Kin Ouren was no ordinary Omega.
He was a name the entire world knew — a pop sensation whose haunting voice lingered long after the music stopped. On stage, beneath dazzling lights, he was untouchable. His porcelain skin seemed to glow under the spotlight, and his sapphire-blue eyes made every camera tremble to capture him.
He wasn't just a singer. He was an image, a dream, a vision.
And when he stepped into the world of modeling, every gaze turned his way. Every room bent to his presence.
But fame is a mask.
And when the curtain fell, Kin's nights told a different story.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it—
A village in flames.
A courtyard drowning in blood.
And a man… a man whose eyes pierced his very soul.
That man's name… was Banja.
In broken fragments of memory, Kin saw Banja again and again—stabbed beneath the moonlight, blood spilling over sacred ground. Each time, Kin tried to stop it. He screamed, he ran, he begged. But he was always too late.
And the nightmare refused to stay in dreams.
Even in his concerts, when thousands of fans screamed his name, Kin sometimes froze mid-song. Between blinding lights and deafening cheers, he saw him — a pair of sorrowful eyes watching from the crowd.
A voice whispering, soft and haunting—
> "Kin…"
The visions followed him everywhere.
Backstage. In dressing rooms. In the silence of his luxury apartment.
His dreams were bleeding into reality, pulling him into a past he had never lived — yet felt as though he had died in.
---
Shen Seizan, his closest friend, noticed the change.
As a Beta and a police officer, Shen believed only in logic and law. Facts. Evidence. Things that could be touched, measured, and proven.
But even he couldn't ignore the exhaustion on Kin's face.
The quiet sobs that stained his pillows.
The way his trembling lips whispered that one name over and over —
Banja.
One evening, Shen finally broke.
He reached across the dinner table and gripped Kin's cold hand tightly.
> "We're going to see a psychiatrist tomorrow,"
he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Kin didn't protest. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he whispered,
> "Shen… I'm not sick. I know how it sounds, but I remember things that never happened in this life.
That man, Banja… He was my husband. I loved him. I died with him. And now… I've come back."
Shen's heart twisted. He wanted to believe him. But how could he?
He told himself Kin was overworked. Burned out. Pressured by fame. Perhaps even depressed.
That explanation made more sense than reincarnation.
And yet… something about the raw pain in Kin's voice made Shen hesitate.
For the first time, the man who never believed in ghosts, curses, or spirits… found himself afraid.
Afraid not of the dreams—
but of what would happen if they turned out to be real.
To Be Continued…
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