Inky darkness welcomed Cakra’s eyes when he opened them. For a while, he stared, then he closed his eyes and opened them. When the blackness still greeted him, Cakra sighed heavily.

Ah. He was ‘here’, and from the looks of it, he just died.

 Oh, no. He wasn’t kidding. Honestly, Cakra couldn’t remember exactly when, why, and how he could be here; in this dimension. Since his eyes opened the first time, he couldn’t remember anything. Maybe just tiny bits of facts remained in his head, like his name—the fact that his name is Cakrawala—and that this dimension is not his world.

This place was where souls rest before being reincarnated.

Cakra closed his eyes and just felt. His body was still a bit heavy. Sigh. That meant he hadn’t been completely dead. His soul was still inside his mortal body.

“Cakra… Cakra…” Cakra frowned hearing a very familiar voice greeted his ears. He sensed his hand being lifted and his palm touching against a warm, soft skin—someone’s cheek.

But Cakra didn’t know who called him.

Haha, now that he thought about it, Cakra always experienced this. He always heard voices before his soul completely moved on. The one who had always been by his side—if his memory served him right. And it made a pang in Cakra’s heart, as if he wanted to erase the sadness in that voice.

“I’m sorry…”

A smile bloomed in Cakra’s face hearing the apology. Why? Why did this person he didn’t remember apologize to him?

“If only I didn’t force you…”

Cakra was silent for a while, tilting his head and blinked. Questions popped up in his head, upon hearing this person; why? What did it mean?

But Cakra didn’t get any answer to his questions. The baritone voice faded, only leaving a soft choking sob, before the grip on his hand tightened—something that made an alarm blaring in Cakra’s head.

Seriously. Cakra’s tired eyes instantaneously widened and his heart picked up its tempo—even more when ‘that person’ spoke again. Their tone was soft, but was filled with determination, “I’ve decided.” There was a short pause. Cakra felt a soft kiss on the back of his hand.

Then softly, the bomb was dropped.

“I will let you go, Cakra.”

Cakra snapped up. Spontaneously, he sat up with wide eyes. He was panting, his heart anxiously beating fast. He didn’t know why, this was something that never happened before.

However, one thing was certain… he was… scared.

“Be happy… even if you’re not with me.”

Cakra leapt up. He spontaneously stood up. He stopped floating around without sense or purpose like how he previously was. The wavy haired man was seriously treading through the void, looking around frantically for the voice.

Nothing. Voices echoed through the space, from another dimension different from this one.

But when he sensed the hand on his mortal body start to let go, he panicked.

He wanted to scream at the voice, ‘No! No! Don’t! Don’t give up!”

But he couldn’t. His lips were frozen and his voice somehow was helpless.

Fear overcame him, making him run without purpose, frantically looking around. His mouth opened and closed noiselessly, trying to scream his thoughts.

But of course, his expectation was not likely to be reality.

Cakra felt his mortal hand floating through air before landing on something hard.

But then he felt something brush over his hair, before a small, gentle kiss landed on his crown.

“Goodbye, dear.”

The second that sentence was uttered, Cakra screamed. His voice returned. First it was a whisper before getting stronger and turned into a pained howl.

It hurt. Cakra felt enormous pain from his chest, as if something was ripped out forcefully, leaving a gaping hole.

He didn’t know who said that. He didn’t know who.

But he felt loss.

A deep sense of loss.

Before his foothold trembled.

Then he fell.

Sucked deep into the darkness of the abyss.

A second before he lost his consciousness, he heard that voice again.

“I love you, Cakrawala Pangestu.”

Then somehow he felt someone hugged him from behind—their grip was strong—before those strong hands let him go—

And everything turned black.

--[tbc]--

Cakrawala Owen sighed as his eyes opened. He paused, then slowly, his amber iris glanced over to the grand window at the right side of his bed. The morning sunray pushed through the curtain that a butler was opening.

“Young Master, it is time to prepare for the day.” He greeted Cakra as he tied the curtain. But no, he did this without looking at him. He knew his Young Lord would already be up after he did that. It was because Cakra was not the type of person who could peacefully sleep when the sun shone on his eyes. Then, as he thought, the young man on the velveteen bed was already sitting up then he turned around. A small smile bloomed on the soft face.

“Albert, good morning,” the Young Lord greeted his butler who was already bowing respectfully. “You are early as usual.” The wavy haired young man commented with a laugh.

“Good morning, Young Master,” the butler quickly moved—from the window, he suddenly appeared on Cakra's side. Then he held out his hand, wordlessly asking for Cakra’s hand before he could refuse, “It is my honor to serve you, Young Master.”

Cakra chuckled hearing it. That was true. He often refused his butler’s offer of help because he could do it himself. But on the other hand, he also knew that if he was too stubborn, then they could be blamed for it. That was why he followed Albert. He was guided toward the bathroom that was only located at the corner of his room.

“Al,” Cakra called the black-skinned man. The butler turned to him immediately, staring at his master. “As usual, please wait at the door.” He said, scratching his not-itchy cheek.

Albert paused, staring at the man younger than him but also his Young Master. He nodded. “Do you need help to wear—”

“No! No! No need, I can wear clothes on my own!” Cakra quickly cut Albert’s words—he knew the man would still offer to help him. If he was still a boy, he wouldn’t mind. But he was already 19 years old! Goodness, Cakra would die out of embarrassment if someone knew he still needed help wearing clothes! He could do his own private things.

“I see. I understand, Young Master. I have prepared your clothes inside.” Albert said as he opened the door. Cakra smiled for his butler’s understanding.

“Don’t tell father, yes?” was what Cakra said before he entered his bathroom.

Albert only nodded—his face blank—but Cakra knew… he wouldn’t lie.

This morning was supposed to be the same, ordinary days like the previous ones. There was no reason a written schedule should be drastically rewritten. Cakra was the same. He washed his face in the marbled sink as he wordlessly cheered himself up. He needed to do the best today, like he always did.

But honestly, there was something bothering Cakra: the dream.

Bowing down on the sink, Cakra stared into the mirror in front of him. He saw his own reflection—a teenager going to his early adulthood, with black wavy hair and bright eyes. He didn’t have a bulky figure, but he had a good build as a young adult behind his clothes. It was just that… something was amiss—

“Cakra…”

A soft voice entered the Young Lord’s ears. He froze before his eyes widened.

Slowly, he looked up to his reflection. There was someone behind him; it was a man. He was tall and stocky.

Spontaneously, Cakra turned—his defense stance was already up and his breath leaving him in short gasps. But there was no one there. No one! He was alone in his bathroom.

Holding his breath, Cakra glanced to the mirror again. ‘He’ was still there—his face unclear because it was shadowed.

Cakra gulped—glancing over and over towards the mirror reflection and the place where the shadow was supposed to be at.

Biting his lip, Owen hesitated before he finally reached out to the mirror and stroked the man’s reflection. Out of nowhere, Cakra felt his heart tightened.

“You... who are you?” He slowly asked after trying so hard to control himself.

Of course there were no answers. The figure behind him stepped closer to the reflection and Cakra saw ‘that person’ hugged him—strongly—then softly, with a broken voice, Cakra caught the reflection saying, “I’ve decided.”

The person looked miserable, his body trembling, but that was not what made Cakra froze—and also not when the person kissed his crown.

It was because Cakra knew what would happen next.

Then, like he had predicted, a sentence echoed, “I will let you go, Cakra.” And the person faded in thin air, like smoke.

Cakra closed his eyes. He took a deep breath before letting it out slowly; he was trying to control himself as much as he could. It was at least nine years the dream had haunted him. He never remembered the details on the dream—he just knew that someone had let him go.

He didn’t even know what made the dream suddenly occur and honestly, it bothered him.

“If you love me then don’t let me go, stupid!” Cakra grumbled when he had controlled himself.

Deciding to ignore the gaping hole in his heart, Cakra continued on his day. He needed to hurry. After bathing, he needed to go down to the dining room and have breakfast with his family. It was routine that he was raised on. However busy they were, they needed to make time for family. And because he was the only male heir in the family—the one who would one day inherit his father’s position—he needed to give a good example to his sisters.

It was just when his fingers trailed the silk pajamas down his body that Cakra froze and stared. There, underneath his collarbone, there was a bowed, red mark. It was a beautiful mark; a large shield bowed over a swan on a red sea that was looking up at the sky.

For a second, Cakra stared uncomprehendingly with wide eyes.

But then he screamed in panic, “AAAAA!!!” He punched the mirror to pieces with his fist. His pupils dilated, his heart was beating fifty miles per second.

What was this? What was this?!

Cakra rubbed the mark, hoping—needing—for it to disappear.

But there it stayed, underneath his collarbone—glowing as if it was mocking him.

It couldn’t be erased!

With panic mixed with shock gripped his head, Cakra didn’t care about his surroundings. He didn’t know when Albert kicked the locked door to his bathroom. He also didn’t hear when his mom and dad went inside.

Cakra was still gripped with shock and fear with the appearance of the mark on his body. He tried putting on soap, rubbing and scratching on it. But it was no use. It was still there.

The mark was not going away.

Then, like a slap to the face, that person’s voice was echoing again in his head. “Be happy, even if you’re not with me…” That was enough to stun him and he froze. His mind floated somewhere. In his mind’s eye, he saw someone—he was smiling before his body flurried away in pieces and leaving him by himself.

No! No! No—

“Son! Cakra! Please stop, dearest!” The voice of a woman and the strong grip on his hand snapped Cakra to the real world. He turned to his side, where his mother was.

Here, for the first time, Cakra saw all members of his family—even his three sisters. They cheered when they saw clearly the mark underneath his collarbone. Their faces were beaming in happiness and two of his sisters even looked at him in envy.

But their happiness contradicted Cakra’s feelings.

He... wanted to cry.

“No,” Cakra muttered slowly. He looked up to his family pointedly before looking back to his reflection in the mirror. “No! This must be a mistake. It couldn’t be, could it?” He muttered as he rubbed his mark—his face fell.

And it was enough to dim the happiness from his family. The euphoria was broken.

From where he was, he could see his father—the Earl—frowned. His firm face showed dislike over Cakra’s comment, not confusion. He understood one thing: his son didn’t accept fate.

Indeed, Cakra didn’t want this fate!

God, he didn’t! He didn’t want his life rearranged just because of a mere mark!

The mark—under the rule of Emperor Schaefer here—was called Olvfas. It was said that the mark was God’s gift in order to guide his lost sheep in their romance. Olvfas have many shapes and colors and only two people were perfectly matched; they were called soulmates.

It was an obligation to ‘become one’ with one’s soulmates. If they weren’t and they reached age 21 without intercourse, then both of them would die. The same would happen to those who didn’t get a mark when they reached age 21.

Moving forward, the dark haired man with thin moustache patted Cakra’s shoulder and squeezed, telling the younger man that he was serious. Cakra didn’t look up.

His father’s lips opened with a firm voice. “There is no mistake. Everyone would get their mark after their 15th birthday,” he paused there, wordlessly telling Cakra to look up. “I will tell the Emperor about this. You will go to the Mask Ball within the fortnight—you will meet your soulmate there; now that you gained this mark.” He said, stroking Cakra’s Olvfas.

Knowing he had no choice, Cakra just nodded.

He could only hope that…

He whom Cakra wished to meet would have the same mark.

[]

Duke Elhas Fon Roosevelt was tapping his finger on the round table in his study room. Across the table, his wife and daughter sat. The two looked nervous, squeezing each other’s hands. Ah, this was all because of the sudden appearance of Olvfas on Keyran Yoon Roosevelt’s hand. It was a joyous event!

However, their happiness needed to be postponed because of the absence of their first son. An hour ago, The Duke had sent a message to Faihn, asking his son to come home immediately. But until now? Ha! His son hadn’t come yet!

“Chen, has Faihn been sighted yet?” The brown-haired Duke asked impatiently—he eyed the loyal aid who had been standing unmoving at the corner of the room, by the side of his table.

Chen smiled softly before shaking his head. “Young Master left early, Sir. We were having trouble reaching him, so we only left a message.”

A sigh left Elhas before he eyed his daughter who had been squeezing the red mark on the back of her hand. Feeling that Faihn could wait, he moved to approach Keyran.

“Dearest, Key—“

But before he could reach the two most important women in his life, there was an electrostatic spark and the density in the air changed. The air turned to miasma.

Knowing this, Elhas activated his manna and tried to fight back—whatever this was. Chen Hion—his guard—also did the same. However, the gravity around them became twice heavier and it was as if the oxygen had faded.

“A—wha—curse you!” Quickly, Elhas pulled out his sword as he doubled up his manna intensity from his body. He moved his hand as he tried to control the energy flow. Then he changed his own manna into a dome and spread the radius out. In seconds, the flowing, choking miasma faded slowly.

Elhas glanced towards Chen. They both were panting but quickly gathered their composure. Chen ran out of the room to find out the source of disturbance, while Elhas went towards the two women who were still on the ground with their hands on their throats. His sword was still on his hand, just in case.

“Keyran! Lilian! Are you okay?” The Duke immediately helped the two women back on the sofa. Only, when he looked up towards the door, Elhas was floored.

And Chen too was stunned.

Not far from Chen, was Faihn. But it wasn’t his son’s arrival that floored Elhas; it was the one next him. There was another young man with bright brown hair around his son’s age—he was the one who made their rationality screeched to a halt.

And at the same, Elhas knew what—or who had made miasma in the air.

“Your Majesty! What are you doing in our humble abode? No one told me of your arrival!” Elhas quickly sheathed his sword on his waist. The tension on his expression and body disappeared, his aura changed.

When he reached the door, Elhas bowed respectfully. He quickly gestured towards Chen to prepare for a warm welcome. It has to be grand, of course, because the one  in front of him was the second son of the pure Imperial line.

Meanwhile, the person whom Elhas had called as ‘Your Majesty’ only blinked before smiling and cackled. Then he followed the house-owner’s gesture to sit on the main sofa in the room.

When they were all sitting down, making small talk as they waited for the tea to brew, it was then that the Imperial Prince opened his mouth. Elegantly, he gave the reason for his unannounced visitation. “Honestly, Duke. Faihn and I was working on something in Keldirya when Faihn received a message stated he needed to be home immediately.”

The Duke froze hearing that. He knew that his son was the captain of Imperial Knights, but he didn’t know he was on a reconnaissance mission out of town. Elhas’ hand was trembling before he put them on his knees and bowed in apology, “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I wasn’t aware that Faihn was—”

“Don’t worry about it, Duke Roosevelt,” the dark-eyed young man cut with a raise of his hand. He sipped his tea again before continuing, “It was also my fault because I didn’t give any information. Moreover, Faihn was yammering a bit because he was afraid his father was going to ground him if he didn’t immediately go home.”

The Second Imperial Prince glanced at his childhood friend beside him and smirked smugly at the shorter man’s reaction. Heh, imagine that. The captain of Imperial Knights was taken aback. His mouth was opened and closed like a fish out of water. Understanding that he couldn’t take back his words, he glanced at his father and flinched seeing the wrath on his face. Haha, how amusing.

“Prince William, I beg your par—”

But the prince didn’t give a chance for Faihn to defend himself—immediately, he cut off, “And because Keldirya was in the corner of the continent, the nearest teleportation canal in our area was a few miles away. So I had to make my own canal and opening my own gate.” Then he smiled charmingly, “So I apologize for unable to announce my visitation beforehand.”

Hearing that, Elhas chuckled awkwardly. He controlled himself by not sighing heavily over what the young man had said sitting by his left side. “As expected of Your Majesty. Thank you for helping my incompetent son.” The Duke said sweetly even though his eyes were glaring at Faihn.

“Well, I’m sorry for being so incompetent that I made a gate and transported from another corner of the conti—ow! Mother!” Faihn was about to say something sarcastic, but his mother, Lilian pinched his waist before he could complete his sentence.

Of course, the Prince witnessed this. The young man laughed seeing the warmth of the Duke’s family.

It fitted ‘him’ who always gave warmth to his surroundings.

“Please pardon Faihn’s impudence, Your Highness. Ah, the snacks are coming. Please, help yourself,” Elhas said, gesturing to the arrival of a tray of bite-sized cakes. Then a maid brought their main dish. For a moment, their conversation cut off, but after eating, it resumed.

At first, they made small talks, asking about the state of the Empire before touching the main subject—the appearance of Olvfas on Keyran’s hand. Elhas conveyed his daughter’s insecurity if she could not love the person meant for her.

However, Faihn’s response was different. Looking at the mark, he froze. He turned towards the Prince, his face sad and his eyes expressed his sorrow. He wasn’t worried about his sister; he worried more about his friend. However, when the bright haired royalty noticed his stare, he laughed.

“Why the long face?” The Prince teased, amused by the pale face of Roosevelt Heir.

Meanwhile, Faihn bit his own lip. From his perspective, he could see his friend was pushing himself. A melancholic smile repeatedly appeared on his controlled expression. And somehow Faihn could feel it too; the pain. It felt as though there was a deep wound inside his soul.

“Your Ma—”

“Do not worry, Lady Keyran. I’m sure your soulmate would make you happy.”

Faihn was dumbfounded. He blinked repeatedly hearing what the Prince said. He glanced towards Keyran, and saw her blinked before smiling hesitantly. Softly, she asked, “Are you certain, Your Highness?”

On this answer, the man with a beauty mark on his chin nodded. “Of course. I can guarantee, ‘he’ will love you dearly and will always be by your side,” he paused. His dark eyes met Keyran’s bright ones. A laugh escaped him before he smiled genuinely, “Wasn’t ‘he’ born for you, Lady Keyran? You need to have faith.”

Keyran blinked, before she looked down with a blush. Her expression of fear and nervousness of being played by someone she hadn’t met had disappeared. Her beautiful face showed face—and her eyes conveyed hope, even. Maybe she was praying to quickly meet her soulmate.

Meanwhile, the bright-haired man calmly took a round cake covered in sesame seeds from the cake tray. He loved this cake. In the past life, ‘that person’ loved to make and serve him onde-onde  (a cake with a mung bean fill and topped with sesame seeds) when he was busy with work.

Yes. That happened in ‘the past’.

Their first lives. Before the boring iteration happened and kept happening—and he was always… forgotten.

Stabbing a small fork on the cake, the Prince muttered softly, “Besides… this time I won’t bother.”

[]