Dreams and Memories

The sofa was big and comfortable. Asahin quite liked it. In his previous life, he had slept on plenty of sofas—at part-time jobs, at relatives' houses, at friends' places, and even when living with his mother and sisters in that cramped one-bedroom apartment. Sofas felt like home. But he didn't remember any being as luxurious and comfortable as this one.

Upstairs, in the office, he could hear Kaylen turning pages and typing on his computer. The rhythmic tapping of the keyboard filled the otherwise silent house. He was probably working on some assignment. He was a university student, after all, and summer break hadn't started yet.

Asahin was technically a university student, too. From the memories he had acquired, he knew they attended the same university but pursued different majors. Kaylen studied business—a logical choice for someone destined to inherit the vast Morrison fortune. Asahin, on the other hand, was enrolled in history or something similar. It hardly mattered since he barely attended classes, and no one in the family cared whether he graduated. As long as he maintained the illusion of being a university student, his father ensured everything else was taken care of through hefty donations. No professor would dare challenge the Valmoor name, and so, his absence was ignored.

Asahin exhaled deeply. On the surface, the original Asahin had everything—wealth, a loving family, the unshakable shield of the Valmoor name. But he had no proper secondary gender. Instead of cherishing his advantages, he had squandered them, obsessed with his older brother's boyfriend, filled with jealousy, constantly scheming to sabotage their relationship, and despising his devoted stepmother. The intricate web of lies, manipulation, and deceit that Darrien and his mother had spun was startling. They had managed to completely isolate Asahin, reducing him to nothing more than a petulant, erratic omega—one unworthy of respect, incapable of commanding his own fate.

He understood now why he wanted to leave the Valmoor family. But what did Kaylen believe the reason to be? He had no idea of the real situation. What lies had the original Asahin fed him to secure his help?

Lost in thought, Asahin drifted into sleep. And as if answering his questions, his mind plunged into a memory—one that didn't belong to him, yet felt intimately familiar.

He was in a large, opulent study. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes, their spines gleaming in the dim light. He sat in a chair, his body trembling, nausea twisting his gut.

"I know you want to protect Darrien," he heard himself say. His voice was weak, unsteady. "After all, you… you love him so much."

He swallowed thickly, his throat parched. "I… I want to leave my family. Get away. Get away from having to see you and my brother together. But Father… he won't allow it. He won't even let me leave the capital. You… you need to convince him. Find a way for me to leave—not only the capital but Varruna."

His voice broke, as if the effort of speaking had drained the air from his lungs.

Kaylen stood behind a grand wooden desk, his gray eyes cold and hard as steel. Disgust radiated from him, thick and suffocating. Asahin averted his gaze. This man couldn't stand the sight of him.

"I'll think about it," Kaylen said sharply. "Now, please leave."

Asahin rose on shaky legs, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair for support. He was halfway to the door when Kaylen's voice cut through the silence.

"I hope you can keep your promise to stay away from Darrien and me tomorrow night, at the party" he said. "Your little theatrics are getting out of hand."

"Yes, of course." Asahin forced a smile, though it felt like he was stretching a mask over his face. Then he left.

The memory shattered, and Asahin found himself in another place. He was curled up in bed, his body wracked with silent sobs. His arms clutched at his chest, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

"It's okay! Everything is going to be okay," he choked out between sobs. "I'm not going to die! Not again! Not again!"

The pain was unbearable, crushing his ribs, suffocating him. It hurt, it hurt so much—

Then, darkness. A different memory now.

He lay on a cold, hard floor, his body unfamiliar—heavier, larger. This wasn't Asahin's body. It was his old body. He was David.

A pressure crushed his chest, suffocating him. Something clawed at his throat—hands, but not quite.

"Give it back! It's mine! MINE!" A guttural, inhuman voice hissed in his ear.

Dread surged through him, raw and visceral. He thrashed against the invisible force, desperate to escape—

Then, suddenly, he was back in Kaylen's house.

Had he woken up? No… this was another memory.

He stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of noodles. The scent of broth and spices filled the air. He had no control over his movements; his body was on autopilot, following a script written long ago.

The sound of a door opening and closing reached his ears. Then, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

"Eating noodles again," a familiar voice murmured against his ear.

Asahin turned, smiling. "Yeah, it reminds me of the old days."

His deep violet eyes met Kaylen's gray ones. But this wasn't the cold, indifferent gaze he had grown accustomed to. There was warmth in them now—something soft, something gentle.

Kaylen grinned. "Hmm, the good old days… I would have never had the courage to do this back then." Kaylen leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.

Asahin's breath caught. The kiss was hesitant at first, but it deepened, heat pooling in his gut as Kaylen pulled him closer. The familiar scent of vanilla and spice surrounded him, making his legs weak.

"I'm hungry," Asahin gasped, pulling away.

Kaylen chuckled, brushing his lips against Asahin's once more. "Me too."

Darkness swallowed him again.

Another memory surfaced—this one, from his past life.

He sat in a coffee shop, across from his sister, Elena. She was glued to her laptop, her fingers flying across the keys.

"So, you're making real money from this story?" he asked, raising a brow.

Elena looked up, smirking. "Not just real money—a lot of money."

Her dark eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Well, how lucky for you that you can come up with these weird stories and make money from them," he said, smiling. He was proud of her.

She pursed her lips. "Maybe it's not me coming up with the stories."

He frowned. "Did you steal someone else's work?"

Elena gasped in offense. "Of course not! What I mean is, I feel like I'm just a medium, channeling stories that already exists—somewhere in time and space."

David laughed. "That's ridiculous."

Elena glared at him. "Don't laugh, brother. There's more to this world than we can see."

Her voice faded as he drifted away from the memory.

Then, as he floated in the abyss, he heard her voice once more, soft yet resolute:

"Love doesn't end with death, brother."

Asahin jolted awake.

His heart pounded in his chest, sweat clinging to his skin. His throat was dry, his breath uneven.

What were these dreams?

No—these weren't just dreams. He had actually lived that moment with his sister. That was real.

But then… What about the memory of him and Kaylen? The kiss? The warmth in his eyes?

Heat surged to his cheeks. No. That had never happened. It was impossible.

Shaking his head, he clenched his fists.

It didn't matter. None of this mattered.

He had to leave. Before it was too late.

Before he ended up dead. Again.