Chapter 268
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
“He did exactly what you asked. The one who failed to deceive was you, once you started recovering your memories.”
‘……’
“You went to great lengths to dodge the memories that made you uncomfortable, cherry-picking only the convenient ones. For someone who can’t do much else, you’re remarkably talented at that. Honestly, it was impressive.”
‘I never did that!’
“Then why do you think all the most unbearable memories came rushing back at once only after you lost your reason to drink and the pleasure of s*x?”
‘……’
The demon exhaled cigarette smoke with a laugh and crushed the butt into the ashtray. I wished he would vanish with the smoke, but instead he hopped down from the windowsill and began walking slowly toward me.
‘D–don’t come any closer!’
“Rize, Rize… cowardly Rize.”
I could do nothing but tremble as he loomed over me at the bedside, staring down as if I were prey caught in a trap.
“Shall we make another wager? Prove that I’m wrong.”
‘I will—so disappear. Rot in hell forever.’
“Too bad. I’m never wrong. And when you finally realize that you are…”
He flicked his eyes toward somewhere beyond the bed.
“Turn that fraud into my likeness and throw him into hell!”
My gaze started to follow his but a sudden scream snapped it back to Felkner.
The face that had once been so smug twisted in agony. His intact flesh split and burst, blood pouring out as his human form collapsed, crushed into a heap of mangled meat and shattered bone that came crashing down toward me.
“Gah—!”
I jolted awake screaming. The blood and flesh that had been falling onto me were gone.
‘A dream… thank God.’
Perhaps I’d woken Killian too, he flinched, then tightened the arm wrapped around me. He seemed to fall right back asleep, but I couldn’t.
I stared endlessly at the sleeping man’s face, then again and again let my eyes drift past it, toward somewhere else in the room. At last, curiosity overcame fear.
Carefully, I eased myself out of his arms. Killian didn’t wake, he was deeply asleep.
‘But he might wake if he hears something.’
I reached for my clothes, then froze at the rustling sound and let them fall. With no choice, I crept barefoot and naked toward the door, suppressing every sound. There, on the floor, lay the bag Felkner had gestured toward in my dream.
I quietly rummaged through it and pulled out a folded document envelope—the one Lieutenant O’Brien had given us when we left. It contained the papers certifying our identities.
‘Killian never showed this to me.’
As I opened the envelope holding our identification papers, I muttered to myself,
‘I’m not doing this to take a demon’s wager.’
It was only a dream. Who would believe a dream?
‘Then why did Killian never let me see this?’
Dreams couldn’t create belief but they could plant doubt.
‘No… wasn’t it more like he didn’t want me to see it? As if I mustn’t?’
The doubt that would supposedly be resolved the moment I read this.
I sifted through the papers until I found one titled “Certificate of Identity” and pulled it out, steeling myself.
‘I’ll read this, clear everything up once and for all, and then go back to Killian’s arms in peace—’
I froze as soon as I saw my name.
Dana Mansfield
‘N–no. That can’t be…’
Spouse: Rupert Mansfield, Marquis Mansfield.
Maiden name: Loveridge
Occupation: Marchioness Mansfield.
‘W–what is this…?’
Something was terribly wrong. I hurried to the next page and read Killian’s profile. His name was not Rupert Mansfield but Killian Ackroyd—exactly as he had said. My hands began to shake.
Then I saw his occupation.
Priest
“…Dana?”
I jerked my head up at the sound of my name.
Killian was awake.
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