Theo returned to his room and cried for a long time. He tried to hold back his sobs, clenching his teeth, but the deep cries still broke through, filling him with grief.

It wasn’t until the room was enveloped in the deepening shadows of the sunset that his tears finally stopped. He lay sprawled on the bed like a lifeless body, staring blankly at the ceiling.

A nurse came in to bring his supper. Seeing Theo’s disheveled state, she hesitated before quietly leaving the tray and slipping back out.

Had Yuel left? He wanted to ask, but deep down he knew he couldn’t, and he didn’t need an answer.

He had no appetite, so he skipped dinner.

When the nurse came in to check his medication, Theo slowly got out of bed and picked up the pills with mechanical movements. Tonight it seemed the only option was to take the medicine and try to sleep. Getting through the night seemed impossible without it.

“Um, wait a moment, Lord Alexia,” the nurse said, stopping him just as he was about to swallow the pills without a second thought. Her face was filled with pity.

On any other day, Theo would have frowned at such empty sympathy, but today everything felt too exhausting to react. He looked at her with a blank stare as she glanced nervously towards the door. The guard stationed there was dozing off, oblivious and indifferent.

The nurse came closer and put something in Theo’s hand.

“The doctor has left a letter for you. Honestly, it’s against the rules, but…”

As soon as she said that, Theo reflexively clenched the paper in his hand. The crumpled note prickled against his palm.

The ‘doctor’ the nurse had mentioned – it had to be Yuel, right?

“I know you seek the doctor’s forgiveness.”

There was a note of encouragement in the nurse’s whispered words.

After she left the room, Theo remained sitting on the bed in a daze, holding the crumpled paper in his hand. He was afraid that if he opened his hand, Yuel’s message would disappear and all of this would become nothing more than his imagination.

After what seemed like a long time, he slowly opened the paper.

His hands trembled with tension.

<February 13th, 1613. Asta Harbour. 6 p.m.>

The letter contained a simple message.

One line, written in neat and orderly handwriting.

February 13, 1613.

Theo rolled the date around in his mouth.

1613 – that was four years from now. Enough time for Theo to finish his treatment and leave the hospital.

As he traced the date, *February 13th*, his fingers trembled and he couldn’t hold back the tears that began to flow.

That day had once been a beacon of happiness, the day Theo and Yuel had decided to love each other – to be together. It was the day he had confessed his feelings and she had accepted it. It was the beginning of everything that followed.

Now it felt like a day marked by regret, a memory tainted by pain. Theo had often thought of it as the beginning of Yuel’s suffering, the day she once admitted to ‘regretting’.

But despite all that had happened, Yuel gave him a second chance. A chance to rewrite that day and maybe, just maybe, heal the wounds of the past.

***

Yuel Estin

“My heart feels fine. It may even be stronger than before. I know it’s hard to believe, Doctor… but we exposed the worst parts of ourselves to each other, and I was completely shattered, reduced to ruins. But now I’m rebuilding, bit by bit, on those ruins. The heart is a strange thing. I thought mine was dead, beyond redemption. But somehow new life has sprouted, and I find myself looking forward to the next step.”

Leoton looked at me through the glasses he only wore when he was working. His eyes were a mixture of sympathy, pride, concern, and encouragement.

In response to his silent support, I smiled at him. It wasn’t perfect, but this time it was genuine.

It had been three years since that cold, beautiful winter day when I had visited Theo.

I needed a lot of time. To cultivate the barren ruins, to plant hope, to nurture forgiveness, and to water the parched love.

During this long period, I did not see Theo again.

And Theo did not come to see me.

I knew that Theo had been discharged from hospital a year ago. His hard work and quiet compliance with treatment got him out early and without complications.

We were still struggling to rebuild trust. When we first broke up after four years together, I held on to my faith in him. I believed that one day we would find our way back together. I didn’t know how long we’d be apart, nor did I have any certainty, but I trusted that our love wouldn’t just fade away.

But Theo didn’t share this faith. The fear that I might leave him forever consumed him, filling him with fear, anger, and pain. He became obsessed, unstable, and ultimately cruel. In his desperation, he chose to become the very monster he feared.

Now was the time to believe. Time to hold on and wait for spring. After the long, cold winter, we waited for the moment to bloom.

“Doctor, the sequel to *Psychology of the Self* has been praised for its deeper exploration of the subject, offering sharp, practical insights into human psychology. Could you share your intentions behind writing it, and your thoughts now that it’s been published?”

I met the reporter’s gaze and remembered the whirlwind of emotions I had experienced while writing the sequel. It had been a journey of revisiting wounds and revelations, confronting both past pain and growth. But now, watching the reception, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of fulfillment and determination.

“Since ancient times, the concept of the self has been the subject of scholarly debate because of its complexity. There’s a long-standing divide between those who argue for the mental substantiality of the self and empiricists who focus on sensory diversity. In this thesis, however, I wanted to move away from this dichotomy and approach the issue from an anthropological perspective.

I aimed to explore the series of processes through which we truly come to understand ourselves – specifically through ‘the relationship between you and me’ and ‘encounters and responses with the other’. I believe that this discovery is not unique to me. Unlike when we are isolated, when we truly face another person in their full reality, we undergo a transformative experience that redefines our understanding of ourselves.”

“We face primal impulses and at the same time generate new energies that transcend those impulses, allowing us to enter a new world and discover a ‘new self’. It’s a powerful experience – undeniable and irrefutable. It takes us to another dimension of existence. And it’s in those moments when we are so ‘stripped bare’ that we can truly confront ourselves,” I explained.

Theo and I had collided in such a primal way. It was intense, creating a constant surge of powerful emotions and energy. I couldn’t control my feelings – I was guided by instinct, swayed by the raw power of it all.

But amidst the chaos, I came to a realization: his soul and mine were in a constant, endless state of collision and connection. It was through this process that I met my ‘true self’. It was a revelation born not of calm introspection but of the raw, unfiltered clash of our realities.

I still loved him. Inevitably. Unavoidably.

So deeply, so desperately.

He was determined to show me through his actions that he had changed, and there was no doubt about it.

Every time I heard news of Theo, I was surprised that I still wanted to see him.

***

Theo Blaine

I decided not to stay in Arkel.

As soon as my discharge was confirmed, I contacted Rophel. If I stayed in Arkel, I knew, almost without realizing it, that I wouldn’t be able to resist going to Yuel.

I had to honor the deadline Yuel had set. My promise to her was now my lifeline, the only hope that kept me going.

“13th February 1613.”

It wasn’t just a date – it was a single, crucial day. A day when a new life would be given to someone who was, in many ways, already dead.

“Where are you going?”

Rophel asked when we met, his voice calm and nonjudgmental. After years of not seeing each other, he didn’t push for answers or explanations.

“Goldrain.”

I replied. It was the only place I could find the distance and clarity I needed to endure until that fateful day.

He merely raised his eyebrows slightly at my simple answer.

Returning to Goldrain after years, I tore down the beautiful yet hideous mansion.

I watched every detail as the great castle that had come to resemble my overwhelming desires crumbled.

I buried my mother’s grief, her longing, and all her deep-seated resentments.

I knew that her intense emotions flowed through my twisted heart. I knew that Brian’s grief and madness were binding me as well. I poured it all out, leaving nothing behind.

I donated all of Brian’s paintings to a museum, leaving nothing behind.

Now, I continued the work of cleansing myself from the lingering shadows of my mother and Brian. I once believed that love was fragile, and that belief had led to their love being disrupted and ultimately destroyed.

I had feared the same fate for the deep emotions flowing between Yuel and me. It was this obsessive, paranoid desire to preserve our bond that drove me to extreme lengths. But in hindsight, I saw how foolish and futile that obsession had been.

Yuel was never fragile—she was stronger than anyone I had ever known. No matter the circumstances, she never yielded.

With that realization, I made a choice. I demolished the basement where I had once imprisoned Yuel, erasing all traces of the mansion that had kept her bound. In its place, I rebuilt a modest house, modeled after Brian’s first home—a simple, single-story dwelling. I recreated it as it was in its pure and beautiful state before Seyon’s madness twisted and tore it apart before destruction consumed everything.

It was an attempt to restore what had once been whole, to create a place that embodied purity and resilience, a reflection of the strength Yuel had shown me.

And so, I began rebuilding my heart, tearing down the twisted parts and reconstructing it piece by piece. The obsessed, mad monster within me—I tightly restrained it. Cane, Noel, and I took turns keeping that monster in check. The thought of Yuel acted as a firm leash, making the task less daunting.

The madman who was once dragged helplessly by his uncontrollable inner beast was slowly fading away.

I wanted to see Yuel hundreds of times a day. I missed her scent, and her laughter lingered vividly in my mind. But I held myself back, desperately.

Whenever the longing felt unbearable, threatening to drive me mad, I worked. I focused on dismantling my past and uprooting the legacy of sin.

I took the lead in abolishing the s*x slave system—one of Seyon’s deeply ingrained evils. I wasn’t a saint, and I didn’t do it for redemption. But I wanted to atone, to contribute to rebuilding a world that wasn’t built on cruelty and despair.

It wasn’t just about changing Seyon; it was about changing myself—stripping away everything that had distorted me and finding the strength to start anew.

I was just a petty, cowardly child at heart. I wanted Yuel to notice me, even from a distance. I craved her recognition, desperately yearning to be seen in a good light by the Yuel who had given me one last chance. I wanted her to acknowledge my efforts, to praise me for trying to change.

So, I pushed myself even harder.

I completely abolished the s*x slave market and launched a large-scale healthcare initiative. I created new jobs for the displaced women and found new opportunities for the brothel owners who had been left with nothing. It was far from easy.

Eradicating a deeply entrenched evil that had existed for centuries felt almost impossible. Even with Rophel and Fiorne’s support, the old powers within Seyon remained strong. And I was no longer the leader—I had stepped down.

The titles of “Blood of Seion Alexia” and “Innate Magical Power,” combined with Rophel’s support as the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief, made gradual reform possible. With these assets, I began to chip away at the ancient structures that had governed Seyon for so long.

I worked relentlessly, day and night. The constant work provided a temporary relief from the suffocating longing within me, allowing me to escape—if only for a moment. I would collapse into sleep, drained from the exhaustion, and then repeat it all again. One day after another, I struggled to reclaim my humanity, driven by the desire to get closer to Yuel.

Before I knew it, the four-year period was fast approaching. What once felt like a distant, dreamy day was now just around the corner.

I was facing the last winter. The final stretch before I could face Yuel again, not as the shattered remnants of a man, but as someone who had worked tirelessly to be worthy of the second chance she had given me.

Seyon’s winter wasn’t as harsh as Arkel’s. It merely meant the oppressive heat would lessen, leaving the weather slightly cool. But Arkel—Arkel would be bitterly cold, with snow falling heavily and blanketing everything in white. Yuel would likely call it beautiful. She enjoyed warm drinks, so I imagined her sitting by a fireplace, a book in hand, sipping something that suited her taste. Every so often, she’d glance out at the snowy landscape with a contented smile.

I missed her so much.

Even when looking at someone as despicable as me, she always said I was beautiful, that I was handsome. Before meeting her, I had never once thought of myself in that way. Quite the opposite—I saw myself as dirty, ugly, marked by the blood of unforgivable sins. My life was driven by self-loathing, fueled by a single purpose: to bring down the Seyon Alexia royal family.

The creations she saw through her eyes were always reborn with beauty. In that way, Yuel became my second creator.