Prologue 2

Rian, who had also woken up from his regression, found himself back in his same body five years ago, back at his family mansion, the Arch Duke estate of Fablo.

Tap... tap...

"Young master, the lady has requested your presence."

He glanced at the mirror, then wore his favorite attire while signaling the maid to go ahead with a hand gesture.

He had regressed back to his early years, living alone with his single mother Sylvia, who had distant ties to the royal family. A prospectus union explained why she was allowed to be married to his father, the Arch Duke. Even though the Arch Duke's demise came later, he was always kind towards his wife Sylvia, who was content with her life alongside her late husband.

By the time Rian was born, his father had already passed on, and his mother took care of him alone. Perhaps not having a father figure had caused mockery for him, but he never cared for those words or disrespectful comments. After all, his mother had always loved him and been the figure he needed.

Unlike other noble women, his mother was particularly strict and serious about her work, which is why the estate of Fablo was able to stand so tall. The diplomatic matters of the family rested on her capable shoulders.

While waking g towards his mother's room Rian thight about all the memories and cheerful ahes he had enjoyed with her afterall

"This is the last time i will meet you anyways .."

In a dimly lit room, the air hung heavy with the weight of an irreversible curse. It had slowly but surely devoured his mother, transforming her once vibrant form into a mere shadow of herself. Known as the curse of Gia, it mercilessly drained the life force of its victims, a silent but relentless thief.

He couldn't shake the memory of her previous demise, how it had shattered him in his past life, igniting a fury and icy demeanor that had long defined him. But time had softened the edges, and his mind had matured, allowing acceptance to seep in where bitterness once thrived.

With a heavy heart masked by a serene facade, he entered her chamber, his mother's sanctuary. "Mother..."

There she sat, still beautiful yet frail, her silver locks dancing in the breeze that crept through the open window. Despite the ravages of the curse, her spirit remained unbroken, a testament to her strength and resilience.

As he approached her, the faint scent of lavender mingled with the musty air, a reminder of her fondness for the calming fragrance. With each step, he felt the weight of his emotions pressing down on him, threatening to suffocate him in their embrace.

"Son," she whispered, her voice a fragile echo of its former self. Her eyes, once bright with life and mischief, now held a quiet resignation tinged with love.

He knelt beside her, taking her delicate hand in his own, feeling the tremors that betrayed her weakening grip. "Mother, I..." His voice faltered, choked with unspoken words and unshed tears.

With a tender smile, she reached out to brush away the tear that escaped his eye. "Do not weep for me, my dear. My time is near, but know that I am at peace to the thought that i had someone like you all this time." Her words, though soft, carried a strength that belied her frail form.

He nodded, struggling to compose himself, to find solace in her acceptance of her fate. But deep within him, a storm raged, a tempest of grief and rage at the cruelty of the curse that had robbed him of his mother, slowly and inexorably.

But in her presence, amidst the flickering candlelight and the gentle rustle of curtains, he found a glimmer of peace. And as he sat by her side, holding her hand in his, he vowed to cherish every moment, to savor every precious memory, until the end.

He sat by her side, feeling sad but trying to be strong. His mom looked at him with love in her eyes.

"Mom," he said quietly.

She smiled weakly, reaching out to wipe away his tears. "Don't cry, my dear. I'm okay."

He nodded, trying to hold back his emotions. But inside, he was hurting so much. He hated the curse that was taking her away.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding hands and being together in the quiet room. And even though he felt sad, being with her made him feel a little better.

As they sat there, the silence was shattered by a sudden stillness. His mother's hand went limp in his grasp, her chest no longer rising and falling with breath. Panic surged through him, mixing with the anger and sadness that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Before he could react, a maid burst into the room, her eyes widening in horror at the scene before her.

"She's gone," he said, his voice hollow with grief. "Tell everyone that Madam has left us."

With a nod, the maid hurried out to spread the news, leaving him alone with his mother's lifeless form.

Gently, he lifted her in his arms, cradling her as he laid her on the bed. Despite the rage burning within him, he handled her with care, brushing her hair back from her face one final time.

And as he stood there, watching over her with fiery eyes and a heavy heart, he knew that his world would never be the same without her.

As he gently laid his mother in the casket, surrounded by her favorite white and yellow daisies, a sense of finality settled over him. The room was filled with the soft fragrance of the flowers, a bittersweet reminder of her presence.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a loud thud, startling him from his reverie. A figure rushed in, their eyes red and teary, their breath ragged from running.

It was her, the one he had seen earlier, the one who had vanished without a trace. She stumbled forward, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I'm late."

He stared at her in disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend her sudden appearance. "It's you "

As Rian carried his mother's body towards the church, memories flooded his mind, intertwining with the present moment. Stella, his step-sister, a part of their family forged in the crucible of war and adversity. At first, there had been resentment and distance, but over time, she had become as dear to him as anyone could be.

He remembered the moments they shared, the laughter and tears, the bonds of family that had grown between them. He had cared for her like a brother, ensuring she lacked for nothing, treating her with the love and kindness she deserved.

But then came the betrayal, a dagger plunged into his back by the very person he trusted most. Stella's actions had led to his downfall, branding him a criminal in the eyes of the world. And now, as he looked at her tear-stained face, he felt a surge of anger and resentment bubbling within him.

Yet, despite the turmoil raging in his heart, he couldn't bring himself to harm her. Somewhere deep within him, the memories of their shared past, the love and camaraderie they once shared, held him back. It was a conflict that tore at his soul, leaving him torn between his desire for vengeance and the lingering bonds of family.

As Stella collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks, Rian's heart was torn between conflicting emotions. Anger and betrayal surged within him as he remembered how she had once betrayed him, leading to his downfall and branding him a criminal. Yet, beneath the rage, a part of him still held onto the memories of their shared past, the moments of care and camaraderie they had once shared.

But as she reached out to touch their mother's cold hand, he couldn't bear the thought of her defiling their final moments together. With a swift motion, he splashed her hand away, his eyes burning with a lethal intensity.

"Don't touch my mother," Rian growled, his voice dripping with menace.

"Big brother, it's me," Stella cried, her eyes pleading for understanding.

With a heavy heart, he lifted his mother's body into his arms, cradling her gently as he made his way towards the church. Behind him, Stella's cries echoed in the empty room, a painful reminder of the fractures that had torn their family apart.

But amidst the chaos of emotions, Rian remained focused on one thing: honoring his mother's memory. And as he carried her towards her final resting place.