Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 445 That Night Never Happened

The light began to collapse, emitting a soft glow that slowly faded. Like a thin sheet of false dawn being gradually unveiled, the small world that had become a place of confession and embrace the night before began to lose its shape, as if being sucked into uncertainty. The once warm floor now felt cold, like the reach of hands that had once been comforting and warming, now leaving only bitter air. The calm air shifted towards emptiness, becoming a terrifying silence, as if the voices of hope vanished into the darkness, adding to the profound loneliness that enveloped Fitran.

And the figure beside Fitran... slowly faded, presenting a shadow that grew increasingly elusive.

Rinoa.

But this time, she was not asleep. Not smiling. She simply stared at Fitran with eyes that held no soul—eyes that knew a truth that could not be spoken, hinting at a sorrow deeper than mere loss; that sorrow emphasized the heavy burden that Fitran's heart bore. Fitran's heart trembled, as if a part of her was dissolving into that sorrowful silence, waiting for something that would never come, trapped in the time that separated them and carving an indelible sadness.

"Enough," she said, her voice barely ringing in the silence.

Fitran grasped her hand, feeling the gentle warmth that still lingered, as if she were holding light in the midst of darkness.

She was still warm. Still there.

"Rinoa... we—"

"—never spoke," she gently interrupted, her voice trembling like leaves touched by the wind.

"There was never that night. There were never those words."

"No... I said it. I set you free."

Rinoa's face bowed down, allowing shadows to cover the glimmer of hope that existed.

Then she lifted her gaze, revealing once again bright blue eyes reflecting from behind her shadow, shining in the suffocating darkness, as if holding all the buried hopes. Each sparkle from her eyes awakened unexpressed hopes, yet that hope felt fragile, like morning dew that would evaporate at sunrise, too quickly stolen from the embrace of night, as if emphasizing how precious those moments were if valued.

The Eyes of Beelzebub.

"You already know, don't you?" The voice was not Rinoa's, but a hollow echo that cut deep.

"There is no way to reach the true Rinoa. She is sealed in a place that does not accept the world, time, or will, trapped in an endless labyrinth of uncertainty."

Fitran stood, her legs trembling on the cold surface that felt as if made of ice, adding to the emotional weight she felt. The hands that once embraced were now empty, feeling the departure that was so painful, like déjà vu from an endless farewell. In that torturous silence, she felt as if she were trapped in a dark and silent labyrinth, its walls made of shadows that surrounded her tightly, sinking into uncertainty, longing for something that would never be reached, like morning dew that evaporated, reminding her of lost love.

"Why... why did the Labyrinth create a version of herself?"

Beelzebub—in the form of Rinoa—answered flatly, her voice felt like cold wind seeping into the soul.

"Because love that cannot be proven... can only be tested in a false space."

"We created her, from fragments of memories, from words never spoken, in the suffocating darkness."

"To see... if you would still love something that may never be touched."

"And you... loved her. Even though she is false."

The world around them slowly crumbled, like glass losing its owner; shards of hope trembled in silence. Every step they had taken the night before—faint traces, erased one by one, creating a cold eternity. Fitran felt the pieces of hope vanish along with the collapse of the known world; a piercing emptiness stabbed at her soul, as if every reminder of an unreal love tore at her from within like an unexpected storm.

"What does it all mean?" Fitran asked softly, her voice nearly drowned in the embrace of the chilling silence, creating a sorrow that could be felt in every corner of the lost light.

"If nothing is real... if that night never happened... why do I feel this loss now?"

Beelzebub answered, this time in her true voice—deep, heavy, and full of wounds; her voice seemed to create an echo in the endless darkness.

"Because true love does not need truth. It only needs you."

"That night never happened, Fitran. But that love... is yours. And because you spoke it... the world now rejects you."

Fitran's steps weakened, as if the weight of her steps sank into the thick silence of the night, surrounded by shadowy figures that seemed to watch her every move. The magic within her began to rumble, surging like waves trying to crash against fragile cliffs. The glyphs written in her mind became shaky, lighting up one by one before extinguishing, as if losing direction in the darkness that strengthened the feeling that her body had declared love for something unreal. The feeling of loss vibrated in every heartbeat, as if reminding her of the magnitude of love that once existed, even in shadow. The damp and cold air touched her skin, adding to the sadness that enveloped her soul.

"I... was rejected?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if snatched away by the warmth of the night dew surrounding her.

"Not by me," Beelzebub replied, her heavy voice slicing through the deep silence of the night.

"But by the system. By the world. Because you loved something that cannot be proven... and did so with all your heart."

"Then what is the purpose of all this?" Fitran asked again, her eyes searching for answers in the darkness, hope igniting a lantern in her mind like a star trying to shine in a lightless sky, as if desperate in facing the despair that imprisoned her. She felt alienated, trapped in a narrow space filled only with the moans of the soul and the dark silence, waiting for answers from the different darkness.

Beelzebub approached, her figure filling the space with a heavy yet mysterious presence.

She touched Fitran's chest, and from within, a small light pulsed as pale as a twilight that did not want to leave the day.

A word—invisible, unreadable, yet still alive, as if trying to vibrate in silence, challenging the darkness that surrounded.

"To save one last thing that cannot be touched by the labyrinth."

"Yourself."

Suddenly, the sky completely collapsed, as if the weight of the world was thrown down with a resounding roar. Above, large letters descended gracefully, floating as if made of light and shadow, forming a sentence in an unknown language:

"Ϝἔρνεται ὁ νοῦς, ἀλλ' οὐκ ἡ καρδία." ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

"What remains is the mind, but not the heart."

And with that, everything went dark, like night swallowing the light around her. The whispering wind seemed to remind her of lost memories, bringing the damp aroma of earth and morning dew filled with longing, while the rumble of Fitran's heart surged in the silence, echoing as if the walls of darkness were responding to feeling hurt. She felt trapped, ensnared in confusion between reality and the illusion that surrounded her.

She stood alone in an empty field, with frozen ground beneath her feet, feeling cold and hard, without the labyrinth, without Beelzebub, without Rinoa. Just herself, in the freezing silence, enveloping her body like a heavy, lifeless blanket.

And one voice, faint, like an echo from a place that never existed, crossed the empty space:

"I am not real... but I am your truest desire," this voice flowed softly, whispering hopes and longings that were buried, creating space in the silence for memories that seemed to dance back into Fitran's consciousness.

Fitran bowed her head, feeling the rough texture of the earth beneath her fingers, her hands still trembling. But in her heart, that word still pulsed, like a faint voice trapped between longing and uncertainty. In the suffocating silence, she felt it—buried love, like a flower growing from the cracks of rocks, struggling to exist even if unseen, reaching for light that never promised.

Love. That never happened, shrouded by the fog of uncertainty. But it would never die, even if trapped in a dark forest without light.

The Gödel Labyrinth offered no answers, as if the gates of truth were merely ticklish without clear proof. It only gave one night to recognize what could not be proven... and to lose what could not be kept, making every passing second a bitter lesson about unfulfilled hopes, yet also strengthening the belief that love held meaning, however small, shining like a star in the neglected sky, awakening the awareness of the importance of loving even without certainty.

Rinoa remained trapped in the Void, a space that was silent and dense, where shadows of the past gathered in the deep silence, as if depicting the painful impact of time. The atmosphere around her was filled with darkness that was never truly dark, but also never bright enough, creating a sense as if time had stopped, a true depiction of inner suffering. Fitran returned... not as a winner, but as the sole witness of a love rejected by reality. In the cold pressure of the gentle wind that felt unnoticeable, she reminded of a lost presence, as if there were a gentle touch on her skin that could only be felt, not seen, affirming the meaning left in that silence.