9:00 PM.
Freyah stood at the edge of her bed, gazing down at her two best friends who slept soundly, their faces calm in the dim light.
**{Na: Monica Sanchez
Title: Business Owner
Skills:
Psychic Skill: rchant Tongue
Physical Skill: Locked
Soul Skill: Locked}**
**{Na: Gwenette Nolasco
Title: Secretary
Skills:
Psychic Skill: Eyes for Lies
Physical Skill: Locked
Soul Skill: Locked}**
Their first skills had already awakened.
In her past life, she never saw Monica and Gwenette again. She had searched. Desperately. But by the ti she was close to finding them, they were already gone.
The day the world collapsed—when chaos consud everything—she had been trapped inside her ho, helpless. A week later, the military ca. They took her to Fort Santiago, a place ant to be a sanctuary, but it fell apart within two days of her arrival.
The echoes of those days haunted her still—
The desperate screams.
The shattered screen of her phone.
The sll of blood and smoke thick in the air.
In the past, little was known about the virus, except for hushed rumors claiming it originated sowhere in the depths of the Pacific Ocean or the Antarctic regions. Then other says it was also a different virus that granted strange abilities. So believed a higher being—a god, perhaps, or sothing beyond comprehension—had grown bored and begun toying with the world. Others clung to the belief that humanity was being punished, condemned for the sins they had inflicted upon the earth.
"The condemnation of mankind's sins. Not the end of the world, but the end of humankind itself."
Flashes of chaotic mories surged through Freyah's mind. She let out a bitter chuckle. How ironic. If we were truly being punished, then why would they send back in ti?
'If I'm to change the future, I must uncover the truth—no matter the cost.'
---
anwhile...
Florence sat in a dimly lit room, the book Freyah had given him resting on his lap. Its pages were neatly printed and bound in a clear folder—an unfamiliar yet fascinating object. At first, he had marveled at the smooth texture of the paper and the slippery cover she called "plastic."
But now, all he felt was conflict.
The words on the page tore at him. Every detail of his life—every choice, every wound—captured as re words in this... novel.
Primrose Lady.
A work of fiction. And he was nothing more than a side character destined to play a role in its tragic conclusion.
Florence stared at the author's na: Murikawa, Ryuu.
Beside the book was another folder—this one holding a printed record of the author himself. A man in his fifties, dressed strangely in white cloth and blue pants, sitting with his knees tucked beneath him in a formal pose.
"There are cases like this," Freyah had told him earlier. "Perhaps your story was written first, and your world ca to life. Or maybe your world has always existed, and the author was simply able to capture it in writing. The truth is uncertain... but I won't let us die before we find it. This is just the first night. Rest after you finish reading."
Rest?
He closed the book with trembling hands. His voice barely a whisper.
"Then... the only light I've ever known... Kathleen... was she nothing more than a fragnt of imagination?"
Her voice echoed in his mind—so gentle, so full of warmth.
"You're Florence, right? Let's be friends! I'll introduce you to everyone!"
He pressed a hand to his chest, his heart aching. No. No, she was real. Whether written or not, those mories—her kindness—were real to . If Kathleen hadn't reached out that day, I would have remained in darkness forever.
His fingers curled into a fist, determination hardening in his eyes.
"Even if I'm just a character, it doesn't matter. I won't let anything stop from protecting her... even if it costs everything."
Florence stood, setting the handouts neatly on the table. I need to return. My disappearance must have already stirred chaos. I refuse to let all I've built fall apart.
Crossing the room, he knocked softly on the door where he had seen Freyah enter earlier. No response.
When he stepped inside, the only sight that greeted him was Monica and Gwenette, peacefully asleep. The window was open, curtains billowing from the cold wind outside.
His gaze shifted. Beyond the window was a small balcony with narrow stairs leading to the rooftop.
Without hesitation, he followed the path upward.
---
The night sky stretched endlessly above. A sea of stars blanketed the heavens, shimring with quiet brilliance.
And there she was.
Freyah stood near the edge of the roof, long brown hair dancing with the wind. Her arms were wrapped loosely around herself, as if trying to hold sothing fragile together.
The way her eyes traced the stars—so distant, so hauntingly sad—was a sight Florence recognized too well.
The woman who claims to have returned from the past... and I, a man whose fate was already determined from the start.
But there was no regret in his heart. Not anymore.
"You're here, your highness."
Her voice was soft, yet it cut through the silence with a strange clarity. She didn't even turn to look at him.
"I told you to rest. I'll stand guard tonight."
Florence didn't answer right away. He took a step closer, his gaze fixed on her.
"Did you lose everyone... in the past?"
The question hung between them, raw and unfiltered.
Freyah's lips parted slightly, surprised. But instead of answering, she offered a wistful smile, her gaze returning to the stars.
"What do you think, your highness?"
Silence.
Florence's voice dropped lower.
"You know everything about . Yet I know nothing about you."
She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head.
"That's funny. How could I possibly know everything about you from a book with only seventy pages? That's just one part of your life. The rest... I don't know. But if you'd like, I could start writing my story too. So when you return to your world, you can read it and treat as nothing more than another character in a novel."
He t her gaze, unwavering.
"I'm good."
Freyah's smile turned faint.
"Right. You're only interested in one person, after all."
Florence exhaled a quiet laugh, his expression softening.
"Is it that obvious? Still, it's a bit unfair... You know my important monts. The ones that shaped ."
Her eyes lifted back to the sky, a shadow passing over her face.
"Do they really matter? A few monts can't define your entire existence."
"But they do," he whispered. "She does. Kathleen is my entire existence. So yes, it matters."
And for the first ti, Freyah laughed—light, but filled with sothing bittersweet.
"Why are you laughing?" he asked, brows furrowed.
"You remind of soone," she murmured, her voice almost a whisper as she stared at the stars. "Soone who would sacrifice everything for love. I've heard words like yours before... from people who never returned."
Florence's smile faded.
"Are you... one of those people too?"
She nodded, finally eting his eyes.
"I was. Maybe that's why I laughed."
Florence remained silent, observing her carefully.
That look in her eyes—so broken, so close to shattering—felt painfully familiar.
He didn't press further.
Instead, he simply nodded. And together, they watched the stars, both holding secrets neither could yet share.
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