POV: Ren
The morning light slipped through the blinds in gentle stripes, casting gold across Airi's bare shoulder. Her breath was soft, steady against my chest, her fingers curled slightly where they rested above my heart.
It was quiet. Peaceful.
For once, there were no shadows, no divine whispers, no empire calling to me from beyond the veil.
Only her warmth, and the softness of morning.
Her eyes fluttered open moments later. Sleepy, glassy, and still dazed by the night before.
"Morning," she whispered, voice husky.
I brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Morning."
She blinked up at me, then smiled shyly. "I didn't dream. I didn't need to."
I kissed her forehead gently. "You're still dreaming."
Her smile widened, but then she shifted and gasped lightly, stretching her limbs with a quiet groan.
"Ow…"
Her cheeks flushed. "That… was a lot."
I laughed softly, pulling her close again. "You didn't complain."
"Don't you dare smirk," she grumbled, pressing her finger to my lips. "You're the one who kept going. Like—ten rounds? Who even does that?"
"I apologized after every round," I said, trying not to laugh.
"And then did it again!" she said, giggling into the sheets. "God, I'm never letting you go anywhere without me again."
She snuggled into me, wrapping herself around my arm like she was claiming it permanently.
But even in that peace, I knew the hour was ticking.
Even if the world didn't know what we'd done, they'd definitely notice I hadn't returned home last night.
And my parents didn't sleep early.
Home Again
When I stepped through the front door, the scent of tea and something freshly baked hit me. Familiar, warm.
Also—heavy silence.
I closed the door quietly.
Astraea was the first one I saw.
She leaned against the stair rail, arms folded, golden eyes half-lidded with amusement. She said nothing at first—only stared.
Then, slowly, she raised an eyebrow.
And winked.
My stomach dropped.
"I didn't say anything," she sang, spinning lightly on her heel and disappearing up the stairs.
Seconds later—
"REN EVERHART."
My mother's voice. That was never a good sign.
She appeared in the hallway, arms crossed in a way that made the temperature drop ten degrees.
Right behind her, my father stood—calm but unreadable. That meant he was more annoyed.
"You didn't come home last night," my mother said. "No call. No message. Nothing."
"I…" I opened my mouth, then closed it. "I stayed with Airi."
I couldn't lie to them. Not now.
My mother exhaled sharply, pacing once. "You could've called. You could've texted. We were worried sick."
My father spoke up, his voice steady. "We trust you, Ren. But trust doesn't mean you stop communicating."
I nodded. "You're right. I should've told you."
My mother pinched the bridge of her nose, but her tone softened. "Look, we're not going to pry. We know you're engaged. We know you're responsible. But that doesn't mean you vanish."
"I understand," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Astraea reappeared halfway down the stairs, a mug in her hand. "He did leave early this morning. Hair tousled, shirt barely tucked in. Very suspicious."
"ASTRAEA," I said flatly.
She grinned over the rim of her mug, all teeth and mischief. "What? I didn't say anything about the bite marks on his neck."
My mother turned a deeper shade of red than I'd ever seen.
"I—I'm going upstairs," she muttered, storming off.
My father gave me a long, unreadable look.
"…Just don't be careless," he finally said, patting my shoulder. "You're not a kid anymore."
Back Upstairs
I collapsed onto my bed with a sigh.
Moments later, Astraea poked her head in without knocking.
"Ten rounds?" she asked with an arched brow.
I groaned into my pillow. "How do you know these things?"
"I see these things," she replied smugly. "Besides, Airi texted me last night when you fell asleep. She was very proud."
I groaned louder.
"You're lucky she's good for you," Astraea added softly, leaning against the wall now. "She keeps your heart human."
I met her gaze. "She anchors me."
"And we watch over you," Astraea said, more serious now. "Don't forget that."
I didn't.
I wouldn't.
POV: Ren
The stars above the throne chamber wheeled in silence. In this deepest sanctum of the empire—my empire—time did not move unless I willed it.
And I stood still, listening to nothing.
Not to footsteps.
Not to goddesses.
Not even to my own breath.
Only the silence of power.
And choice.
A Gentle Truth
The more time I spent walking between worlds—the empire and the mundane—the more I found myself leaning into something strange.
It wasn't power I craved. I had that.
It was something softer. Quieter.
Airi's warmth still lingered on my skin from last night. Her voice echoing in my memory. Her laughter. Her embrace. Her love.
The way she touched me like I was fragile. The way she cherished me because of how gentle I was.
And I realized…
That gentleness was no longer something I performed.
I wanted it to be who I was.
The Rewrite
I stepped toward the crystalline altar. It shimmered in pale blue light, pulsing with the rhythm of reality itself—ready to be shaped.
My fingers brushed its surface.
And I whispered not with sound, but thought:
"Recreate me—not as a mask, but as truth."
A wish.
A command.
A divine rewrite.
Ren Everhart—shy, gentle, kind, and emotionally innocent beyond comprehension.Everyone who knows me now remembers me always as this.This is not an illusion. This is real.Let there be no memory of the boy who mastered goddesses, who walked through dimensions with steel in his heart.Only this softness.Only this version of me remains.
A Pulse Through All Things
The empire trembled once.
Reality did not shatter. It exhaled.
A quiet hum passed through existence. Gentle. Complete.
And Across All Realms…
🕊 Airi, stretching beneath her blanket, smiled dreamily to herself.
"He was always this soft... So gentle when he held me."She touched her lips and blushed.
🕊 Astraea, lounging on the backyard deck with tea, looked up at the sky, narrowed her golden eyes… and smiled.
"He's always blushed when I teased him. That shy little fool."
🕊 Elira, beneath the gardens of the empire, preparing a meal, hummed a lullaby.
"He still can't hold eye contact for too long... That sweet king of mine."
🕊 Kaelira, fire goddess of wrath, stretched languidly across her obsidian throne and whispered,
"Even in battle, he apologized after disarming me. Adorable."
🕊 Nyxara, mistress of illusion, chuckled softly to herself.
"He stammered when I touched his cheek. I treasure that."
🕊 Luneth, goddess of knowledge, gently closed a book with a sigh.
"He once asked me for permission before hugging me. That's why I love him."
🕊 Virelya, goddess of life, smiled as she watered her flowers.
"He always cried when he saw beauty. He still does."
🕊 Selphirhe, guardian of time, whispered to the hourglass.
"All timelines lead to this one. Where he's gentle."
🕊 And Monika, the transfer student, studying in the school library, paused mid-sentence.She stared at a doodle Ren had once drawn and smiled faintly.
"Even when he beat me in that strategy match… he said sorry three times. That shy idiot."
She tucked her chin into her arms and sighed.
"I think I like him more than I should."
🕊 Even the enslaved women—those in distant stasis pods in the deepest vaults—dreamed softly of the man who placed them there without cruelty.
A warm voice. A gentle hand. A god who never raised his voice, even when deciding fates.
🕊 His parents, laughing together in the living room, looked at a childhood photo.
"He cried when he accidentally stepped on a flower," his mother said fondly."He was always different. Always… tender," his father added.
The Mirror
I stood before it—my reflection unchanged.
And yet, everything felt different.
There was no tension in my shoulders. No burden in my spine.
I didn't have to pretend anymore.
I was this.
And I was at peace.
Returning to Earth
Airi ran to me the moment I stepped through the school gate. Her arms wrapped around my waist tightly.
"You're early," she beamed. "I was worried you'd get nervous and hide behind a tree again."
I flushed. "I-I almost did."
She giggled. "You're too cute."
At School
"Ren, did you bring your notes?" a girl asked in class.
"I… I forgot…" I murmured, embarrassed.
Another girl patted my shoulder. "That's okay! You always help us anyway."
Even Monika walked by my desk, placing a snack beside my notebook.
"For the innocent fool who blushes if I wink at him," she said with a smirk.
My ears burned.
Everyone remembered this version of me.
And it wasn't an act.
It was truth.
A quiet truth I had chosen, carved into the deepest laws of reality.
And no one—not even the goddesses—would ever remember the emperor I used to be.
Only this.
Only me.