Istood in the vast infinite darkness, my breath steady, my gaze fixed on the man before me.
Samuel Gebb.
The original. The man who had suffered three years of hell, who had been broken, humiliated, driven to death.
He smiled at me—soft, forgiving, calm.
As if he had finally found peace in the void.
"Thank you, Heavenly Demon," he said. "For saving my sister. For letting Abigail move forward."
His words shook me.
I scowled, stepping forward. "Why the hell do you care about Abigail?"
He chuckled, looking down at his hands. "Because… I loved her once."
I clenched my fists, rage boiling in my veins.
"For fuck's sake," I hissed. "You loved her? The same woman who brought men into your bed? The same woman who made you buy condoms so she could fuck other guys?"
Samuel's smile never wavered.
"I know." His voice was soft. "And yet… I can't bring myself to hate her."
I felt something inside me snap.
"You're unbelievable,"bI muttered, shaking my head. "If love makes a man like this, I swear—I'm never getting married."
Samuel chuckled again. "Maybe that's for the best."
I took another step forward, looking him dead in the eye.
"So? What now?"
He sighed, looking around at the endless void."I don't know. Maybe I'll just float here forever."
I exhaled, then extended my hand toward him.
"No. You won't."
His eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"
I smirked. "We merge."
Samuel's expression turned to shock. "Merge?"
I nodded. "I am the result of your hardships. I am the witness of your pain. I am power. I am terror. I am death."
My voice echoed through the void, power radiating from my very being.
I took another step forward, our faces inches apart.
"And most importantly… I am you."
Samuel's breath hitched. "You mean—"
I cut him off. "Once we merge, our memories will be fabricated. No Abigail. No past. No pain. Only war. Only victory."
A silence stretched between us.
Samuel swallowed, looking at my outstretched hand.
Then—
He smiled.
And he took it.
"Let's become one."
As soon as our hands met, the darkness exploded into blinding white light.
Our souls collided.
Merged.
Erased.
And from the void—
A new Samuel Gebb was born.
Not a man.
Not a victim.
But a force of destruction.
A searing pain tore through my chest.
I gasped, my lungs burning, my vision swimming with blinding white light.
Then, suddenly—
I woke up.
A sharp, ragged scream tore from my throat as my body convulsed, my hands gripping the silk sheets beneath me.
The pain was unbearable—bones shifting, muscles tearing and reforming, my very being reshaping itself.
I was evolving.
My breath came heavy, uneven.
I looked down at my body.
Wounds that should have killed me were healing at an unnatural speed. My skin was stronger, tougher, and my very presence felt heavier.
I wasn't the same.
Something inside me had changed.
Then—
I felt it.
A presence.
I slowly turned my head—and saw a woman sitting in the chair beside my bed.
Her eyes were puffy, red-rimmed as if she had been crying for hours.
She was beautiful, yet distant.
She looked at me like I was someone she had loved and lost.
I stared at her for a long moment before finally speaking.
"Who are you?"
She gasped softly, her face paling.
Her lips trembled as she whispered, "I'm… Abigail. Your wife."
I furrowed my brows.
Something about that name nagged at me, but when I searched my mind—there was nothing.
I tilted my head slightly, studying her. "My wife?"
She nodded, hope flickering in her teary eyes. "Yes, Samuel. Don't you remember me?"
I blinked, confusion twisting in my gut.
"My name is Samuel Gebb," I said slowly, my own voice unfamiliar to me—colder, detached.
"But I don't know you."
Her entire body stiffened.
Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
I looked around, taking in my surroundings. The familiar villa. The scent of whiskey and regret lingering in the air.
Yet—it meant nothing to me.
I turned back to her, my expression neutral.
"What is this place?"
She flinched, as if the words themselves had slapped her.
Her eyes—the same eyes that once haunted my dreams—were now just empty reflections of a past I could no longer remember.
Her hands gripped the fabric of her dress tightly, her lips parting in silent disbelief.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Lady, you seem… troubled."
She looked at me as if her entire world had shattered.
I continued, my tone polite but distant. "I don't know why you're looking at me like that, but I feel like I'm bothering you."
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my movements fluid, calculated.
This body was powerful.
Stronger than before.
I clenched my fists, feeling the raw energy coursing through my veins.
Abigail reached forward suddenly, her hands trembling. "Samuel, please—"
I instinctively stepped back.
My movements were natural, like avoiding an attack.
She froze, hurt flashing in her eyes.
I sighed.
"I think it's best if I leave."
Her breath hitched. "Leave? Where—where will you go?"
I gave her a small, almost apologetic smile. "That, I don't know."
Then I glanced down at myself.
My clothes were tattered, soaked in dried blood.
"But before I go, do you have something decent for me to wear?" I asked, glancing at her. "Looking at these rags, I feel like I fought in hell."
She didn't respond immediately.
Her hands trembled, her nails digging into her palm as she fought to hold herself together.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "I'll get you some clothes."
I nodded, indifferent.
"Much appreciated, Lady."
As she walked away, her steps unsteady, I turned toward the mirror across the room.
And when I saw my own reflection—
I smirked.
"I'm someone new now."
The air in the room felt heavy—thick with emotions that I couldn't quite understand.
I stood there, watching as the woman—Abigail, she had called herself—walked toward me, her arms wrapped around a neat stack of black clothes.
She stopped just inches away, her hands trembling slightly as she extended them toward me.
I took them without hesitation.
The fabric was smooth, expensive.
Strange.
Something about it felt familiar, yet at the same time—it didn't.
I gave her a small, polite nod.
"Thank you, lady. I owe you this one."
Her expression twisted in pain, as if the words physically wounded her.
She looked at me like I was a ghost.
Like I was someone who had died before her eyes.
Her lips parted, her voice shaking as she asked, "Do you really… not remember anything about me? About us?"
I glanced at her, my face calm. Expressionless.
I took my time, slowly pulling on the black shirt, adjusting the cuffs as I replied:
"My name is Samuel Gebb."
I met her eyes.
"And I am a fighter who fights."
Her breath hitched, her fingers clenching tightly into the fabric of her dress.
I exhaled, pulling the coat over my shoulders.
Then I said, "I don't know who you were to me, lady."
The words made her visibly flinch, her entire body tensing.
But I continued, my voice calm, detached.
"And frankly, I'd recommend that you live your life with someone you love rather than looking for me."
I adjusted the collar of my coat, my tone cold, distant.
"Because somewhere, deep inside—I feel there is nothing between us."
The pain in her eyes was undeniable.
Tears welled, but she refused to let them fall.
Her hands trembled at her sides.
She wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn't come.
I picked up my coat, slinging it over my shoulder.
My feet carried me to the door, each step light—as if nothing in this place held me down anymore.
Before stepping out, I paused.
I didn't turn around.
I didn't look back.
Instead, I spoke.
"Thank you for your assistance."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"And I'm sorry for bothering you."
And with that—
I walked out.
Leaving everything behind.
Or rather—
Leaving nothing at all.