In a dark room where there is little light from bright stars outside stands a messy array as if a final battle has just been fought. Scorches on all six walls and the fluorescent lights try to flicker but can be considered dead. There is a pool of blood underneath every corpse. And in the middle of this are two individuals which you would call a hero and a villain. 

“Any last words?” The villain hovers the lightsaber near the fallen hero, both are exhausted and covered in blood that can’t be distinguished as theirs or others.

The hero lifts her head, revealing the mole on her chin. Tears run down the corners of her eyes, and she whispers, “I love you.”

“You!” The villain kicks the hero and pins her down with his foot. The lightsaber points at the hero’s hopeful face. With a snicker, the villain grunts, “Do you think I’ll fall for that after all these years? After all these lifetimes? Forget it! A hero like you would never understand…”

“I’ll never understand what? Tell me. Let me know why you’re doing all of this. How many lifetimes have we followed each other? And yet I failed you every time?”

“Because I’ll do anything for you, but you’ll kill me without a second thought to save the world… You always assume I’m on the evil side without even confronting me simply because my existence opposes your ideas. Our love was never meant to be, Alexander Mihr Braveheart.”

The hero widens her eyes in confusion as the memories of their past lives surge from the bank of consciousness. However, it’s too late. She pulls the trigger of a small laser gun hidden in her hand. And right after, the villain makes the last struggle to throw the lightsaber far away because he never wanted to kill the hero in the first place. He only wanted to be heard. 

As the villain waits out his death, he prays that their lives end here. He is tired of the cat and mouse chase. He is tired of remembering their transgressions alone. He is tired of being the villain.

A few hours after he has closed his eyes, he is dazzled by a bright light as if he is seeing the world for the first time again. In his heart, he sighs that the cycle has restarted. But in reality, he cries out as large hands carry him about to a warm bath. 

He spends a month in this state until he can recognize blurred shapes again. Then another few months for him to see colors and recognize sounds. And when a year has passed, he has learned the language of this world.

His mother is called Rosenette, the only child of a scholar. His father is called Joslan, a blacksmith for the governor of their city, Duke Pairis Wysabell. His name in this world is Joril.

“Joril, come with Mother to greet the Duchess and the little prince,” Rosenette calls for him when he is waking up from a nap. 

Joril rubs his eyes and holds his mother’s hand as they enter a carriage ride to the Duke’s palace. They are guided through the corridor and to the pavilion at the back of the palace near the rather large koi pond. He follows his mother’s example to bow before the Duchess and little prince.

“Rose, you don’t need to be so formal! Aren’t we friends?” The Duchess helps Rosenette up as she is pregnant with twins. Then the Duchess notices Joril and wears a pitiful smile, “Your son is beautiful as expected of an omega. He will be a fine wife later in life.”

“Yes, but I would prefer it if he becomes your son-in-law,” Rosenette sits across from the Duchess, and Joril sits beside her, not making a sound.

The Duchess makes an uncomfortable face when Rosenette mentions Joril as her son-in-law because Joril is not a royal much less a noble. However, she can recover before Rosenette notices it and forms a pretty smile on her face, “I would like to speak with Rose privately, please leave us alone… Ah, your son will be tired from listening to adults, why won’t go he plays with the little prince?”

Joril looks up at his mother who sees this as a prime opportunity and easily agrees. The maids in the Duke’s palace take Joril and the sleeping child behind the Duchess to another place. 

“Wow, Lady Rosenette’s son behaves so well. If only the little prince is as well behaved when he’s awake.” 

“Really! Lady Rosenette’s son must be so easy to care for. The little prince is only eight months old but he’s already the definition of chaos!”

The maids gossip to one another and only stops when the little prince wakes and stirs up a storm. They struggle to please the little prince and forget about Joril who is enjoying sweets by the window. 

Joril has lived three lives before this one and yet he is never quite used to the cry of an infant, even his own. He stares at the awkward maids and feels a little funny. Perhaps he is the villain because he enjoys others’ misery. 

He sighs, walks over, and offers the child a piece of dried peach covered in powdered sugar. The child turns around with a drooling mouth and snatches the candy. 

“Wow! Lady Rosenette’s son is such a good child. He even knows to approach this little demon!” 

On the contrary, Joril only did it because he wants the crying, wailing, and bawling to stop. Little do they know, he regrets this act already because he recognizes the mole on the baby’s chin. He doesn’t want to be involved with the hero at all. 

When Joril returns to his seat by the window and a bowl of candy, the baby doesn’t care. It’s only when he runs out of candy that he cries out again. The maids offer him more dried peaches and even other varieties, but the little prince throws them away and continues to cry out. He turns his head about the room and ceases his tantrum as Joril comes into his vision. 

“Play! Play!”

Joril turns his head toward the window, pretending to not hear the little prince’s demand. 

The little prince gasps! No one has ever rejected him before. He balls his little fists and cries out louder, “Play!”

But Joril still doesn’t pay him any attention. 

“Play!” The prince shouts even louder and longer, and the maids are frightened by him. A few of them come over to Joril and pull the bowl of candy away, “Play with the little prince and we’ll prepare some for you to take home.”

“I don’t want them anymore,” Joril smiles at the pretty maids and spares the little prince a playful glance. 

“Play!” The little prince shouts. 

Feeling troubled and fearing the parents of the little prince, they simply carry Joril to the little prince’s nest. And because Joril is too short to climb out of the nest, he sits against the bar without crying. 

The little prince crawls over to Joril with a face of laughter and victory. He puts himself in Joril’s arms and offers him some dried peaches. Fortunately, Joril slips away and says, “No thank you. I’ve enough sweets.”

“Eat!” The little prince crawls over to Joril’s new place. 

Before Joril can slip away again, the maids help the little prince capture him. The little prince places a dried peach in Joril’s mouth with a gleeful smile. He kisses and talks nonsense to Joril who has already abandoned the baby language. 

It feels like a million years of torture for Joril until his mother comes to get him. Even while napping, the two mothers chuckle and joke at how attached the little prince is to Joril. Rosenette is happy, but Duchess is a little indifferent because her son and Joril are still children. 

Joril removes the little claws on his clothes and raises his arms to be taken out of the little prince’s nest. On his way home, he vows to never see the little prince again!