Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 124: When Gods Call It Mercy

[Leif’s POV — The White Realm—Continuation]

For a heartbeat, she didn’t answer.

Her eyes, green and calm, held mine in a silence that felt too deliberate—like the world itself was waiting for her permission to breathe.

Then she smiled. Slow. Familiar. Terrifying.

"Who am I?" she repeated softly, as if testing the words. "My child, you’ve known since the day your heart first began to rember."

I frowned. "That’s not an answer."

"It is," she said simply, walking closer—her bare feet never touching the ground. The air shimred where she moved, and the light bent around her like it wanted to worship her. "You just don’t understand it yet."

"I’m not here for riddles." My voice cracked through the stillness, too loud, too human again. "I want the truth. No more half answers."

She stopped a few steps away. The faint lavender scent curled around —comforting, but wrong. Like a childhood mory that didn’t belong to .

"Truth," she murmured. "You say that as if it’s sothing you can bear."

"I can." My voice didn’t even sound like mine—too thin, too human, echoing off nothing. "Just tell ."

She smiled—that slow, ancient kind of smile that looked gentle but carried centuries of storms behind it.

"I am soone who created this world, child."

I blinked. "Created... this world?"

Her green eyes glead with amusent. "Yes."

My stomach dropped. "Wait—created as in—"

"God?" she supplied, chuckling lightly. "Well... that’s what humans decided to call ."

. . .

. . .

So—God. I’m talking to God?

I rubbed my temples. "Do I... bow or sothing? Kneel? Offer a prayer? Maybe light a candle—?"

She chuckled, the sound warm but almost mocking. "Oh, no, child. I’m rely a god... from another dinsion."

. . .

I blinked once. Twice. "I... see."

The realization settled like ice down my spine. So this world—everything—was her creation.And I’d just been talking back to the one who built it.

She tilted her head, amused by my stunned silence. "You’re trying very hard to make sense of this, aren’t you?"

"Yes, because apparently logic left the building the mont I entered yours."

Her eyes glimred. "You’ve been searching for the reason you’re here, haven’t you? Why did you wake up in that body?"

My heart skipped. "...Yes."

She folded her hands behind her back, her voice softening. "You were brought here for a mission, child. A mission the real owner of that body... failed to complete."

She lifted one delicate finger and pointed directly at . "The real Leif ThorenVald."

The air tightened.

She continued, "He was the bearer of the Seraph King—the divine vessel chosen to seal the Devil. And he succeeded... but that foolish boy did what no divine ever should."

Her tone turned faintly bitter. "He fell in love with a greedy woman."

I blinked, my throat tightening. "Elowen."

She smiled faintly. "Yes. A mortal woman whose heart was... not as pure as he believed."

I said nothing. The silence stretched between us, heavy and knowing.

"One day," she went on, "he saved her. She was drowning. And in his desperation to keep her alive, his divine seal awakened. But when it did..." She tilted her head, her tone turning pitying. "...a fragnt of his power latched onto her soul. From that mont on, she sought to possess what she could never earn."

"An oath," I murmured. "She wanted —him—to take an oath."

"Yes," the god said softly. "Because the mont you bow, the divine power becos hers. A blessing and a curse intertwined. The real Leif couldn’t see that until it was too late."

My hands curled into fists. "...So what happened to him?"

She sighed, as if recalling sothing mildly inconvenient rather than catastrophic. "He hesitated. And when he hesitated, the Devil stirred. His bond fractured. The world began to unravel."

I stared at her, my pulse quickening. "Then why ? Why am I here?"

Her smile returned—too calm for the weight of her words. "Because I had to fix his mistake. I summoned you."

She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"I had to go through many difficulties," she continued cheerfully, "crossed dozens of universes, searched thousands of souls... and then—" she pointed a finger at , eyes twinkling— "I found you."

I gawked. "So you’re telling , God went dumpster diving for souls?"

"Oh, don’t look so offended," she scolded, amused. "You were the only one whose soul wasn’t bound by fate or debt. You were... available."

"...Available?"

She nodded cheerfully. "Vacant, unattached, a little bruised but functional. Perfect vessel material."

I blinked. Slowly. "So what—you just yanked out of my world and downloaded into soone else’s body like—like installing a new app?!"

She actually laughed. "Oh, child, don’t be so dramatic."

"DRAMATIC?!" I threw my hands up. "You killed the original Leif!"

Her amusent didn’t waver. "Ohoho, ’killed’? Such a harsh word. I didn’t kill him; I simply... extracted his soul and inserted yours in its place."

I blinked at her.Then blinked again.

"Miss God," I said, voice flat, "you just described murder with extra steps."

She wagged a finger. "Nonsense. His body lives, his soul lives—you’re rely borrowing it. Think of it as... divine recycling."

"Divine recycling," I repeated, staring blankly. "So I’m basically the reincarnated equivalent of a secondhand coffee cup."

She smiled, utterly unbothered. "If that helps you cope, yes."

. . .

. . .

She’s unbelievable.

I sighed. "So what about the real Leif? What happened to him?"

Her eyes softened again, though her tone stayed maddeningly casual. "He’s alive, child."

"He’s... alive?"

She nodded gently. "Yes. Resting beneath the seal he forged. Watching through you, in fragnts. Waiting for the right mont."

I swallowed hard. "Waiting... for what?"

"For you," she said simply. "For you to finish what he couldn’t. Once the Devil rises again, both your souls will converge—one divine, one human—and end it together."

The weight of it hit like a falling cathedral. "So I’m here to kill the Devil."

She nodded, eyes warm, almost proud. "Yes. You were the perfect soul for the job."

I stared at her for a full three seconds. "...Thank you, I guess? I’ll put that on my résumé later."

But then her voice softened, gentler, almost too gentle. "And when the mission is complete... I will grant you any wish you desire."

"You may also return to your world. Back to where you belong."

For a second, the words almost sounded like rcy. But it didn’t.

Then—

"...What about Alvar?" I asked quietly.

Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes did. A flicker—brief, almost pitying. "Everyone will forget you, child."

My breath caught. "...What?"

"Once the cycle ends," she said softly, "the mory of you will fade. Every bond, every touch, every tear—they will return to the mont before you arrived. As though nothing ever happened."

My hands curled into fists. "So you’re saying when this is over—when I save this world—he’ll forget I ever existed?"

"Yes," she said. Calmly. Cruelly.

I laughed — a sharp, broken sound that cracked through the silence. "You say that so easily. You talk about erasing people like it’s... nothing."

Her expression didn’t shift. Her eyes held no malice, no pity—just stillness. "That is the price of divine interference, child."

"Price?" My voice trembled, sharp at the edges. "That’s not a price. That’s cruelty."

She tilted her head slightly. "Cruelty and rcy are often the sa thing. It depends on who’s left behind to feel it."

My throat burned. "Then why?" I whispered, my words shaking. "Why are gods always cruel?"

She sighed—a soft, patient sound, like she’d heard that question a thousand tis before. "Because mortals never understand rcy until it hurts."

Sothing inside broke. "Then maybe I don’t want to be divine," I whispered.

Her eyes softened, but her tone did not."That choice was never yours."

It wasn’t shouted. It didn’t need to be. The words hit harder than any weapon could. Cold. Final. Unforgiving.

For a mont, I just stood there. Frozen. And then—my tears fell.

Slow at first. One. Then another. They hit the white nothingness beneath and vanished instantly—absorbed into light, like even my grief didn’t deserve to leave a trace here.

All I could do was stand there—hollow, trembling—trying to decide what hurt more: the truth she’d spoken... or how easily she’d said it.

Because that’s what gods do, isn’t it?

They take. They test. They command. And when you break — they call it destiny.

The light around her began to shift, pulsing faintly. "It’s ti to go back, child."

Her hand reached out—fingertips glowing white. And then she pushed.

The world shattered.

The ground that wasn’t there gave way, and I fell—through light, through silence, through everything. My scream didn’t echo. My tears didn’t follow. Only the feeling of being unmade.

And her voice—fading, distant, cold—followed down like a sentence.

"Be brave, my little echo. The cruelest stories always belong to those who love."

White swallowed everything.

And I fell.And fell.And fell—

Until there was nothing left to fall into.