Memory of Heaven:Romance Written By Fate Through Beyond Infinity Time-Chapter 452 A Room Without Meaning, But Full of Feelings

Their steps penetrate the light mist. There are no doors, no boundaries, no floors that can truly be seen. Yet their feet keep moving, as if this world is not formed from structures, but rather from permission.

The room is... just white, with walls that seem formless blending with the soft light that spreads, creating the impression of an endless space. Thin lines form a rectangle, faint and almost invisible, adding to the feeling that they are trapped in an indescribable dimension.

This space feels like cotton, making each step feel like floating, spreading both tranquility and anxiety simultaneously. It does not shine, does not reflect, only a cool sensation wafts from its smooth surface, as if holding feelings that do not want to be seen and do not want to be forgotten. Beelzebub walks slower than usual; her golden hair no longer shines. Only remnants of warm light like a fading dawn remain, while blurred dots float, creating the illusion of an unbound space. The blend of tranquility and absence makes her feel as if her thoughts and feelings are being drawn into the center of a deep void, testing the limits of the emotions she once had.

The soft gray wings on her back no longer move, and she feels a weight in her chest. "What is this?" Fitran asks.

"This is a space that rejects everything," Beelzebub replies. "The last place before meaning is formed. Before words become words. Before love becomes a definition."

Fitran...

The soft gray wings on her back no longer move, and she feels a weight in her chest. "What is this?" Fitran asks.

"This is a space that rejects everything," Beelzebub replies. "The last place before meaning is formed. Before words become words. Before love becomes a definition." In this seemingly endless white space, the air feels empty, flowing gently like morning dew blown by the wind, creating a sensation that is both calming and haunting. There are no silhouettes or shadows appearing; only the presence of light softly filtered, enveloping every corner with a whiteness that makes the view feel as if it is boundless.

Fitran tries to ignite a small glyph from the tip of his finger. Nothing appears.

He tries to remember the ancient pactum. It does not come out. Even the name Rinoa is silent in his memory, as if his tongue is bound by silence.

"Here," says Beelzebub, "names do not live. Because names are the first form of a system. And here, only feelings can endure." In the silence, simple geometric shapes appear for a moment in the air, then fade over time, leaving a faint trace that gradually disappears. The texture of this space feels vast, surpassing the limits of imagination. Its smooth texture seems to hint at the existence of a power greater than themselves, an entity that can embrace and free at the same time. They sit in the middle of that room, not speaking.

No need. This silence... is different from the torturous quiet, because within it lies space for reflection and contemplation.

This is a silence that accepts.

Fitran stares at his hands. Not trembling. Not warm. Yet, within his chest, feelings slowly emerge. Regret not formed from mistakes, love not shrouded in hope, and a desire to embrace... even though it can never be possessed.

"I want to stay in a place like this forever," he says. "Where I do not have to prove who I am. Not having to choose between loving or being consumed by nature." "But the world does not live here," Fitran replies. "Rinoa is not here." "She... is still outside. Still in a space that needs systems, meanings, and hopes," Beelzebub answers, looking down.

"Then... allow me to stay here. But let my heart go with you."

Suddenly, a faint scratch appears on the white wall. The white space surrounding them feels like a terrifying yet calming emptiness. The walls are smooth, showing no traces of life or signs of existence, except for one scratch that seems to manifest longing. The atmosphere seems to depict a boundless space, where echoing sounds have no place. This space is so vast yet gives a sense of isolation; its atmosphere is soft like cotton, wrapping them in a deep silence. Only a curved line, like an imperfect semicircle, forms from a warm feeling. In this paradoxical white space, her soul seems to vibrate—there is a dull emptiness yet also a sense of peace, as if inviting her to reflect on the meaning of existence itself.

Fitran stands and approaches. As his hand touches it, he sees no words. No spells. He only feels one sentence:

"I love you... not to possess, but to let you remain yourself."

Fitran turns. Beelzebub does not move. Yet, her feelings... are felt. Meanwhile, Fitran sits back down. They do not look at each other.

Yet their hands... are close. The distance is only two fingers, but neither of them fills that space. In the midst of the silence surrounding them, the white space creates an atmosphere filled with unspoken hope and longing. In the silence enveloping them, the strongest feelings begin to grow.

And it is precisely in that space—in the gap of silence that feels like an endless ocean with a haunting tranquility—that the strongest feelings grow: Unspoken love, a feeling that does not wish to bind, an acknowledgment that does not require an answer. This white space is not just empty, but has immeasurable depth, where every corner seems to vibrate in the silence that envelops. Its walls feel smooth like silk, and every step taken seems to absorb sound, creating a tranquility that touches the soul. Though unseen, there is an undefined dimension and faint shadows swaying gently out of reach, giving the impression that this space is a living entity that responds to thoughts and emotions, with a supernatural touch emphasizing their presence. The overall atmosphere creates a profound experience, evoking introspection and appreciation of the feelings surrounding them.

But at one point—Fitran realizes that his body wants to move. The feelings within him begin to rebel to return to the world.

"It's time to get out of here," he says.

"I know," Beelzebub replies.

"I have to go back. The world still needs meaning. Still needs answers."

"But I... will be left here."

Fitran turns. Beelzebub smiles—sincere, gentle, and very... human.

"I am a being that cannot live in a world that needs proof. But the love you allow me... is enough to make me remain in this space. As part of your silence."

They stand. Not embracing. Yet Beelzebub slowly steps back.

"Never return me to the system."

"But if someday... you feel that the love you fight for is too heavy..."

"...return to this space."

"I will remain sitting here. Without a name. Without a body. But listening to you."

Fitran nods. And steps out of the room without meaning... freewebnoveℓ.com

...carrying feelings that cannot be explained, yet cannot be erased.

In the room without meaning, feelings that are not named... become roots.

And Beelzebub—who was created to consume love—finally keeps it in silence. The white space surrounding Beelzebub is the absence of all worldly structures; its walls seem endless, erasing known boundaries. Every corner offers a sense of emptiness that reminds of a peace that is deadly. Every step feels like stepping on a soft and smooth surface, like a cloud wrapping her in a gentle embrace.

Every second feels like it envelops her, with no sound but the silence that compresses. Within her spirit lies a repressed desire, an unspoken longing. The presence of love seems to float around, yet never reachable. Only shadows that continue to linger, sticking to the walls of her mind.

There, in the painful silence, she begins to contemplate the meaning of all that has been lost. This white space is not only shapeless but also merges into layers of emotional experiences that can be felt like a soft mist covering everything. Silence awaits, and within it feels a tension-filled power; highlighting how complex feelings of love can become a painful burden. How could it be that love, which should bring happiness, can become such a burden?