She hadn’t even had time to decide whether to believe any of it—her survival, the celestial heart, the voices. But events kept moving as they had.

  Trying to hold everything in her head at once, it grew hot—like steam trying to escape her skull.

  "You're inside my soul now."

  That word didn’t hit her with the surprise it should have—because everything was filled with surprise.

  The celestial smirked. "You stole my heart, girl. Literally," he said, pointing at her chest.

  "Well," he continued, "getting a celestial inside is no simple thing." He tilted his head, poking his chin.

  "But, see, the gem was tossed into trash." Even in the vague emotional void, the word trash did pinch her heart.

  Sarn didn’t know how to react. But her chest was vibrating—thud thud. Sweat dropped from her forehead.

  He continued, "We, celestials, are drawn to human fws, sins, and chaos. It delights us."

  As he was walking, "You're just an easy target for this. You're built on shame, guilt, and the tragic consequences of your actions. Are you ready for what’s coming for you?"

  He continued, "Or," smirking, "you can just submit to me. Bow to me. That’ll save you from the coming humiliation, embarrassment..."

  Sarn hadn’t processed the events yet; those words were going over her head.

  But the word submit was a click in her mind—something that her blood denied to do.

  She muttered under her breath, boldly, "No," even though she was scared enough to not say it out loud.

  But the void was quiet enough to echo that.

  The celestial turned back with a smirk. "Huh?"

  Sarn clenched her fist, unprepared for the celestial hearing her word—she didn’t want him to hear it.

  But staying silent would make her word vanish into the void.

  "I... I refuse. I refuse to give in. I may look easy to break…"

  She finally stood straight, wearing a serious look.

  "But I am quite stubborn when it comes to submitting," she said smoothly.

  The celestial listened to all of it. Suddenly, he started ughing out loud, making Sarn flinch slightly.

  Holding back his ugh, "Acting strong? Useless. I can read you like a book. I know your past well."

  He came forward, rolling with ughter.

  "Don’t get cocky—that’ll break you more."

  Completely stopping his ugh, he added,

  "The world isn’t made to suit you. It’ll break you more, tear you apart."

  With a pondering face, "I guess it already did."

  Smirking, he paused to say,

  "How long are you gonna survive with self-loathing? What else do you have on this stage to be proud of?

  You're just a beggar for appuse."

  These were words Sarn wanted to avoid—at least to herself.

  She looked down, feeling exhausted.

  The celestial, coming closer to her face, "Can you deny this, css clown?"

  The void around her was unfamiliar, but the words were finally sinking in—like gss shards: quick to cut, slower to feel, sure to bleed.

  These words, these truths, felt like someone was holding her heart in their hands.

  Css clown was the word that likely peeled her skin.

  Her mind screamed at the possibility of hearing more denied truth from him: No, don’t.

  The celestial gave a light ugh.

  Smirking, "You can’t survive with this low self-dignity, can you?"

  The celestial stopped to say something more serious.

  He came forward. "I’ll make sure your body exists," he said, pcing his hands on her chest,

  "as me," he added boldly.

  Sarn’s hand automatically went to her chest to feel for the seal.

  There, she saw an unknown symbolic stone under her shirt.

  The foreign stone pulsed faintly—as in that moment, she felt different. A glory, in a twisted way.

  "Yeah, that one," the celestial said.

  "Just pull out the stone from your chest. You’ll be free. Your body will live—as a celestial.

  One who commands, who maniputes, who walks through truth… unlike you humans."

  Sarn couldn’t argue. She nearly thought of following him, as she knew his words were true—he was reading her.

  Her hands were trembling, tempted to touch it.

  She knew she was a weak existence. She couldn’t be something to be respected.

  But being a celestial? That would give her the desired value—even his words, especially when coming from a cruel entity like him, made it so much harder to deny.

  As Sarn nearly touched it, the celestial, tilting his head, watched seductively.

  But even then, she knew the weight of unsealing it. Either it would be something great—or worse.

  Her hands stopped. Rowan, Sophy, Liam’s faces fshed through her mind for a brief second.

  Also, the celestial was the one who would gain absolute benefits.

  The celestial, unfazed, with a tempting look, "What’s wrong?"

  Breathing heavily, she moved her hand from her chest.

  "I can’t do this."

  The celestial smirked, crossed his arms.

  "I am not going to defend my humanity like a hero," she muttered while breathing heavily, shaking.

  "Getting to be a celestial must be great, but…"

  She met the celestial’s gaze, clenching her fists around her colr.

  "Pleasing you is against my choice. Neither am I going to be trouble for the ones who saved me."

  The celestial loomed closer, casting his shadow over her, tilting his head down to look at her properly.

  "You delusional freak…"

  Sarn looked away, her left hand gently gripping the back of her right—like she was trying to hold herself together, or pull herself back from unraveling.

  "You think you can hold on together like that? You think you're tough?"

  Sitting down to face her,

  "Nooo. You're a betrayer."

  Sarn looked away, closed her eyes, gritted her teeth.

  She couldn't bear these accusations, not because they were false, but because they were the truths she wanted to forget.

  He stood up.

  "Did you forget how you spread your friend's critiques about others?"

  Poking his chin, "Why did you do that? To shine?"

  Sarn held herself, as the cold wave of her denied truths was freezing her.

  With a small ugh,

  "You traded bonds for appuse, that's your truth."

  Sarn didn't deny it. Her mind raced for excuses, but failed.

  What excuse would she find? Because she didn't like her actions?

  So she did a simirly hateful thing? She couldn't find any excuse.

  She questioned her humanity. It seemed like every unfairness was a justice to punish her.

  The celestial came forward and stood beside her, facing the opposite direction.

  "So, do you still want to be alive? As a worm?"

  Sarn opened her eyes, tried to answer, but didn’t find any.

  She had the same question in mind: Do I deserve to live?

  "Should I take silence as no?" the celestial asked calmly.

  Sarn slightly turned her head to the right, to say something—but nothing came.

  Maybe silence was a resistance.