The house party loomed over me like a storm cloud.
It had been a long time since I felt anything close to hesitation, but this was different.
I wasn't just walking away from a stranger—I was walking away from someone who trusted me. Someone who saw me as a friend.
And the worst part? If this wasn't about Marienne, if this was any other life, Rose and I could've been good friends.
But that wasn't the life I lived.
I needed perspective. Answers. Something to anchor me.
And that's why I was here.
The old storage room Snowflake used as her personal hideout smelled like dust and candle wax, the wooden floor worn down from years of foot traffic. She sat lazily on an overturned crate, idly flipping through a book she probably wasn't even reading.
And next to her, perched on the edge of a desk, was Sophie Wood.
"Finally," Snowflake said without looking up. "I thought you'd never show."
I leaned against the doorframe, gaze flicking between them. "Who's this?"
Snowflake smirked. "Sophie. And before you ask, yes, she knows exactly who you are."
Sophie's sharp brown eyes locked onto mine. Her gaze was steady, unblinking—calculating.
"You're an interesting person, Castor," she said, voice smooth, almost amused. "It's funny watching you pretend to be something you're not."
I stiffened, just slightly. So she was observant.
Snowflake sighed, snapping her book shut. "Relax, she's not your enemy. Sophie knows you as well as I do. Maybe even better."
I let out a slow breath. "That so?"
Sophie tilted her head slightly, still watching me. "You like keeping your cards close. I respect that." She crossed her legs, her fingers tapping idly against her knee. "But you're struggling with this one, aren't you?"
I didn't answer.
Because she was right.
Snowflake leaned forward. "The Rose situation's getting out of hand. You know that, I know that, Sophie knows that."
Sophie nodded. "You have two choices. Cut her off now and let her hate you, or keep playing until she falls harder—and then it'll hurt even more."
I exhaled through my nose. I already knew my options. Hearing them out loud just made them heavier.
Snowflake rested her chin on her hand. "Look, Castor. I don't care what you decide, but you need to decide soon."
Sophie watched me carefully. "So, what's it gonna be?"
I didn't have an answer.
Not yet.
I found Isla in the library, sitting at her usual table with a book propped open in front of her. She didn't look up when I pulled out the chair opposite her.
"You look like hell," she said flatly, flipping a page.
I ran a hand through my hair. "Thanks."
She finally met my gaze, unimpressed. "You're thinking too much."
I sighed, leaning back. "I feel like I'm being pulled in two directions."
Isla arched an eyebrow. "That's new. You usually don't care enough to hesitate."
I tapped my fingers against the table. "Rose isn't supposed to matter."
"But she does," Isla said simply. "That's your problem."
I exhaled sharply. "Tell me what to do."
She scoffed. "You don't want my advice. You want an excuse."
I clenched my jaw. She wasn't wrong.
She leaned forward slightly, voice quieter. "Let me make this simple for you. Do you care about her?"
The question threw me. I knew the answer, but I didn't want to say it.
I cared just enough. Just enough for this to be difficult.
Isla watched my reaction, then sighed, shaking her head. "You're too deep in this. If you wait any longer, she's going to get hurt."
I rubbed my temples. "I know."
She went back to her book. "Then do something about."
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Cut her off now, or let it crash later.
Snowflake and Sophie made it sound so simple. Isla made it sound like it was inevitable.
But this wasn't just some random girl.
This was someone who looked at me like I was good. Like I was something worth trusting.
And that was a mistake.
I had spent my whole life playing games, pretending, manipulating. And yet, somehow, this was the first time I felt like I was losing.
Because no matter what I chose, someone was going to get hurt.
The truth was, the friendship that started because I offered to play cupid for her developed into something more.
She didn't have a thing for Professor Jonathon anymore.
She had a thing for me.
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my jacket. The suit fit perfectly, sharp and sleek, tailored just enough to look sophisticated without shouting for attention. Rose had insisted it was semi-formal, and though I wasn't one for dressing up, tonight wasn't about me—it was about playing the role I had crafted.
I exhaled slowly, glancing once more at the reflection staring back at me. This wasn't the me I was used to. But tonight, I was going to pretend, at least for a few hours.
Outside, the carriage Rose had sent waited by the side of the street, its elegant frame gleaming faintly in the twilight. I stepped out and climbed in, feeling a strange sense of detachment as the door closed behind me. The horses set off, and the carriage rolled smoothly down the cobbled streets of Francés.
As we passed through the city, the first thing that struck me was how different the city looked at night. During the day, Francés was imposing—its towering stone structures lined with well-manicured gardens and grand boulevards. The ancient architecture was both awe-inspiring and slightly intimidating, a city that felt like it had always been here, timeless and unyielding. But at night, it transformed.
movement of people—students in their finest clothes, dignitaries heading to parties, groups of young couples strolling along the riverwalk. There was something mesmerizing about it all, something that made it feel like a world apart from my own. It wasn't just the beauty of the city; it was the people. They had no idea of the storms lurking beneath their feet. They moved through their lives, unaware of the cracks in the surface, the things that could shatter the illusion.
The longer I sat there, the more I began to wonder. Was this what I was fighting against? This false sense of calm, of perfection? A peaceful city, unknowing, unbroken. Could I ever see it like them—free of vengeance, free of the need to unravel the secrets that lingered in the shadows?
I shook my head. That wasn't my life. It was never going to be.
I had a mission. A goal. A path to walk, and no amount of beauty or peacefulness would change that.
The carriage slowed as we neared my destination, the streets narrowing as we approached a large, ornate building. It was one of the city's older mansions—grand, but less ostentatious than some of the other estates I'd seen. It had an understated elegance, with large iron gates and ivy creeping up the stone walls. The flicker of light from within could be seen through the tall windows, the sound of music and laughter spilling out onto the night air.
I stepped out, straightening my jacket one final time. The night felt heavy with anticipation. I couldn't afford to let myself be distracted by the illusion of tranquility this city offered. I had a role to play tonight—and no matter how tempting it was to imagine a different life, I couldn't afford to forget who I was.
I walked toward the entrance.
As I stepped into the mansion, a butler greeted me, offering a polite nod before ushering me inside. The scent of polished wood, candles, and the faint trace of expensive perfumes filled the air as I was led into the heart of the house.
The party hall sprawled before me, grand and meticulously arranged. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, their crystals catching the light in a thousand directions, casting delicate shadows that danced across the walls.
A server offered me a drink, a crystal glass filled with something amber. I took it, not out of thirst but to blend in, letting the cold liquid settle in my hand as I surveyed the room.
I hadn't been in places like this much. The polished, superficial nature of it made me feel out of place. Still, I was here, and I had to play my part.
Just as I was about to take a sip, a young man—probably in his mid-twenties—stepped into my line of sight.
His sharp eyes scanned me, and there was something in his gaze that didn't sit right. His jaw tightened as he looked me up and down, a subtle sneer tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasn't just sizing me up; he was sizing me up in a way that said he didn't like what he saw.
"Who are you?" he asked, his tone sharp and challenging.
I gave him a half-smile, not bothering to engage. It wasn't worth it. But before I could say anything, he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing in something akin to jealousy. It was strange, considering I hadn't even said anything to provoke him.
Then, something changed in his expression as he looked past me, his gaze softening immediately.
Rose entered the room. She was stunning—dressed in a gown that shimmered in the light, the fabric flowing around her like it was made of liquid silver. Her hair was styled perfectly, cascading in soft waves down her back, and the way she moved made it clear she knew the effect she had on the room.
The young man, who had been sizing me up moments before, immediately straightened. His arrogance disappeared in an instant, replaced by a kind of nervous energy.
"How do I look?" Rose asked him, her voice soft and playful.
It was the first time I saw her look genuinely vulnerable, despite her poise. The question was simple, but it carried an unspoken weight. She was seeking validation, even if she didn't show it outright.
I didn't need to be close to see the way he hesitated, his arrogance replaced with a nervous edge. He stammered, "Y-you look... absolutely breathtaking."
I couldn't help but smirk at the sudden shift. It was as if I'd just watched a man fall in line. The way he had been so hostile toward me before melted away in an instant, replaced by a kind of awkwardness as he tried to keep his cool.
Rose gave a soft laugh, tilting her head slightly. "Thank you."
As she turned to me, a smile tugged at her lips. Her gaze flickered briefly to the drink in my hand, and she tilted her head curiously.
"Castor, you've arrived," she said, her tone light, but there was an undercurrent of warmth that caught me off guard.
I took a step closer, giving her a polite nod. "I hope I'm not late. Your party looks... impressive."
She chuckled lightly. "It's nothing, really. Just a few friends and some acquaintances. It's the least I could do." Her eyes held mine for a moment, and something passed between us—an unspoken understanding, perhaps. A flicker of something deeper.
"Well," I said, my voice calm, "it's certainly more than 'nothing' to someone who's never seen a gathering quite like this."
She smiled again, though her eyes held a certain edge now. "I'm glad you came. I was worried you might have had other... commitments."
It was as if he was trying to compete for her attention, though he was entirely unaware of the fact that she had already shifted her focus entirely.
"I'll... leave you two to talk," he said awkwardly, his arrogance now fully replaced with insecurity.
Rose gave him another polite smile, dismissing him without a second thought. As he walked away, I couldn't help but notice the way he glared at me from over his shoulder, as though the slightest sliver of competition had pushed him over the edge.
I turned my attention back to Rose. Something had shifted in her demeanor. A small part of me wondered if this was what I had signed up for: navigating the shifting dynamics of friendships, personal desires, and the game Rose was playing.
But tonight, it wasn't about that. It was about being here, watching as the facade I had built slowly began to crack, piece by piece.
I stood there for a moment, the glass in my hand now empty, the lingering taste of the drink still sharp on my tongue. The noise of the party surrounded me, yet I felt oddly detached from it all.
Rose had disappeared into a crowd of her friends, the same ones who had greeted her with that all-too-expected air of sycophantic charm. The way they fawned over her, complimenting every little detail of her appearance, seemed almost rehearsed, like actors playing their parts in a script they'd memorized too well.
I tried to make sense of the scene, but it didn't matter. They weren't important to me, not like Rose was.
I didn't really care. But something about the way they glanced at me left an unsettling feeling in my chest, a sense of being an outsider in a space I wasn't supposed to belong. I wasn't here for them. I was here for Rose, and that much was crystal clear.
Before I could get lost in my thoughts again, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
Turning around, I found Rose standing behind me, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was something in her gaze, though—something far more complex than I'd seen before.
"Castor," she said, her voice almost teasing, "You look like you're in deep thought. I was wondering if I could borrow you for a bit."
I raised an eyebrow. "Borrow me?"
She chuckled, the sound light and almost musical against the hum of the party. "I need some air. You, too, by the looks of it. Come on, the terrace is calling."
Without waiting for a response, she took a step back and motioned for me to follow her. It wasn't a request—it was an invitation, one I couldn't really refuse.
I glanced at the crowd again. No one was paying attention to us now, too absorbed in their own small worlds. I followed her through the house, passing by groups of people lost in conversations that I didn't care about. The décor of the mansion seemed even more overwhelming up close, with gold-framed paintings hanging on the walls and a long staircase leading to the upper floors.
Rose didn't speak much as we made our way down the hallway and out the back doors onto the terrace. The air outside was cool, refreshing, and it instantly grounded me in a way I didn't expect. The sounds of the party faded away as we stepped into the quiet night, and I could finally breathe again without the suffocating atmosphere.
I leaned against the railing, watching as the distant lights of the city twinkled below. The view was breathtaking, the entire city of Francés sprawling beneath us like a living, breathing entity.
Rose stood beside me, close enough that I could feel her presence but not touching. She took a deep breath, as though to let the night air settle into her lungs before speaking again.
"I'm glad you came," she said quietly. "I didn't know if you would show up."
I glanced at her, finding her expression softer in the dim light. "I said I would," I replied, though I couldn't help but wonder why I had agreed to come in the first place. Maybe it was because I didn't want to disappoint her, or maybe it was because I had my own reasons for wanting to stay close. Either way, I was here now, and I had no intention of backing out.
She nodded, her gaze drifting toward the skyline. "You're different from the others. I thought maybe you'd find all this... superficial. But you don't seem to mind."
I studied her for a moment. She was still wearing that elegant gown, the fabric almost glowing under the moonlight. There was a vulnerability in her tone now, something I hadn't heard before.
"It's not about the party," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "It's about the people."
She turned toward me, raising an eyebrow, but there was no judgment in her eyes. "So you like to keep your distance from people, huh? The type who's only interested in the few who matter?"
I didn't know how to answer that, so I stayed silent.
Rose let out a small laugh, and there was something more relaxed about her now, like she had let her guard down a little. "I get it. It's easier, isn't it? Keeping everyone at arm's length. But you don't have to do that with me, Castor."
Her words were gentle, but there was an undertone of something else in them, something that felt almost too close, too intimate for my liking.
I looked away from her, out at the city below, trying to gather my thoughts. "Why did you invite me here, Rose?"
She smiled softly. "Because I wanted you to be here. It's as simple as that."
I wasn't sure what to make of that. Her words didn't exactly match the teasing tone she had used earlier. There was a sincerity there that I wasn't sure how to handle.
As we stood there, the wind picking up around us, I found myself wondering just how deep this whole situation could go. Rose was making things more complicated, more real. And I wasn't sure if I was ready for it—or if I even wanted it to get that far.
But for now, I stayed quiet, simply watching the lights of the city. For a brief moment, it felt like everything had stopped, and the chaos of the world around me faded into the background. It was just me and Rose, standing on a terrace, far from the crowd and its expectations.
I stood by the railing, trying to focus on the city below, but my mind kept drifting back to Rose. She was close enough that I could feel her presence, but I didn't look at her, not just yet. The quiet hum of the party had mostly faded, replaced by the soft rustling of the wind around us. It was strange—out here, with just the two of us, the noise from inside felt distant, like we were in a different world.
Rose broke the silence first. "Anyways, I'm glad you came," she said, her voice calm but holding a touch of something softer beneath it.
I glanced at her for a brief moment before responding. "You invited me, didn't you?"
She laughed lightly, the sound almost quiet enough to be lost in the wind. "True. But still… I wasn't sure if you'd actually show up."
I let out a small sigh. "Why wouldn't I?"
She didn't answer right away, instead letting the silence stretch for a few seconds. I turned my attention back to the view, finding that it was easier to focus on the distance than on her right now.
"You're different from the rest of the people I know," she said, her voice a bit quieter than before, "I thought you'd find all this… tiring. The people. The fakeness."
I didn't respond immediately, unsure how to approach it. The truth was, I was starting to get tired of all the games—this whole charade I'd built for myself. But I wasn't sure I was ready to admit that to her.
"It's not the party that's exhausting," I said eventually, my words coming out more reflective than I meant. "It's the people. They don't really matter."
Rose's gaze turned toward me, and I could feel her eyes on me even if I didn't look at her. "I get that," she said softly, her voice almost thoughtful. "It's easier to keep everyone at arm's length, isn't it?"
I didn't answer right away. Keeping people at a distance had always been my thing, and it still felt like the safest choice. But with her, something was different. She wasn't just some random person, and somehow, the walls I'd built around myself didn't seem to work with her.
I could feel her shifting slightly beside me, a movement that felt like she was preparing to say something important. "You don't have to keep me at arm's length," she said quietly. "I don't mind if you… don't hold back."
Her words hit me harder than I expected, and I found myself turning toward her, finally meeting her gaze. She was standing there, looking at me with those soft eyes, the kind of eyes that made everything feel more real than it probably should have. For a second, I felt like I was seeing her in a completely different light—one that I wasn't sure how to handle.
She took a deep breath before speaking again, her voice a little shaky now. "I know we haven't known each other that long, but… I think I've started to care about you. More than just as a friend." She glanced down for a moment before lifting her gaze back to mine. "I don't know if you feel the same way."
The words hung in the air between us, and I could feel my chest tighten. I hadn't expected that, not from her, not here. It wasn't like I hadn't been aware of the way she'd been acting toward me, but hearing her say it out loud felt like a sudden shift.
I stayed silent for a long moment, my thoughts a mess. Part of me wanted to say something—anything—but I was frozen, caught between a desire to keep things casual and the fear of messing up something that felt important.
Finally, I managed to speak, my voice quieter than usual. "Rose, I—"
Before I could finish, she held up a hand, cutting me off. "I don't want you to feel pressured. I just… needed to say it." She stepped back a little, giving me some space, but her gaze stayed on me. "I'll leave it up to you. No hard feelings, okay?"
I nodded, but the truth was, I wasn't sure what to think or feel. I hadn't expected her to lay it all out like that, and now that she had, I was left with a choice. I had to decide whether I was willing to take that step with her, or if I would walk away, cutting the tie completely before it could even get started.
But as I stood there, in the cool night air, I realized I wasn't sure what the right answer was.
The moment lingered between us like a cloud, thick with unspoken words. I could see it in her eyes—the hope, the vulnerability, the fear of what would come next. I should have said something comforting, but the truth was, I didn't have the words to make any of this better. She'd confessed something deep, something real, and I felt the weight of it pressing down on me.
Eventually, before I knew it, I found those harsh and cruel words to say to her.
Rose stepped forward slightly, her voice uncertain. "Castor… is there something wrong? What is it you really want? If it's me—" she stopped herself, shaking her head. "If it's not me, just tell me. I don't want to misunderstand."
I could feel my heart twisting in my chest, the words stuck in my throat. There was so much I wanted to say, but none of it felt like the right thing. I could tell her that I cared—hell, I could even tell her I was starting to like her in my own messed-up way. But everything I was doing, everything I had done, was for someone else. I couldn't get tangled up in something like this, not when my goal was still so clear.
I exhaled slowly, staring at her, her face full of expectation, waiting for me to break the silence. My gaze shifted downward, and for a split second, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—disappointment, fear, confusion—but it was quickly masked by a forced calm.
"I'm sorry, Rose," I muttered, barely able to meet her eyes. "But it's not you. It's just… it's too complicated. I can't be what you need."
Her expression faltered, and she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could form any more words, I stepped closer. She looked up at me, confusion and hurt written all over her face, but I didn't give her a chance to react.
Without warning, I pulled a small syringe from the inside of my coat and pressed it gently against the side of her neck. The needle slid into her skin with practiced ease. Her eyes widened in surprise, her hand coming up to her neck as the drug took effect almost immediately.
Rose gasped, her body jerking slightly, trying to stay upright. But the strength drained from her legs, and she crumpled in front of me. Her eyes fluttered as the sedative took its toll, the fight leaving her too quickly.
"Castor…" she whispered, her voice slurring, before everything went black.
I caught her as she fell, lowering her gently to the ground. For a brief moment, I just stared at her unconscious form. This was what had to be done, I reminded myself. She couldn't know too much. She couldn't get too close. I couldn't afford to let anything get in the way of my mission.
I took a deep breath, my heart racing, and then glanced back at the party behind me. I had done what needed to be done.
The darkness of the cellar was thick, suffocating.
The only sound was the faint, rhythmic echo of my own footsteps as I dragged Rose's unconscious body down the creaky wooden stairs.
The faint stench of damp stone and mildew filled my lungs, but I hardly noticed. I couldn't even feel my hands as they gripped the rope, binding her to the chair in the middle of the cold, bare room. It was all becoming too much to process.
The carefully crafted façade—the lines I'd drawn around myself—were starting to crumble.
I leaned over her, watching her chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. Her body slumped against the ropes, still groggy from the sedative.
This wasn't supposed to be how it went. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was just supposed to be another pawn in my quest for Marienne, another piece to manipulate, to use.
But things hadn't gone according to plan, had they? She had come too close. Her feelings—her innocent little confession—it twisted something in me, something I thought I had buried. She wasn't supposed to matter.
I could feel the cold sweat trickling down the back of my neck, my palms growing clammy as I walked around the cellar.
The walls seemed to close in on me, the air growing heavier with each passing second. I was losing control, but I couldn't stop now. Not when I had come this far.
My thoughts were a cacophony, spiraling into chaos.
Why did she have to make me feel this?
I wanted to shout, wanted to scream at her for even making me question my own motives. But that wasn't possible now. She was just another obstacle I had to remove, just another obstacle in my way to the truth.
I slapped my hand against the wall, trying to steady myself. No, this was necessary. She would give me the answers. She had to.
I stared at her again, the ropes digging into her wrists as she slowly started to stir, her eyes fluttering open. There was no fear in them yet. Not yet.
But soon.
I can't let her ruin everything. I can't.
I crouched in front of her, my voice a low whisper, barely audible. "Rose… you don't understand. You never did."
Her eyes widened slightly, her confusion morphing into something else—a hint of fear. She tried to move, but the ropes tightened against her skin. She tugged at them, struggling, but it was useless.
"Castor... what... where am I?" Her voice was strained, slow, but she was already starting to regain her bearings.
I watched her, my hands trembling with a combination of anticipation and rage. This was it. This was the moment I had been preparing for. I had to make her talk. I had to break her open and get the truth. There was no other way.
"Do you know what you've done, Rose?" My voice came out far too calm, and yet beneath it was the razor-sharp edge of something darker. "You got too close. You think this is some twisted game of yours, but I'm not playing anymore. This is about Marienne."
Her eyes flickered with recognition, but there was no understanding, no fear—not yet.
"You're my only lead," I continued, pacing again, the chaos inside me building, my thoughts growing darker. "You're just another piece of the puzzle. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want to do this, but you... you forced me into it. You made me care. You made me think I could actually... No." I stopped myself, my voice faltering for a fraction of a second. "I can't afford to care."
I stepped forward, my hands now gripping her chin, forcing her to look at me, to see the madness behind my eyes.
"Tell me what I need to know, Rose. Tell me what you know about Professor Jonathon, about your family... about anything that can help me get closer to finding her."
Her breath hitched in her throat, and I could see the panic starting to creep into her eyes. Good. She was starting to understand.
But I wasn't done. I was far from done.
It's not just about Marienne anymore. She's just a part of this twisted game. She's just another tool. Rose? She's nothing more than a casualty of my own madness.
The thoughts started to churn in my mind, each one darker than the last. I needed control. I needed power. And I needed her to give me what I wanted, or I'd take it from her—by force, by fear, by any means necessary.
I leaned in closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. "I can make you talk. You'll break, just like the rest. It's just a matter of time."
Her breathing quickened, the fear finally beginning to take hold, and a twisted satisfaction curled in my chest.
This was just the beginning.