Chapter 202: What Could Not Be Replicated
“I’m here to help you!”
She charged straight into the heart of the vortex.
Rex’s eyes flew wide open.
In that instant, what flashed through his mind was not fear, not worry, but—
She was so good.
She was already so badly hurt. She should have stayed behind. She could have ignored all of this. But she came anyway. Sword in hand, she threw herself into a battle where people could die, all just to help him.
The young miss was so good.
“Young miss—don’t come over here!”
He roared and tried to rush over to stop her. But the wind blades were too dense. Every step he took meant enduring more than a dozen strikes. His wounds were bleeding, splitting, screaming with pain, but he did not care. He only wanted to reach her, stand in front of her, shield her, protect her.
But she was too fast.
Ice gathered around her like a shield, blocking many of the wind blades for her. She came closer and closer, until Rex could clearly see her face—
That face was full of panic.
Full of worry.
All for him.
A warm current surged through Rex’s chest. It washed away the pain, the anger, everything. He only wanted to rush over, pull her into his arms, tell her it was all right, tell her he was here, tell her—
Then he froze.
Because her sword changed.
That knight’s longsword, as it neared him, was shortening bit by bit.
It was not an illusion. It was truly getting shorter. The blade seemed to melt away, shrinking inch by inch until it became—
A short knife.
Exactly the same short knife Ryan carried.
The aura of ice around her was changing too.
That icy blue glow, as it neared him, was slowly being dyed green. Ice became wind. Cold became sharpness. The shield became—
Killing intent.
Rex’s pupils contracted violently.
He saw her smile.
It was still that same face, those same eyes, those same wounds. But that smile was not one his young miss would ever wear.
It was too cold.
Too unfamiliar.
Too—
She raised the short knife and stabbed for the middle of his back.
Rex stood there, stunned, his mind completely blank.
The wind blades were still falling, but he could no longer feel them. His wounds were still bleeding, but he could no longer feel that either. Vera was still over there, and that giant azure bird was still diving down, but he felt nothing at all.
He only saw the knife.
That knife, drawing closer and closer.
Wind element light gathered at its tip.
He could not dodge.
He had no time to dodge.
He did not even want to.
Young miss...
Some people died under a blade. Some died in their hearts. Rex thought he was probably the latter.
He closed his eyes.
Then he heard a sound.
The sound of a blade entering flesh.
Very soft. Very dull.
But it had not come from his own body.
He opened his eyes.
Ryan was standing in front of him.
That short knife was still in Ryan’s hand, blood dripping from its blade. His back was to Rex, and he was facing her—
Facing that “Lillian.”
The knife had already pierced straight through her chest.
She lowered her head and stared at the blade in disbelief. She opened her mouth, trying to say something, but only a mouthful of bloody foam spilled out.
That foam was not red.
It was transparent, like water, like the light inside the mirrors.
“Wh... why...”
Her voice was horribly hoarse, as if something were tearing at her throat.
Ryan said nothing.
He only tightened his grip on the hilt and drove the knife another inch deeper.
Her body began to crack apart like a mirror. Starting from the wound, fracture lines spread in every direction, crawling across her face, her body, every inch of her skin.
That face, identical to Lillian’s, became covered in countless fine cracks.
Then, with a shattering crash—
She broke apart.
The fragments rained onto the ground, and in every mirror they reflected countless broken versions of her. Some of those fragments were crying. Some were laughing. Some were screaming. Some were begging.
Then the shards slowly dissolved into motes of light and faded away.
Only the short knife remained, falling to the floor with a clear metallic clink.
In that same instant, the giant azure bird in the air suddenly froze.
The wind blades stopped in midair. The howling of the wind vanished. The tearing force dispersed all at once.
The bird looked as if its soul had been ripped away. It broke apart into countless fine streams of wind and drifted away into the air.
Vera lowered her hands and gasped for breath.
Her face was pale, and her forehead was slick with sweat.
Sweat ran down her cheeks and dripped to the floor, spreading into small wet stains on the mirrored surface.
“I’m exhausted...” she muttered, raising a hand to wipe the sweat away.
From the very first second that fake Lillian had appeared before her, Vera had been watching Ryan. Something had been turning in those gray-green eyes.
Later, when the fake Lillian began acting—crying, looking wronged, putting on her whole performance—Vera still said nothing. She only looked at Ryan again.
That look had meant: Did you notice?
Ryan answered from the corner of his eye: I did.
The real Lillian always had something in her eyes when she looked at Rex.
Awkwardness, pride, tangled feelings she could neither explain nor admit, and an even greater amount of tsundere stubbornness no one bothered to call out.
That kind of look was too complicated.
Too complicated to copy.
But when this “Lillian” looked at him, there was nothing in her eyes.
Like a blank sheet of paper.
Too clean.
Clean enough to be fake.
So the moment their eyes met, Ryan and Vera had already known.
This Lillian was fake.
So what next?
Expose her? Kill her?
That would have been a waste.
If a fake had appeared here, then it had to have a purpose. Rather than stumbling blindly through the maze, it was better to let this fake lead the way.
See what it wanted. See where it intended to lure them. See what was waiting behind it.
So Ryan had asked Vera with his eyes: Play along?
Vera answered with the slightest flicker of her lashes: Fine.
And so they put on a performance.
Vera played the “panting villain who had overexerted herself.”
Ryan played the “leader who had noticed nothing and only cared about moving forward.”
The fake Lillian played at grievance, played at tears, played at drawing closer to Rex step by step.
They had all been acting.
Only Rex had been real.
That fool of a boy, from beginning to end, had been completely real.
His worry had been real. His anger had been real. His heartache had been real.
When he looked at the fake Lillian, the light in his eyes—his panic, his guilt, all the things he wanted to say but could not—every bit of it had been real.
So when the fake Lillian reached out to Rex, Ryan did not move.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the counterfeit to reveal its true purpose.
The instant that short knife appeared, Ryan moved.
He had been ready the whole time.
Now the fake Lillian was shattered.
The motes of light still drifted in the air like countless fireflies, or like countless shards of a broken mirror.
They slowly fell, slowly faded, and at last nothing was left.
Only that puddle of transparent liquid remained on the floor, reflecting the three of them in the mirrored surface.
Vera walked over and stopped beside Ryan. She lowered her gaze to the puddle, and to the short knife lying on the ground.
“Good acting,” she said. “Too bad the eyes were wrong.”
Ryan bent down and picked up the short knife. Vera watched him do it, then suddenly asked, “When did you realize it?”
“At first sight,” Ryan said.
“So did I,” Vera said with a smile.
Ryan nodded.
The mirrors had copied her face. Copied her voice. Copied her memories. But there was one thing they could not copy.
Because that thing was called a true heart.
Vera asked no more.
She simply stood there, watching the fading motes of light, lost in thought.
Rex was still kneeling there.
His eyes were still fixed on that spot, fixed on those fading motes of light.
His mouth was hanging open, yet no sound came out. His whole body was trembling, starting from his fingertips and spreading through all of him.
“Y-young... young miss...”
His voice was as hoarse as sandpaper.
No one answered him.
The motes of light had already vanished. The only trace the “Lillian” had left behind was that puddle of transparent liquid on the floor, like tears, like dew, like every last thing that disappeared in the end.
Rex took a step forward.
His leg gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.
His wounds were still bleeding. The cuts left by the wind blades covered his body in dense lines.
But he could not feel pain. He only knelt there, staring at that puddle.
“Young miss... where is the young miss?”
He looked up at Ryan.
Those eyes were full of confusion, bewilderment, and the pain of not being able to find an answer.
The cruelest thing in the world was not to lose something.
It was to realize, only at the moment of losing it forever, just how much it had meant to you.
Ryan looked at him and was silent for two seconds.
“That wasn’t your young miss,” he said.
Rex froze.
“Th-then... where is the young miss?”
Ryan did not answer.
He turned and looked at Vera.
Vera had already walked up to Rex and was looking down at him. There was a very complicated expression in those gray-green eyes.
There was weariness in it.
Pity.
Helplessness.
And something else Rex could not understand.
She opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she only sighed.
“Rex,” she said softly, “you trusted the wrong person.”
Rex’s pupils contracted sharply.
He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but not a single word came out.
The mirrors still shone. The cavern was deathly quiet, with only the flowing light moving through it, like countless rivers of time carrying everyone farther and farther apart.
Rex knelt there, staring at that puddle of transparent liquid.
And he thought, so this was what it meant to disappear.
No sound.
No trace.
No farewell.
Just one crashing shatter—
Broken.
Gone.
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