"Sometimes it's hard to accept the truth in reality."
But truth doesn't change just because we look away.
I didn't run away. I walked.
One step at a time, with nothing but the sound of my boots against stone and the weight of silence on my back.
The gates of the Brightwill estate didn't creak. They didn't groan. They opened… peacefully. As if the house itself was eager to see me go.
And I went.
No tears. No goodbyes. No one to stop me.
At least, no one who could.
Behind me stood towering walls and cold marble floors, polished silverware and untouched bookshelves. But to me, they were nothing but scars dressed as memories. Everything about that mansion whispered, "You don't belong here."
And I listened.
I didn't pack much. Just a few clothes, some cash, and a worn notebook filled with old compositions — pieces I wrote on the grand piano that no one ever clapped for.
Not that it mattered anymore.
The streets stretched ahead, open and unfamiliar. The sky above me was vast. The wind felt different beyond those walls — not colder, but freer. Like it finally had space to breathe.
And yet, inside me, everything felt… numb.
I used to think if I worked hard enough, loved strong enough, or smiled long enough, someone would finally reach out.
But the truth is… I was born into a house built on silence.
My mother loved a man who never looked her way. My father never wanted a family, only a legacy. And I? I was just the proof that they both failed.
A boy made of hope — and nothing more.
So I played the part. The perfect son. The obedient heir. The quiet shadow. I learned every noble courtesy. Played piano so well even the maids stopped to listen. Practiced with a sword until my arms went numb.
All for a single word. A glance. A smile.
But it never came.
Not from him. Not from her.
And eventually… not even from myself.
Now, walking these roads, I feel lighter. Not freer — emptier.
What am I now, without them?
Not a son. Not an heir. Not a brother. Not even a name that matters beyond those estate walls.
Just a figure wandering the edge of nobility and nothingness.
I don't know where I'm going. I don't have a plan. I don't care.
People might look at me and say, "There goes the fallen noble." Let them.
Titles don't mean anything when you've lost the will to wear them.
The truth is, I'm on my way to nowhere.
Maybe I'll find something. Maybe I won't.
But at least out here, every breath I take is mine.
And that's more than I ever had behind those gates.
...
And yet, within this quiet emptiness, there is another presence — me.
Not Edward. The one who now wears his face.
I don't even know what to call myself anymore. A soul from another world? A lost cause reborn? Maybe I wasn't any better off than the boy whose skin I now wear.
When I died, I thought it was over. There was no light at the end, no divine voice or final answer. Just silence. Just pain. Just regret.
I was someone who had no direction. I was broken — tired of trying, tired of pretending. I had already lost faith in the world I came from.
So why was I given another chance?
Was this a punishment? Or some cruel twist of fate?
I don't know.
But I feel Edward in the corners of my mind. Like whispers left behind by a heart that never stopped screaming.
His memories, his feelings, his heartbreak — they aren't just fragments I inherited. They've become mine. I feel his grief, his shame, his longing. And in them, I see myself.
He feels like a character who just came to play the role of a tragic villain. A boy written only to fall—just so others could rise.
But what about me? Am I supposed to rewrite that script? Or am I just here to finish it?
I don't know what to do.
Should I fix this broken life? Should I become something better than he was? Or should I let it all fall apart, the way both of us already have?
I've never been a hero. I've never even been good.
And now, standing at the edge of Edward's path, I realize I'm no different than he was.
Just another lost soul wandering through someone else's story.
Maybe… just maybe…
This time, I'll find a reason to keep walking.
Even if I don't know what that reason is yet.