Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 467 Beelzebub Who Refused to Be the Answer

Beelzebub stood at the edge of an unnamed hill, the quiet and gloomy scenery reflecting the somber atmosphere that enveloped her. She wore simple clothing—a dark cloak that no longer reflected the hellish glyphs, symbols that once represented her power. The gray wings on her back no longer fluttered; they rested, mirroring the uncertainty she experienced.

Down there, Fitran was talking to a small child, providing fragments of simple concepts about loss and forgiveness; the child—for the first time—was not afraid of the Voidling, signaling a new hope that was growing.

As Beelzebub watched that interaction, her heart was crushed by a deep longing, as if a sorrow that would not subside. She remembered the hopeful gazes she had seen in the eyes of lost souls, looks that now seemed like distant shadows in the corners of her memory. Apologies and regrets intertwined within her, forming a deep and dark pit, marking a long journey filled with wrong choices, the effects of irretrievable mistakes.

Fitran, with the gentle smile he always showed to children, made Beelzebub feel a strange vibration in her chest; that smile was not only soothing but also brought back memories of the past, when there was a sense of love and warmth that felt real, not just an illusion she wished to reclaim. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to erase all the figures that had vanished from her life and remember the moments of happiness that once existed, moments when life felt simpler.

"She must be Fitran's partner."

"She is the companion that soothes destruction."

"If Fitran fails to save Rinoa... then Beelzebub is the answer."

Those sentences... pierced.

Not because they were bitter.

But because they were not true.

Beelzebub felt a surge of anger and disappointment rising within her, adding to the emotional burden she had been carrying; what was wrong with her? She should be able to be more than just a representation of darkness; she wanted to be a symbol of hope, even though all of that seemed impossible at the moment. Even as everyone sought answers, she could not help but feel that she was the resurrection of a mistake, a failure trapped within her, creating a profound sense of despair.

On the other hand, Fitran was unaware of the emotional struggle Beelzebub was experiencing. He focused on the words flowing from his lips, how every time he spoke, his heart felt like it was vibrating; every sentence he delivered was a bridge to understanding for the child. Amidst the uncertainty, he became a light for others, providing encouragement that those who had fallen into darkness could not offer.

"I am not a replacement."

"I am not a comfort for lost love."

"I am not the answer to an unfinished story."

Beelzebub closed her eyes. In the darkness that enveloped her, images of the past flashed by, filled with pain and restlessness—she remembered the moments when her happiness felt like the farthest illusion. Her breath felt heavy, as if an ocean of feelings flowed from her, resulting in an unstoppable stream of tears within her.

Inside her, there was still an old hunger.

A hunger to be someone's reason to live.

A hunger to be recognized as a happy ending.

Yet now, she knew: In the suffocating silence, her soul longed for a peace that was far deeper than merely being a destination.

"Love is not about being a reason."

"Sometimes, love just wants to accompany, even if it is never made the center of the story, like a shadow that remains."

Under the not-so-bright twilight, Beelzebub sat beside Fitran. Their silhouettes were faintly painted in the soft orange light, creating long shadows on the ground. The expression on Fitran's face, calm yet full of questions, reflected a light of hope amidst the darkness of his life.

The sound of the wind carried a silence they understood together. In that silence, it was as if time stopped, giving them a chance to delve into what was unspoken between them.

"They call you 'the answer,' Beelzebub," Fitran said softly, straightening his shoulders. His voice, like the flow of a clear river, brought a sense of rationality amidst the tumult of confusing feelings. He looked at Beelzebub, searching for certainty in the eyes of his friend, who seemed to bear the weight of the world.

"I cannot deny them."

Beelzebub sighed.

"If I am the answer... then you must choose between me and all that you love."

"And I do not want to be that choice."

"Do you not want to be loved?" Fitran asked.

"I want to..." Beelzebub whispered,

"...but I want to love you without having to close your story."

"If I become the end, then Rinoa will be forgotten."

"Sheena will be buried. Iris will be shattered. The Voidling will lose the reason to cry."

Beelzebub gazed at the small fire flickering in front of her, its red glow illuminating Fitran's tense face; in that light, she saw a reflection of her feelings—sorrow and rebirth. "You always manage to depict this world in shimmering colors, but must I sacrifice myself to change the lines that have been drawn, to replace the story that has already woven into our lives?"

"But if I remain by your side... as a nobody..."

"...then all that you love can continue to live in silence."

The Void was silent.

Yet its waves warmed upon hearing Beelzebub's rejection.

And from afar, the Codex Gödelian trembled.

Fitran felt the tension crossing the air like fine threads that were almost imperceptible. He wanted to say something, but the voice of his heart was held back. The bond between them was so strong, as if it could tear the fabric of reality. In that silence, he realized how deep his feelings for Beelzebub were, even though there were shadows of doubt between them.

The world records not in writing.

But in the unwillingness to take a place that is not yours.

Beelzebub made a small fire.

She wrote on the ground, creating a statement that reflected her commitment:

"I will not be the exit. But if you cannot walk... I will sit with you until you are ready."

The Voidlings approached. They echoed those words.

Not as a mantra.

But as a prayer that does not need the sky.

Fitran held Beelzebub's hand.

Not with passion.

Not with affirmation.

Only with presence.

In that grip, there was a sense of mutual strengthening, as if their fingers were speaking to each other, listening to the unspoken heartbeat. "You do not need to be my answer."

"But if the world asks who remains... then I will name you."

"Not as the end."

"But as a space... that holds all the failed answers." freewēbnoveℓ.com

In the dimly lit corner of the room, Beelzebub stood with uncertainty trapped in her eyes; the faint light from the flickering candle created vibrating shadows on the wall, as if revealing her inner turmoil. She looked older than before, and every wrinkle on her face told a story of time and regrets that continued to haunt her. "This room," she thought, "is a place that holds all the burdens I have ever carried, all the mistakes I cannot atone for." Outside the window, the night deepened, inviting lost souls to return and swarm her mind filled with doubts.

Beelzebub was not the end. Not a replacement. Not a choice.

With the strength that could change fate, she was determined to save Beelzebub from the creeping darkness, erasing all the doubts that bound her. "You feel heavy, don't you?" he said gently, reaching for Beelzebub's hand. That touch was warm, and in an instant, Beelzebub felt a calmness she rarely encountered, as if touching a side of her soul that was buried. A new spirit enveloped the room as Fitran's heart echoed, breaking through the walls that obstructed their communication.

She became the place.

And in a world that continued to lose shape, sometimes a place that does not judge... is more important than anyone winning, creating an empty space within her. "There is nothing left to fear," she whispered, as if reassuring herself. "Here, I can be the only one I want." This newfound comfort ignited a hope that had once dimmed, allowing her soul to grow again in Fitran's embrace. Every heartbeat felt like an invitation, urging both of them to endure in each other's presence, without the fear of failing again.