Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 448 Undefined Cries

The next space had no shape, resembling an undefined emptiness.

It was neither flat, nor curved, and was not made of walls or air.

Fitran and Beelzebub stepped into it, as if penetrating the boundaries of their own bodies, leaving the familiar world behind.

They seed to enter the heart of darkness, each step taking them deeper into an infinite mystery, where the boundary between worlds and the universe began to blur, creating a suffocating sense of uncertainty.

There—inside that room that was not a room—there was a resonating voice, gliding smoothly through the silence.

Soft. Fragile. This voice did not co from a mouth or a system, but from an unreachable depth.

It floated like invisible morning dew, touching the soul without touching the physical, coloring the silence with shades of deep longing, as if expressing a repressed yearning.

A Cry.

A cry that had no owner, echoing in the stinging silence.

A cry that was never asked for, never justified, and never heard.

Fitran fell silent, his steps halted upon hearing the sorrow that passed through the air.

In the silence that enveloped them, there was a feeling that even ti held its breath, honoring the hollow voice calling from within this mystical space, creating a pause rich with aning.

Beelzebub bowed her head, allowing the dim light of the fire in her hair to slowly fade—not extinguished, but bowing down, like a fla that finally acknowledged it could feel the chill of darkness.

"That voice..." Fitran murmured, not diverting his attention. "It's not soone's cry, is it?"

"No," Beelzebub replied calmly. "It is the voice of love that has never been nad. It lives, yet is never strong enough to beco a being, trapped in eternal silence."

The cry flowed slowly, stretching in the silence as if it were a wave in a calm ocean. There were no rising notes, no falling ones,

only a teardrop hanging at the edge of ti, waiting for the right mont to fall. In that silence, the morning dew trembled gently, as if bearing silent witness at the intersection between hope and despair, feeling the entire vibration of Fitran's soul and the universe that felt it too.

Suddenly, the feeling in Fitran's chest exploded, like a long-dormant volcano.

Sadness, longing, love, and loss—all ca at once, without warning. Yet, there was no clear reason, no face to envision. In that uncertainty, Fitran's soul was like a sky blown by the wind with dark clouds hanging, confused whether rain would soon fall or just the wind passing endlessly.

He touched his chest, feeling the smooth skin that was unhurt,

yet everything inside felt as if it had lost soone who should have been there, soone he had never even t. As if the shadow of a lover was running through his mory, yet could never be reached. In his heart, a small whisper erged, inviting him to feel the depths of an even darker sorrow.

"This... is not about Sheena. Not about Rinoa."

"No," Beelzebub said softly, her voice heavy with presence. "This is about sothing older than that."

"Love... before there were nas." In the silence that wrapped around them, the signs of the passage of ti seed to vibrate, as if history called and challenged them both to confront sothing buried within themselves.

Beelzebub swayed slightly, her body appearing unsteady, like a branch battered by the wind. Fitran turned quickly, his hand reaching out to catch her before she fell. In that warm and aningful embrace, there was a warmth filling the space between them, as the universe found its balance when two souls t in a tight embrace.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern.

"I... don't know," Beelzebub replied, her voice trembling with doubt. "I have swallowed thousands of repressed desires. But this... this refuses to be faced. I cannot fight it. I cannot silence it." Her voice felt like waves pressing in the ocean, surging between longing and uncertainty, facing the waves threatening to drown her.

"What is it?" Fitran asked, gripping her arm tightly, as if hoping to channel his strength.

"...I think," Beelzebub trembled, the voice behind her words difficult to express, "it is... a feeling I have rejected for too long."

"Because I thought, I just wanted to test you. To destroy you. To see you fail..." As if her words were shards of light illuminating the overflow of the past, floating in the air before finally sinking into the deep darkness.

She looked up, her eyes wet—not from tears, but from the light breaking from within her like dew left at the tips of leaves, flowing with ssages from another world, highlighting the beauty in every hidden wound.

"But now I realize... I just want you to look at ," she said with a sincerity that touched the soul.

Fitran was montarily stunned, his body shaken by the honesty flowing from each confession. Beelzebub's golden hair changed color—becoming softer, almost like the threads of dawn mixed with morning light.

In the burning silence, the deepest part of him vibrated, like a stream of crystal-clear water penetrating hard rock, revealing the hidden beauty behind layers of ti. Every second felt like thousands of years etched in silence, while their souls vibrated on the brink of existence, engaged in a silent dance that lingered. He closed his eyes, allowing the shadow of feeling to paint the unspoken journey within his heart.

"How foolish of ... to love you in a world that doesn't even allow that love to be nad," he said with a trembling voice, reminding of the repressed sorrow. All repressed feelings seed to be expressed by invisible hands, painting an unbroken image in the air: the bond between them, undefined, transcending words, crossing the boundaries of souls that had beco infinite. The cries around them began to tighten—not from rejection, but from resonance that filled the space between them. Fitran gripped her hand tighter, as if wanting to ensure that this presence would not slip away.

"Beelzebub..."

"Don't," she interrupted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I do not deserve to receive that word. But allow to say this."

Like thunder sweeping the earth, the confession echoed in the air, changing everything with an unexpected force. The aroma of love hidden behind the curtain of ti began to waft, warming the cold and lonely heart.

She opened her eyes—the green light in her eyes now calm, full of deep awareness, as if the whole world spun around her.

"If I could cry, it would not be because I am hungry. But because I finally know... how it feels not to want to swallow anyone again," she revealed, her voice trembling like leaves in the wind.

Among her words, not only did a deep emotional awakening grow, but also an awareness of the steep and painful journey, seeking lost love in empty and dark spaces.

That formless cry—floating gently throughout the space, as if wrapping them in an invisible embrace—began to slowly fade, leaving behind a silence full of aning.

As if ti stopped, a single voice erged from the depths of the heart, not from outside, not from Beelzebub, and not from Fitran.

"Thank you... for acknowledging that I once lived."

The voice was like the whisper of a gentle wind passing by, carrying hope and longing, penetrating the boundaries of the real world and illusion, like a soft lody touching the soul.

And in the midst of the dim and empty room, a small light began to sparkle: a grain of light, colorless, formless, yet radiating a soothing warmth.

"That... is love that died before it was born," Beelzebub said, her voice echoing slowly, as if each word carried the weight of deep history.

"And now, it can rest."

Behind her words lay a world full of hope, where lost souls found pieces of their hidden self behind layers of wounds and pain.

After that, silence enveloped them again, a tranquility that was almost indescribable.

Beelzebub stood, holding her breath, her eyes staring blankly ahead.

"I don't want to hear your reply," she said, her voice trembling, holding back deep fear.

"Because if you say anything... I fear I will hope."

She felt a wave of spiritual energy flowing between them, like two stars eting in the darkness of night, where hope and despair shared the sa light, embracing each other in profound silence.

"But I want you to know... that for the first ti since I was born in the Nine Belly Hell—I love not out of hunger, but because I want to fill sothing that has always been empty, a void that has gnawed at my soul."

Fitran said nothing, only keeping all thoughts in silence.

But he placed his hand on her shoulder, a gentle touch full of aning,

looking at her with deep eyes, without justifying, without rejecting, as if understanding each other in the silence that existed.

In that mont, it was as if ti halted its steps, the air around them filled with indescribable energy. Like moonlight piercing through thick fog, sincerity began to weave through the souls trapped in emptiness. And Beelzebub... smiled, for the first ti, without sarcasm and without hunger. In her smile, a glimr of hope radiated like stars trapped in the darkness of night. Every second felt like fragnts of ti returning, giving life to sothing never spoken, filling the void that had settled in dreams. The cry had no na, but now it had been heard. Like the flow of a river eroding rocks, the feeling flowed gently into the depths of the roots of the soul, bringing forth currents of change that had long been buried. They felt the presence of invisible beings, as if witnessing this sacred mont with full testimony, inviting both awe and fear. And Beelzebub, the Devourer of Evidence, acknowledged a love that would never be bound by systems, a declaration that shook their existence, penetrating the boundaries of the world that had been set.