"Is my voice reaching you?!" Reign!!" The sweet yet urgent voice of his beloved pierced through the fog in his mind. "Hold on, didn't I pass away?" he thought as he surveyed the room, familiar yet strange. He slowly lifted his hand, marveling at its youthful appearance—like that of a 20–21-year-old. Something felt deeply off.
"Stop ignoring me! What kind of sick joke are you trying to play this time?!" The same voice, now tinged with anger and sadness, jolted him. He looked up to see his beloved Cyrus standing before him. "Is this a dream? A memory from before I died?" he wondered as he stared at Cyrus. Smiling fondly, he muttered, "Look at the miserable me. Even at my last breath, I'm still dreaming of you."
"What nonsense are you spouting? Stop ignoring me, damn it, Reign!" Cyrus's voice, filled with anger, broke through his reverie. Reign looked around, trying to grasp his surroundings. The room was dimly lit, with heavy drapes casting shadows on the ornate furniture. The air felt thick with tension and unspoken words. Suddenly, he burst into hysterical laughter, overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all.
"Have you finally gone insane? What is wrong with you, Reign? Come to your senses!" Cyrus's voice, a mix of amazement and disappointment, cut through the laughter. "God sure is merciful to me, my dear," Reign said, his laughter subsiding as he took in the scene more vividly. It was the same situation he remembered—when he had announced his engagement to another noblewoman to continue his legacy. He admitted he had been an arrogant fool, but this time, he swore to love Cyrus properly.
"Cyrus," Reign said, stepping closer. "Oh, my Cyrus, please forgive me. I acknowledge my insolence. Please forgive me, my love," he pleaded, caressing Cyrus's face with love and guilt. Taking Cyrus's hand and the invitation card he held, Reign tore it into pieces and threw them away, the remnants fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves.
Cyrus's eyes widened, filled with a mix of pain and confusion. "What is all this, Reign? Why are you confusing me? One minute you curse me, the next you speak tenderly. Do you take me for a fool?"
Reign's heart ached at the sight of Cyrus's turmoil. "I'm sorry. I don't know what possessed me to hurt you. But know that I love you, and I will make this right," Reign said, his voice trembling with sincerity. He caressed Cyrus's face tenderly, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. Cyrus couldn't help but melt into Reign's touch, believing his words despite everything.
"I will fix this." I swear on my Volks Duchy, I, Reign Volks, will break this engagement off.", Pledging, Reign leaned in to kiss Cyrus's lips softly, swearing, "I swear, Cyrus." Cyrus returned the kiss, their emotions pouring out in a tender reunion.
"Despite everything, I can't help but believe your sweet words. I'm so helpless for you". Cyrus cried, pulling away but still holding Reign tightly, saying, "I don't know what to do or believe."
Reign cursed whoever had brought him back to this tumultuous moment instead of a sweeter one. "I'm sorry. Just believe me. I only love you; I will forever love you like a fool. I will break this off and return to you," Reign reassured his conflicted lover.
"But what about your title? Your rightful throne? That was your dream," Cyrus said hurriedly, his eyes conflicted.
"I don't want it. I'll pass it to one of my brothers. It's not necessary for me. There is no point in my honored life without you beside me," Reign said reassuringly. "It would be like a pen without its nib—pointless and colorless."
Cyrus sighed, still falling for Reign's words despite everything. "I am pathetic for still believing in you," he said, tightening his hold around Reign, afraid he would vanish if he let go.
"I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you. Unlike my past self, I will treat you better. I won't take your love for granted," Reign confessed, hugging Cyrus back with equal passion.
They clung to each other, their bodies seeking solace in the desperate intimacy of their touch. Reign's head throbbed with a relentless ache, a tempest of pain that forced him to relinquish his grip on Cyrus's body. His fingers trembled as they found refuge against his temples, trying to quell the storm within. Meanwhile, Cyrus's heart echoed the frantic rhythm of Reign's suffering. 'What's wrong?' Cyrus's voice cracked; the syllables etched with worry. 'Talk to me, sweetheart. Is your head hurting?' The room blurred around Reign, edges fading like a half-remembered dream. His consciousness slipped away, eyelids closing like velvet curtains. Was this reality unraveling, or was it the ultimate act of a bittersweet reverie? Perhaps, just perhaps, it was the fragile boundary between life and the ethereal unknown.
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End Of Chapter 2