Reincarnated to save a broken heart ✓

Extra 3 [Part 3]

/!\ Sensitive Subjects Present (Sensitive Subjects are specified at the end, risk of being spoiled!)

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A few rays of sunlight filtered through the bedroom curtains. The chirping of the sparrows outside had the effect of waking the person wrapped up in the sheets of the bed. He slowly opened his eyes, without moving, staring silently at the sandalwood walls. He remained prostrate in this position without saying a word until someone came and leaned over him.

"Are you all right?" a blond man familiar to all readers of this book asked him with a worried expression.

The other person simply shrugged before straightening up, making the god take a step back.

"Do you really think a prisoner would be happy to go back to his cell? ಠ∀ಠ"

"It's true that from that point of view...," Fury muttered embarrassedly.

"Anyway, it could be worse! I thought I was going to be strung up by my feet, but I'm not. At least I'm living well here (~‾▿‾)~"

"Auteur...," sighed the young man sadly.

"Don't look at me with that pitiful look on your face, you have to make do with what you've got."

She shrugged again, then jumped out of bed in her nightdress and headed for her dressing table, which was now situated next to a huge mirror. This one faced the double bed, which opened onto a terrace with a great view of the palace grounds and gardens. On the other side of this table was a bookcase filled with old books with dusty, worn covers. The rest of the room was lined with various pieces of furniture, each as unbelievable as the next, and fluffy carpets also spread across the room, with papers scattered all over them and the floor. However, in the middle of all this mess, in a dark corner, Fury spotted a piece of furniture, covered in a white sheet that was damaged and slightly ragged around the edges, as if it wanted to be forgotten, exiled to the corner of a disastrous and tortuous past.

The blond walked towards this hidden treasure, ignoring Auteur who was minding her own business in front of her dressing table. Its long form reminded him of another object. He then removed the sheet to dispel the doubts that had assailed him. His body froze as he finally caught sight of it, the textile still clutched in his hand. A weathered and dilapidated cradle seemed to huddle in this corner, mould growing up its legs, the faded white had given way to grey, the mattress, now damp and abandoned by its owners, had rotted away, as had the wood around it. Fury's eyes filled with sadness at the sight.

"What's this? It's still here?"

The god turned back to Auteur, who had merely combed her hair, and saw her standing next to him. She tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

"It must be Baetel... If it were up to me, I'd have thrown it away, no, smashed it to bits."

Her fists clenched at the end of her sentence and a poignant emotion showed in her eyes.

"Then do it," said the blond man, crossing his arms.

She looked at him confused.

"Do what?"

"Destroy it, break it, smash it, do what you've always wanted to do," encouraged the young man.

She remained silent and motionless for a while, seeming to think for a long time, before suddenly seizing the object in her hands, dragging it towards the terrace in front of Fury's mute eyes, opening the French windows and then swinging it over the balcony into the distance. The sound of something crashing heavily to the ground and shattering into a thousand pieces echoed through the peaceful garden, sending the birds flying. Auteur remained motionless, content to stare wordlessly at the remains of a painful memory. She closed her eyes before turning and curling up against the railing. The god, who had remained silent until then, spoke as he sat down beside her, his hand caressing her head reassuringly: