The Tyrant's Terminally-Ill Childhood Friend (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 103

There is someone I cannot love freely, not even in dreams.

Someone I cannot embrace freely, not even in imagination—someone to whom I dare not confess my love.

“Your Majesty.”

Anette, Lowell, Martinek, Hessen. Every title pointed to one person. Any of them could be used to call her, yet none of them fully captured who she truly was.

Her long, flowing black hair and those black eyes gazing at him—upon meeting them, he instantly knew this was a dream.

Because the Lowell he knew never smiled so happily. Lowell’s face always bore cynicism and regret. Sometimes, she would look at him with eyes full of hatred, as if wishing to kill him. Whenever that hollow emptiness settled into her dry gaze, Peter felt as though there was no place in the world for him.

But the Lowell before Peter now brimmed with vitality. It sounded strange to say a dead person was full of life, yet it was undeniably true. Her beaming smile resembled that of a child.

“Peter,” Lowell said briefly, stepping forward to take his hand. Her reaction was so familiar it was hard to believe she had ever addressed him formally as “Your Majesty.” Thus, Peter let himself be held by her, though somewhat reluctantly.

“…Lowell.”

“Haha! What a dazed look on your face.”

Lowell giggled, then suddenly leaned in close—so close he could see his own reflection in her sharp, black eyes.

“Peter, tell me—does it feel good to be alive?”

“…What?”

“You killed me twice, didn’t you? Once wasn’t enough, so you did it again!”

Her grip tightened around his hand, her nails digging into the back of his hand. The strength was uncanny—Lowell shouldn’t have possessed such power, and even if she strained with all her might, Peter should have easily shaken her off. Yet he could only struggle helplessly in her grasp.

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