[Leif’s POV—The White Realm]

When I woke up...and saw the white realm again...I wasn’t surprised.

No shock.

No panic.

No confusion.

Just a quiet, heavy breath leaving my chest. Because waking up as Renji in that hospital room was far more terrifying than waking up here.

At least this place... this endless white... I understood. I knew what it meant. A place where a soul hovers—not alive, not dead.

Which meant...

"...I’m still alive somewhere." My voice sounded small in the emptiness—not asking, just wondering.

If I saw Renji—my original body — does that mean my soul was pulled back there? But if I’m here now... does that mean I’m still connected to the Frojnholm world too?

Which one is real? Which one is mine?

A soft breath escaped me. I looked around—not with fear—but with longing. Because there was only one being who could answer that.

The God.

"Grandma..." I stood up slowly, turning in the endless white. "Where are you... Grandma?"

A warm chuckle drifted from behind me. "Hohooo... this is the first time you searched for me, my child."

A small cat trotted across the nothingness—tail swaying—eyes ancient, green, and gentle. The air shimmered, and she shifted, fur turning into robes, paws into hands.

The cat became the old woman —wrinkled smile, long hair, eyes full of centuries.

I didn’t run into her arms. I didn’t cry. I just stared, tired and numb.

"I’m... used to meeting you here," I said flatly.

She laughed softly—not teasing, not offended—just fond. "But this will be the last time you meet me like this, my child."

My brows pulled together—a quiet dread crawling up my spine. "...What do you mean?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with that same frustrating, gentle wisdom she always carried. "You saw yourself in your world... didn’t you?"

She dodged the question.

So I asked louder—desperate for clarity, "Did you send me back to my world? Does that mean I’m still alive in that world?"

She nodded with a soft, satisfied smile. "Of course, child. You are still alive—and soon... you will wake up there again."

I should have felt relief.

Relief that I wasn’t dead. Relief that my original body still breathed. Relief that my real life waited for me.

But instead—something ugly and heavy twisted inside my chest.

"...I don’t want that," I whispered.

Her smile didn’t falter—because she already knew.

"I just got married," I mumbled, voice breaking so quietly even the white realm seemed to flinch. "I finally got married... I finally found my people... I finally found love... and now I have to leave everything behind?"

She didn’t stop me this time. She let the pain pour out.

My laugh was bitter and ugly. "You gods are really cruel, Grandma."

She didn’t deny it.

"That is how the world works, my child," she said softly. "Balance must be kept. Stability must be maintained, even if hearts break in the process."

Her words weren’t cold—just honest. Then she stepped closer. Her fingers gently wrapped around mine.

Warm.

Solid.

Comforting.

She lifted my joined hands to the center of my chest—right where a wedding ring should have been—and pressed.

Something inside me burned.

Not pain.

Awakening.

"...Grandma—?"

She spoke over the rising light under my skin, "You will receive the fruit of your good karma, my dear child. What you have given to the world—love, sacrifice, kindness—always finds its way back."

The light spread—like a pulse from my heart to my fingertips.

"And remember this well," she whispered, her forehead touching mine gently, "the strongest force in existence is not gods... not magic... not time."

Her voice softened—almost frightened—as if even speaking it was taboo. "It is fate."

I felt something tremble inside me.

"Not even we gods," she continued, "can overpower fate. Not even we can break the threads destiny weaves."

Her words should have sounded hopeless.

But they didn’t.

They sounded... true. Still, something inside me rebelled—small, angry, and afraid.

"If everything is already decided... if fate controls it all... then why do humans pray? Why do we beg the gods? What’s the point... if nothing can change?"

My question wasn’t childish.It was desperate.

She looked at me—not with irritation, not with divine superiority—but with heartbreak. Like someone who understood my pain all too well.

"Because," she whispered, "sometimes a desperate wish can shake fate itself ."

I froze.

Her eyes shimmered with an emotion I couldn’t name.

"Humans pray," she continued, "not because gods can rewrite destiny... but because a heart that refuses to give up can shake the universe

."

My breath hitched.

"A wish born from love... from fear of losing someone... from a soul that refuses to surrender—that kind of wish can reach even us. Always remember, child, fate writes the beginning...but love writes the ending."

She placed her palm over my chest—right where my heart beat weakly, stubbornly, painfully. Her hand pressed harder against my chest—right over my heartbeat that flickered between worlds.

"And your fate... your destiny... will always belong to you—and your ending may not be here, but your love will definitely write an ending, my child."

Her voice broke into a whisper—like a blessing... or a goodbye. "What is truly yours... will always find you. In this world... or that one."

My breath shook. Because I knew exactly who she meant. Because I could feel it—something tugging at my soul like a thread connecting two hearts across worlds.

"Grandma..." my voice cracked, "...will I see them again?"

She didn’t answer with words. She only smiled sadly...And squeezed my hand once .

The white realm shook.

Something pulled me backwards—violently—like a wave crashing over me—dragging me away.

Her figure blurred into the distance. Her voice echoed—faint and fading —

"Remember this, child; hold on to your memories. Hold on to your love. And I hope... with love, you will write your ending too."

Grandma disappeared into the white.

And I fell.

Not gracefully.

Not peacefully.

I fell like someone being ripped away from the one place that still understood me. Her words curled through the darkness like a thread around my heart.

Hold on to your memories.Hold on to your love.Write your ending.

I didn’t understand the full meaning—not yet. She always likes to speak in riddles. If she wants to reveal...why doesn’t she just reveal it in a way, in a language, that I understand? But no...she will create a puzzle, and I have to solve the puzzle.

I now really hate Puzzle with every cell in my body.

But one thing burned inside me brighter than any prophecy, louder than any fate: I can never, ever let go of Alvar.

Not even if fate tries to separate us. Not even if this world tries to drag me away. Not even if the same world tries to claim me back.

He is mine, I am his...that’s the real Fate.

And whatever this darkness was pulling me into—whatever world I was about to open my eyes in — I will fight.

I would not forget him. I would not lose him. I would not let fate write an ending for us that wasn’t ours.

I clenched my fists—or tried to—as the darkness swallowed me whole.

"If fate wants a war," I whispered into the nothingness that stole my voice, "then fate will get one."

Light shattered—like glass breaking—and I was thrown back into the world.