Twenty years later.
The House of Lucas, rear garden.
“Brother, a little faster!”
The crisp, pleasant voice of a young girl, laced with a hint of playfulness, echoed through the afternoon garden.
The girl had grown up. Bell wanted her to call him by his name, but she insisted on calling him “Brother.” Though they shared no blood relation, the girl persisted in addressing him this way.
Bell Lucas stopped, slightly out of breath, and looked back at the girl chasing him.
The afternoon sun filtered through the lush branches, casting dappled light onto the girl’s honey-gold hair, as if bathing her in a sacred halo.
She wore an exquisite goose-yellow dress, its skirt fluttering gently as she ran, like a butterfly dancing among the flowers.
Her name was Cecilia Lucas, his “sister” in this life.
“Cecilia, slow down, don’t fall.”
Bell’s voice held a hint of helplessness, but more so, a customary indulgence.
For the past five years, he had told himself countless times that it was all just his imagination.
That unexpected high fever had caused him to hallucinate.
After all, following that day, he had fallen seriously ill with a persistent high fever, nearly losing his life. By the time he woke up, half a month had passed.
And the newly adopted sister had been incredibly well behaved during his illness; she barely cried, except when feeding, astonishing everyone.
Since then, he had never again seen that eerie smile, nor heard that spine-chilling laugh.
Cecilia was just an ordinary child.
No, perhaps not ordinary.
She was too perfect.
From learning to speak, to learning to walk, then to studying etiquette, literature, history, swordsmanship, magic… she mastered everything perfectly with just a single glance.
The tutors of the ducal estate went from initial shock to subsequent ecstasy, eventually settling into numb admiration.
They called her the jewel bestowed upon the House of Lucas by the gods, a once-in-a-century genius.
His parents doted on her to an extreme, granting her almost every wish.
Yet, this genius girl, who received endless love and adoration, clung most to him, her unremarkable brother.
“Brother!”
Cecilia had already run up to him, her fair little face flushed with a healthy post-exercise glow. Her obsidian eyes sparkled as she looked at him, filled with pure reliance and adoration.
She reached out her soft little hand and naturally grasped the corner of Bell’s clothes.
“What are you thinking about, Brother? You didn’t even wait for me.”
The girl’s voice was soft and sweet, with a hint of subtle grievance.
Bell’s heart softened.
Looking at the innocent, charming face before him, a face so adorable it made one want to offer her the world, he couldn’t possibly connect her to the monster from his previous life who had imprisoned him until his death.
He must have been wrong.
He felt a flicker of self-doubt.
He reached out and habitually ruffled Cecilia’s soft hair.
The girl comfortably squinted her eyes, like a cat being stroked by its owner, and actively rubbed her cheek against his palm.
“I was wondering when our Cecilia would stop being so reckless.”
Bell said, half-joking.
“I’m not reckless at all!” Cecilia puffed out her cheeks, retorting, “I just wanted to catch up to Brother quickly.”
“Alright, alright, my mistake. I shouldn’t have walked so fast.”
Bell apologized with a smile and took her small hand.
“Come on, didn’t you say you wanted to see the new white pony that just arrived?”
“Mm!”
Cecilia nodded heavily, her smile dazzling.
She intertwined her fingers with Bell’s, holding his hand tightly, and happily chattered beside him.
“Brother, what should we name the white pony? How about ‘Snowflake’?”
“Sounds good.”
“Then can I feed it every day from now on? Will Brother come with me?”
“Of course.”
“That’s great! I love Brother the most!”
The sun was just right, the breeze gentle.
The brother and sister walked hand in hand, their figures stretching long along the tree-lined path.
It was as warm and idyllic as a painting.
Within Bell’s heart, the block of ice that fear had occupied for years seemed to melt little by little under the warm sunlight.
Perhaps, in this life, he could truly have a normal, lovely sister.
Have a… complete, happy life.
His nerves, taut for five years, finally relaxed slightly at this moment.
Yes, he must have been overthinking things.
How could that demon have followed him here?
“But this sister is too perfect, almost fake.”
“What if?”
...
Night.
It was as deep and dark as thick ink.
Cecilia’s room was silent.
On the luxurious princess bed, a small figure lay quietly, her breathing steady, seemingly already in a sweet dream.
Moonlight streamed through the window, spilling onto the carpet and outlining the blurry shapes of the furniture.
Suddenly.
The girl on the bed slowly opened her eyes.
Those eyes, clear and innocent during the day, now harbored a bottomless madness and stubbornness in the darkness, unfitting for her age.
She made no sound, sitting up silently.
In the moonlight, her white nightgown gleamed faintly.
She lowered her head, her gaze falling on her right hand.
It was the hand Bell had held that afternoon.
She slowly raised her left hand, her fingertips gently, with an almost morbid reverence, stroking the back of her right hand.
From her fingertips, to her hand’s back, then to each knuckle.
Again and again.
As if tracing some peerless treasure.
The hand being caressed was the one Bell had used to ruffle her hair that afternoon.
Her movements stopped, and she instead began stroking the top of her own head.
“Brother…”
A whisper, almost inaudible, escaped her lips.
It carried a trembling, suppressed, spine-chilling infatuation.
Her body began to tremble slightly.
She clutched her head, her fingertips fiercely scratching at her hair, as if wanting to engrave the lingering touch of her brother deeper into her bones.
It wasn’t enough.
Still not enough.
This alone was completely insufficient!
Five years.
A full five years.
She had played the part of the “good sister” for so long in this weak and powerless body.
She had reined in all her claws, disguised herself as the purest and most flawless angel, cautiously, step by step, approaching him once more.
She watched him go from initial terror and resistance, to later suspicion and testing, and now, to relaxation and acceptance.
This process had been so long that it almost drove her mad.
Every time she saw him treat her gently, she wanted to rush forward recklessly, hug him tightly, and tell him that she had come.
She had come for him.
But she couldn’t.
She could feel that deep within her brother’s soul, there was still profound fear towards her.
She couldn’t scare him away.
She absolutely couldn’t let him escape from her again.
Cecilia slowly raised her head, the moonlight illuminating half her face.
That face, which should have been innocent and lovely, was now twisted by extreme suppression and wild ecstasy.
Her cheeks were flushed with an unnatural redness, and her black eyes churned with a thick, unyielding possessiveness.
It was a kind of… terror that made one want to scream and run away with just a single glance.
She slowly, deliberately, widened into a smile at the empty darkness.
“Brother…”
“You can’t escape.”
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