and a hand-stitched scarf. She hummed as she tied it around his neck, her fingers lingering a little too long.
He didn't resist.
Not this time.
His thoughts were already elsewhere.
If she had the power to follow him across lifetimes… then this world held power too. Magic. Soulcraft. Rituals.
If there was a bond, it could be broken.
He would find a way.
Because now he knew—death wasn't enough.
She wouldn't let him go.
Not even in hell.