The silence in the ruined kitchen wasn't peaceful; it was the heavy, suffocating quiet of a graveyard. Outside, the storm from Alisa's mana flare continued to lash the manor, but inside, the world was reduced to the sharp scent of ozone, the copper tang of my own blood, and the Duke's predatory gaze.
The Duke leaned in, his voice a ghost of a whisper that chilled my marrow. "The question is simple, Leo. In that 'village' you claim to be from, there is an old legend about a star that falls from the heavens and wears the skin of a man. A 'Player' who knows the steps of every dance before the music begins. Tell me... how many times have you watched my daughter future?"
My heart hammered against my shattered ribs. My first instinct—the gamer's instinct—was to deflect. To keep the "Lore" hidden.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I wheezed, forcing a cough that sprayed red on the stone. "I'm just... a lucky kid with a good memory. Maybe your 'legends' are just stories for old men."
The Duke didn't roar. He didn't even frown. He simply moved.
SHING.
In a flash of silver, his dagger pinned my left hand to the floor. The scream died in my throat, replaced by a wet, strangled gasp as the cold steel bit through bone and wood.
"A lucky kid?" the Duke mused, his voice devoid of emotion. He reached out and grabbed my index finger on the pinned hand. "Why are you so obsessed with my daughter, Leo? A commoner doesn't risk a Sun-Blade to the heart for a 'friend' he's known for a few weeks. You look at her like she's a tragedy you've already read. Why?"
"She... she's my friend," I choked out, my vision swimming.
CRACK.
Pain, white and absolute, exploded behind my eyes as he snapped the finger like a dry twig. I bit my lip so hard I tasted more blood.
"One lie," the Duke whispered, his face inches from mine, his eyes pure, clinical evil. "And I break another. I have nine more chances to find the truth, boy. And if I run out of fingers, I'll start on the toes. Why do you look at her like she's a ghost?"
I looked at him, and for the first time, I saw the "Final Boss" not as a set of stats, but as a man who had manipulated every frame of this encounter. I realized then-Arthur's arrival wasn't a surprise. The Duke had known. He'd let the Hero in. He'd let the "Apostle of Justice" mod run its course just to see what Alisa and I would do.
He wasn't protecting her; he was stress-testing her, it's all part of his plain. and yet, I've only realized now.
"I have... the Sight," I lied, but this time, I laced it with enough truth to make it bleed. It was a half-truth, the only kind that works on monsters. "I see threads. I see her standing on a pile of bodies, and I see the world burning her for it. I've seen her die a thousand ways in my mind. I'm 'obsessed' because if she dies, the world I know ends. I'm not saving her, Duke. I'm saving everything else."
The Duke let out a short, dry chuckle that sounded like grinding stones.
"Oh, so you try to be a hero," he mused, his voice dripping with icy irony. "And yet, you are the one who murdered the actual Hero. All for a cursed girl who shouldn't have lived this long. Arthur was merely doing his job—killing a walking Calamity to make the world feel safer. And yet, you ended him for a girl who is better off dead. Tell me, boy... do you not feel more like the villain than a savior?"
I looked at the pile of ash that used to be a Prince, then back at the man holding the knife. My heart was cold. I was completely speechless.
The Duke stared into my pupils, searching for the flicker of a fabrication. He didn't fully believe me he could tell I was still holding back the "how"—but he accepted the "why."
"The Sight," he repeated, a thin, dangerous smile touching his lips. He pulled the dagger from my hand. I slumped back, clutching my mangled fingers. "A cursed gift. And a convenient excuse."
He stood up, looking over at Alisa's unconscious form. The "Monster of the Tran" mana was still swirling around her like a dark shroud.
"You realize, of course, that the 'Leo' she loves is a phantom," the Duke said, his voice dropping into a deeper, more agonizing register. "The Monster of the Tran feeds on the desperate. It found a lonely, powerful girl and a strange, knowledgeable boy and wove a lie to bind them. Every 'memory' she has of you—the village, the wooden bird, the promises—is a psychic parasite's silk. It's a fairy tale written in ink that's already fading."
He walked toward her, his boots crunching on the ash of Prince Arthur.
"When she wakes, the mana that sustained that lie will be thinner.
Eventually, the veil will drop. She will look at you and realize that the boy she trusts her life to... is a stranger. A liar who walked into her life using a dead man's face."
My mind spiraled. If the memories were fake, then the foundation of everything I had built with her was built on sand.
"So, Leo," the Duke continued, "do you keep the secret? Do you spend every day of your life performing as a puppet in a dead girl's dream? Or do you tell her the truth and watch her world crumble a second time? If you tell her, she will realize her only 'friend' is a fraud. She might even kill you in the fallout. But if you lie... you're just another monster using her."
I looked at Alisa. Her hand twitched, reaching for a shadow.
If I tell her the truth now, she'll be alone, I thought. In this world, being alone means being a target. The Duke will use her. The Church will burn her. If I'm not the 'Leo' she remembers, I can't protect her. But if I keep lying, am I any better than the Duke?
The Duke watched my inner torment with the detached curiosity of a scientist. "If you keep lying to me, I'll leave you both to bleed out in this darkness as I promised. But you told the truth—mostly. So, I will give you a choice. Live as a lie, or die as a truth."
He snapped his fingers, and the High Healer Elian rushed in, gasping at the carnage.
"Save them," the Duke commanded.
As Elian's magic began to knit my ribs, the Duke leaned over me one last time,
his voice a cold draft in my ear.
"Think about it, Kid. If she finds out on her own, she won't just kill you. She'll become the Calamity you're so afraid of. You're holding the leash of a god, and the leash is made of a lie. How long do you think you can hold on before it snaps?"
He walked away into the shadows of the hallway, his fur coat billowing like wings. I lay there, gasping for air, watching Alisa's face. She looked so peaceful, still believing in a boy who had given her a wooden bird in a village that didn't exist.
I have to keep the lie, I decided, my heart breaking even as it was being healed. I'll be the liar. I'll be the fraud. Because if the truth kills her, then the truth is my enemy.
I closed my eyes as the darkness took me, wondering which would hurt more: the Duke's sword, or the day Alisa finally opened her eyes and didn't recognize mine.