Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 470 The Crying Void in Your Voice

On that night, Fitran woke up for no reason. The room around him was dark, illuminated only by a faint light from outside the window that cast long shadows on the wall. The atmosphere felt cold, as if the air had absorbed a heavy silence. There was no threat. No movement of glyphs.

Only... a silence that was too heavy, as if one name was trying to push itself out from within her chest. The pressure in her chest made her feel as if the space around her was narrowing, making each breath more difficult. She desperately wanted to scream her name, but the voice was trapped in the labyrinth of her heart, confined in uncertainty and fading hope.

And as she opened her eyes,

Voidling stood beside the bed. Her silhouette appeared faint, as if part of the darkness itself. She did not move. She did not shine.

But she vibrated. The vibration felt like it seeped into the cold air, making Fitran's hair stand on end. It seemed to grasp a deeper pain, reminding Fitran of a loss that had yet to be repaid. The room felt increasingly empty, the aroma of trapped dust biting her nose with discomfort.

As if there was a voice that could not escape...

unless someone was willing to listen, not interpret. The voice whispered softly, like the breeze that slipped through the window cracks, inviting Fitran to remember every promise spoken in the dark. The pressure in her chest grew stronger, making her hands grip the blanket tightly, as if it could save her from the painful reality.

Fitran closed her eyes again.

And from within her, it was heard—not from her ears, but from the place within her soul that was the softest:

"F-Fitran..."

Not a call.

Not a scream.

But a whisper that held back tears. The voice was soft as silk, yet heavy with sorrow. It made her heart beat faster, as if each thump was a memory awakening again. Cold sweat began to flow at her temples, creating a chilling sensation on her skin. In the midst of darkness, her soul felt like it was vibrating, filled with longing and loss.

And that was enough.

Enough to make the world within her stop spinning. The sound of a clock ticking in the corner of the room grew louder, as if emphasizing how slowly time passed. The vision of hope faded, replaced by a sense of emptiness that enveloped her soul like morning fog, making her feel as if she were drowning in eternal darkness.

"Rinoa..."

She was not thrown into the Void.

But she was taken to the space between words.

Isolation clung to her heart, each second felt like a thousand wasted years as she could not reach the figure that once was real before her. Around her, the cold and dark walls of the room absorbed the light, illuminated only by the dim glow of an old lamp that flickered. The gloomy atmosphere was filled with a damp aroma, as if the air itself held a repressed longing.

A place where all unfinished sentences were left behind.

Where all the 'goodbyes' that were never spoken lingered in the shadows of solitude. The sound of the clock ticking in the corner of the room was clear, reminding her that time continued to pass even as she was trapped in emptiness. Each phrase echoed in silence, leaving behind a void that was so painful, as if wrapped in a guilt that would not fade. She could feel cold fingers pressing against her chest, a marker of an unquenchable emotional thirst.

And in the shapeless darkness,

there was one echoing voice that kept repeating—like a fragment of an old recording. The voice flowed softly, calling the lost soul, and awakening memories of sweet moments tightly stored in her mind. There were flashes of memories that came and went, filling the empty space within her, making her gasp as if trying to reach for something that was no longer there.

"I want to talk... but I know you won't have the chance to hear."

"I want to forgive... but I can't touch you anymore."

"I want to stay... but the world has chosen to cast me away."

"But please, hear this one thing..."

"...I love you, even after you stopped searching for me."

"...I love you, even when you chose to save the world, not me."

"...I love you, even when my name began to fade from the Codex and pactum."

The voice remained.

The room was dark, with dim light from the lamp running along the walls, creating long shadows that danced on the cold wooden floor. The sound of the old clock in the corner rang loudly in the silence, as if trying to mark every second of the emptiness that enveloped Fitran. Because even though all systems rejected,

even though all glyphs were erased,

even though all names were eliminated,

Rinoa still chose to leave her voice for her.

As if every word she spoke created an echo that would never fade in silence, a promise that continued even as time created distance between them. Outside the window, the night wind whispered softly, carrying the fresh scent of rain, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the sorrow.

"...I know I will not be saved."

"...But I want you to know, Fitran..."

"...that I never regretted loving you,

even if I have to vanish alone."

"...And if someday you feel alone in a world that does not believe in you..."

"...listen to your heart."

"Because there, I keep this voice."

Fitran opened her eyes. The atmosphere of the room felt oppressive, as if time had stopped—or perhaps, it was she who was trapped in this memory. There was nothing around her. Only the silence of pressure, a void that enveloped her, like a cold embrace she could not shake off. Voidling was no longer there.

Beelzebub had not yet awakened.

In the permeating silence, the sense of loss clung to her soul, recalling every second spent with her, making her heart beat faster as if remembering one precious moment. Her hands gripped the fabric beside her, feeling the soft texture that was starting to grow cold; each fiber reminded her of Rinoa's warmth. But she knew...

Someone once waited for her in the silence,

and left herself to be heard.

And she would never be able to prove that to anyone.

But that confession lived, in the pulse, in the trembling hands, in the tears that no system could explain. In the dim corner of the room, simple shadows danced on the wall, as if reflecting the restlessness of her heart. The cold atmosphere, combined with the faint aroma of lavender from the burning candle, created tension in the air, pulling Fitran deeper into her thoughts. Rinoa did not return. Did not appear as a goddess. Did not appear as a savior.

In the suffocating longing, her shadows continued to fill her mind, while hope withered at the fingertips touched by bitter reality, making her strive to reach for something that no longer existed. The movement of Fitran's hands felt jerky and stiff, as if each second felt unbearably heavy. Outside, the sound of the wind whispered gently, voicing the silence that weighed on her heart. But she left a voice.

That voice, like a soft whisper floating in the air, pierced the silence that enveloped her soul. Each note reminded Fitran of memories that once existed, unveiling layers of wounds that slowly healed in the shadows of hope. And in an incomplete world,

it was enough to keep love from fading.

"I cannot forget you, Rinoa..."

"I am a sad man..."