"I am Lucian. I've always been Lucian. The real me... the one you tried to kill."
At Lucian's words, Cassandra's mind didn't just stop it exploded.
The world around her blurred for a second, like her brain short-circuited.
But deep down, the truth already clawed its way into her gut, wrapping cold fingers around her heart.
Yes.
Harry. The boy behind the helmet. The soft voice. The mysterious aura.
It was always him.
The real personbthe one who laughed, listened, fought, and stood by her was always Lucian.
His real face. His real identity.
She felt like someone had yanked the ground out from under her.
Suddenly, she didn't know what to say. Her lips trembled, her eyes locked with his.
"I… I'm sorry," she managed, the words barely making it past the storm in her chest.
She doesn't know how many times she had already repeated this.
She looked up at him again, this time sincerely, without masks, without pride. Just guilt… raw and clawing at her.
