Chapter 2: A Life That Does Not Belong
The nameless monarch raised his hand.
"I will not explain it," he said calmly. "I will show it."
At his will, the dream unfolded before the Goddess of Dreams.
A road appeared—wide, crowded, alive with light and motion. Countless vehicles moved without order, yet without chaos. The world felt unfamiliar, governed by laws unknown to his kingdom.
At the center of it all was a machine of dark metal, moving faster than reason allowed. A man rode it with reckless ease, cutting through the road as though nothing else existed.
The monarch's gaze hardened.
The rider was him.
Moments later, another vehicle appeared beside the first—steady, controlled. The monarch froze.
That man was also him.
Before any question could be asked, the dream continued.
A woman sat behind the second rider.
Her arms rested gently around his waist. Bangles on her wrist touched one another with a soft, almost musical sound. The wind moved her earrings, her forehead resting against his back as if it were the most natural place in the world.
The monarch watched in silence.
The machine slowed and came to a stop. The woman stepped down. She wore no footwear.
The rider turned instantly, concern overtaking speed. Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into a small house nearby—plain, unfamiliar, yet warm.
He placed her carefully on a bed, knelt before her, and held her foot as though it were something fragile.
"You're my life," the man said quietly. "You're my soul. I don't want you hurt. Anywhere."
The woman embraced him. Her touch was gentle. Certain. Real.
The dream did not fade.
The Goddess of Dreams said nothing.
She could not.
This was not illusion.
Not desire.
Not fantasy.
It was a memory.
And it did not belong to this world.