A Real dream
Chapter - 44
What Zavi felt right now was nothing but guilt, deeply rooted in his mind. There was no physical pain, only pressure.
"Who is that?"
A woman wearing a white dress that nearly brushed her ankles approached him. When their eyes met, memories suddenly surfaced of a time when he had been chased by two hunters, followed by the guilt that haunted him ever since—a woman passing by, shot dead because of him.
"So we finally meet. What do you think, would you like to come with me?" the woman murmured coldly. "Answer me, bastard...!!" She pointed behind Zavi.
Zavi slowly turned his head, and...
He was stunned to see countless people floating toward a place divided between darkness and light, each having died in different ways.
A knife was still lodged in a woman’s chest. A muscular man walked away carrying a severed head in his hand. There were many more—people who died mysteriously, or perished as ritual sacrifices.
He turned back to face the woman before him. Her once radiant face had turned pitch-black and grotesque, corrupting his very soul.
"No. I... I don’t know anything about your death," he muttered in panic.
‘Damn it, what should I do? How did I end up in this strange place that stretches endlessly?’
After a brief moment of thought, he saw the woman approaching him, reaching out and grabbing his body, dragging him toward hundreds of millions of souls heading to where spirits would rest forever, or fall into darkness to reflect upon their sins.
"No way. I don’t want to go there! Let go of my hand, damn it!"
He panicked. He tried to break free from her grip, but he could not touch her hand at all. It passed right through.
"Don’t be noisy... I want you to atone for your sins," the woman said softly.
Unable to break free, Zavi decided to move in the opposite direction, desperate to prevent his soul from being completely lost. He realized his legs were already evaporating, and feared his entire soul would soon be torn apart.
I don’t know how I ended up here! My ears still hurt from hearing that strange murmuring earlier, as if my life was forcibly torn from my body... Zavi thought about the bizarre events that kept repeating themselves.
The woman stopped and turned back with a terrifying expression. "Hey! Do you really think you can refuse my invitation?" Her voice was as sharp as a blade.
Zavi’s eyes widened. And then...
He was dragged at the speed of light toward the left side—a place of absolute darkness.
"No. Save me, forgive me. I don’t want to die."
Zavi screamed in panic. Once the woman entered the fully dark domain, what he felt was pain, fear, and endless madness.
Huh... I’ll die soon. Forgive me if I couldn’t keep my promise, Moreira... Before Zavi’s consciousness faded, he felt his soul like a helpless leaf, being eaten away piece by piece by a swarm of worms.
Unexpectedly, he was transported again, to a place similar to Forgenate, though it could not truly be called Forgenate.
The place was empty, neglected, silent—as if humanity had abandoned it hundreds, perhaps thousands of years ago. The only sounds he could hear were his own breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart.
"What else is going to happen? I can’t take this anymore... Please help me, anyone who can hear this, please...."
He was lying face down, his gaze fixed on a place ahead—buildings overgrown with bushes and wild grass, somewhere he had visited before.
Impossible... Isn’t this Forgenate? How am I here?
As he pondered this, his body was suddenly yanked forward, slammed against a fence wall, then a building wall, before being thrown into a vast room that felt disturbingly familiar.
"So you’ve finally arrived. Zavi Actitus..."
Before he could fully open his eyes, he heard a calm, cold, and intimidating voice that made his chest pound harder than ever before.
Without warning...
Dozens of rusted knives floated toward him, piercing his body one by one. Bright red blood slowly seeped from each wound, soaking his shirt, his hands, and his legs.
"Ahh... Who did this?" he asked, enduring the pain as his vision blurred from blood flowing down from his head.
The person calmly stepped closer, removing his hood and face covering. Zavi saw a man wearing ordinary glasses, with black hair, several strands falling over the left side of his face.
How could he be here?
Zavi’s eyes widened. He couldn’t see clearly, but he was certain of who stood before him. Karl Vairanz.
Without time to process what had happened, just like before when he encountered the woman, Karl calmly pulled a pistol from his coat pocket. He wore a suit Zavi had seen before, then aimed it directly at him.
Gunshots echoed through the silent room. Each bullet pierced his right chest, left chest, center, including his abdomen, thigh, and knee.
Bang!
Without hesitation, Karl pulled the trigger again. The bullet tore through the air, striking Zavi’s forehead, ripping through flesh and skull.
"Ahh...."
After the pain overwhelmed his thoughts and stole his breath away.
Suddenly, the pain vanished, as if everything had been a dream. But it wasn’t. He noticed that every part of his body previously injured by gunshots was regenerating rapidly.
Huh!? This... This is just like the people I shot before... After thinking it through and realizing how absurdly logical it was, he tried to stand.
But from the side—
Bang!
A single shot struck his ankle, forcing him to his knees, unable to stand. The wound regenerated on its own, along with the turmoil raging inside his mind. All he could do was surrender to the ignorance and uncertainty he had endured for so long.
Yet, just as he was about to give up entirely, he lifted his face, wanting to see Karl’s face one last time. Karl resembled Ren—not the same, but close enough to remind him of the family who accepted him in this world after his long loneliness in a prison cell.
Strangely, he felt regret. If he hadn’t chosen that path, he could have lived like an ordinary man—working, earning money, finding a partner, marrying, having children, providing for them until adulthood, and eventually dying of old age. But none of that would ever happen. He didn’t know if he could survive, or escape this strange, endless place.
"Alright. If that’s how it is," he murmured with a faint smile, though his face concealed something unfathomable.
Without warning.
With a cold expression and without saying a word, Karl pulled the trigger one last time.
Two bullets flew simultaneously toward the left side of Zavi’s neck and his right wrist.
His brain could not process what had just happened. His mind went blank. Yet beneath it all, his heart felt strangely calmer after enduring countless horrors.
This time. I can finally be free from this strange world... That was his final thought before he completely vanished from that place.
It wasn’t just one shot. Karl continued firing brutally—dozens, even hundreds of bullets, as if the pistol had infinite ammunition.
Huh. Are you angry with me, Karl? For changing your avatar’s thinking and learning about that ritual from you? Or is this revenge for when I shot you without hesitation? Moments after thinking that, his consciousness disappeared entirely.
Then, without pause, after feeling relief as if the trial had ended, Zavi was shocked to find himself still in Eaurealis Castle—before its destruction on Thursday, before his consciousness had transferred into this body.
I thought I would be free after all that. But it wasn’t that simple...
As he muttered to himself, he heard a cold voice calling his name from behind—a low tone, restrained, as if it didn’t want to be heard too clearly. He turned.
His own reflection stood right behind him.
"How long have you been waiting?"
The voice belonged to a woman with pale blue eyes, clear like crystal reflecting cold light. Eyes devoid of warmth—not from arrogance, but from holding back emotions for far too long. Her gaze was calm, deep, yet distant, as if there were a boundary no one was allowed to cross.
She wore a pale green dress with a simple, neat cut. The fabric fell naturally, without luxury—clearly not expensive, but carefully maintained. The collar was closed, sleeves reaching her wrists, giving the impression of caution, like someone used to protecting herself. Her black hair was neatly tied and hidden beneath a matching round hat.
She was beautiful, but not in a way that demanded attention. There was something cold about her—a quiet, almost empty beauty that made people hesitate to get too close. Zavi fell silent for a moment, because he recognized that face clearly. Aurora Chevalya.
The woman Zavi himself had brought to this place. Aurora had always been like that—indifferent, cold, distant around others. Yet for some reason, when speaking with the real Zavi, she was different. Not warm, not friendly, but more open. As if only in front of him did she stop pretending to be strong.
Zavi stared at his own reflected body. It was real. He could feel the fabric at his fingertips, the cold against his neck.
Is this… a memory? Why is it being shown only now? Before he could understand, his consciousness was pulled away—falling into another moment.
After exploring the castle to their satisfaction, they walked side by side in awkward silence. Small talk, forced matching footsteps. Zavi remembered that feeling awkward, stiff, slightly tense just from walking beside a woman whose expression alone could make one’s spine shiver.
Those blue eyes were the same. Clear, pale, and cold. Not the gaze of nobility, but of someone who learned to survive far too early.
The memory moved again.
Night had fallen when they left the castle. The real Zavi, driven by a sense of responsibility he didn’t fully understand, offered to escort her home by carriage. Aurora initially refused, briefly and coldly as usual, then chose silence.
The carriage rolled through stone roads growing darker, heading toward Forgenate.
Zavi knew that place. A vast district. Crowded. Cruel to those who had no one.
That was where Aurora lived. Not by choice, but because there was no other option. He knew why.
Ten years ago, when Aurora was ten, her parents left. Her father remarried without looking back. Her mother drowned herself in the nightlife world, cutting ties with the children she once bore. Her older brother worked as a porter at the market, offering his strength to anyone willing to pay—and often returned home unpaid, bringing back only exhaustion.
Her older sister was frequently ill. At fifteen, she worked not for herself, but to feed her younger sibling and older brother. She endured hunger again and again, until her body could no longer bear it.
That stomach illness took her slowly.
The carriage stopped in front of a small house, nearly swallowed by darkness.
As the memory faded, Zavi’s chest tightened—not from anger, but from regret that came too late. He remembered his shallow prejudice, thinking Aurora was merely a cold woman who didn’t want to be approached. In truth, it wasn’t that—she was simply afraid to hope again.
