'I still can't get used to this world after 3 years…
Yea so I obviously reincarnated but what's the point. Terminally ill in my last life and fated to die in this one!'
The boy had reincarnated.
His last life? Nothing worth remembering— barely even a life, more like a brief pause between breaths of the universe.
He was born in an orphanage on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by gray buildings and the hum of traffic. The place was clean, the caretakers kind enough, but there was always a shortage of food on the table.
By the time he learned to speak, he also learned what it meant to suffer. His body betrayed him— bones brittle, lungs weak, heart fragile.
The doctors at the public clinic said it was congenital heart disease— a hole in the heart, a body born incomplete. They spoke softly, their eyes full of pity as they explained the long list of treatments, surgeries, and medications that could help— if only someone could pay for them.
He grew up in hospital wards smelling of antiseptic and iron, watching other children run past the windows while his world was confined to IV drips and white ceilings.
Some days, he felt better—enough to laugh, enough to draw. Other days, he could barely lift his arms. Machines breathed for him, then stopped. Restarted. Stopped again.
By nine, his heart was failing faster than his body could keep up. They called it end-stage heart failure.
"Well yea I fucking died! Boo hoo what a suprise!"
The boys voice rang out in distain inside the vast room, his body still lounging on his beanbag-like cushion.
"Well what do you expect?" The boys voice said this time a bit softer, "an orphan kid with no name… well I did have a name! Anyways, who would pay for a heart transplant? I never even landed on the list! Hahaha!"
The boy died right before his 16th birthday. No family. No tears. Alone.
There was just silence— and then, the faint sound of a new heartbeat. A new life! He was reborn bringing only one thing with him. The only thing that belonged to him.
Something he had given to himself— a name.
Valerie.
"Honestly I don't have any attachment to my past life, but it feels like part of me carries that name still." The boy muttered under his breath now, barely a whisper. " Lucien or Valerie… Valerie or Lucien. Who am I?"
When Lucien was 7 he regained his memories from his last life though none of them were that important. Most of his memories were him trapped in hospital rooms reading comics or playing video games.
"Hah. So I turned 10 today…, well yesterday seeing as it's past midnight now. What's the point…" the boy, Lucien said with an indifferent voice— almost filled with regret.
"The world is so cruel. Orphaned and sick in my past life fated to die alone… at least I have a family in this life and am super rich!"
Lucien was born into one of the 5 great families of this world! The second child with incredible prestige behind his name, enough to fill anyone with arrogance but Lucien continued in an indifferent voice,
"Hahaha what's the fucking point if im terminally ill again! No even worse!
Fated to die!!"
Lucien spat out in distain falling back into the comfortable pillows as he closed his eyes, "I will at least enjoy this life to the fullest! I don't care anymore…." His voice grew colder, his amethyst eyes gleaming a magenta glow.
The truth was Valerie was not occupying this body— deep within existed Lucien still. He had felt it since the moment he awoke in this body, a faint presence always there supporting him quietly. He did not just inherit all of Lucien's memories but also all of his desires and all of his pain, every part of Lucien was taken in by him.
"Why am I even remembering all this now?"
***
On the other side of the world, in a bustling city filled with life. Inside a huge castle, in one of the rooms on the third floor was a young girl— a princess.
Her room felt moody— black-out curtains trimmed with dark burgundy velvet drape over tall arched windows. String lights shaped like tiny daggers or crescent moons run along the ceiling, casting a faint, warm glow that softens the dark color palette.
It's a place where royalty meets rebellion. Where eyeliner stains the same vanity as a royal crest. Where the princess doesn't wait for rescue — she sharpens her own sword.
"HAHAHA. I finally killed that bitch Val!" The young girl exited her VR pod as she yelled triumphantly.
At just ten years old, she already carried the kind of beauty that felt unreal. Her hair, a cascade of soft golden strands, shimmered like threads of sunlight— that perfect shade of liquid gold that caught the light with every slight movement. It framed her small face in loose, effortless waves, brushing gently against her shoulders.
Her eyes however, were what people noticed first— large, round, and golden. Her eyes weren't merely golden — they were celestial. They seemed almost alive, shifting with every emotion — from molten radiance to the soft fragments of dawn shimmered within her gaze.
'Oops! I forgot I'm back in the royal castle… not a battlefield anymore.' The young girl a few hours ago was in a harsh battlefield, her comrades bodies scattered around the land as a gods descended.
"So I really came in time! 10 years… this time I won't let anyone die." The girl whispered under her breath, her voice filled with determination.
"Now that I think about it, she should've also came back in time right! After all it was her gods power that made this possible!" The girl remembered her friend— no they weren't that close, her comrade that had fought beside her.
"Hmm at that point aren't we friends? I guess we just never got along because of our personalities. Well she was always too pure for me…"
Just as she was deep in thought her phone buzzed showing the caller id being her mom, she picked up with hesitation.
"Young lady! It's past midnight. Go to bed."
Click.
A voice yelled out from her phone not carrying any royal decorum, maybe even enhanced by mana as it seemed to echo through her room.
The girl quickly rushed over to her bathroom to clean her face and do her nightly routine. She stepped out a white silken nightgown, light and flowing, brushed just below her knees — simple yet impossibly delicate.
'From tomorrow I'll make a plan, I won't let anyone die this time!' The young princess's golden eyes glimmered as she made her declaration.
Her phone buzzed and a message popped up showing she wasn't alone in thinking this. This time things would be different.
A message lit up her mana-phone,
[Hey, we need to talk. - Sienna Frost]
The young girl, Celeste Indrath, simply responded
[Too many eyes. Let's meet in the Nullspace. - Celeste Indrath]
Celeste closed her eyes barely able to hold back the sleep.