Two and a half years ago...
"The world is not a fair place."
Vastarael said these words to himself as he relaxed in the bathtub.
That truth resonated deeply within Vastarael Richinaria's life; a life shaped by suffering, sacrifice and a destiny that refused to offer him peace.
If there were ever a living testament to the unfairness of the world, Vastarael was it.
Born as a prince, one might assume his life was privileged and easy but the reality was anything but. From the very start, Vastarael's existence was marked by expectations and burdens no one could have prepared him for. He was more than just a prince; he was an Aeterium, the heir to Dynasty Richinaria and the beacon of hope for his people. That hope came with a price that, time and again, proved the world's relentless cruelty.
Take his beauty, for instance.
It was not merely a gift; it was a curse. His Boon, Ethereal Beauty, made him the epitome of perfection, captivating everyone who laid eyes on him. But that same beauty brought envy, objectification, and manipulation.
People didn't see Vastarael. They saw an ideal, a living masterpiece to be admired, controlled, or destroyed. His beauty made him a target, not just of adoration but also of malice. It isolated him, creating a barrier between him and genuine human connection.
Then there was his destiny: Suffering Before Reward. A phrase so ominous it might as well have been a death sentence. Vastarael's life was a never-ending cycle of trials and tribulations. Whether it was enduring unimaginable pain during his sixth year birthday, escaping death or being thrust into the past to fix a broken world, his suffering was guaranteed.
And what about his fate? A Death In the Embrace of Love. Even his end was destined to be cruelly ironic. To die surrounded by those he loved, those who loved him, was it a mercy or a torment? Did it mean he would find love, only to have it ripped away at the most vulnerable moment?
The world dangled hope in front of him, knowing full well it would come at the steepest price.
But perhaps the most glaring example of the world's unfairness was the state of his body.
He had lost his right arm, a stark reminder of what his journey had cost him. It was a wound that spoke louder than words, a visible mark of how the world took and took from him without remorse.
And he was hunted down like a wounded dog by a fucking Winter Labor.
And yet, Vastarael stood tall. He laughed in the face of his hardships, masking his pain with charm and charisma. Even when he saw his reflection, he could joke about how the crowd's reaction wasn't an overreaction. But beneath the confidence and occasional narcissism lay the scars of a soul who had endured more than anyone should.
The unfairness of Vastarael's life wasn't just in the suffering he endured, but in how the world constantly asked more of him. As a First Phase Ascender, he had power, yes, but not enough to match the expectations placed upon him. He was expected to save the world, to lead, to protect, and to inspire, all while carrying the weight of his personal struggles.
And what did he get in return? A moment of admiration? A fleeting sense of accomplishment? The world demanded everything from him and offered so little in return.
But Vastarael was not one to let the world's cruelty define him. He embraced it, challenged it, and even found humor in it. He turned his suffering into strength, his isolation into resilience. The world may not have been fair but Vastarael refused to let it break him. Instead, he became the living embodiment of defiance.
In Vastarael's eyes, fairness was a myth, an illusion meant to pacify the weak. Life wasn't about fairness. It was about survival, about carving meaning out of the chaos. And if the world wanted to keep throwing its cruelty at him, he would take it all with a smile, a laugh and the determination to turn every unfair blow into a stepping stone for greatness.
He was the definition of a pragmatic person.
Vastarael stepped out of the shower, a towel draped loosely around his waist, droplets of water still glistening on his bronze-toned skin. He sighed, running a hand through his wet hair, his gaze flickering toward the mirror. He barely had time to process his own reflection when he noticed a figure leaning casually against the wall near the door.
Adelasta.
Her arms were crossed, her icy gaze fixed on him with a sharpness that felt both challenging and familiar. She was dressed simply, a dark blouse and fitted trousers that somehow managed to amplify her elegance rather than diminish it. The corner of her lips quirked up slightly, the closest thing to a smirk that her usually stoic face allowed.
"Adelasta. To what do I owe the pleasure of finding you waiting in my room uninvited?"
She shrugged nonchalantly, uncrossing her arms as she straightened. "I'm your fiancée, remember? I don't think I need an invitation."
Vastarael chuckled softly, pulling the towel tighter around his waist as he moved toward the edge of the bed.
"Ah, yes. My lovely, betrothed by tradition and necessity. How could I forget? Though, you do have a habit of appearing at... inappropriate times."
Adelasta took a step closer, her icy demeanor softening just a fraction.
"I came to remind you of that, actually. About us. About this arrangement. About how... no matter how many people stare at you or worship the ground you walk on, you're still mine by law and tradition."
He paused mid-motion, lowering the towel slightly as his lips curved into an amused smirk.
"Possessive, are we?"
"Practical," she countered, though there was a faint pink hue to her cheeks. She crossed her arms again and tilted her head.
"Someone has to keep you grounded with all those admirers throwing themselves at you."
Vastarael stepped closer, abandoning the towel entirely as he stood before her, his height casting a shadow that seemed to envelop her. His voice dropped an octave, laced with the seductive undertones of his Boon.
"Duchess Adelasta, are you saying you're jealous? Should I be flattered?"
Her eyes narrowed but she didn't step back. Instead, she held her ground, her chin tilting up defiantly.
"Don't. Don't use your Boon on me."
His brow arched in mild surprise, though his smirk remained.
"Why not? You're already stumbling over your words. Let's see how far I can push you."
Adelasta's lips pressed into a thin line, her cheeks darkening as she exhaled slowly.
"Because I want to have a normal conversation with you. Without your Boon clouding my thoughts or making me... like everyone else around you."
"Normal? Adelasta, even if I don't use it, you'll lose your words eventually. You already are."
"Then I'll manage. You owe me that much."
He chuckled, a low, velvety sound that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Fine," he relented, stepping back slightly and leaning against the wall opposite her. "A normal conversation, free of my unfair charms. For now. But don't blame me when you can't form a coherent sentence."
Adelasta glared at him, but the faint twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement.
"You're insufferable."
"And yet, here you are," he replied smoothly, gesturing toward the space they shared. "Must be something about me, hmm? What do you want?"
Vastarael sat back on the edge of the bed, looking at Adelasta with a bemused expression. His eyes flickered over her, curious as to what she was really after. She was standing there, arms crossed and staring at him with an intensity he had become all too familiar with. It was clear she wanted something but for once, he wasn't sure what it was.
Adelasta, for her part, wasn't the kind of person to ask for something unless she really needed it.
"I want you to use your Memory Implantation on me."
"Memory Implantation? On you?" He crossed his arms, smirking. "I thought you wanted to have a 'normal' conversation, Adelasta."
She met his gaze without flinching. "I've had enough of 'normal.' I want to know what you've been through for the past few months. While I've been busy with Elyonari's tree and making sure everything's in order there, you've been... well, who knows where."
Vastarael leaned back, running a hand through his long, damp hair. He hadn't expected that. She wasn't exactly the type to be sentimental about the past, but then again, the last few months had been anything but ordinary. Still, he felt a bit of hesitation. It wasn't as simple as just showing her a few memories.
"You do realize Memory Implantation isn't just about showing someone else's memories, right? It's also about the emotions attached to them. Everything I felt during those moments, the pain, the anger, the fear, the joy, it all comes with it. You're not just going to see what happened. You're going to feel exactly what I felt."
Adelasta's gaze softened slightly, but she didn't back down. "I know and I'm ready for that. I need to understand what happened, why you lost your arm... why you've changed so much."
Vastarael tilted his head, his gaze drifting to the window for a moment.
"You're sure about this? You'll feel everything. And believe me, some of those memories... they weren't pleasant."
"I'll tell you why I want to know afterward. But first, I need to understand it from your perspective."
Vastarael studied her for a long moment. He could tell she wasn't asking for this lightly. She wanted to know everything, wanted to experience it firsthand. And knowing her, it was probably something she needed in order to understand him better... or to satisfy some lingering doubt.
"Fine," he said with a shrug, leaning back against the bedframe. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
He motioned to the space beside him, gesturing for her to sit. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with."
Adelasta stepped forward and sat beside him, her posture straight. As Vastarael positioned himself beside her, he gently placed his left hand on her temples, his fingers warm against her skin. His touch was almost comforting, a sharp contrast to the intensity of the skill he was about to activate.
"Relax. This is going to feel strange so don't resist."
Adelasta nodded, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath. Vastarael focused, drawing on the power of his Memory Implantation skill. He felt the familiar pull of energy as the memories began to shift and form, the past that had haunted him for so long ready to be shared.
A soft, almost imperceptible hum filled the air and Vastarael's eyes began to glow faintly. He felt the pull of his memories, of everything he had been through, and allowed himself to open the floodgates. The first of the memories slipped into Adelasta's mind.