B-ronken-R-ing 159...

A heavy silence settled after Emiliano's confession.

"Most would consider this a punishment. The ultimate reward of death is forgetting, after all," Emiliano said in a low tone, his gaze drifting past Cárcel's shoulder to the immense statue of the apostle behind him.

Anastasio, the apostle of God, stood with eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest, as though he were lying in a tomb, yet stood vigilant. Just as his first death was recorded in the holy scripture, he was "standing up yet dead" as well as "lying down but alive". The detailed folds of the long hem covering his feet, the lowered eyelids, and the finely carved eyelashes gave it an almost lifelike presence -a semblance of divinity. Emiliano's light brown eyes wandered across the carefully hewn stone face as if searching for something there, before lowering to rest on Cárcel.

"I did not receive any punishment, but I chose to die without the reward. I am a soul that couldn't be set free."

Cárcel recalled the bright sunlight of Sevilla illuminating his wheat-brown hair and reflecting off of it, the thunder of hooves approaching from a distance, and the scent of saltwater carried by the west wind.

"I have been wondering if you had perhaps chosen the same path."

"This is preposterous..." Cárcel muttered.

"Have you seen the apostle behind you? Do you remember your last death?" Emiliano's gaze, clear and unwavering, fixed on Cárcel. "I remember only one."

"So you remember...everything?"

"Only the moments of my insignificant life."

"You remember because you chose to? Since when?"

"Since the beginning. Since nothing of significance happened to me after I was born again into this world." Emiliano smiled faintly as Cárcel stood in silence and continued, "This was not the case for you, I see. That is why you have been granted the mercy of dreams. You, my lord, were never as foolish as I was. You've never made the wrong choice."

Cárcel saw a flicker of desperate hope in Emiliano's fragile expression, a fleeting selfish desire that Cárcel shared his fate. But as realization dawned, a deep and compassionate sense of relief softened Emiliano's features.

Cárcel stared wordlessly at Emiliano, his thoughts swirling around the desperation that had clouded the painter's amiable gaze for a split second.

It was as if this simpleton had been marooned on a deserted island for decades, desperately yearning for someone, anyone to arrive. He was like a castaway praying for a ship on the horizon, hoping it would draw closer, and if not, hoping for it to sink so the survivors might be shipwrecked on the island with him-that someone would arrive to relieve his terrible loneliness, to be imprisoned alongside him so that he wouldn't be alone anymore. He would have welcomed anyone, even if that person happened to be the husband of the woman he loved, and the man who wished to end his life. His desperation was like an unquenchable instinct for survival.

"Just as I expected, you have always been a noble soul," Emiliano said, his eyes now clear and steady. All the turmoil in his gaze had disappeared, replaced by reason and goodwill. Awe filled his gaze, along with relief that Cárcel had not suffered the same fate. "God must love you, and rightfully so."

Cárcel ran a hand down his frowning face, releasing a hollow laugh. Emiliano seemed oblivious to the misery he was causing him. "I still do not understand a word you are saying. All that I remember is..."

"If you did not know you were born once again, it is a blessing of opportunity. If you were not born again at all, it is an even greater blessing. If time did not rewind, leaving you stranded in the middle of your life, it means you did not commit any sins. If memories or dreams intrude upon your consciousness despite that... it must be God's way of helping you this time."

Cárcel felt the breath that had been caught in his throat escape his lips. He was exasperated by the pious faith shining in Emiliano's eyes despite all of his heretical talk. Emiliano's eagerness to help him was palpable.

Cárcel wondered whether Emiliano knew that he had contemplated killing him to bury the truth forever, to eradicate this place for Inés could never return. If Emiliano had realized any of it, he wouldn't have been able to look at him this way.

"I am sorry, but this all sounds senseless."

"I understand."

"And I feel even unhinged than you." Cárcel gritted his teeth, staring beyond the empty altar.

The only color on the barren stone wall was the depiction of God Emiliano had painted. It stood out like a lone flower blooming in a desolate bush.

Cárcel glared at the image. It was the first act of blasphemy he had ever committed in his life.

"A memory came to me one day," Cárcel continued. "It's strange to call it a memory since I never experienced it, but it was vividly real, if only for a moment. I could feel the air, smell my surroundings, and even hear sounds in the distance. But then, suddenly, it would stop, like a candle being snuffed out."

Emiliano listened in silence.

"When someone attempted to kill me, I realized the same thing had happened back then. The painting of Sevilla seemed to split my head open. Sevilla...you two were there, on the day you died," Cárcel said, his voice a strangled whisper.

Emiliano nodded calmly.

"I have been to that small harbor many times. Nothing about it was new, and yet it felt strangely unfamiliar. I could see it so vividly, but it wasn't the Sevilla I knew. I heard myself say things I never said, and the other person replied with words I have never heard either. For some absurd reason, Inés was Oscar's wife. Oscar was talking to me about his wife.

Inés was nowhere to be seen, and I was standing there, watching this strange scene. Somehow, I knew he was speaking of Inés. In that moment, I knew." Cárcel slowly turned to face Emiliano, his gaze much tamer than the glare he had shot at the image of God.

For the first time, Emiliano looked shocked.

"Is this something you do not recall? Or is it something you never knew, even in your memories?"

"All I remember is my life that ended at twenty-two. When I first encountered Her Ladyship, she was betrothed to the crown prince."

"Yes, I witnessed a moment from that time, too. One day, he rambled on about his betrothed. Strangely, even though I am Inés's husband now... in that moment, I was convinced that she belonged to Oscar. He seemed no more than seventeen or eighteen, and I knew their union was imminent. Though I am now taller than him, I found myself looking up at Oscar, consumed by a feeling of terrible despair. It was as if I had become that strange boy... Everything was so fragmented and disjointed that I thought I had finally lost my mind."

The emotions of that young boy had struck Cárcel like a lightning bolt. But his fourteen-year-old self couldn't grasp the depth of his own despair. He couldn't comprehend his anguish over a fact he already knew so well. He was baffled by his own emotions, especially since he harbored no feelings for Inés Valeztena.

Emiliano listened to him quietly.

"The first time I remembered your face was when I gazed upon that painting of Sevilla one day. I had never seen you before, but when your face came to mind, I felt an inexplicable urge to kill you. Though I have never seen you, your hair, your appearance, the way you looked at me... The face that haunted my visions in those delusions is right here in front of me, in Bilbao."

"Your Lordship," Emiliano began, but Cárcel showed no sign of stopping.

"This must mean that I haven't lost my mind. And I must be proof to you that you aren't unhinged either."

The sight of Inés gasping for breath as if drowning, the four years of her life shrouded in mystery, and everything he had ever wondered about her seemed to be connected to this.

Cárcel thought back to the unfamiliar memory. The moment his breath had been taken away when she faced him, standing on the docks of that small countryside harbor, holding a child in her arms. Inés, cradling another man's child, regarding her husband.

The presence of Emiliano before his eyes in this very moment was proof that all those delusional visions had been real.

The full story remained a mystery, yet one thing was clear. Inés had loved this man standing before him.

Cárcel had dared to hope that she loved him now. That night, that early morning, her expressions, her warmth, the way she gazed at him, the way she caressed him-they all seemed to suggest love. He had believed it to be something adjacent to love, at least, that perhaps she recognized him.

He remembered her whispered words, still so clear in his mind.

"But this time, I recognized you, so..."

"Cárcel, I want a child. I truly want it. I want a child of our own."

Cárcel stood there in a daze, tears streaming down his face, his cheeks wet. He could feel Emiliano's gaze upon him, but all he could see was Inés, vivid in his mind.

"Did you come here to kill me, Escalante? You are Oscar's dog, after all." She glared at him, shielding the child in her arms.

That day, she had called him Oscar's dog, as though she expected him to kill her child. As though he was some common murderer. As though she believed he could kill her child.

"If Oscar still has need of me, you had better not touch even a hair on my husband and my child. I can kill you, too. Of course, it would be much easier to simply kill myself. If you dare lay a finger on my family, all you will have left to take to Oscar will be my corpse."

The woman who had spoken those words could never love him. How could he ever have thought that she might?

He wouldn't have been able to harm Emiliano, even without her threats, because he was the man she loved. The man she had given up her life to love.

Cárcel hadn't been able to tell her then that he had already saved her husband. That he had found

Emiliano before both the crown prince and her brother, and had helped him escape.

Inés, even at the end of her rope, had looked beautiful. The woman dressed in ragged clothes, glaring at him with eyes full of hostility, the woman who loved another man that much, had been hauntingly beautiful.

He had been overwhelmed with unbearable jealousy. He couldn't stand how much he envied that humble man. And so, he hadn't been able to hurt him. He hadn't been able to follow the crown prince's orders.

From the very beginning, until the very end.

Moments later, she had lowered her guard and said, "I'm sorry, Cárcel. I've been on edge lately. This child's name is Luca." The moment she had uttered the boy's name, her haggard face had lit up briefly.

That... was true love.