Bound by Stars and Secrets

Chapter 1

In a new era of the galaxy, Lysander Vale and his brilliant strategist, Gwendolyn Ashford, were the envy of the universe for their steadfast love. That was, until one fateful day when Lysander's mind fractured; he became two distinct beings, each with no knowledge of the other. Now, both desperately wanted to claim Gwendolyn for themselves, driven by an obsession that led them to the brink of destruction—even to the point of contemplating their own demise out of jealousy.
To heal her beloved, Gwendolyn bravely entered Lysander's Realm of Spirits, hoping to continue their love story. Instead, she was thrust into a harrowing struggle.
Lysander (the original): “Gwendolyn doesn’t love me. Not at all.”
Lysander (the fractured): “Even if Gwendolyn doesn’t love me, I will lock her away, even if it means she will hate me for the rest of her life.”
Lysander (the fractured): “I know you’re pretending to love me, but that’s okay. If you can keep fooling me forever, I won’t mind one bit.”
Gwendolyn, caught in this chaotic emotional storm, sighed with exasperation, "If you’re going to put on such a show, why not become a screenwriter instead?!"
In one sentence, this chaotic saga encapsulates the essence of the narrative: A tale of mutual affection between a couple that turns into a sweet, albeit tumultuous story, filled with love and jealousy, as they navigate the complexities of their bond in dangerously unconventional ways.

Chapter 2

Gwendolyn Ashford sighed, her voice tinged with exasperation, "This is already the fourth time."
Lysander Vale, dressed in a snug black military uniform adorned with badges of honor, grinned mischievously as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Kiss me again."
Before she could protest, he leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was anything but gentle. This time, it was fierce and passionate, a dance of tongues infused with heat and urgency.
Gwendolyn let out a soft moan, attempting to deflect his eager hands. "Lysander, Lysander Vale..."
The tremor in her voice only intensified his desire, his tone growing husky. "...Just for a moment."
Three hours later, Gwendolyn glanced down at her wrinkled military attire, the scattered papers on her desk, and the magically self-cleaning sofa that seemed a little too tidy for comfort.
She muttered under her breath, cursing her luck.
At least she had managed to send him off on time.
An important military drill was scheduled for later that afternoon in Frost Haven, and even aboard the Warlord, it would take at least two hours to reach the venue at maximum speed. Lysander simply had to go.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to stand. Despite the Imperial acknowledgment of her S-level physique, she was no match for Lysander’s SSS-level strength.
After hours of exhaustion, he had left for another star system, leaving Gwendolyn feeling weak and unsteady. People like him were simply on another level—an explosive competition she was tired of losing.
Once she finally caught her breath, she took a cleansing shower in the Third Floor Lavatory, then changed clothes before stepping out of the Marshal's Keep.
Imperial City was in the throes of summer; the noon sun blazed unforgivingly, casting golden rays that felt as if they could melt everything in their path.
Standing outside the Marshal's Keep was Bastian Grey, nearly wilting under the heat of the sun. Thankfully, moments later, a tall, elegant figure emerged.
Long before the founding of the Federation, Gwendolyn Ashford’s brother had already carved a name for himself throughout the galaxy.
Born into nobility—his father served as Speaker of the Council and his mother as Minister of Rites—his family was distinguished. Both of his older brothers held esteemed positions, making the Ashford House and their maternal lineage, the Shen family, paragons of prestige within the Galactic Federation.
From birth, Gwendolyn received a significant amount of attention as a rare SSS-rated psychic. This distinction signified that as she matured, she would possess remarkable intelligence, exceptional logical reasoning abilities, and strong leadership skills.
Even more astonishing was her S-level physique, allowing her to excel in both academics and combat training.
And she certainly didn’t disappoint—by the age of seven, she had already demonstrated mind-boggling talents; by twelve, she graduated from the Empire's most prestigious university, entering the Federal Research Institute that same year. There, she worked under Professor Yang on the development of the Warlord, proposing the Counter-Control Energy Enhancement Theory two years later—solving an energy crisis that had plagued the Galactic Federation for decades.
By eighteen, he made history as the youngest First-Class Academician in the Galactic Federation, and by nineteen, his name was forever engraved on the left breast of the Warlord, honoring him as a co-founder.
Three years later, as the Federation began to crumble amidst foreign invasions, the galaxy descended into chaos, and shocking accusations surfaced about the Ashford family, alleging they conspired with the invaders—bringing about the downfall of their storied lineage.
Many expected Gwendolyn to disappear amid the ensuing turmoil. But two years later, from a distant Stellar Constellation, an unknown army surged to power, astonishingly sweeping away the evil Multilimbed Clan and reclaiming three fallen star systems within just six months.
A year later, Lysander Vale’s name echoed throughout the galaxy.
Under his command, the Warlord stood undefeated in battle.
And beside this War God was a young man, polished as pine and serene as bamboo—the long-lost third son of House Ashford, Gwendolyn Ashford.
The story of how Gwendolyn and Lysander met or how their love flourished remained a mystery, yet it was universally accepted that they were the saviors of humanity, the ones who vanquished the invaders and restored order to the galaxy.
Bastian did not meet Gwendolyn’s gaze; his posture stiffened as he stood at attention, saluting like a soldier.

Chapter 3

Even after the establishment of the Empire, Gwendolyn Ashford had given up all titles, choosing instead to remain within the Marshal's Keep as the "Marshal's Lover." Yet, Bastian Grey would forever remember Master Elysium, who had calmly analyzed countless battle strategies, leading them out of danger and bestowing them with countless honors.
Lysander Vale was their soul, while Gwendolyn Ashford was their faith.
So, no matter his rank or status, whenever he encountered Gwendolyn Ashford, he would bow, acknowledging the undeniable hierarchy where the Marshal reigned supreme, and there was only one Marshal.
Gwendolyn Ashford frowned slightly. "Mind your place."
"Yes," Bastian Grey replied.
Gwendolyn Ashford shot him a glance, then turned to board the shuttle, his expression somber. "To the Back Garden."
"The Back Garden" was a euphemism for the Academy Gardens' secluded rear area, itself a very covert location. The research institute it belonged to was already hidden well, and this backyard, even more so.
It was the heart of the Empire, the Marshal's private territory, where they conducted the most cutting-edge research — the kind that might never be revealed to the general public.
Gwendolyn Ashford was well aware of the backyard's existence but had never come here since the founding of the Empire, despite Lysander Vale's numerous invitations and temptations to take over the entire research institute. Gwendolyn Ashford had always refused.
But now, he had deliberately sent Lysander Vale away and came to this place alone.
If it had been anyone else who accompanied him, there would have likely been suspicion about discord between him and Lysander Vale, perhaps even worries of impending disaster.
But Bastian Grey would never doubt that. This was Gwendolyn Ashford, the faith of them all, including the Marshal.
Though this was Gwendolyn Ashford's first time in "The Back Garden," he felt no unfamiliarity. After all, he had drawn the blueprints, and even without stepping foot inside before, he was intimately familiar with the layout of the entire facility.
The researchers he encountered on his way all kept their heads down, quietly absorbed in their tasks, nobody daring to steal a glance at him.
Gwendolyn Ashford pressed forward, passing through several security checkpoints until he reached the innermost confines of the base.
At the last door, Bastian Grey was denied access.
Gwendolyn Ashford glanced at him. "You wait outside."
Bastian Grey bowed respectfully. "As you wish."
Now alone before the closed silver door, Gwendolyn Ashford stood still as the security system scanned him from head to toe, cross-referencing his genetic identifiers, before it slowly opened.
In stark contrast to the bright exterior, the interior was shrouded in darkness. Gwendolyn Ashford felt unperturbed as he strode in, his demeanor unchanged but his pupils constricting rapidly.
As he entered, the interior suddenly lit up. A young man busy at a machine looked up and froze, his expression turning blank. "Y-Your Excellency..."
The young man stammered, nearly falling to his knees. Gwendolyn Ashford shot him a glance, his voice low and icy. "What a mess."
The young man's fear was evident as he almost collapsed. "W-We are only following orders..."
Ignoring him, Gwendolyn Ashford's expression turned frosty, and he raised his eyes to see the man submerged within a cylindrical container.
This was a man, completely nude, with sharp brows and captivating eyes, wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. The sight of his perfect physique was striking—there was no doubt this was an exceptionally well-built body, one that Gwendolyn Ashford knew well.
After all, they had spent a decade together, and they understood each other's bodies perhaps better than anyone else.
This was Lysander Vale, yet also not Lysander Vale.
Because he was just a clone.
A "Lysander Vale" created by Lysander Vale himself.
Gwendolyn Ashford took a deep breath, diverting his gaze as he scanned the laboratory, noting all the unfamiliar and youthful researchers.
Cloning was not an advanced technology; Gwendolyn Ashford had been able to independently analyze this biotechnology since he was twelve. There was no need for professional specialists.
However, this laboratory was located at the deepest point of the backyard, heavily protected.
The reason for all this security was simple; this clone was the Empire's military leader, a hero of humanity, and his beloved.
Gwendolyn Ashford pressed his fingers to his temples and, after glancing over the experimental records, his expression darkened.
Just as he suspected.
Lysander Vale’s personality was beginning to create layers of separation.
His memories no longer intertwined, and his identity was gaining independence, with Lysander Vale evidently intending to create distinct individuals.
After leaving the backyard, Gwendolyn Ashford boarded Bastian Grey’s shuttle and punched in a series of numbers.
An attractive young man appeared on the screen. "Sir."
Gwendolyn Ashford asked immediately, "What’s the progress?"
The young man replied, "Marshal's condition is rather unique; it isn't your typical case of dissociative identity disorder, I—"
Gwendolyn Ashford interrupted him, "You have two hours to come up with a plan."
The young man blinked, startled. "W-What? Has something happened?"
Gwendolyn Ashford stated firmly, "He's starting to produce clones."
The young man's eyes widened in shock. "Marshal’s personality is fragmenting."
Gwendolyn Ashford nodded. "He should receive news tonight, but before then, I want results."
The young man's expression grew serious as he cautiously opened his mouth. "There’s no need to rush...even if we have separated his persona, the Marshal—"
Gwendolyn Ashford's narrow eyes became steely. "I can accept whatever happens to him, but he must not harm himself."
He understood perfectly well what the independent personas were contemplating, as well as the secrets lurking within that clone.
He would never allow Lysander Vale to be in danger, especially not when that danger was of his own making.
Hearing this, the young man stiffened. After a moment’s hesitation, he finally spoke. "Actually, there's a potential solution, though it's still in its early stages..."
Gwendolyn Ashford prompted him, "Tell me."
The young man explained, "You possess a rare SSS-level psychic ability, which theoretically can disrupt another's mental state...I could simulate a suitable magnetic field, allowing your psychic energy to interface with the Marshal's. This way, you could confront his different personas directly and identify the root of the fragmentation."

Chapter 4

Beside him, Bastian Grey looked on in surprise. He had known Gwendolyn for nearly ten years, and even in the face of the most extreme challenges, this man never faltered.
He had always been able to make the most precise judgments and provide the most comprehensive solutions, cutting straight to the heart of any matter without ever missing the mark.
But now, this man—whose mind operated faster than a top-of-the-line computer—was hesitating.
It was because of Lysander Vale.
Many had questioned Gwendolyn's feelings for Lysander. Before the Empire was established, those familiar with the Ashford family's third son believed Gwendolyn was merely using Lysander to further his own ambitions. After the Empire was founded, those unaware of whom Lysander was assumed Gwendolyn was nothing more than the Marshal's lover.
But those who had traveled with him for the past decade knew better. They understood just how significant Lysander was to Gwendolyn.
On the screen, the young man awaited his reply, and finally, Gwendolyn spoke: “Nine o'clock. Meet me at Marshal's Keep.”
The young man nodded gravely. “Rest assured, sir, there will be no danger.”
Gwendolyn acknowledged him with a brief nod. “Good.”
Lysander’s trip to Frost Haven was originally planned for a two-day stay. After all, it was a vital border area, and he couldn't simply observe the drills and leave; he also needed to reassure the stationed troops and engage with the local community. Since the establishment of the Empire, Lysander had taken a populist approach—remaining a figure of the people without crowning himself emperor but still commanding the military, which provided an adjustment period for citizens used to federal rule.
However, Gwendolyn knew that Lysander would undoubtedly rush back that very night.
The news of Gwendolyn's visit to the backyard had likely reached Lysander by now; there was no way he could stay in Frost Haven after that.
Almost as soon as Gwendolyn arrived at Marshal's Keep, a sleek black military aircraft descended rapidly onto the landing pad.
The powerful thrust kicked up a swirling gust of wind, and the cabin door swung open. A man in uniform strode down the ramp—his black boots striking the ground with purpose, long legs clad in tailored trousers, and a billowing cloak swept dramatically behind him. His striking features beneath the brim of his cap defined a kind of rugged handsomeness.
Long ago, Gwendolyn had recognized that Lysander looked formidable in uniform; the stiffer and more precise the clothing, the more it represented honor, and the better it suited him.
This was a man born for it—even amid the muck of Wasteland Star.
Lysander’s furrowed brow relaxed slightly upon seeing Gwendolyn. He approached quickly, slipped off his gloves, and took Gwendolyn’s hand firmly. “If you have something to ask, just say it.”
His voice was a bit gravelly, likely from having jumped straight from Frost Haven into hyperspace without even using a Life Pod, wrestling control of the ship himself to arrive in record time.
Gwendolyn allowed him to hold his hand. “I will ask, but I want you to answer.”
Lysander hesitated for a moment before smirking. “What’s there to hold back on? I was planning to surprise you, after all.”
Gwendolyn’s gaze flickered, meeting his eyes. “A surprise, huh?”
Lysander leaned closer, his lips cool against Gwendolyn’s skin, the warmth of his breath betraying the teasing nature of his whispered words. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to take care of you alone. More people means more fun…”
Gwendolyn shot him a sidelong glance, a smile dancing in his eyes. “You aren’t jealous, are you?”
Lysander clearly faltered at that.
Gwendolyn held his gaze, looking directly into his eyes. “You would accept it if I were with another Lysander.”
Lysander's eyes narrowed sharply, the playful demeanor fading as he was overtaken by a darker, possessive intensity.
Gwendolyn kissed him softly on the lips. “Have you eaten dinner? Let’s—”
Before he could finish, Lysander yanked him close and kissed him fiercely, cutting off his words. “Dinner can wait.”
Gwendolyn: “…”
With a quick motion, Lysander carried him back to the bedroom, placing him gently on the bed. He leaned down, his dark eyes flickering with an eager flame. “First, I’ll take care of you.”
Lysander was in excellent shape, and once he got started, he wouldn’t quit until Gwendolyn was thoroughly exhausted. If allowed, he would have his way for days on end, leaving Gwendolyn barely able to move.

Chapter 5

Gwendolyn Ashford usually knows when to draw the line, but today was different; she was teasing him in ways he found impossible to resist.
Marshal Vale had always been a man of great energy, and with Gwendolyn’s current enticing demeanor, he could hardly contain himself. All he wanted was to pull her into bed and forget about everything else.
As the clock ticked close to nine PM, Gwendolyn Ashford’s manicured fingers, infused with a particular elixir, worked their magic. Suddenly, the normally robust Lysander Vale found himself overwhelmed by the effects, falling at his lover’s feet like a brick.
Gwendolyn, feeling exhausted, gazed down at the sleeping Lysander Vale and couldn’t help but flick his forehead lightly, muttering, “What a handful.”
In that moment, he was reminded of a time when Lysander truly was a handful…
A smile crept into Gwendolyn's eyes as he leaned down to kiss Lysander's forehead. “Get some rest,” he whispered gently.
After a quick shower and changing clothes, Alaric Hawthorne arrived at Marshal's Keep.
“What should I be aware of?” Gwendolyn asked him.
Alaric, the young man he had previously video chatted with on the ship, was a star in the realm of medicine, specializing in the mental health field. Despite his youthful appearance, he was actually a decade older than Gwendolyn.
With a cautious demeanor, Alaric replied, “This is also my first experiment…”
Gwendolyn felt a knot in his stomach.
Alaric hurried to assure him, “There won’t be any danger; however, you’ll need to explore and understand the specifics at your own pace.”
While Gwendolyn didn’t have much experience in this particular field, his SSS-level mental capacity meant he was no stranger to the subject.
“Don’t worry,” Alaric continued. “You are the most important person to Marshal Vale. He may not recognize you in the Realm of Spirits, but he definitely won’t turn you away…”
Gwendolyn squinted. “He won’t know me.”
“Not necessarily…” Alaric tried to explain, “He might have a sense of familiarity…”
Gwendolyn stared him down.
Thinking quickly on his feet, Alaric elaborated, “Imagine this: once you establish a connection, you’ll enter Marshal Vale’s dreams. But dreams can be unpredictable, shaped by both reality and imagination, so expect the unexpected.”
Feeling quite clever, Alaric continued to explain, “What you need to do is find the fractured parts of Marshal Vale’s persona, using those dream sequences that blend reality and imagination to unravel his tangled psyche. Once you resolve that, his mental stability will be restored.”
If they could heal these dissociative traits, thoughts of self-destruction would naturally vanish.
Gwendolyn paused to think for a moment, then nodded. “Got it.”
“Great! I’ll begin preparations immediately,” Alaric replied.
When Gwendolyn opened his eyes again, he had moved to a physically different setting.
Sweet floral scents wafted through the air, and he found himself surrounded by pristine white and romantic pink hues. Many people gathered together, their faces alight with smiles of blessing, and he could even hear applause resonating around him. A group of middle-aged individuals stood at the front, tears glimmering in their eyes.
A wedding.
Suddenly, it dawned on Gwendolyn; he was the center of this very celebration.
Was Lysander Vale his partner?
As Gwendolyn pondered this, a priest’s solemn voice echoed in his ears, “In the name of the Holy Spirit, the Father, and the Son, I declare the couple united in marriage.”
The bride.
Gwendolyn turned slightly to see a petite, unfamiliar woman next to him, beaming with joy.
Even someone as composed as Master Elysium could feel bewildered in this moment.
What was happening?
In Lysander Vale's dream, he had just married someone else.
Gwendolyn scanned the crowd, taking in the unfamiliar faces, all genuinely celebrating the union. His only desire was to locate Lysander Vale.
It wasn’t long before Lysander Vale made his entrance.
Dressed in an exquisite suit, he exuded an air of handsomeness that tamed the fierce energy he often carried as a commander.
Gwendolyn’s brows furrowed at the sight.
Lysander raised a toast to the newlyweds, proclaiming, “Wishing you both happiness.”
Gwendolyn stayed silent as the woman beside him, full of joy, chimed in, “Come on, Lysander, that’s a bit insincere. A simple blessing isn’t enough; I want a gift!”
Lysander turned to her, his gaze softened with an unusual gentleness. “You’re my only sister; everything you’ve ever wanted, I’ve made sure to provide.”
At that moment, his eyes casually flicked toward Gwendolyn.
Sister? Not to mention that Lysander, an orphan from Wasteland Star, had a sister—why would he marry her?
Master Elysium struggled to maintain his composure but felt the urge to curse slip past his lips.
The siblings continued their cheerful banter. The woman wrapped her arm around Gwendolyn’s, beaming, “You know what? I don’t need anything. Just marrying Gwendolyn Ashford is enough for me.”
Lysander’s expression briefly stiffened, but he quickly turned it into a playful smile. “Isn’t it customary for brides to cry?”
Seraphina Vale blinked up at him. “Not when I get to be with Gwendolyn Ashford! I’m over the moon!”
Finally, Lysander turned to Gwendolyn. “Take good care of Seraphina.”
Gwendolyn gazed at him, expressionless.
But Lysander quickly pulled his gaze away, saying, “I’ll go greet the guests. If you’re tired, you can head to the back to rest.”
With that, he spun on his heel and stepped away.
Gwendolyn knew him all too well. Whenever he spoke earnestly, it was always with a double meaning. But with the woman by his side, Gwendolyn chose not to grab Lysander and instead allowed him to leave.
The wedding was exhausting, and once they entered the Nuptial Chamber, Gwendolyn certainly wasn’t going to engage in marital activities with a stranger.
With expertise in martial arts, it was a simple feat to render someone unsuspecting into a deep slumber.
With the bride unconscious, the groom loosened his tie and sought out his “brother-in-law.”
He had a pressing conversation to have.
It was time for a serious chat about what nonsense it was to play at marriage with a sibling instead of fulfilling their genuine partnership.

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