The soft glow of morning sunlight filled Sena's room, casting warm patterns on the walls. Luke sat beside her bed, his gaze fixed on her pale face as she rested beneath layers of blankets. Every so often, she'd stir, her feverish body shifting slightly, and his eyes would dart to her, ready to help if she needed anything.
She looked so small, curled up beneath her blanket. Her cheeks were flushed from the fever, and her lips, usually quick to form a witty retort, were parted slightly as she breathed shallowly.
Luke sat on the swivel chair in Sena's room and leaned back, his gaze lingering on her peaceful face. Memories flooded his mind—memories he wasn't supposed to know. He closed his eyes, his grip tightening around the armrests as the visions replayed themselves.
__________
Sena's sharp voice echoed in his mind.
"A woodworker? That's all you'll ever amount to? Leave. I don't need someone so useless." The words stung, but even in that memory, he noticed the way her hands trembled as she said them, her gaze darting away as though she couldn't bear to look him in the eye.
Another scene. Sena, regal and cold, sat on a throne.
"Exile him," she commanded, her voice strong and unwavering. But her fingers gripped the armrest tightly, her knuckles white with tension. Her tone carried authority, but her heart was clearly breaking.
Then came the memory that hurt the most. Luke stood in a modest cottage, his hands covered in sawdust. Sena stormed in, her face red with anger.
"You'll never be enough," she spat, though her eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
"You'll never fix what we lost." He knew what she meant. Another child, gone. Another loss that neither of them could bear.
Despite all of it—the harsh words, the bitterness—there were moments of raw vulnerability that made his chest tighten. Sena, clinging to him during a storm, her voice barely a whisper.
"I hate you," she said, her fingers twisting into his shirt. "I hate how much I need you."
Luke clenched his fists at the memory, his heart heavy with the love and pain they had shared. But the visions hadn't stopped there. They had shifted, taking him to a brighter place, bathed in a golden light. He saw Sena kneeling before a figure that radiated warmth and power, God.
"Do you wish to repent?" God's voice was soft yet firm, resonating with power. "You have caused much pain to others, yet your heart holds deep regret."
"I don't want to hurt anyone anymore… especially him," Sena said, her voice trembling. "But I've ruined everything so many times. I don't think I can fix it."
"You can," God said, their tone almost kind.
"Remember, my child, this will be your seventh and final life. You will have the chance to make peace with those you've wronged. But the choice is yours, but if you wish to remember everything, or will you let your heart guide you?"
"If I remember… I'll carry too much guilt," Sena replied, tears streaming down her face. "I want to change because my heart has changed, not because of regret. Please… don't let me remember, I beg you,"
"So be it," God said.
"But know this, the storms of your past may find their way into this life. Be strong, and you may find redemption." The vision faded, leaving Luke stunned and breathless. He staggered back as the weight of what he had seen settled over him.
Sena had chosen to forget, to start anew. Yet she carried the pain of her past in her soul, even if she couldn't recall it.
__________
His mind wandered to the memories he'd uncovered just days ago. Six lives. Six chances. Six versions of her—each cruel in her own way, yet so painfully vulnerable beneath her hardened exterior. Sena wasn't aware of it, but in every lifetime, she'd carved herself into his soul, leaving marks he couldn't erase.
Luke's gaze softened as he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "You'll never know how much you mean to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Even after everything."
A part of him wanted to speak her name, to spill every truth, but he held back. This was her chance to live without the weight of that pain, and he wouldn't take that from her. Instead, he sat in silence, watching her breathe, reminding himself that this time, he would be there for her in all the ways he couldn't before.
She stirred, letting out a soft moan. Her eyes fluttered open. "Why are you hovering?" she rasped, her voice ragged from fever.
"I'm not hovering," he answered, though the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "I'm keeping an eye on you."
"Same difference," she mumbled, trying to sit up. Her arms shook, and she sank back with a frustrated groan. "Ugh. My head's pounding."
"It'll pass," he said gently, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. "You just need rest."
"Like I have a choice," she muttered. Then, in a quieter tone, she added, "There's a medicine bag in my car. Could you get it?"
He paused, uncertain. Modern "medicine bags" were alien to him, but herbs he understood. "Sure," he lied softly. "I'll… handle it."
She blinked at him, too tired to question. "'Kay," she murmured, drifting off again.
A few minutes later, Luke stood outside, eyeing Sena's yard. The notion of rummaging through her car made little sense to him. Instead, his gaze fell on the sprawling garden. If it worked in Valeraine, it might still work here.
"Feverwort," he muttered, plucking a leafy plant from the overgrown patch. Nearby, a cluster of tiny white flowers seemed promising. Another weed looked vaguely familiar.
Soon, he'd collected an armful of greenery—dandelions, broad leaves, and even a few random weeds near the fence that he was convinced had medicinal properties.
Back in the kitchen, he chopped everything into a pot of boiling water. The brew turned an alarming greenish-brown, and the smell hit him hard—earthy, pungent, and undeniably strong. Coughing, he ladled a portion into a mug.
"Perfect," he announced, determined to help.
"What… is that stench?" When he returned to Sena's room, she opened her eyes, frowning at the smell.
"Medicine," Luke said proudly, holding out the mug.
"It looks like swamp water. Smells worse. That can't be medicine." She eyed the murky liquid, her nose wrinkling.
"It's an herbal remedy," he insisted, carefully setting the mug within her reach. "Completely natural."
"It smells like old socks, Luke. Where did you get this?" She sniffed it and gagged, her eyes watering.
"I, uh, gathered herbs outside," he said, as though it were the most sensible thing in the world.
She stared at him in disbelief. "You… gathered herbs? I already told you, there's real medicine in my car. Actual medicine." She said as she stared at him in disbelief.
Luke frowned, crossing his arms. "Herbs have worked for centuries. Why not now?"
"Because we're in the twenty-first century!" she groaned, sinking back against the pillows. "We don't just… boil random leaves and hope for the best."
"I was careful," he said defensively, but before she could argue further, the door creaked open. I-seo and Amiel stepped in.
I-seo recoiled immediately, pressing a hand to her nose. "Good grief, what died in here?"
Amiel spotted the mug and grimaced. "Luke, buddy, what is that… concoction?"
"Medicine," Luke said flatly while looking innocent from what he did to his so-called 'medicine'.
Sena shot them both a pleading look. "For the love of everything good, get it away from me."
"It smells like something crawled in here and kicked the bucket. Luke, are you trying to poison her?" I-seo said as she marched over and took the mug, her face twisted in disgust.
Luke scowled. "I was trying to help. She wouldn't drink it anyway."
Amiel patted Luke's shoulder, biting back a grin. "A for effort, Your Highness. But next time, maybe just find her actual medicine., we're currently in Korea and not Valeraine,"
"Which is in my car," Sena moaned weakly. "Can you… can you please just get it?"
"Right. Car," I-seo said, handing the mug to Amiel, who nearly dropped it in his rush to dump the brew outside. "We'll handle it."
With that, the two of them left, leaving Luke to sigh in exasperation. He turned back to Sena, who was watching him with a mixture of annoyance and faint amusement.
"You're impossible," she muttered, her voice softened by exhaustion.
He shrugged. "I'm creative."
She let out a half-hearted scoff, her eyelids fluttering as the last bit of her energy drained away. "Just… let me sleep."
Night draped the house in stillness. Sena's fever had begun to ease, and her breathing was even more so now. Luke sat close, listening to her chest's quiet rise and fall. In the dimly lit room's hush, his mind drifted again to the past lives she didn't remember.
He reached out, gently covering her hand with his. She shifted slightly but remained asleep, oblivious to the turmoil in his eyes.
"If I could love you through six lifetimes…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I can love you even more in this one. You might not know who you were, or how we suffered. And that's okay. I'll remember it for both of us."
She made a small sound, turning her head as though searching for his warmth. He gently stroked her hair, a soft ache spreading through his chest.
"You hurt me so many times," he admitted in a voice she couldn't hear. "But I saw your pain then, and I see the kindness in you now. I'd choose you all over again—no matter what."
He felt the weight of his promise as he settled back into the chair. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, but the sight of her resting so peacefully gave him the strength to stay awake a little longer.
Outside, the moon rose high, casting silver light through the window. Inside, silence reigned, broken only by Sena's soft breathing. Luke sat vigil, his heart a tangle of devotion and relief. This time, in this seventh and final life, he would protect her without forcing her to recall the torment of their past.
No matter how many lifetimes it took, he would always choose her. And in this one, he prayed she'd finally know what it felt like to be loved—fully, freely, and without the burden of guilt. He'd make sure of it.