Re:of life-Chapter 48: What Remains of a Name

1

"Farren? Is that really you? How come you seem so different?"

The man sighs, eyes settling on Farren with a strange familiarity—like someone who's seen him before, who knows him. Maybe even deeper than the party members Farren has now... his companions, his so-called friends.

A family member? A friend?

Is the man standing here—right in front of Farren, bathed in the eerie light surrounded by darkness—someone who knows who Farren really is? Someone who knows his past?

Or is it just someone who once crossed paths with him, long ago?

Whoever this man is, standing in the middle of what feels like an abyss of nothingness... he's enough to bring Farren to tears. And that's not like him. Farren doesn't cry. Doesn't let emotions take over like this.

But in his quiet sobs, there's a smile. A soft, welcoming one—yet distant, like he's caught in between. Like he wants to reach out... but also step back.

Not from the man himself, maybe. But from whatever he represents. From the past. From the weight. From the memories.

He just wants to forget. To let go of the miserable fragments he calls a past.

"Think we can talk?" The man asks gently—like he knows so much but also so little.

A tear fell down Farren's cheek as he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "... Yes... Brother... Let's talk." His tone was heavy, yet there was an acceptance in it—like he was finally ready to confront his past, his feelings, and the things he'd kept hidden for so long.

Auren, standing tall before him, fixed his gaze on his brother with quiet resolve, a trace of curiosity in his eyes. "I don't know all the details," Auren began, his voice gentle but filled with an undercurrent of concern. "But I know something happened back then... Something changed you. But what could it have been? What led you to distance yourself from who you once were? Was it because of me? Or our father?" He spoke with genuine care, desperate to understand the truth of what had shaped his brother, to know why Farren had built this facade of someone he wasn't.

Farren took a long, shaky breath before speaking again, his voice quieter now. "Auren... I've been through so much... There are things I'd rather leave behind. I want to forget, forget my past and move forward... start anew. I don't want to remember the kingdom... what happened there. But it's not something I can just erase. It's too much... I can't stop thinking about it... about what I did, about the things I had to do." His words were barely more than a whisper, yet they carried the weight of a man who had been struggling with his identity for far too long. A man who, in some ways, wished to forget his very name just to escape the burden of his past.

Auren remained silent, standing before him—his pale, white hair a sharp contrast against the darkness around them—quiet and composed, listening to every word.

Farren exhaled deeply before continuing, "I don't want to live a life where I look down on others. I don't want to live as part of the nobility. I don't want to live a life of politics, war, ruling, and killing." He paused, his voice growing heavier with each word. "No... that's not the real problem. That's not the whole story..."

Farren's voice became more urgent as he spoke from the heart, his words laced with honesty. "What happened... the things I did, the things I had to do... it fills me with nothing but regret. I hate the man I was... I can't accept him. That's why... I live with the regret of who I used to be. And I can't move on. Whether it's the people I left behind, the family I abandoned, or everything I thought I could run from. I tried to start over, to be reborn... but even after all this time, I haven't changed. I can't change. I just... I've learned to bury it. To hide behind this mask of a carefree fool, to escape the truth of who I am."

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound carrying a hint of sadness. "And for a while, it worked. If I could put on this act, forget about everything, then maybe—just maybe—I could have some peace. But it doesn't last. Every night, I'm haunted by regret, by the things I've done."

Auren's gaze softened, but he remained quiet, his composure unwavering.

Farren's eyes finally met his brother's, his voice faltering as he spoke the words he had never wanted to say. "I killed... I watched people die... innocent people. I was told to kill, and so I did. Back then, it was second nature. I was taught from a young age that those with noble blood were more valuable than the common folk. That they were worth saving. I was told this by everyone around me—by our father, even."

He paused, looking away for a moment, as though ashamed. "I hated him... but now, I see it. He was just doing his job. He wasn't the one who wanted to kill innocent people. He was just following orders from those even higher than him. He did what he had to do to avoid punishment. And me? I was being trained for war... to fight, to punish people who had done nothing wrong, and one day, to lead the noble house."

Farren clenched his fists, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for running away, for leaving that burden in your hands. I never wanted to put that on you... I never wanted to run from who I was supposed to be."

He stopped, as if unwilling to continue, like he had already said too much. The words hung heavy in the air, barely touching the surface of the pain he had lived with for so long. Auren could see it in his eyes—there was more. So much more. But Farren had reached his limit.

Auren's voice cut through the silence. "Is there more? You're not finished, are you?" His tone was calm, but there was an urgency in his eyes.

Farren hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed like he might refuse to speak any further. But finally, with a deep breath, he spoke once more, his voice barely above a whisper. "I saw our younger brother... He died in my arms. I couldn't protect him. In the war... he was taken from us."

Tears fell from Farren's eyes as he spoke the words, his voice breaking. He tried to hold back the sobs, but they came anyway, betraying the depth of his pain.

Auren's heart tightened as he watched his brother struggle. The memory of their brother's death was still too raw, and the pain was far too great. He bit back his own tears, his voice steady but firm as he asked, "That's it? Nothing more you want to say?"

Farren nodded sharply, his face pale, his voice a soft echo of the man he once was. "Yes... that's all."

"I understand the burden, Farren," Auren said, his voice unwavering, yet soft. "But even that... even all of that, could never be enough to shape you into the man you've become now. There must be more to it. And if there's more you've suffered, more you've done, things you're too unwilling to share with me..." He paused, a long breath escaping his chest, a gentle calmness to his words. "You don't have to speak of it. But listen to me."

Auren's gaze softened, his voice becoming more deliberate, grounded in his own understanding. "What I ask is that you never forget who you truly are. It will never help to lose yourself in the process. You need to confront your burdens—your regrets—and face them, cleanse them. And if you can't undo what's been done, accept that. Live the life you want, let go of the past... but never, never let go of who you are."

He hesitated, eyes reflecting something deeper, something shared. "That's what our little brother would have wanted. He didn't blame you for his death... and he wouldn't want you to mourn him endlessly. He would have wanted you to live, to find happiness again."

Farren's words came sharp, filled with frustration. "What do you know about it? Thank you for your words... but I don't want to be myself. I really don't."

Auren's expression held firm, a quiet strength in his demeanor as he met Farren's gaze. His voice, though steady, held an undercurrent of urgency. "But you must be. You can change, yes... become a new man, grow, evolve. But even then, you'll still be you. Don't forget who you are, Farren. Please."

There was a plea in Auren's tone, a desperate hope, as he looked at his brother.

"Change?" Farren's voice trembled with frustration. "I'd give anything to change... but I can't, not when I know what I've done. I can't just forget that. I'm... I'm trapped by it." He paused, a long sigh slipping from his chest, the weight of his words heavy. "But... thank you. I'll try. I'll try to remember who I am, the ones I still hold dear. I'll face my burdens, and maybe... maybe one day I can change. Maybe then I'll finally be able to accept myself, for who I am... not who I was, but the person I am now, the one I have the chance to be." His voice faltered, his heart exposed without the filter of thought. A man desperate for change—not to become someone better, but simply to change... to find a way to forgive himself.

"I don't want to burden you anymore... I don't want to drag you back into the despair, the suffering... But before I'm gone, please, tell me one thing." Auren's voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as he began to fade. The light around him seemed to dim, as if retreating into the shadows, carrying with it a finality that hung heavy in the air. "Tell me you still know who you are. Tell me you haven't forgotten... your name."

Farren's chest tightened, his heart pounding against his ribs. He forced a smile, though it felt more like a mask than anything genuine. Tears, real and raw, welled up and spilled down his chin. He didn't want Auren to see him like this, vulnerable, but there was no hiding the weight of what had been shared.

Resisting the urge to deny it, to let the name fade into oblivion—he doesn't want to remember it, doesn't want to accept it. But for his brother, for himself... he says it, not out of will, but through the mask he's worn for so long. He can't say his name—not with meaning, not with acceptance. It's his given name, one that should carry pride, pride which he can not hold.

"My given name is Farren Solváran Ran Falhréyn."

The words felt foreign on his tongue, like they belonged to someone else, someone he had long since abandoned. A name he hadn't uttered in over four years... a name that had almost slipped into oblivion, buried beneath the pain and the regret.

For a brief moment, the world around him seemed to hold its breath, the silence stretching out, heavy with meaning. But Farren knew—deep down—that it wasn't just the name that had been forgotten. It was himself. Yet, somehow, saying it now... felt like he was finding his way back.

Auren's light flickered for a heartbeat, before it was gone, leaving only the lingering echo of the bond they had shared.

2

"Fucking fog..." Ronan muttered under his breath.

A figure stood ahead, half-swallowed by the shifting mist. Even through the haze, Ronan recognized the face—too well. Too painfully well. A face that belonged to someone long gone. A dead man. A dead friend.

The illusion didn't speak. Didn't need to.

Ronan's jaw clenched. With just a glance between them, both seemed to understand—there was no room for reunion, no space for words. Only the inevitable.

He surged forward, more irritated than heartbroken, blades flashing through the fog. One clean strike—fast, practiced, merciless.

"...Sorry," he muttered, barely audible, as the illusion dissolved into smoke.

Gone.

Ronan stood still for a beat, letting the silence settle before spitting on the ground.

"Fucking hate this shit."