Love was said to be the second most beautiful thing that God had created, right after this magnificent world. Yet this pure and warm intent turned hideous. Too much love proved to be deadly, corrupting, and transformative. Even the purest souls became disillusioned freaks hell-bent on fulfilling their love— even if it meant killing the object of their affection.
"Argh... where am I- Wait I remember now. Did I die? But why am I here? Didn't I get run over by a truck?" Confused and utterly baffled they found themselves amidst a chamber along with their vessel gone left with a hollow hue
The glimmering aura hath taken the silhouette of his former vessel, and fades before their very eyes
"What is this... I can't feel anything. Am I dead? Damn it!! Fuck why me?!!! I have so much to live for,"
The chamber hums with stillness. Velvet-dark curtains sway without wind. At the end of a long, candlelit table sits a figure — tall-backed, immaculately dressed in robes etched with glowing script. His eyes are closed. But he speaks.
"Another soul adrift on the edge of the end... how tender the silence of one who died unloved."
His eyes open — gold irises like softened firelight. He smiles faintly as if remembering a sorrow that does not belong to him.
"You have crossed the threshold — not into the afterlife, nor oblivion. But in-between, a space bordering these two realms."
"A place for those whose hearts never had the chance to beat beside another's."
He gestures, and a file bearing the poor soul's name materializes midair, glowing softly before floating to the desk.
"I am Valerion, Herald of Second Chances. Curator of the hearts left behind."
"And you… are a soul snatched from the jaws of despair. Died too soon, but not too late."
"There is a path before you: join the Love Outbreak Division. Serve in Cupid's Reflection. Quell the distortions — the obsessions — the heartbreaks run rampant."
"You will become what you nearly became: a Heartbreaker. But in service to love, not in vengeance against it."
He leans forward, fingertips steepled.
"Prove your worth. Heal what love has torn. And when your duty is complete… you may return."
"Not as you were — but as someone ready to receive love… and perhaps give it in return."
A pause. Silence surrounds his final question like a stage awaiting your answer.
"So, lost soul… will you fight for the love you never knew? Or will you fade, nameless and untouched by warmth?"