Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 125: The Truth

[Leif’s POV—ThorenVald Estate—Before Dawn]

Falling felt endless. No air. No ground. No sound. Just the cold weight of nothing dragging through everything.

And then—

THUD!

Pain. Real, physical, undignified pain.

I groaned as I hit the floor, the edge of the bed stabbing squarely in the ribs. The world snapped back into color—violent, blinding color. Marble against my cheek, cold air stinging my skin, and that faint golden pulse under my ribs flaring like a dying star struggling to breathe.

I lay there for a second, face down on the cold floor, trying to rember how gravity worked. My vision spun lazily; the ceiling bled into the walls, the candlelight flickered like a migraine, and my heart thudded sowhere between panic and disbelief.

I coughed, tasting iron. "...Ow."

Brilliant coback. Truly divine of .

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. The ornate carvings looked the sa as before, except sohow everything felt sharper—too sharp. Like the world itself had been repainted in colors I wasn’t supposed to see.

"So," I muttered hoarsely, "the real Leif ThorenVald is alive."

The words sounded absurd out loud. Alive. Resting sowhere under the seal, waiting to take his body back once the Devil’s done and I’ve played my part.

"What a cruel joke," I whispered to the ceiling. "What a delightful little prank, Grandma God. Bravo."

I laughed once—a brittle, hollow sound that cracked halfway through.

Because it wasn’t funny.

I’m just a replacent. A patch. A temporary fix stitched into a divine error.

And because of that stupid, manipulative, overpowered Grandma God with a twisted sense of humor, I managed to make the one person I love most look at like I was a stranger.

My chest tightened, the mark beneath my ribs pulsing faintly—almost like it agreed.

I made my Alvar angry.

. . .

"Right," I murmured. "My Alvar."

The words ca out softer than I wanted them to. Too soft. Too honest.

I pressed a palm against my heart as if that could quiet the ache underneath. "My first love. The man I—" My throat locked up before I could say love.

Because what was the point?

He’ll forget anyway.

He’ll forget my voice. My laugh. The warmth of my hand in his. And I’ll disappear from every corner of his mory like I was never here at all.

I exhaled shakily, forcing a crooked smile. "Congratulations, Leif. You’re the most romantic tragedy in divine history. A cosmic one-night stand."

The silence didn’t disagree.

I turned onto my side, dragging myself back onto the bed. The sheets were cold, the kind of cold that crawled under your skin and stayed there.

"I hate this," I muttered into the pillow. "I hate gods. I hate fate. And I really hate being recycled."

The words broke on my tongue halfway through. I closed my eyes, breath hitching.

"I really hate it," I whispered again, smaller this ti. "I hate that I was chosen. I hate that she picked ."

Why ?Why this body?Why this world?

Why am I the soul that fits perfectly inside soone else’s skin?

My fingers curled into the sheets until my knuckles went white. The silence pressed harder against my chest.

One tear slipped out before I could stop it. Then another. Quiet, unimportant, but still heavy enough to sting.

"Leif...?"

The sound of my na broke the air. My head turned just enough to see him standing in the doorway—hair tousled, dressed in soft night clothes that made him look too human for a man who could break this easily.

Alvar’s eyes softened the mont he saw .

He crossed the room, his voice low and careful, like he was approaching sothing fragile. "What are you doing down there?"

I blinked at him through the blur. My throat hurt when I tried to speak.

He crouched down beside . "The floor’s freezing," he murmured. "Co on, love, get up."

His hand was warm when it brushed against mine. I let him help up, too tired to resist, too hollow to speak.

He guided back to the bed and sat next to . I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

He softly brushed away the tear that dared to stay. "What happened?"

I didn’t answer. My lips trembled, but the words wouldn’t co.

"Did you fall? Does it hurt sowhere?" he asked again, his hand on my cheek now, his voice trembling with worry.

And that—that broke .

Because I could feel it. His concern. His love. The kind of love that reached for even when I was falling apart in ways he couldn’t see.

I looked up at him, eyes wet, breath uneven. "I..." My voice cracked. "I don’t want you to forget ."

He blinked, startled. "What?"

"I—" My chest clenched painfully, my throat closing around the words. "I don’t want you to forget , Alvar. I can’t—" My voice broke entirely. "I really don’t want you to forget ."

I didn’t even know when I moved, but I was already in his arms, clutching at him like he was the only thing keeping from dissolving completely.

"Leif," he whispered, holding tighter, his hand splayed against my back. "Why would I ever forget you?"

I shook my head, my voice muffled against his chest. "You don’t understand."

"Then make ," he said softly. "Help understand, Leif."

I swallowed hard, my body trembling as I finally pulled away just enough to see him. His eyes searched mine, worried and aching.

"It’s..." My lips parted, but the words ca out broken, barely there. "It’s Renji."

He frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "What?"

"My na." The words scraped their way out of my throat, quiet but sharp enough to hurt. "My real na...Is Renji Takeda."

His eyes widened a little — just enough to show the disbelief that trembled behind them. His hands, the sa hands that had just been cradling my face, slowly dropped to his sides.

"Leif," he said quietly, the na almost sounding uncertain now, like it no longer fit in his mouth. "What are you saying? I... I don’t understand anything."

I swallowed hard. My heart hamred so loudly it drowned out everything else. "You wanted the truth, didn’t you? You wanted to know who that man was that night—when Alina went missing. The one who looked exactly like ."

He didn’t nod. He didn’t speak.He just sat there, still and silent, like the air itself had forgotten to move.

"I..." I exhaled shakily, my throat burning. "I’m not the Leif Thorenvald you think I am."

The words hung in the air — heavy, irreversible, poisonous.

His breath caught. I saw the disbelief flicker in his eyes, then pain, then sothing deeper — sothing breaking.

"I wasn’t born here," I continued, my voice trembling, splintering with every word. "This isn’t my ho. This isn’t even my world."

He flinched slightly, as if the words themselves struck him.

"I don’t belong here, Alvar," I said, forcing the truth out before I lost the courage. "I’m not from this kingdom, this land — not even from this reality. I’m a man from another dinsion."

Silence.

He stared at , his lips parting but no sound coming out. His pupils dilated slightly, shock rippling through every line of his face.

I forced myself to go on — because if I stopped now, I’d never have the strength again.

"I’m from a world," I said slowly, carefully, like every word was a blade I had to swallow, "where there are no rulers. No magic. No dragons. No divine beings who decide who lives or dies."

His expression didn’t shift — just his jaw tightening ever so slightly, the only thing betraying how hard he was listening.

"In my world," I continued, "we’re just... people. Small, ordinary people who work until we break just to survive another day. There’s no light in our blood, no gods in our skies — just steel towers and hunger and noise. And money."

I gave a hollow, breathless laugh. "Gods, so much of life there revolves around money."

I could see confusion flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t interrupt. Not yet.

"I was one of them," I whispered. "Just another man in that world. Not chosen. Not divine. Just... tired. Too tired to keep going."

My throat closed as the mories surfaced — blurred, ugly fragnts of an existence I had long stopped trying to rember."The night I died," I said quietly, "I was drunk. I’d lost everything that could still call itself a future. I collapsed by a trash bin behind so building. I rember the sll. The cold. The sound of rain hitting the concrete."

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling where they rested on my knees."And when I woke up... I wasn’t anymore."

For the first ti, Alvar’s lips parted to speak — but I kept going before he could, because the truth needed to co out whole or not at all.

"I woke up here. In his body. In Leif Thorenvald’s body."

He exhaled sharply — the sound breaking through the silence like a crack in glass.

I t his eyes. "At first, I thought I’d gone insane. That I was in so dream I couldn’t wake from. Because this place — this world — it didn’t feel real. It felt... written."

His brow furrowed. "Written?"

"Yes." I hesitated, searching for words that wouldn’t sound like madness. "A world that was... already decided. Like a story with its ending written before it ever began."

His voice was low when he spoke. "A novel?"

I nodded weakly. "In my world, stories like this — kingdoms, prophecies, heroes and devils — they exist only on paper. Fiction. Soone writes them. People read them for entertainnt."

He stared at , his disbelief turning quiet, almost reverent in its shock. "And this... this world..."

"...was one of them."

His breath caught.

I nodded again, forcing the words past the tremor in my throat. "And this story was about you—Grand Duke Alvar Regulffsson. The man destined to end with the saintess...Elowen."

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

I saw it happen—the shift in his face. Not rage. Not disbelief. Sothing far worse. Grief. The kind that doesn’t co from loss, but from realizing you’ve been living inside soone else’s story all along.

His lips parted, but the words ca out hollow, trembling.

"Then..." he said slowly, as though each word hurt to breathe, "who is Leif Thorenvald, then?"

The silence swallowed the question whole.