“You weren’t ‘turned into’ anything.”
Flora was stunned.
“The appearance, aura, and bloodline reaction you possess now,” Lias said, enunciating every word, “they aren’t external additions, nor are they the result of being forcibly infused.”
Her tone was light, yet incredibly certain.
“This is something you possessed from the very beginning.”
Flora’s mind went blank for a moment.
“Impossible…” she subconsciously retorted. ‘If this is something I’ve always had, then why didn’t I ever know it? I was clearly—’
Her eyes showed obvious struggle, and her speech quickened slightly.
“That is because you only know a part of yourself,” Lias interrupted.
It was not a rebuke, nor a command. It was simply the statement of a fact so calm it was almost cruel.
“You think you have turned into another person,” she continued, “but in reality, you are only seeing the part of yourself you never knew before for the first time.”
The room fell frighteningly quiet.
Flora could clearly hear her own heartbeat.
“What… does that mean?” Her voice trembled.
Lias did not explain immediately. Instead, she changed her approach.
“Let me ask you a question. Why do you think Ilya cares about you so much?”
Flora was caught off guard.
“Why did she personally leave the city to search for you when you went missing? Why did she refuse to let anyone else tend to your wounds when you were severely injured?”
“Why did she choose understanding over forced suppression when your emotions collapsed?”
As each scene was brought up one by one, it felt as though they were being placed under a harsh spotlight.
“Do you think it’s just because she is ‘soft-hearted’?”
Flora opened her mouth, but no words came out. Of course she did not think that.
“Ilya is not someone who gives out her emotions freely,” Lias said slowly. “She has lost too much, and she has restrained herself for far too long.”
She paused briefly. “And for her, you were never an accident.”
Flora’s fingertips grew cold.
“But I don’t know anything,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I am to all of you, and I don’t know what you expect me to become.”
“It is precisely because she did not want you to break that she has not told you yet.” Lias looked at her, a rare hint of gentleness appearing in her gaze.
“She is not trying to manipulate you. She simply does not want you to see yourself as a burden.”
It felt as though something had gently struck Flora in the chest.
“You don’t need to accept any answers right away,” Lias said at last. “You only need to remember one thing.”
She stood and walked over to Flora, her voice extremely soft.
“You haven’t been robbed of yourself. It’s just that your story has reached a page you never imagined.”
Flora remained silent for a long time.
She lowered her head and looked at the ring on her left hand. The diamond reflected the light quietly, as if responding in silence.
Lias said nothing more.
“Let’s end it here for tonight,” she said. “You don’t have to give yourself an answer right now. The answer will appear on its own when you are ready.”
***
Flora returned to her room in a state of turmoil.
She closed the door and looked out the window. The light outside had completely faded into darkness.
She walked over and rested her forehead against the cool glass. The night reflected her blurred image — that face was quiet, soft, and impossible to ignore.
She did not deliberately look into the distance, yet she knew that in that direction lay human territory.
Lias’s words continued to swirl in her mind.
‘You are only seeing the part of yourself you never knew before.’
“A part of myself…” she murmured, her voice nearly swallowed by the night.
If the current her was also a part of her…
‘What should happen to the previous me?’
That thought was more cruel than any denial.
She slowly lowered her gaze, her eyes settling on her interlaced fingers. The ring rested quietly on her left index finger, the diamond glinting faintly in the dim light.
She suddenly realized something.
She was not afraid of her current self. What she feared was that if she admitted the current her was also a part of her, she would have to face a certain truth.
She could no longer return to the position of being “only Owen.”
She thought of her sister. Not a grand scene, but tiny, ordinary moments.
Eileen would sit on the bed wrapped in a blanket, carefully drinking water. The medicine was bitter, yet she always pretended she was fine. She would look up and smile, saying, “Brother, I really feel much better.”
What was she thinking at that time?
‘As long as I can cure her, nothing else matters.’
She had left for that reason. She had entered demon race territory for that reason. She had come this far for that reason.
If the current her was also her…
Then what about the person who had walked into the abyss without hesitation for her sister’s sake?
What about the person who only wanted to go home and bring the medicine back? What about the person who had told themselves ‘I must go back’ countless times in their heart?
Flora’s breathing gradually became uneven.
She suddenly realized she had not used the word “must” in a very long time. Not today, and not yesterday. Somewhere along the way, without noticing, she had stopped issuing commands to herself.
She no longer repeatedly told herself, ‘I have to leave this place.’ She no longer forced herself to memorize escape routes at night.
The word “escape” no longer existed in her subconscious.
That realization made her chest tighten.
She lowered her head slightly, as if trying to stop herself from thinking further. She did not want to admit that she had begun to treat this place as a part of her life, but that was exactly how it felt.
It was not that she had forgotten her sister or her friends. She just… no longer treated going back as the only answer.
That was more terrifying than any visible change.
“Then what exactly am I…”
The question finally surfaced.
Not human, but not entirely demon race either. Not Owen, but not only Flora either.
She was like someone forcibly pulled into a middle ground — a place with no clear identity and no standard answer.
If she stayed, adapted, and accepted this place, how would she face the previous her? How would she face the person who had run forward with everything they had, thinking only of saving their sister?
If she insisted on going back, then what would this current, very real life that had already happened amount to?
A terrifying realization dawned on her.
It was not that she did not know which side to choose. It was that she did not dare to choose.
Because no matter which side she chose, a part of herself would be left behind.
Flora slowly sank down against the window, hugging her knees tightly. She did not cry.
She did not break down. Her chest simply felt empty, as though something had been hollowed out, yet she could not say what was missing.
What she did not know was this.
The reason she had delayed thinking about escape was because this place was also resonating with her. At the deepest level, it was an existence she could call “home.”