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A world of red. A world of pain.
Fire enveloped him, consuming him from within, straight from the depths of hell. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air. How could he still feel the scorching heat when his body had long since turned to ash and dust?
She was still there too. Her smile, redder than the raging flames. Her soft whisper echoed in his mind.
I love you.
No, he managed to think through the sea of agony, I don’t want it to end like this.
I can do better when I get another chance.
You must agree, too! It doesn’t have to be like this! It shouldn’t end like this!
Michelle!
The voids that were her eyes stared at him. In them, there was—
—
“Captain?” his subordinate asks. His footing has lost certainty for a moment, his senses numb. It feels like he has just awoken from a reverie— ridiculous, this would never happen. He’s in the middle of a patrol!
“Continue!” he orders, regaining sensation in his fingertips with each breath. He’s fine, completely fine. Why wouldn’t he be?
There’s a nagging feeling that he’s forgotten something, but he decides to ignore it. Whatever it is, he can handle it later.
“Captain, there’s a…” his subordinate starts again, and this time, Jarrod sees what alarms him.
Two horses emerge from the woods, the front rider clearly armoured. The one behind is dressed like a noblewoman, but she’s wearing a large hat that obscures her face. It could very well be a disguise.
“Halt!” Instantly, Jarrod barks, “You’re in Revaire’s territory! Show yourself and state your business!”
“…Jarrod?” the rear rider calls, her voice strangely familiar. She removes her hat, and—
Time stands still as red eyes meet grey.
—Heat. Pain. Soft whispers.
Shaking away unrelated and unwanted fragments, he calls out her name.
“Princess Michelle?”
Yes, her. Of course, he remembers her. Hair of shining silver, translucent skin, ruby eyes… She draws attention even when silent, which she never was.
It’s been a decade since he last saw her, yet he can’t forget the woman who changed Revaire’s fate—and his own.
He would never be in this position if she wasn’t at that fateful Summit.
“Jarrod!” she dismounts gracefully and rushes to his side. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon upon entering Revaire! It’s been so long… how have you been?”
Jarrod is dumbfounded. “Why are you here?” He glances at the first rider, who has also dismounted and removed his helmet. A low-rank knight, probably, as Jarrod doesn’t recognize him. “A lone knight isn’t enough protection for you. This forest is dangerous.”
She smiles like a blooming flower. “My carriage broke in the forest, and the rest of my retinue is still there trying to fix it. I don’t have the knowledge to help, so I thought I might as well make myself useful and scout ahead. My luck that I ended up seeing you, Jarrod.”
He snorts. “What good luck you have. Lead the way, then.”
His squad obeys his order, following Michelle and her knight into the forest. Riding side by side with her, he demands, “You still haven’t told me why you’re here. What business does a princess of Arland have in Revaire?”
Michelle’s glance towards him is measured, her smile slightly apologetic. “I’m here representing my brother, to negotiate a trade deal with the Queen.”
“Sayra.” Jarrod huffs, enjoying Michelle’s discomfort. She deserves it for hiding the secret from him, he decides. Even if he’s satisfied with the outcome in the end, she had still plotted behind his back while being his friend, until the last few days of the Summit.
He has long passed the point of being angry with her, but making her squirm still feels like a small victory. It doesn’t last, though, for she quickly recovers and faces him with a fearless smile.
“…Yes, Queen Sayra. Given my friendship with her, my brother’s court decided I’m best suited for this mission. I’ll be staying in the capital for some time to finalise the details.”
“You’ll be dealing with my sister, then.” Jarrod sneers, “She pokes her head in every international matter.”
“Knowing Gisette, I expected no less. It will be nice to work with her again.” Michelle smiles softly and adds, “If you have time, I’d love to catch up with you too. We both must have changed so much since the Summit.”
“You don't look like you have changed much.” He scrutinizes her. Her features are more refined, but she still appears the same—a timid beauty. But looks can be deceiving, as he’s learned.
Michelle of Arland is no mere timid beauty. She is unlike any other lady he has met, a challenge he never conquered. During the Summit’s early days, he was confident she would become his bride, but she rejected his advances, asking to be his friend instead.
To this day, he isn’t sure what compelled him to agree with her, to not see her rejection— a rejection of all romance and marriage in the Summit— as a humiliation.
…Not to mention what she convinced him to do later. To accept peace, to relinquish his position gracefully…
But here he is, Captain of the Guard instead of Crown Prince of Revaire, escorting her to safety.
No matter if she has changed or not, Jarrod knows he certainly has.
“Not as much as you, perhaps,” she says as if reading his thoughts, “but I’ve grown up, especially after my father’s death.”
Ah, Jarrod just realised. Michelle is here representing her brother, the new King of Arland, who only ascended the throne three years ago.
“I heard the news,” he replies, recalling Gisette’s letters, “It was during the last summit, wasn’t it? Must have been troubling with the new king out of the country.”
“Indeed. We had to recall him mid-summit for the funeral and coronation. I…” Michelle hesitates, then continues, “I spoke with my father in his last days, and he finally forgave me for not securing a match at the summit… then my brother, upon returning, gave me the freedom to marry whoever I choose, if I want.”
Jarrod grunts and shrugs. In truth, he isn’t sure why she’s telling him this. “Good for you.”
She gives him a warm smile. “But enough about me, Captain. How is your new life?”
He tells her about his job, his squad, the hard work, and the admiration he has earned. In return, she shares stories of diplomatic incidents she has gotten into and the travels she had made on behalf of Arland.
As they talk, the squad reunites with Michelle’s retinue and helps fix her carriage. By the time they leave the forest, the sun is setting.
“We need a safe place for the night,” Michelle muses, her gaze drifting to him, “Would you…”
“Can’t be helped,” he sighs, “It’s troublesome, but I’ll keep you safe tonight. Come with me.”
They make camp for the night. Michelle shares fine beverages from her carriage with his squad, making her popular despite the extra work she brought. However, this merry atmosphere doesn’t suit him. He broods, staring at the campfire. He feels on the verge of remembering something.
Something red. Something painful. Something crucial, impossible to forget.
Scorching heat, soft whispers, a pair of ruby eyes peering into him—
“Jarrod?”
A voice cuts through his thoughts.
When he realises, he has stepped away from the fire, staring blankly into the darkness. Michelle stands behind him, concerned.
“Are you alright? You seem—”
She stops as he steps closer, towering over her.
“It was you,” he says with certainty, “It was you I saw in my dreams.”
—
Michelle stood on the deck, watching the dot that was Vail Isle fade into the mist. When it finally disappeared from view, she let out a breath she had been holding forever.
It’s over.
With that thought, she started to shiver. Her lips quivered, unable to maintain the smile she had held. Finally, she broke down and cried.
“Princess?!” Ria, who had been with her the whole time, frenetically tried to hold her up. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
“No, no…” Michelle shook her head weakly, “It’s just… it’s finally over. The Summit, all that I must accomplish, it’s done. And I must leave now…” she sobbed, “never seeing him again…”
“Who?” Ria was confused— of course she would be, Michelle had hidden her feelings well.
She had hidden her secret, her memories well…
Michelle remembered the despair she felt at her execution as clearly as day. Please, she had begged repeatedly, look at me. At least look into my eyes before you kill me.
But Jarrod didn’t look at her. He attended her execution, but he hardly cared about her then; she was familiar with the look he had. It was the same one he made whenever he was forced to attend events back at the Summit.
And it was his scowl that seared into her mind forever when her head fell.
…Michelle wasn’t sure what had happened next. She didn’t just come back to life immediately, she was sure of that, but the memories after she died were vague. She felt like she had caught glimpses of Jarrod, but it was all a blur.
When she came to, though… she was in the Summit again, Jasper introducing her to Sayra and Ria.
At first, she was surprised, thinking it was all a dream. But as she attended the welcoming feast, engaging in conversation she had previously experienced, she knew she had been given another chance.
Another chance to do things right.
But how, she had no idea. She tried so many times to change things, thinking there must be a way to be by Jarrod’s side without betraying her friends, without being executed…
She tried again and again. Again and again, she failed. Eventually, she figured she was in hell— a hell she had prayed for, to be with him after dying. A hell of her own making.
A hell where prisoners and sinners danced together for eternity…
“…If you are set on getting yourself killed on the pyre of foolish love, I can't stop you.” When she noticed, she was facing the Matchmaker again, the old woman always saying the same lines.
Michelle wasn’t sure why she bothered arguing with the Matchmaker every time. After all, she already knew the Matchmaker was right.
There was no changing Jarrod with love, no matter how hard she tried. She was just too stubborn to change, too stubborn to give up.
Biting her lips, tears in her eyes, she spat out, “Am I being punished for falling in love?”
The Matchmaker raised a brow.
Michelle continued, her voice shaking, “Is it simply wrong to love him? I know what he is. I know I’ll end up with my head on the block after I marry him. I know that there’s no escape… but my feelings for him don't change. Am I… wrong? Tell me, Lady Matchmaker. Please…”
“Please, tell me… tell me what else I can do…”
The Matchmaker sighed. “There’s no such thing as right or wrong in love, girl. It simply is. You have completely misunderstood my advice.”
“It’s not your feelings that are wrong, but your actions. Staying with that awful boy will only enable him to do his worst. If you truly want to save him…”
“…Then the only thing you could do is leave him alone.”
Michelle froze. Deep inside, she instantly knew the Matchmaker was correct. She had known it all along; she had just been waiting for someone to tell her…
Tell her that no matter how unbearable it was, she had no choice but to let go of him, for his own good.
The attempts after that realisation were hard. She had to perfect her act, her speech, and her posture, to ensure that nobody— especially not Jarrod— could figure out what she truly felt. She had to do her best to convince everyone to work for peace, for Revaire to have its golden ending, if only to make up for her betrayal of the rebels in past lives.
Finally, she succeeded, perhaps more than she had ever imagined. All countries agreed to collaborate, and Gisette and Jarrod signed the treaty to return the throne to Sayra without much resentment…
But she was still unhappy, even knowing she had achieved what Katyia did a century ago.
Because…
“It’s so unfair,” Michelle mumbled between sobs, “Why am I the only one who cannot get what I want most in this golden future, this happy world? Why did Katyia manage to find love while securing peace, but I must give up on it?”
“…Princess,” having listened to her story for hours, her initial expression of shock gradually turning sadder and sadder, Ria asked quietly, “Don’t you hate him for betraying and killing you?”
“I do. I hate him for all that,” Michelle never denied it. “But I hate myself even more. For falling for him, for being myself, for betraying my friends. For fixating on him even after everything.”
There was hatred. There was resentment. But most of all, there was a desire to see him once more. To be with him despite all the pain and disappointment and heartbreak. Despite knowing how it would end.
“Why am I like this… Why am I being so foolish?”
Ria didn’t answer her self-deprecating question. Instead, she pulled her into a tight hug, letting Michelle cry into her apron. Moments later, she said, “Princess, you aren’t being foolish. You’re the smartest person I have ever met.”
“But…” Michelle looked at Ria with swollen eyes.
“Isn't it just because you loved him so much… that you deluded yourself into thinking there must be a way to make it through?”
Of course. Of course.
It’s so simple. She’s just the type of person to be crazy for love. Despite logic and reason, despite common sense.
Even despite duty.
…It’s just something about herself that she must accept.
Accept that, just like Jarrod, she wouldn’t magically change into a different, better person.
The first step to change is always to accept who we are. To know our strengths and weaknesses, our successes and failures.
Believing that no matter who we were, we could find a way to move forward. To live and grow. To one day face each other again as better people.
And so, as Michelle wept her heart out, shedding the mask she had worn during the longest summit…
She could finally live as herself.
—
Michelle wouldn’t call life afterwards easy. She had been in the summit for so long, spending years as a delegate and later Princess-Consort of Revaire, that home in Arland became alien to her.
But home was still home, and when her parents welcomed her with a warmth she hadn’t expected, and her little brother celebrated her return with enthusiasm, she was overjoyed. She was cherished. They cared.
However, when her parents learned that she hadn’t made any match and had no intent to marry, they were angry. "Since you have achieved so much for Arland in the summit, not finding a match there isn’t a huge problem," her father had said, "but you have to get married someday."
Michelle had refused to obey his order, and the two of them quarrelled bitterly. After Jarrod, Michelle knew that she couldn’t be someone’s wife without growing up.
She needed to learn to love herself first before she could love someone else.
It took time, and she had thought her father would never forgive her until he fell sick.
Since her little brother was in the summit and her mother had to act as the queen regent, Michelle was the one who stayed at his bedside. “Tell me what happened to you in that summit,” he had demanded weakly, “Tell me everything. Including the part you hid previously.”
She was astonished that her father had seen through her. And of course, she would never refuse her father’s dying wish.
When she finished, her father looked at her with sad eyes. “You should have told me sooner,” he stated, “You should have… you should have let us know from the start.”
“I’m sorry, father… I didn’t know if you would believe me.”
“You didn’t trust us… to care about your well-being. But it’s… our fault…” he panted, “Michelle, summon your mother here. I need to tell her something.”
“But…”
“Do it!”
And so when the queen came, Michelle’s father asked his wife for two things: To rescue Constance from her husband by whatever means necessary, and to ensure Michelle would be able to live as she chose, free of the obligation of an Arland princess.
Michelle’s mother was shocked, initially. But after they told her everything, she gave her daughter a firm hug, telling her she shouldn’t have burdened herself with everything for so long.
…If she had communicated her problems earlier, perhaps everything would be better, both for her and Constance. But some lessons could only be learned the long, painful way.
And so after her brother’s return and coronation, she travelled to Corval, to negotiate Constance’s separation from her husband. With Zarad’s and Avalie’s help, they ousted Aamir from power and took her sister back to Arland.
Michelle told Constance everything. Constance had cried for her, for the suffering her little sister had gone through and how much she had grown, but in the end, she had asked an important question:
“Michelle, do you still love him? The one who hurt you so much, the one who ordered your execution?”
…This was a question Michelle had asked herself over and over again.
“…I don’t know. I don’t think about him all the time like I used to, and I have accepted that I cannot be the one who changes him. But even so, I pray that one day I could reunite with him… the thought of never seeing him again still feels unbearable, even after all these years.”
“That’s… that’s still love, is it not?”
Constance had quietly, hesitantly, nodded.
Soon after they returned to Arland, Michelle’s brother raised the idea of a diplomatic mission in Revaire. “If you happen to see that man again, you’re free to do as you wish,” he smirked, “But remember to ensure that he’s decent enough to wed.”
So Michelle had been prepared for the possibility of facing Jarrod again… just not the moment she arrived in Revaire.
And nothing could have prepared her for his actions.
—
“…What dreams?” Michelle asks with a saccharine smile. “You’ve been dreaming about me? That’s sweet, I didn’t know you cared so much—”
“It’s not a nice dream,” he hisses, grabbing her arm, “It was hell. Fire raging, burning everything. I was wondering why I kept seeing red every time I closed my eyes, then I noticed. It’s your eyes.”
He glares into her eyes, red like rubies, at the closest distance. They’re the same eyes he kept seeing in his vision, in the hell that he never managed to escape yet forgot every time he woke up.
But not this time. Although he still can’t recall everything from that hell, this time, he won’t forget.
“You were there, whispering to me, watching me burn in agony. What kind of witchery is this? Why are you doing this to me?”
“Jarrod, please let go of me,” she begs, but he won’t— he can’t— release his prey now. He needs to know what she’s planning. He can’t fathom why she would use witchery on him, but who else could it be?
“Answer me!” he demands, tightening his grip, barely managing to moderate his volume to avoid attracting attention.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she frowns, anger showing on her face for the first time. “Haven’t you learned your lesson from our time in the Summit? Let go of me!”
She twists and yanks, pulling her arm free. He stares down at his empty hand in surprise, not expecting such strength from the previously weak, delicate Michelle.
But she clearly has secrets he never knew.
“I thought you had changed, Jarrod,” Michelle’s tone is cold, even hurt. “I really did. Why are we recreating our first meeting at the Summit, then? What’s this about dreams that makes you violent?”
“I told you, I saw you in my dreams. A dream that keeps recurring, but I forgot about them until I saw you.” Jarrod is still steaming, but her expression and harsh tone give him pause. He stares at her intensely, trying to discern the truth behind her words as he explains:
“It’s always the same dream. I was in hell, burning. You were there as well, but you didn’t seem affected, for you were always whispering something—”
I love you.
Jarrod pauses abruptly as he finally recalls her words.
Love?
He stares at her. Her face has turned pale. “Hell…?” she mumbles, stumbling backwards, “I prayed for God to bring you back to me when we fall into hell… did that actually happen after I died, and I just… forgot?”
—Now we’ve arrived at where we should be.
Hell—
Memories surge like a flood.
He remembers everything now.
—
I don’t want it to end like this. I can do better when I get another chance.
You must agree, too! It doesn’t have to be like this! It shouldn’t end like this!
Michelle!
When he called her name amid the flames, her eyes— eyes that were two inhuman voids— were filled with sorrow and red tears.
“I’m sorry.” she whispered, her voice soft like the wind, “I only wanted you to look at me again. I didn’t mean to cause you so much pain…”
Then her image flickered again, and Jarrod saw her as she truly was— crying, shivering, in no less pain than he was.
Of course. She was burning in the hellfire, just like him.
“I want to be with you,” she murmured, “but if it only brings us pain, then… I’ll let you go. If you get a chance to do things better…”
She smiled sadly.
“Then please… be sure to be nicer, would you?”
—
“We were married. Before…” Before I got bored and disposed of you. And then I died when Arland invaded Revaire.
He can’t continue; the words stuck in his throat. But she nods, understanding what was unsaid. “…It’s no dream, but past memories. You remember everything…”
She chuckles weakly, “I don’t remember falling into hell, myself, but if you remember it then it must have happened.”
“But you remember… marrying. Dying.”
“I do.” Michelle looks at him with a vulnerable gaze he only recalls seeing during his first life. She remembers it all along, he realises, since the start of our summit.
He’s the only one who didn’t remember a thing, what chance he was given, what promise he had made…
Until now.
“Jarrod…” Michelle slowly shakes her head, determination— and angst— in her eyes, “You can forget all of it. It’s from a past that no one else remembers. None of that matters now…”
“None of it matters?” he repeats, closing the space between them, until he is looming over her again, so close that he can smell her. Yes, he remembers now, she always smells of roses. “It changes everything. I remember now.”
“…Then what do you want?” she asks quietly, looking up at him with a sad smile. “Do you still want me dead? Or do you want me… back?”
…This is a question he doesn’t have a good answer to.
Her last request towards him wasn’t to love her, not even to just look at her as she clearly desired.
—Then please… be sure to be nicer, would you?
But this. This!
Not to be nicer to her. Just… nicer. Generally.
Utterly ridiculous. Why couldn’t this woman think for herself for once?
He’s irritated by that, beyond everything else. “Michelle,” suppressing his emotions, he asks, “You said you recently got the approval to marry whoever you want, didn’t you?”
When he thinks about it, this must be the real reason she’s here. She wants to know if he has changed enough for their relationship to start over.
“I did. However, I don’t know if the person I’m interested in would want to marry me,” she looks straight at him, “Or if he is ready for a marriage.”
…She needs to know if he will one day get bored of her again, to plot to kill her again.
He studies her intensely. Her gaze is steel, but yet… full of hidden hope.
Of course. All the pieces fall together then, and he knows what to say.
“Come to me during your stay in Revaire,” he offers, “We’ll find out if you and I are ready before you leave.”
Instantly, she shivers, her eyes wet.
“…Is having a wife not a bother to you, Jarrod?” she asks with a teasing smile, but now that he has seen through her act, the smile seems forced. Distantly, he recalls it’s something he mentioned during the Summit.
“No, not anymore… and if it’s you,” for once, he considers how to phrase his thoughts, “I remember seeing your memories before we fell into hell. I remember your feelings for me. Your happiness, your guilt, your pain… I remember all of it.”
She looks up at him, and it feels as if someone is squeezing his heart. An astonishing mix of sadness and joy, gripping it as hard as possible…
This must be a remnant of what he experienced on that long-lost day, no?
“I have never loved anyone the way you do me, Michelle. If it’s now, after everything… Perhaps I can get to know you more, to feel what you feel for me… to love you the way I should have.”
Even if it might never match what he experienced that moment when he took her hand, he still wants to try.
Michelle smiles lightly. A tear silently falls down her cheek. “If I could have heard this earlier… but I’m no longer the same love-sick girl I was. I don’t have you in my mind all the time the way I used to, I have learned to love myself in the past decade. Even so…”
Once again, she holds out a hand towards him.
“If you think we can do better this time… let's renew our promise to each other.”
Jarrod remembers. Remembers how the fire started to erupt when he fell into hell, right after he took her hand.
Still, there’s no hesitation.
He takes her hand, seeing the joy on her face, a brilliant shade of rosy red growing on her cheeks… warmth coming from their linked hands.
…He wants to continue basking in this warmth.