Main Characters

Magoth sighed heavily, his hand dragging down his face in frustration. His expression, usually calm and composed, now revealed faint cracks of weariness.

I froze, staring at him in stunned silence. The realization hit me like a thunderclap. That face… It's him. It's the male lead.

The moment I recognized him, a peculiar sensation swept through me—a strange familiarity, like recalling the scent of a flower you'd long forgotten. My heart raced, not from fear, but from the unsettling sense that something buried deep within me was clawing its way to the surface.

Magoth—or rather, the crown prince and male lead, Cressand Geshwin.

Shanis Mysetria, however, seemed unfazed. Her sharp gaze pinned me in place as though evaluating a peculiar riddle that refused to be solved.

"Do you really not remember?" she asked, her tone laced with both frustration and disbelief. "We had already agreed you wouldn't do anything, Evangeline."

"Agreed? What are you talking about?" I shot back, my voice rising slightly. "I don't even know what you're—"

"Don't lie," Shanis snapped, cutting me off. "This isn't the time for theatrics."

The crown prince stepped forward, rubbing his temple as though the weight of the conversation was already exhausting him. His golden eyes, filled with a mixture of regret and determination, locked onto mine.

"I…" He hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm still trying to convince Maharlika to undo the spell."

"Maharlika? Your fiancée?" The name tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. I barely remembered writing her character, but I knew enough to recognize her role. She was the enigmatic and powerful sorceress who had been wronged by those closest to her, including the male lead.

Both Shanis and Cressand turned to me in unison, their expressions hardening.

"Don't you remember?" Cressand asked, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "When we sinned against Maharlika, she cursed us. She made the world loop."

His words struck something deep inside me, like the toll of a bell reverberating through the fog of my mind. My knees wobbled as fragments of a memory surfaced—disjointed, hazy, but undeniably real.

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There was a grand hall bathed in golden light. I stood at the center, surrounded by familiar faces, though I couldn't place their names. The air was thick with tension, the kind that preceded a storm.

Maharlika stood before us, her presence commanding and otherworldly. Her dark hair cascaded like a river of ink, and her eyes burned with a fury that seemed to pierce my soul.

"You betrayed me," she said, her voice echoing like a thousand whispers. "All of you."

I felt a pang of guilt so sharp it stole my breath. I didn't know why, but I knew I was part of the betrayal.

Maharlika raised her hands, her fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air. The golden light of the hall dimmed, replaced by an eerie blue glow.

"If you will not atone for your sins," she declared, "then you will endure them—over and over again."

Her words were a curse, and I felt it seep into my very being. The world blurred, and I screamed, but no sound escaped my lips.