Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 438 Silent Steps Into the Labyrinth

The world has lost its direction.

There is no up. There is no down. Only a flat surface stretching without color, reflecting no light. The space within Gödel's Labyrinth is not space. It is a denial of all space.

Fitran steps forward, but leaves no trace.

Beelzebub accompanies him, saying nothing. Only the creaking of fine metal chains at the end of her old blue noble gown sings the empty song of hell.

"How much longer?" Fitran finally asks, his tone beginning to show doubt. He feels uncertainty clouding his mind, replacing the logic that usually grounds him.

"There is no time here," Beelzebub replies. "You are not walking forward, only drifting away from understanding."

Fitran falls silent. This world... twists him from within. Thoughts of love and how it could touch the logic he has held onto begin to disturb his heart. He wonders, perhaps love is not just about understanding and logic, but about the feelings that push us forward even amidst uncertainty; a force that moves the soul, allowing us to understand ourselves more deeply.

Around them, walls begin to form—but not from stone or magic. Instead, they are made of unfinished writings. Sentences that stop in the middle of logic. Glyphs that reject one another. Symbols that only hold meaning if forgotten.

"All of this is the result of questions that are too pure," says Beelzebub. "Like your question... 'What is the meaning of love, if it cannot be proven?'"

"I am not seeking answers," Fitran replies softly. "I am searching for Rinoa." Yet, within himself, he feels the need to explore his feelings more deeply. Could true love lie beyond the bounds of the logic he has always adhered to?

They arrive in a concave space resembling half a world. The walls are made of cracked mirrors. Yet none reflect Fitran's face.

Only one mirror—in the center—begins to shine.

Not a reflection of the world... but a reflection of memory.

And there Fitran sees her:

The evening sky at the Atlantis research tower.

At that time, there was no war. No void.

Only a golden sky ablaze, and the sound of soft footsteps from someone unknown.

"Hey, you..."

The voice is calm, yet full of curiosity.

Fitran turns from his reading chair, slightly annoyed at being interrupted. But upon seeing her... the world slows down.

A girl stands at the doorway, her red hair loosely tied, her gaze sharp yet clear—eyes of someone unafraid to challenge the world for understanding. She wears a magical robe that is too large, indicating that she has just been promoted. Yet, the look in her eyes conveys wisdom possessed only by someone who has endured and understood the world's suffering.

Behind the initial annoyance, there is a flicker of desire in Fitran's heart to understand this girl more deeply. How could someone so young possess such profound emotional depth? He feels touched by her courage, her desire to explore ideas and philosophies that he has only faced in solitude, creating a deep sense of connection between them.

"I am Rinoa," she says lightly, as if the name is not something to be feared.

"You... are bothering me," Fitran replies, still in a flat tone.

"That is indeed my purpose. They say you are a genius. But a genius who is alone is usually sad."

Rinoa's bravery leaves Fitran momentarily speechless. He remembers all the time he has spent in solitude, researching tirelessly, neglecting emotional connections. He feels vulnerability, a strange feeling beginning to emerge within him: is there more to life than just logic and reason?

And that was the beginning.

The days that followed were spent arguing—about glyph theory, about the limits of pactum, about the morality of magic. But somehow... every argument they made became a space where silence could grow.

And that silence... slowly became the only place Fitran felt he didn't have to prove anything. In every uncertainty, he began to sense that there was a glimmer of beauty that could only be understood through the collaboration of emotion and logic—something he had long neglected, revealing how important feelings are in understanding life.

Fitran opens his eyes. Warm tears drip down his cheeks.

"You're crying," Beelzebub says unexpectedly—not mocking, but observing. "Funny. Even in a world that rejects emotion as data, tears can still fall."

"That is not a tear," Fitran replies. "It is... a fragment of what remains." In his heart, a restlessness stirs; how absurd it is to be caught in the midst of emotional turmoil. As if he is researching a theory, but the data collected is pain and loss that cannot be quantified.

Beelzebub approaches, then gazes into the mirror as well. For a moment, her reflection appears. But what she sees is not herself—but a little girl in a cage, surrounded by nine layers of jaws and a hungry spell. In that moment, Fitran remembers various formulas and logic he has learned; all of it means nothing when faced with the uncertainty within Beelzebub, who is full of wounds.

"I once loved someone too..." she says softly.

"Then why did you consume everything that tried to love you back?" Fitran asks. He feels the noise in his mind, a question not only directed at Beelzebub but also at himself. Has he neglected love by prioritizing logic too much? The courage to feel that is frightening.

"Because the Gödelian curse swallowed me first," she replies. "I tried to prove that I was worthy of love. And that proof... killed everyone who called my name." In his heart, Fitran finds a strange sincerity amidst this complex problem. He is trapped in his own web of thoughts—on one side, the desire to prove himself competes with the longing to be loved.

Suddenly, from beneath their feet, unreadable glyphs begin to glow. But not with light, rather with confusion. That confusion is akin to Fitran's current state, as if two worlds—logic and emotion—collide within him.

One voice echoes.

A man. But also a woman.

Old. But also young.

"Are you ready... to lose all proof?"

"If love is a truth that cannot be proven, then who will bear the consequences?"

"Enter... the next layer of the labyrinth."

The surface of the world shatters.

Fitran and Beelzebub fall—not physically, but in identity.

In the chaos, Fitran feels a surge of turmoil within him—wondering if all this time he has robbed himself of the chance to feel true love just to cling to arguments that can be proven, as if he is hindered by a worldview that is too narrow and rigid, separating mind and heart, logic and emotion.

Before truly falling, Fitran clutches one thing— the only thing not written in any Codex, never sealed in any pactum, never locked in any magic. He feels as if all the logic that usually binds him has collapsed along with the surface of the world. Within him, there is a bubbling uncertainty, yet this feeling is not entirely frightening.

The first memory of Rinoa.

Her smile when she said:

He recalls Rinoa's gaze full of meaning, as if she were trying to penetrate the walls of rationality he often built, yet only strengthening the belief that soul and logic cannot be separated. At that moment, Fitran could not provide an answer—caught between deep understanding and the desire to remain in the safe zone of his wisdom, feeling that another world awaits beyond the bounds of his rationality.

And Fitran answered at that time:

"If I could love someone... I would want not to have to prove it." His voice flows softly, but behind his words lies uncertainty. He wants to believe that love can stand on its own without needing justification, but how can it? In a world full of logic, love seems to be a paradox that is difficult to comprehend, stirring a longing for something beyond mere rationality.

They sink into a new layer of Gödel's Labyrinth.

Yet for the first time, Fitran does not sink alone.

He carries a piece of memory that cannot be proven, but cannot be extinguished. As they both fall deeper, in his heart, a small hope begins to grow—that love is not just logic, but also a feeling that can be understood even if undefined, radiating Rinoa's presence beside him as if giving him the strength to break through the boundaries he has built for himself, discovering a more complete self.