"Because of you?"
Darian repeated the words slowly, the meaning sinking in like a stone in water.
Then, as if it finally clicked, his eyes widened.
"You fucking bastard!!"
With a furious snarl, he lunged forward, fist flying toward the man's face.
"Because of you, I ended up like this! In this fucked-up condition!"
The old Darian didn't move. He remained seated, expression unreadable. He knew this would happen—knew the darian version of himself would lose it. But the truth had to be told. This was the only way to earn his trust… and his help.
"I'm gonna beat you to—"
But just as his knuckles made contact—whoosh—his fist passed straight through the old Darian's face, like smoke. He stumbled forward with the momentum but caught himself just in time.
He turned, glaring with burning eyes.
"What did you do?"
"I did nothing," the old Darian replied calmly. "As I said before, we're in the Soul Realm. Physical attacks won't work here."
"So I can't even punch the guy who ruined my life?" Darian clenched his teeth, seething. The frustration crashed over him, bitter and choking. With a growl, he dropped down and sat on the cold, ethereal floor.
The old Darian gave a dry, bitter laugh.
"I know what I did. I made you hate me but—"
"Hate?"
Darian cut him off, his voice low and dangerous.
"I don't just hate you. I see you as my enemy."
Silence settled like dust. The old Darian stared, lips parting to speak, but sighed instead. Then, with a small clap of his hands, the space trembled slightly.
Darian narrowed his eyes.
"What the hell was that?"
Then he froze.
His mouth wouldn't move. Not even a twitch. Panic sparked in his eyes as he realized his limbs were stuck too—completely bound.
"Mm…mm…mmm!" he tried to speak, but only muffled sounds escaped.
He thrashed, eyes darting around. No ropes. No chains. Nothing holding him down.
He looked up—and found the old Darian sitting calmly, watching with sad eyes.
"I'm sorry… but you left me with no other choice," the old Darian said after a brief pause.
His voice was calm, but there was a strain beneath it—regret.
"I know I'm responsible for your condition. But can't you just listen to me? Just this once?"
There was a moment of silence. Darian sat still, expression unreadable, before he exhaled sharply through his nose and gave a reluctant nod.
He didn't like this. Not one bit. But he also knew there was no point in struggling. Not here. Not in this strange realm where even throwing a punch was useless. Maybe, just maybe, if he heard this guy out, he'd figure out how to reverse it—how to send him back the way he came.
Seeing the subtle nod, old Darian let out a slow breath, relief softening his features. With a simple wave of his hand, the bindings faded, and he gestured to the chair across from him.
Darian stood, brushing off imaginary dust, and without a word, sat down.
They faced each other in silence for a beat.
"So," the old version began, "as I said before… you were summoned because of me."
He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
"But I'm not exactly the one who summoned you."
Darian's brows furrowed.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Old Darian hesitated, his lips parting slowly as if the words weighed heavily on his tongue.
"It was actually my mother," he finally said, "under whose guidance the ritual was carried out."
"…!!!"
Darian's eyes narrowed, the words sinking in like a blade.
"Your mother?" he echoed, the disbelief sharp in his voice. It took a moment before he accepted it, watching the old darian nod in confirmation.
"Was she… your stepmother?" Darian muttered, still trying to make sense of it. "Even so, how could she be so cruel?"
"No—no, you're misunderstanding."
Old Darian quickly waved his hands, his voice rising in urgency. "She wasn't cruel. She didn't do it out of hatred or malice."
Seeing the Darian forming his own conclusions, Old Darian stepped forward, his tone earnest, almost pleading.
"She did it for me… not to hurt me."
Old Darian exhaled sharply, brushing his hand through his silvery hair.
"She did it to protect me," he said, voice trembling slightly. "To protect… everyone."
Darian blinked. "Protect you? From what?"
"A curse," the old man whispered. "A terrible curse that plagued our bloodline. One that—if left unchecked—would have destroyed not just me, but this entire kingdom."
Darian scoffed under his breath. "And the solution was… to tear away your individuality?"
Old Darian's gaze dropped to the floor. "Yes. The ritual sealed away the cursed half. My mother bore the consequences, not me. She gave everything for that."
Silence fell. Only the distant crackle of the fire could be heard.
"…You still lost something, didn't you?" Darian muttered, his voice blunt now.
Old Darian gave a solemn nod. "....A part of me never returned."
Darian clenched his fists, heart pounding.
"And now I carry it… whatever remains of that curse, don't I?"
Old Darian looked at him, sorrow clouding his gaze.
"Yes. And that's why… I shall return to you what rightfully belongs to you."
"What?" Darian tilted his head slightly, confusion flickering across his face.
"Your memories," the old darian said after a pause, studying Darian's expression, which remained confuse ,mixed with curiosity.
"They've been sealed all this time. I didn't want to burden your mind, especially given the chaos you would awaken to. But now… now it's time."
Darian didn't find the explanation hard to believe. He still remembered how overwhelmed he had felt when he first opened his eyes in this unfamiliar world.
"…Did you see them?"
His voice was low, almost hesitant. The thought of someone else peering into his memories left a strange discomfort in his chest.
Old Darian shook his head firmly. "No. I didn't—and even if I wanted to, I couldn't. They're a part of your consciousness, just as mine are a part of me. You can't access my memories, can you?"
He gave a faint smile.
"Memories are etched deep into the soul. No one can tamper with them—not even me. So rest easy."
Darian let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.
For now, that answer was enough.
Silence stretch for a while.
"I think that wasn't the only reason you called me here,"
Darian said, his eyes narrowing. He couldn't believe the sole purpose of this meeting was to tell him he could regain his memories.
Old Darian hesitated, caught off guard by how easily the darian saw through the him.
"...Yeah," he finally admitted, his voice laced with sorrow. "I have another reason for calling you here. It's to save my mother."
"Save... your mother?" Darian echoed, the confusion plain in his voice.
"Yes. As I mentioned earlier, the summoning ritual was performed under my mother's guidance. But the truth is, it wasn't without consequences. It's a forbidden ritual—one that summon a slumbering soul. Since the one who originally created it had long vanished, they had to replicate it. And in return, they took my mother. I don't know why. But whatever the reason, it can't be noble."
His voice was flat, but his eyes betrayed him—frustration, regret, guilt—all bleeding through the cracks of the calm front he'd held until now. The pain was palpable. It ate at him.
"Wait—what do you mean by 'slumber soul'?"
Darian latched onto the term, an uneasy feeling blooming in his chest.
Old Darian met his gaze, speaking as if stating a simple fact.
"It means the soul of someone who has died."
"Died...?"
Darian's heart skipped a beat.
Had I been dead before coming here?
Then what about the glimpses of memories—those fragments that told him this was a novel world? Could that too be remnants etched into his soul, just like Old Darian mentioned?
The words hit harder than expected, sending his thoughts into a spiral.
He glanced at Old Darian from the corner of his eyes.
So... could this really be called misfortune? Being summoned here, yes—but also being given a second chance to live?
"Will you do it?"
Old Darian's voice cut through the haze, pulling him back.
A moment of silence passed. Should he risk himself for a woman he's never met, simply because she made this second life possible?
"...I will do it."
Darian's expression turned firm, unwavering.
He had no life to return to. And though he once believed this world had stolen something from him, the truth was—it had given him more.
He couldn't turn his back now.
Old Darian smiled faintly at his answer.
In truth, it wasn't necessary. Once Darian regained both sets of memories—his past life, and Old Darian's—the lines between them would begin to blur. But because he now resided in this body, the memories tied to it would inevitably take precedence. The others would begin to feel like static echoes—distant, fading impressions.
And among those memories, the ones with his mother...
They were the most precious.
She was the only person who truly cared for him. The one who tolerated his whims, gently scolded him when he strayed, and held him close when he faltered. She was his anchor. The person he cherished above all.
So he had no doubt—once Darian relived those memories—she would become dear to him too, even with his past-life consciousness intact.
"Thank you," Old Darian said softly.
Just hearing Darian's resolve to save her stirred something deep inside him. Gratitude welled up without thought.
Then, as if sensing the moment had come, Old Darian's expression shifted.
"You'll have those memories once you wake up," he said. "This will be our last conversation. So... take care of Mother."
"Wha—?"
Darian barely had time to respond. A blinding light engulfed him, cutting off the rest of his words as he vanished—returning to reality.
Silence lingered in the space he left behind.
Old Darian sat still, the faint red glow surrounding him now beginning to intensify. Slowly, it began disintegrating him, turning his form into flickering particles of light. Unlike the brilliance that carried Darian back, this one felt heavier... final. It wasn't a transition. It was an end.
"Looks like it's finally time," he muttered bitterly.
"I'm grateful for everything you did for me, Mother. And I don't blame you... not even now, as I disappear from existence. Because those memories—those moments we shared—they were what gave me the strength to move forward."
As the last of his body began dissolving, he gazed up at the sky, a wistful glint in his eyes.
"I hope... I get another chance like you did."
And with that, he faded completely—nothing left but stillness.
A single tear lingered in the air, falling silently to the ground. A tear shaped by guilt, sorrow, and longing. A final trace of the boy who once was, now integrated into the still silence of the world he left behind.