The first thing Vastarael did was groan when his eyes flickered. The first thing he noticed was the unfamiliar softness of a bed. He instinctively ran his hands through his hair—
"Wait..."
His eyes widened as he looked down at his arms. Both of them were intact, attached seamlessly at the shoulders. He knew his other arm was busted before he died or black out but these ones weren't normal. They were warm, flesh-colored and indistinguishable from the rest of his deep bronze skin. The muscles flexed exactly as they should. He moved his fingers. Even a trained eye, even his own, could not tell these were prosthetic in the slightest. They were perfect, flawless replicas of what he had once lost.
Shakily, he pressed his palm against his chest. His heart thudded beneath his hand. For the first time since he had been seventeen, he felt the rhythmic certainty of life pumping inside him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt alive like this. Also, for the first time since he lost his eyes and heart back in the ORS, he never felt the constant eternal pain of his lack of a heart or his pseudo-cores. Also, his Mystic Eyes were not activated permanently like before.
Vastarael swung his legs off the bed and stumbled toward the mirror across the wooden cabin. Sunlight streamed through the small window, reflecting off the polished surface. His hair, no longer long, white and curly, now fell in a long wolf cut with long bangs. The change was subtle but the effect was striking. He looked more beautiful than before. It was a perfection that he wasn't sure he was ready to confront.
He turned to move further, intending to stand fully, when a loud crash beside him made him snap his head toward the noise.
Asenane stood there. Her breaths came in rapid, uneven bursts. Her hands trembled, almost as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her hair had changed too. She had medium short hair with bangs that softened the angles of her face but that made no difference to the storm of emotions raging inside her.
"I... I'm sorry. For almost dying... again. Guess I made you worry, huh?"
Asenane didn't speak. She didn't respond immediately. His grin faltered.
"You can... you can punch me if you want."
He thought he was prepared but he wasn't.
Asenane closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. The next moment, his cheek stung from a hard slap. Before he could react, she lunged forward, her hands finding his throat. Her nails dug into him, and her entire body shook with rage.
"You died! You fucking died in the Sucking Void!"
Vastarael didn't resist. He could feel her anger and grief. Her hands tightened slightly around his neck but when she began to sob uncontrollably, the force faltered. Her grip loosened and she stepped back, trembling. She pressed her hands to her face as tears streaked her cheeks. She knelt on the floor, completely relieved.
"I... I thought..."
Vastarael knelt beside her. He didn't know where to begin. She didn't look at him. Her rage was still there. Her sobs were interlaced with murmured curses, whispered accusations and confessions of heartbreak.
"You monster. You shouldn't have shown me mercy when we first met. You shouldn't have made me fall for you. And now... now I... I don't even know how to handle pain like this..."
Vastarael's hand hovered over her shoulder. He didn't know if touching her would be comfort or intrusion. His eyes glistened with the first traces of tears, but he didn't dare reach for her, not yet.
"Why did you survive and let me suffer?! Why?! Do you know what it felt like to have your presence vanish? I had to feel your own energy vanish in that emptiness and not be able to do anything! And now you... now you just live?!"
Vastarael had never seen her so unrestrained and brutally honest in her grief and her rage. And he deserved it.
Finally, she slumped against the bed, her shoulders shaking violently. Her cries became softer. She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide her face.
"When the Forgotten Architect saved us out of that nightmare, we lost all hope. And now, to hear that you... you might have been gone forever, that you were in a comatose state, I thought you had just... given up."
Vastarael flinched. He opened his mouth, but no words came. How could he explain that it wasn't suicide? How could he tell her that the pain and torment he endured in the Sucking Void was a death far more agonizing than anything he experienced before? He couldn't tell her that truth yet, at least not in a way that wouldn't make her hate him even more.
"Why did you die, Veneri? Why... why would you let yourself die like that? You... could have held on! For me, for Phaenora, for the girls, for yourself!"
He didn't answer. How could he?
He had suffered a death so brutal and indiscriminately cruel, that even the experiments he had endured in his past life paled in comparison. And yet, to her, it looked like his familiar, reckless suicidal tendencies had flared again. It was a misunderstanding so deep it could wound harder than any physical strike.
"You're back and I should be happy, right? But I'm not. I'm filled with rage. I hate you."
She laughed bitterly. It had no humor in it.
"I hate you for making me feel helpless. I hate you for letting me believe that you could just... give up. If you love someone, Veneri, if you truly care, you do everything in your power to endure. And yet... you killed yourself. That's the only explanation for this, right?"
She thought he had allowed her heart to fracture for his own reckless tendencies. She stood up, walking to the door with slow steps.
"You've been asleep for a while. Meanwhile, six months passed to us. And then you expect me to be glad that you're awake? Do you have any idea what it feels like to think someone you love is just gone?"
Vastarael like away.
"You'll just go back to your old ways, won't you? To your suicidal tendencies, to the man who makes hell for the people he loves. And who am I to stop you? Who am I to stop Vastarael Blossom Richinaria, the man who will always find a way to hurt everyone he loves?"
And then, without another word, she left. The door clicked softly behind her.
He didn't die because he wanted to. He died because his Destiny had designed a trap that even he could barely survive. Yet now, in the eyes of the woman he loved, he was a selfish man.
He let out a bitter, hollow chuckle.
"A monster, huh... I really am a monster as you say."
He sighed, leaning back against the wooden frame of the bed. He had to bear it. As a Dynasty Monarch, as a lover and as a father, he has always borne far worse. He had survived battles, anomalies and trials. But this... this was a new kind of punishment, one he could not fight with strength, strategy, or Divinities.