CHAPTER 45: THE FORGOTTEN TALES

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Centuries passed, and the world moved on, erasing the remnants of the battles, sacrifices, and love that once defined it. The cathedral, once a witness to the clash of angels and demons, crumbled into ruins. 


Nature claimed it, vines creeping over broken stone, and the world forgot the stories buried beneath.


In a bustling city, far removed from the echoes of ancient wars, life thrived in its own chaotic rhythm. Students hurried between buildings, laughter and chatter filling the air. Among them was Tong, reborn not as an angel, but as an ordinary young man. 


His sweet and cheerful demeanor made him beloved by everyone around him. Though his memories of a past life were long gone, faint traces of that ancient soul lingered in the corners of his dreams—dreams he couldn't understand but which left him with an unshakable warmth.


In the shadow of this modern life, an old abandoned warehouse stood behind the faculty building. It was forgotten by everyone, its windows broken and its walls covered in graffiti. 


Deep within, hidden from prying eyes, rested a coffin, its edges marked with ancient symbols now faded with time. The air inside the warehouse was heavy and still, as if time itself hesitated to enter.


Inside the coffin lay Mark, unchanged, untouched by time. His features were serene, as though he was merely sleeping. Yet his heart was locked in a restless slumber, bound by the curse and the sacrifice of the one he once loved.


As Tong moved through his days, the world around him seemed perfectly ordinary. But there were moments—strange flickers of familiarity when he passed by the warehouse—that made him pause. His cheerful smile would falter, and a sense of longing, unexplainable and deep, would swell in his chest.



THE END 

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