The world had changed.
Centuries rolled like tides, washing away kingdoms, names, and bloodlines — yet some bonds were far too stubborn to die.
In the capital of Helio, where spring roses climbed the marble gates once more, a new dawn rose over a house that once carried an old sorrow.
Arthur Helio was born again.
But this time, the gods softened his story.
His parents, Duke Alaric and Duchess Elenora, were nothing like the cold ghosts of his past lineage. They adored their son their only child with laughter filling the manor's corridors that once echoed only of discipline and duty.
He grew surrounded by warmth. His father often lifted him high under the cherry trees; his mother played the piano every evening as he dozed beside her.
Yet, even in joy, there was something hauntingly still inside his heart.
He couldn't explain why the sound of rain made his chest ache, or why a faint scent of violets brought tears to his eyes.
When he turned twelve, he painted a girl's name inside the cover of his notebook without knowing why.
"Vivian."
And whenever someone asked who that was, he'd simply say,
"I don't know… just someone important."
Far away from the duke's mansion, in a modest estate tucked between the hills of Loren, a small noble family celebrated the birth of their daughter.
Her name also Vivian.
Her parents were well-off but greedy, always calculating their gains through her.
"Such a beautiful child," her mother often said, brushing her long black hair. "If raised well, she'll marry into wealth one day."
Vivian grew beneath gentle skies but rarely felt peace. The world around her was never cruel, yet it never felt right either as though she was living someone else's dream.
At night, she saw visions.
A carriage in the rain.
A man with golden eyes.
A hand reaching out to her too late.
And every time she woke, her cheeks were wet with tears she didn't understand.
Years passed.
Arthur became the youngest council scholar in Helio's history brilliant, composed, admired. But he never sought love, not even friendship beyond courtesy. Every noble lady whispered his name, yet none stirred the silence in his heart.
One evening, as he stood by the library window watching the first storm of the year, a strange déjà vu seized him.
The thunder rolled, the scent of wet violets filled the air…
And in that instant, an image flashed before his eyes a girl's trembling voice saying goodbye.
His chest tightened painfully.
He whispered again into the storm, just like in another lifetime:
"Vivian."
Somewhere miles away, a young woman startled awake, clutching her heart.
She didn't know why but she could've sworn someone had just called her name.