Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time Chapter 75 Montague & Capulet (7)

A few nights after the wedding...

Juliet awoke, her body drenched in a cold sweat that clung to her neck. Her breath ca in gasps, as if she had been running through the threshold between dreams and reality. Her fingers gripped the bedclothes tightly, as though holding on to prevent herself from falling into the abyss of darkness that lurked nearby. Her red eyes seed to signal her inner turmoil, but not from tears that flowed.

Because sothing had returned with her from the dream world, sothing she could not ignore.

She stood in the Capulet family garden, a place once filled with sweet mories, now resembling a ruined landscape that no longer recognized her. Thorny roses grew wild, fiercely climbing the castle walls, encircling her like bars of a prison. The sky was painted a blood-red, mirroring the darkness gnawing at her soul. And in the middle of the garden... stood a figure challenging her to face the truth: her mother.

Vivienne. But not the Vivienne she once knew.

Her face was filled with inverted glyphs, darkness enveloping her blue-white glowing eyes, like a crystal from a cursed mine. Juliet felt a fierce blend of fear and longing, two emotions battling within her heart.

"You have cast aside your na, Juliet." The voice cut through her soul like a sword, reminding her of the dual identity that bound her.

Juliet wanted to respond, but her voice was lost, drowned in a sea of helplessness. She yearned for the freedom she should have possessed, yet was locked within the blood ties that separated her from all the love she truly desired.

"You swore an oath, yet you never severed the blood." The words felt agonizing, as if they were haunting the uncertainty that had always burdened her mind. And from behind Vivienne's chest, small hands erged, the hands of children, of babies that were never born. Their faces were familiar—a mirror of the Capulet-Capulets who had perished in wars of mines and magic, shadows of a past she could not forget.

"We are the blood you have rejected. We are the legacy you burned for a fragile love." The phrase echoed in her mind, the bond between love and betrayal transforming into threads that continually entwined around her.

Juliet ran, but the garden transford into a mine, the stone walls echoing the whispers that troubled her soul, highlighting her uncertainties:

"Juliet Montague..."

"Traitor..."

"The girl who burned her mother's na..."

As she reached the end of the mine, she discovered the baby version of herself, half-buried in the earth, crying silently. On the baby's forehead, written in blood, were the words:

"The lost Capulet."

Juliet awoke.

The floor of the room was damp with water. But it was not ordinary water—mine water, that should not be here. Her hands trembled as if bearing the weight of a tangible burden pressing on her soul. And as she realized the glyphs on her skin, marriage glyphs, changed shape every night. Each night, they seed to reconstruct the fragile fabric of her identity. Outside the window, her mother's shadow occasionally appeared—motionless. Just watching. Waiting, as if preparing for an unspoken judgnt.

And that night, Juliet knew one thing:

"Betraying your family na does not an you are free from it. Sotis, that na will live in your blood— and it will seek to take over."

Juliet's body began to change after those nights filled with dreams. At first, it was rely an itch around her abdon, but then it transford into a pain akin to an old wound that had reopened. This sensation lured her thoughts, both calming and unsettling, creating a tension that rendered her unable to speak to anyone. Not even to Roo, who was her bridge to a warr yet fiery world. But every night, as the candlelight began to fade, sothing stirred beneath her skin.

One morning, she stood in front of the mirror and saw it:

A shadow of dark purple veins slithered from her solar plexus to her collarbone. It pulsed, as if reminding her of the pain that lay buried within. Sotis it whispered, speaking in the ancient language of the Capulets—a tongue long forgotten even by archivists, now a specter haunting her every step. In the mirror, she glimpsed two faces—one trapped in luxury and hope, the other struggling in shadows and betrayal.

"You are married, yet not re-baptized in our blood," the voice within her whispered, echoing like thunder in her divided soul.

That evening, Juliet discreetly approached Fitran.

She walked toward the edge of the temple ruins, a place where Fitran would sotis appear, where magic was not bound by ti. Each step felt like a burden, caught between her loyalty to her fractured family and her relentless desire. Juliet stood in silence, overshadowed by doubt. Fitran, seated on a broken pillar, opened his eyes as if he were reading the depths of her heart.

"Blood parasite," he said, without Juliet needing to utter a word, as if she had already murmured everything that lay dormant within her.

"The rejected magic of inheritance will seek another form—and you are being consud from within." His words struck like a dagger, cutting through the lines of her soul, revealing an inevitable worry.

Juliet nodded, a mix of fear and longing swirling in her chest. "Can you—?" Her voice was filled with hope yet tinged with despair.

Fitran stood up. In his hands, there was no weapon. No spell. Only naless light that erged from between his fingers, a radiance that made her feel even more vulnerable. The light was neither white nor dark. But clear, like sothing that had never touched reality, and she felt a pull from deep within her soul, caught between the worlds of Capulet and Montague.

"I can purify you. But it will change sothing deeper than your body."

"What?"

"The very aning of love itself." Fitran's voice echoed in her mind, challenging her existence.

Juliet stared at him, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, waiting for an answer that remained unspoken. "Do it."

The purification began beneath the ancient ruins.

Fitran painted ancient glyphs in the air—glyphs that had never been taught at Arkanum Veritas. The atmosphere grew heavy, as if the world around her was pressing down, demanding Juliet to choose; who would she beco? The walls seed to breathe. And from Juliet's body, the parasite erged.

Not a creature. Not a shadow, but the shadow of what she was ant to show: a love torn between blood and will.

But it was her own form, wrestling in the darkness. The image of Juliet, yet with Vivienne's eyes, filled with hatred. The voices of a cursed generation, as if peeling away her self-confidence. In her heart, Juliet felt a true battle between two identities—the esteed Capulet and the castaway Montague.

The parasite spoke:

"Love ans nothing without blood. Your sacrifice is in vain. You will be forgotten, Juliet. The Montagues will leave you behind."

Juliet wanted to retreat, but the bond between her body and soul pressed down harder, deepening her resentnt. Nevertheless, Fitran held her arm, as if unifying the fragnted sides of her being.

"If you listen to the parasite for too long, it will beco your curse."

Then, Fitran released his magic, lifting the weight that had shackled her soul.

A pure light—naless, without history. This light was the hidden hope within Juliet, shining even amidst the darkness of her doubts. It entered her body, tracing through her veins, sweeping away the remnants of the curse's glyph, the storm of conflict in her heart.

The parasite's screams shook the ground, but the voice within her heart shouted louder, challenging the fear of losing her identity. Yet, she couldn't fight back.

And in an instant, Juliet was cleansed, her soul reborn without burdens.

But...

As she opened her eyes, Roo didn't embrace her as he had before. He no longer looked at her with the sa breath. Sothing had changed; it felt as if a part of her had broken free, filled with bitterness and a biting longing. Juliet found herself teetering on the brink of two worlds—Capulet and Montague—struggling between the identity that felt trapped and the hope that burned bright.

Not about Roo. But within herself.

The love she once fought for now felt... empty, like a sacred room devoid of life inside her heart, full of shadows from the past. Pure, yet no longer warm. It was as if each passing second only added to the chain of solitude that gripped her soul," she thought, recalling the noise of the life that once surrounded her.

And that night, Fitran whispered from behind the shadows:

"You have been freed from the blood of Capulet. But a part of you that loves Roo... lives in that blood."

Juliet sat alone on the high balcony, her eyes fixed on the Montague garden, where Roo's joy felt like cruel irony. Below, Roo spoke with the elders, sharing small laughs; yet that laughter echoed within her heart like the voice of a ghost. The evening light fell upon her face, creating an image so beautiful, but for Juliet, that beauty felt like an illusion, just out of reach.

Yet, Juliet felt nothing; her heart trembled in silence, torn between love and loss, between newfound freedom and uncertainty. How much longer could she endure these two opposing identities? In the stillness of the night, she realized that a sincere heart had beco an unbearable burden.

It wasn't because Roo had changed. Rather, it was her own purity that rendered her unable to love.

Courage, she recognized, was not rely about purity. It required wounds. It needed vibrations. It required the little darkness that binds feeling. Within her soul, unrest bubbled; two identities fought within her—one Capulet, bound by honor, and one Montague, longing for the freedom of the heart. Amidst the shadows of revenge and hope, she felt torn apart. That feeling had been erased in Fitran's purification, leaving behind a biting emptiness.

That night, as the dark sky enveloped her world, Juliet returned to the place of purification. Yet, the temple stood empty, its stone walls seemingly harboring long-hidden secrets. Only the shadows of glyphs remained, dry and desolate, much like her heart, struggling against the emptiness.

"I know you're here," she said, her voice trembling in the void. "And I know what you keep." Caught between hope and fear, she challenged the darkness that threatened to consu her soul.

Shadows shifted, and as they danced in the dim light, Fitran erged—not from light itself, but from the reflection in the water that mirrored all her doubts and sorrows.

"Do you wish for that parasite to return?"

"Just a little," Juliet whispered, as if seeking a glimr of light in the darkness. "Only enough... so that I can love him like I used to, even though my heart is torn between two families."

Fitran gazed at her for a long mont, as if weighing courage against madness. In that look, Juliet felt the heavy burden of her identity—a Capulet bound by a thousand hopes, and a Montague ablaze with transgression.

"Once you allow that parasite back in, it will live with you. You cannot purify it a second ti without losing sothing greater."

"What could be greater than love?"

"...Yourself."

The second ritual was perford in silence. There was no light. No incantation. Only blood. Juliet pricked her finger, her Capulet blood falling to the stone ground—a sign of betrayal, yet also an eternal bond. Beneath it, a hidden glyph revealed itself—the glyph of ancestral magic, not academic sorcery. In that mont, Juliet felt trapped in a web of chaos of her own making.

"I don't want the entire legacy... just the remnants." In her voice lay a deep longing, a small light amidst the darkness of her soul.

"You're asking for magic that has never been created," Fitran murmured, as if reading the inner turmoil raging in Juliet's heart.

"Then create it with ."

And there, they forged new magic—a semi-parasitic bond, an emotional connection that tied Juliet to Roo... with a small wound within. This wound was bloodless, yet it felt as if it tore at her heart, signaling a fragnted identity. Within her, it seed as though two souls were struggling for dominance over a single body.

The wound is not bleeding, yet it is felt deeply. In every corner of her heart, Juliet experiences a turbulence between pure love and the guilt that binds her.

After that...

Juliet returns to the Montague ho, walking between two worlds, feeling the whisper of love and sorrow.

Roo touches her face as he usually does. But this ti, Juliet smiles. Her smile shines brightly, though not entirely whole, bringing tears that stem not from sadness, but from longing. In her heart, she battles within herself, letting go of Capulet to fight for Montague.

"Love has returned.

But behind it, the parasite breathes. Slowly. Faithfully.

Not as an enemy, but as a witness to the love that is fought for." Her heart's voice trembles, caught between hope and disappointnt, adding a deeper emotional layer to their love story.

From a distance, Fitran etched that new magic into his mory— magic called: "Blooded Affection", a magic that could only be forged by those willing to sacrifice innocence for intimacy. Behind this magic lay his heart racing between the two sides of his life, the Montague and the Capulet, vibrating within the shattered window of his soul. Each mory of her smile illustrated two opposing worlds, perpetually drawn to each other. In a restless harmony, desire and fear intertwined, carving a profound longing into his being. Every heartbeat was a call demanding: where does true identity reside? In those quiet monts, he felt that each step toward intimacy was not just a sacrifice but also a surrender filled with pain. The parasite in his soul gnawed at him, as if demanding purification from the penetrating feelings, rendering him powerless yet full of hope.