"May our paths never cross again, Your Majesty."
After hearing those words in his dream, Elysian Evadene, King of Ironvale, jolted upright at his desk, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath as if he had just endured the worst nightmare of his life.
"Oh! Your Majesty, you're awake. Perfect timing—I was just about to bring your meal from the kitchen," his aide, Berlin, said cheerfully as he approached.
But Elysian did not respond. His eyes were unfocused while his chest was still heaving as he stared into nothingness.
"Berlin," he finally rasped, "how old am I?"
Berlin froze at the unexpected question, but then quickly composed himself. "You are twenty-six this year, Your Majesty."
"Twenty-six…" Elysian repeated under his breath while his expression darkening. He had been twenty-nine when Lobel died, and forty when he himself had met his end.
"When am I scheduled to visit the Eryndon Kingdom, again?" he demanded suddenly.
"That would be next week, Your Majesty," Berlin replied cautiously while fixing his glasses.
Elysian rose from his chair as his gaze burning with newfound resolve. "No. I will go there tonight."
Berlin's eyes widened after hearing it and almost lost his composure. "Your Majesty, you cannot. It would be improper to arrive before the official visit. The kingdom is still hosting other guests this time around, and besides—it is the middle of the night. Please, rest. Perhaps you are only confused—"
"Enough," Elysian cut him off sharply. "Stop your nagging and get my horse ready. I will go there myself."
Meanwhile, Elysian urged his horse faster through the night that the sound of hooves pounding against the dirt was echoing in his frantic heartbeat. His cloak also whipped violently in the wind, but he paid it no mind. Every breath carried the echo of Lobel's final words— "May our paths never cross again, Your Majesty." That each repetition tore at him, as though fate itself mocked him.
He then clenched the reins tighter and thought that if the gods had truly given him another chance, he would not waste it.
This time, he would see him, and he would find Lobel before he could slip away.
At that very moment, in the quiet town of Eryndon, Lobel busied himself with needle and thread while carefully sewing a gift for a colleague whose birthday was fast approaching.
"Embroidery really is the best…" he murmured with a faint smile, bent close to the candlelight as his needle slipped through the fabric with practiced ease.
"Maybe I should make something for everyone… since this will be the last gift that I'll ever give them." His voice grew softer, his smile faltering as the words lingered in the air.
Once these tokens were complete, he planned to leave Eryndon behind to start anew, and perhaps running a small sewing business, or tailoring dresses for the poor and nobles alike. Anywhere would do, so long as it was far from the Evadene and Eryndon Kingdom.
"As long as it isn't there, I'll be safe," he whispered, setting the needle aside and leaning back in his chair as he closed his eyes, while the weight of impossible questions pressing on his chest.
Who would have thought I'd return to the past?
I was so sure that I died back then. I had lost so much blood, and my wounds were too grave… so why am I alive now?
Instead of focusing his mind into sewing, that night, his mind wandered from the past he wanted to forget.
Yet beyond the hills, beneath the same moonlit sky, the King's horse was already galloping closer.
"Oh, Lobel? You're still up? You just recovered from your fever so you should really be resting in bed," Ginny, one of his colleagues and closest friends said as she walked over and began clearing the table, gathering the handkerchiefs he had been sewing.
"Hey, Ginny," Lobel called quietly. "What would you do if… you suddenly went back to the past?"
Ginny paused, giving him a puzzled look.
"What kind of question is that? That's so random," she said while slipping his things neatly into the drawer.
"Just humor me. What would you do?" Lobel pressed, his tone heavier than before.
"Hm…" Ginny tilted her head while thinking for a moment. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it."
"You're no fun… anyway, thanks for looking after me while I was burning up with fever. I really appreciate it," Lobel said as he rose from his seat and made his way toward the door.
"That's nothing. I was just repaying the favor. You're the one who took care of my grandmother when I fell sick, remember? But hey, where are you going? It's almost dawn, you should be in bed."
"I just need some air. I'll be back before it gets too cold. You go on and sleep first."
"Fine, fine. Just don't stay up so laaaate, or I'll be mad," Ginny warned, narrowing her eyes playfully.
Lobel chuckled. "Yes, yes. I promise. Go to bed—I'll be back soon."
Once outside, he wandered aimlessly until he found a fallen tree. Sitting on it, he tilted his head and looked at the dark sky.
"How peaceful…" he whispered, drawing in a deep breath before closing his eyes.
But the peace vanished when a tear slid down his cheek, and memories forced their way into his mind. He remembered Elysian's face while beating him without reason and sometimes the sweet words that would later turn into blows when he's not entertained enough.
"Why did I even stay by his Majesty's side for so long?"
Every memory, both painful and joyful, replayed in his head like a cruel show.
Especially the ones where he had once believed in love.
The truth was painful, but Lobel had loved Elysian. He had loved him even though it only hurt him, and even when the pain him led to his death.
"So, this time… please, let our paths never cross again, Your Majesty," he murmured into the night while letting his tears fall. "Let me live… let me cherish this second chance."