[Alvar’s POV — ThorenVald Estate —Guest Chamber]

CRACKLE!!

The fire snapped sharply, its echo crawling across the walls like a warning. The room was too quiet. Too still. Too hollow. The kind of silence that happens when something inside you collapses and the world politely pretends it didn’t notice.

And over it all—his voice kept echoing.

"You’ll forget me."

Forget him. Forget the man I—...the man I wanted a future with. So that was it? That was the ending the gods wrote for us? Cruel. Clean. Final.

A knock broke the quiet.

"Alvar...?"

Mother’s voice.

I straightened immediately, swallowing everything that threatened to spill out. "Mother, please... come in."

The door opened, and she stepped inside with a faint smile—a soft, fragile thing I had learned to treasure ever since Father died. Her smiles became rare after that.

But Leif— Renji —brought them back.

That knowledge only made the ache worse.

She walked forward and sat across from me. Her dress rustled gently, carrying warmth into a room that had none.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

I forced a smile. "You seem happy, Mother."

Her eyes softened. "Of course I am. I have good news to share with you."

Good news.

My throat tightened.

"What news?" I asked quietly.

Her smile brightened just a little as she placed two ring boxes on the table between us. They gleamed under the firelight—Trivium core stone—hope carved into gold.

"We have decided," she said softly, "to wed you and Leif. Next week."

My heart thundered once—violently—then stopped.

"...Next week?"The words scraped out of me.

Mother nodded, her joy gentle and pure. "Yes. I know you might think it’s too long, but it’s a very auspicious day. A blessed one." She reached across the table and touched my hand, warmth seeping into my trembling fingers."When you both finally marry."

Marry.

I nearly flinched. She looked at me, eyes filled with hope I didn’t deserve. "Are you happy, my child?"

My child.

I hadn’t heard that in years. Not since Father. Not since our home still felt whole. My eyes dropped to the rings. One simple. One ornate. Both beautiful.

Both impossible.

Was I happy?

Should I be?

Should I let myself feel joy for a marriage that would never succeed? For a future written in gold when the truth was written in ash?

Something in my chest twisted so hard I thought it might tear.

"Mother," I said quietly, "I..."

My voice cracked.

Her expression softened instantly, concern replacing joy. "What is it?"

I swallowed hard, looking at the rings that would never touch our fingers. The rings were meant for a man who wasn’t mine to keep. A man who would disappear from my world. A man I would forget.

A man who would forget me.

"...I don’t know if I deserve this," I whispered.

Mother’s gaze softened instantly. She reached out, cupping my cheek in her palm—warm, gentle, grounding. The kind of touch only a mother could give.

"You deserve every happiness, Alvar," she said softly. "Every single one."

I closed my eyes.

If only happiness were something I could keep—something that didn’t slip through my fingers the moment I reached for it.

So I smiled. A small, careful smile that didn’t touch anything inside me. "Yes, Mother."

She seemed satisfied. "Good. Then I’ll go—there’s so much to prepare." Her voice carried excitement, light and full, like a melody I wished I could match.

I nodded. "Of course. Rest well."

She left the room with quiet steps, the door closing behind her with a soft click. Silence swallowed everything again.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a long, exhausted sigh, fingers running through my hair in frustration I no longer knew how to contain.

"...This marriage shouldn’t happen."

The words tasted like betrayal on my tongue—not to her, not even to myself, but to him.

"I’ll only make it harder for him," I whispered to the empty room. "If I stay close... if I keep loving him... it’ll hurt him more when he has to leave."

My throat tightened painfully.

"Because it won’t be him who forgets," I murmured. "It’ll be us."

The weight of it settled over me like a cold, heavy cloak. A future where I woke up one morning and simply... didn’t know him. Didn’t remember the way he smiled. The warmth of his hand in mine. The way he said my name like it meant something more.

And he — still carrying every memory alone.

I tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling, at nothing.

"What am I supposed to do?" I whispered, voice breaking even though no one was here to hear it.

There was no answer.

Not from the fire. Not from the ceiling. Not from the gods who had written this fate for us.

Just silence.

And the hollow ache in my chest, growing heavier with every breath.

***

[Leif’s POV—Afternoon—Hallway]

I had made up my mind.

If my days here were numbered, then I’d spend every single one of them the way I wanted—with Alvar, with everyone, with the life I’d stolen but still cherished.

Worrying about the future would only ruin the present, and I’d already lost enough time.

"Leeeeif!"

I turned just in time to see Thalein practically launching himself down the hallway, eyes sparkling like a child who discovered an entire bakery was free today.

He skidded to a stop in front of me, grinning so wide his cheeks looked ready to burst. "Look! Look what we found!"

I blinked, unimpressed, as he thrust something heavy and dark into my hands.

"...A pitch-black omen wood?" I said flatly.

Thalein gasped, slapping a hand dramatically to his chest as if I’d personally insulted every tree spirit in existence.

"LEIF! You cannot say something like that! The god of wood will CURSE you!"

I blinked again. "He already hates me. It’s fine."

Thalein looked genuinely scandalized. "That is not the point!"

I examined the strange piece of wood—so deep black it didn’t reflect light. It looked more cursed than my entire existence.

"So," I continued, deadpan, "this is a goth tree branch?"

He squawked. "NO. This—" he held up a finger like a scholar — "is an extremely rare omen wood. With this, you can make a black diamond."

My eyes widened. "...A black diamond?"

He puffed up proudly. "Yes! An incredibly rare gem. Foreign kingdoms pay fortunes for even a sliver. But now we have some too!"

I stared at the wood again, now with slightly more respect. "...It doesn’t look very diamond-y."

"Because, Leif," he said slowly, as if explaining to a toddler, "you have to create the diamond."

"Oh."

"It’s simple! You dissolve this omen wood using a Trivium Core Stone. After a day or two, it melts down into a pitch-black liquid, and then—" he made a flourish with his hands, "you shape it."

I nodded. "Ah. Alchemy by way of tree murder."

Thalein groaned. "Why do you phrase things like that?!"

"...Habit."

He sighed deeply, then leaned forward, whispering, "Do you know how rare this stuff is? You could make jewelry, weapons, ornaments—anything."

"Even emotional stability?" I asked hopefully.

"No," he said without missing a beat. "Even gods can’t do that."

"Unfortunate," I muttered.

He laughed, then perked up again. "Oh! And we found it in Raventon Forest! Near the Spirit Forest."

That made me pause. "Raventon...? Isn’t that where the spirits are restless lately?"

Thalein shrugged. "Well, yes, but we didn’t die, so I call it a win."

I stared at the wood again, running a thumb along its smooth, cold surface. Funny. Even this cursed-looking thing had a purpose. A future.

Maybe I did too—even if mine was short-lived.

But... A black diamond?

A grin tugged at my lips. A wicked, greedy one.

"Oh gods," Thalein groaned, recoiling dramatically. "I can see the greed dripping off your face."

"Well," I said, smirking, "we found another treasure, didn’t we? I deserve to enjoy this moment."

He opened his mouth to retort—but then suddenly straightened.

"Oh—Alvar."

My breath halted.

I turned.

Alvar was walking down the hallway, wiping sweat from his jaw, sword glinting in one hand. His clothes clung to him from training, hair sticking slightly to his forehead.

For a heartbeat, everything inside me eased—relieved, hopeful, almost foolishly warm.

I smiled.

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. He didn’t even... look at me.

Instead, he walked right past, brushing the edge of my sleeve without touching me at all.His voice was calm—too calm—as he addressed Thalein.

"What are you carrying?"

Thalein, oblivious to the silent earthquake happening inside me, brightened instantly and started explaining. But I didn’t hear a word.

I was watching him .

His profile. His expression. His lashes casting shadows under tired eyes. His hands relaxed at his sides. His gaze never once flickered to me.

Not even by accident.

Not even out of habit.

He kept his eyes on Thalein and the wood as if the space I occupied was nothing but air.

Empty.

Forgettable.

My chest tightened painfully, a slow, dull ache spreading beneath my ribs.

Why... Why is he doing that? Is it because he needs time? Because he’s hurt? Because I told him I wasn’t supposed to be here? Because I’m not the real Leif Thorenvald?

The thought landed heavy—cold—settling in the pit of my stomach like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake.

Thalein kept speaking. Alvar kept listening.

And I... just stood there.