CHAPTER 170: THE WEDDING RINGS

[Hayato’s POV—Bedroom—Midnight]

"...Alvar. Let’s get married."

The words echoed—soft, careless, devastating.

I opened my eyes.

The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. Smooth. Expensive. Too clean. The kind of ceiling that belonged to a life I knew was mine, yet never truly felt like home.

"...Again," I murmured, staring upward. "The same dream."

I exhaled slowly and sat up, running a hand through my hair. My chest felt tight—not painful, but heavy, as if something was lodged there, refusing to dissolve.

I swung my legs over the bed and walked to the table by the window, pouring myself a glass of water. The city lights below glittered indifferently, unaware of the chaos playing out inside my head.

I drank.

Once.

Twice.

The coolness grounded me—but only slightly.

"Are delusional dreams a side effect of head trauma?" I muttered to no one.

I’d asked the doctors already. They’d given me clean, clinical answers. Stress. Memory reconstruction. Neural misfiring. Common phenomena.

None of those explanations fit. Because this didn’t feel like something my brain created.

It felt like something I had lived.

"No," I said quietly, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. "This isn’t delusion."

In the dream, I wasn’t watching from the outside.

I was there.

I could feel the weight of his body leaning too close. The warmth of his voice—casual, teasing, too sincere to be a joke.

A lazy proposal. Spoken like a truth he didn’t doubt for a second.

"...Alvar," I whispered.

The name curled strangely around my tongue. The same name Renji had sobbed into my coat that night. The same name that tightened something deep in my chest every time it surfaced.

Coincidence didn’t feel this deliberate.

I pressed my fingers to my temple and closed my eyes.

"Sigh... I need to relax."

But rest was impossible.

The silence of the room felt oppressive. Too loud. Too empty. My thoughts circled endlessly, like something searching for a place to land.

Without thinking, I picked up my phone. Tapped a familiar number.

The call connected almost immediately.

"Yes," I said flatly. "It’s me. Let’s meet."

There was a beat of silence on the other end.

Then—

"WHAT?! It’s MIDNIGHT, you idiot!"

I didn’t even flinch. I was used to this voice. Used to the volume. Used to the insults wrapped in concern.

"Ten minutes," I said calmly. "Same place."

"Hayato, you bas—"

I ended the call.

Set the phone down. Pulled on my jacket. As I stepped toward the door, one thought lingered—quiet but insistent.

If this dream keeps returning... If that name refuses to leave me... If Renji’s presence keeps pulling something loose inside my chest, then this isn’t madness.

It’s memory.

And I intend to find out whose life I’ve forgotten.

The door closed softly behind me. And the night swallowed me whole.

***

[Renji’s POV—The Same Night—Balcony]

The moon hung lazily above the city, pale and indifferent, like it had better things to do than watch me unravel.

I leaned against the balcony railing, letting the cold night air seep through my thin sweater, arms folded loosely as I stared up.

"He is very much Alvar..." I muttered.

Too much like him.

The posture. The silence. The way he watches instead of speaks. The way he protects without asking.

I sighed and tilted my head back, eyes fixed on the moon.

"...Grandma God," I called quietly.

No thunder. No holy light. Rude.

I clasped my hands together anyway, pressing my palms tightly like a prayer I wasn’t sure I was allowed to make.

"Is Hayato... Alvar?"

. . .

. . .

Of course. Silence.

I squinted at the sky.

"...Wow. Seriously? I never knew the Grandma God was this—this—" I sucked in a breath.

"—SHAMELESS."

The word echoed into the night, swallowed instantly by the wind.

I leaned forward, elbows on the railing, hands still clasped.

"I saved the damn world," I whispered furiously. "I locked the devil in a ring cage. I died. I suffered. I loved. And this is the customer service I get?"

Nothing.

Not even a breeze.

"Oh, don’t act innocent now," I snapped softly. "I know you’re listening."

My grip tightened.

"You bring me into another world. You take him away from him. And now—now you dangle him right in front of my eyes like this?"

I laughed under my breath. A short, broken sound.

"...You’re really cruel, you know that?"

The city hummed below—cars passing, distant laughter, life going on as if my heart wasn’t being torn apart molecule by molecule.

I closed my eyes.

Then—slowly—my voice changed.

The anger drained.

What replaced it was far worse.

"Give me a sign," I whispered.

Any confidence I had crumbled. My shoulders sagged.

"Any... damn sign." I swallowed hard, fingers interlacing tighter.

"If he’s not my Alvar," I said quietly, "then don’t give me anything."

I opened my eyes, staring at the moon again.

"Let me move on." My throat burned. "Let me stop hoping."

The night didn’t answer.

My hands trembled.

"But if he is..." My voice cracked despite my effort. "...if he really is my Alvar..."

I bowed my head slightly, forehead resting against my clasped hands.

"Then please," I whispered. "Please don’t be cruel again."

The humor was gone now.

No sarcasm. No anger.

Just a man standing alone under the sky, asking a god that never replied.

"I don’t need much," I murmured. "I don’t need explanations. I don’t need memories. I don’t want to go back to that world if he is here."

My breath shook.

"Just one sign." A tear slipped free, warm against cold skin. "One. Stupid. Obvious. Unmistakable sign."

I inhaled sharply.

"If he is my Alvar... I’ll forgive you," I said softly. "I won’t curse you. I won’t scream at the sky ever again."

My voice dropped to a whisper.

"...I beg you."

The word tasted bitter.

"I beg you, Grandma God."

The moon stayed silent. The stars didn’t move. And yet—somewhere deep in my chest, something ached so badly it felt like a promise trying to break through.

I stood there for a long time.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Begging a cruel god who had never once answered me before until she wanted it.

And then—

"MEOW..."

The sound was soft. Almost timid. I flinched and turned. Perched on the balcony railing was a cat.

A green-eyed cat.

It sat there calmly, tail wrapped around its paws, staring at me as if it had been waiting its turn to speak. Those eyes—gentle, ancient, knowing—

My breath hitched.

"...Those eyes," I whispered. "They’re the same."

The same eyes that once smiled at me from another world. The same eyes that watched fate like a game board.

"Grandma God...?" I breathed.

The cat tilted its head. For one heartbeat, the night held its breath with me. Then the cat hopped down from the railing—

WHOOSH.

"Wait—"

Vanished like mist.

I rushed forward, gripping the railing, looking down into the darkness below. There was nothing. No movement. No sound. No cat.

Only silence. My chest tightened painfully.

"Was that... just my imagination?" I whispered.

And then—

SPARKLE!!! SHINE!!!!

A sharp glint of light flashed at the corner of my vision, and I turned my head toward the source.

Something was resting on the balcony railing.

Something small.

Something shining.

My breath stopped.

"No..." I whispered.

My vision blurred instantly as tears flooded my eyes, because there—lying side by side like they had never been separated—

They’re our marriage rings.

My hands began to shake violently as I reached for them. The metal was warm.

Real.

Heavy with memory.

"The... Trivium core stone rings..." I choked.

The stone embedded in them glimmered faintly, the same soft light that once bound our souls together across worlds. Tears slipped freely now, dripping onto my hands, onto the rings, and onto the railing.

"How..." My voice broke completely. "Our...wedding rings..."

My wedding rings.

The proof of our vows. The proof of our love. The proof that what I lost was never erased—only hidden.

My knees buckled, and I clutched the rings to my chest like a lifeline.

"He is..." I sobbed. "He is my Alvar."

My shoulders shook as the truth finally crushed down on me with unbearable sweetness and pain.

"My husband..." I whispered. "He’s here. He really is here."

That night, I cried like hell.

Not quietly.

Not gracefully.

I cried until my chest hurt, until my throat burned, until every piece of grief I’d been holding back finally broke free. I trembled so hard I had to sit down on the cold balcony floor, clutching the rings with both hands like they might disappear again if I let go.

"I won’t curse you," I sobbed, laughing through tears. "I won’t— I won’t curse you, Grandma God..."

My forehead pressed against my knees.

"I forgive you," I whispered. "I forgive you... since you gave me my husband back."

The night stayed silent. But this time, it felt... kind. And that was the night—The exact moment—I made my decision.

I wiped my tears, pressing the rings to my heart one last time.

"...I’ll let him fall in love with me again," I whispered softly into the quiet air.

Slowly.

Gently.

No matter how long it takes.

Because this time—I found him.

And I’m not letting him go again.