Before she could process what he meant, Robellia’s body was lifted into the air. Akan pushed her gently into the blanket and climbed back over her.

Before Robellia could fully comprehend the situation, her legs were spread again. The rounded tip of his p*nis, now slick with their combined fluids, pressed against her entrance and slid back inside.

“Wait, hngh, w-wait, Akan…!”

At Robellia’s urgent cry, Akan stopped, his p*nis resting awkwardly just inside her entrance. She hadn’t really expected him to stop, and now she could only blink in silent surprise.

Was it the angle of the light behind him? Akan’s eyes seemed to glow with a strange sheen as he looked down at her. His expression was calm, as if ready to retreat at the slightest sign of resistance, but Robellia knew she couldn’t push him away – just as she couldn’t bring herself to hate him.

But in truth, it was all just an excuse. She rationalised her own desires, telling herself that it was all right to be selfish just this once, as it would be the first and last time. Swallowing back the tears that threatened to rise, Robellia offered a small, bittersweet smile instead.

“Start with a kiss…”

A light, feathery kiss quickly deepened. As their lips melded, the tension eased and the p*nis that had been poised at her entrance slid gently inside. In the fleeting, bittersweet ecstasy, there was nothing but the two of them, bound by a bond that could never last.

If there is a next life, I hope we’re born as a pair of b*asts. Then all we would have to do is eat our fill, mate and raise our offspring, and never have to worry about anything else.

If this desire were too much, it would still be enough to be two trees sprouting side by side. He would intertwine his roots with hers and stretch his branches towards her instead of the sun.

A prayer, indistinguishable as belonging to either of them, lingered throughout the night.

Where the intense heat had faded, a gentle warmth remained.

The candle was long gone, but the room wasn’t completely dark. The curtains were open and the slowly rising sun outside the window began to chase away the darkness. The moment of Robellia’s departure was approaching, drawing nearer with each passing second.

With her ear pressed to Akan’s chest, Robellia listened to the steady beating of his heart, using the sound to calm her troubled thoughts. To steady her wavering resolve, she traced her fingers over the scars on his skin.

To say she wasn’t afraid would have been a lie. But this time she knew she had to give Akan his life back – a real life. Swallowing the lingering regret that still clung to her, Robellia slipped gently from Akan’s embrace.

“Akan…”

“Get some sleep.”

Akan’s fingers trailed slowly along Robellia’s ribs, just below the skin. He thought for a moment that he hoped she would put on some weight once she left this place, but he dismissed the thought just as quickly. It was an inappropriate, clumsy sort of worry.

“I have a question.”

Robellia said, her voice trembling at the edges. She suppressed a rising lump in her throat and masked her tension, though to Akan it might have sounded more like the breathless aftermath of exertion. She forced a smile, trying to appear as natural as possible.

“…Ask.”

Akan replied, his voice low and heavy with exhaustion. It wasn’t surprising – Robellia couldn’t count how many times he had let her down. Her stomach felt full and her pelvis, stretched so far for so long, now ached slightly, though she was otherwise unharmed.

Looking down, she caught sight of his still semi-*rect p*nis. Even in the past, when he had been rough and relentless, she had noticed it, but to see it *rect again now was both astonishing and a little frightening.

“Akan… don’t you… hate me? Be honest with me.”

“I… don’t know.”

Despite Akan’s inadequate answer, Robellia wasn’t disappointed. If their roles were reversed, she knew she would have given the same answer.

They were undeniably special to each other. But to say that this ‘specialness’ was inherently positive wouldn’t be entirely true. A single flower surviving in a barren desert might seem extraordinary, but it could very well be carrying a deadly poison.

“That’s OK. Honestly, it doesn’t matter either way.”

Still, Robellia had to ask. Because this sad cycle of longing and hurting each other had to end.

“Akan, I need to ask you a favour.”

“What is it?”

Robellia’s fingertips brushed gently over Akan’s half-closed eyes. She hoped that one day, even if his wounded body and soul could never fully heal, the light would return to those once-bright eyes. Even if she wasn’t there to see it.

“Kill me.”

Robellia made her chilling request with an incongruous, radiant smile. It was the same clear and bright smile she had as a child, and for a brief moment Akan’s mind struggled to process the words he had just heard.

Seeing the unguarded expression on Akan’s face, Robellia felt a twinge of bitterness. Perhaps Akan, despite his cruel actions, didn’t really hate the ‘current Robellia’ as much as she had assumed. Or perhaps he cared for the ‘past Robellia’ more than she realised. Either way, she knew that her choice would cause him pain, and that knowledge made her heart ache. From beginning to end, all she had done was hurt him.

“Akan, you understand, don’t you? To tell someone to just go on living… that’s something only those who aren’t directly involved can say.”

Robellia spoke with half-hearted sincerity. Even as she acknowledged her feelings for Akan, or perhaps because of them, the painful memories had become unbearable.

She could even understand Akan’s actions – killing her father and brothers might have been justified revenge if it had been for their sins alone. But they hadn’t died for their crimes. They had been nothing more than tools in a calculated effort to hurt Robellia. That truth was harder to forgive than their deaths.

The wounds Akan had inflicted on Robellia still lingered. Though her body had almost fully recovered, the nightmare days continued to haunt her. They came alive every night as real nightmares, and sometimes they even struck her unexpectedly during the day.

“If you can forgive me, then grant me this request. And if you can’t… then finish your revenge, finish the revenge for your father.”

Robellia filled the rest of her plea with a half-truth. She genuinely wanted Akan’s revenge to end, not because she wanted him to be punished, but because she hoped he could leave behind a life consumed by hatred and find a new path.

Everything she said and did was for one purpose: to bring Akan back to his true life. Though he had risen in status and acquired great wealth, he hadn’t been saved. Her final task was to help the man, trapped in a cycle of bitterness and pain, to escape.

After a long silence, Akan finally spoke, his voice strained.

“…Since when?”

Robellia knew what he was asking. He wanted to know when she had come to her senses – when she had fully recovered her memory.

Akan’s gaze, devoid of any warmth, pierced her. His eyes, cold and unfeeling, held a mixture of anger and resentment at having been betrayed.

Robellia exhaled softly, her breath barely audible. No matter what Akan thought, she hadn’t meant to deceive him. In truth, her shattered mind had often left her trapped in fragmented memories, struggling to separate reality from illusion. Even now, she couldn’t quite convince herself that this moment was real.

“Did you really not know? You did, didn’t you…?”

It was Akan’s turn to be silent. He was confused, unable to reconcile the two images of Robellia in his mind. The Robellia who clung to him, claiming to have lost all her painful memories, and the Robellia now, who said she remembered everything.

When had it started? Where had the truth begun to blur? Or perhaps… had Robellia ever really lost her memories?

Akan’s thoughts may have shifted, but the Robellia before him remained simply Robellia. Perhaps he had seen only what he wanted to see, heard only what he wanted to hear, deceiving and convincing himself all along. After all, if he had really seen Robellia as a child, he would never have spent the night with her.

“I… I…”

Akan’s wavering eyes, unable to hide his confusion, hurt Robellia deeply. Hurting others without blame didn’t heal one’s own wounds – it just left more scars.

Gently, Robellia reached out and brushed her fingertips across Akan’s cheek. He did not push her away or move to stop her, just let her touch him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have saved you…”

Robellia had regretted it endlessly. It wasn’t selflessness – it was arrogance. Forcing Akan to live had not saved him; it had condemned him to a living hell. The bright boy who belonged in a heaven of his own had been kept alive only to be condemned to torment. If she really wanted to atone, perhaps she should have died with him.