Alice woke to a searing pain tearing through her skull. Her entire body ached, and the cold sliced straight to the bone. Awareness came slowly, and with it, memory. It took her a few seconds to understand why she was lying on the floor, why her limbs felt like they were made of lead, and why she felt so utterly wrong. No. This wasn’t going to be a good day.

  Fury rose in her. That much, at least, was certain. Rage, wild and corrosive, ripped through her like a firestorm, and her eyes welled with tears. The owner hadn’t done much, technically. He hadn’t raped her, hadn’t beaten her, but it didn’t matter. She felt defiled all the same. No one had ever touched her like that before. No one had ever crossed that line she’d drawn so clearly, so carefully around herself. And yet…

  Somewhere deep down, she blamed herself. She knew she shouldn’t. Knew it wasn’t her fault. She had been the victim. She was the one who’d been wronged. But logic didn’t matter now. Shame clung to her skin like filth she couldn’t scrub off. She felt like a whore, the worst kind of whore. If she’d just been smarter, more aware, maybe she could’ve avoided all of it.

  “I shouldn’t think like this,” she whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  But the tears came anyway. She curled up on the floor, shivering, as something deep inside her slowly burned away. The world felt different now. Uglier. Tainted. And she? Stripped of some invisible innocence she hadn’t even known she still possessed. Something died in her. A piece of the child she used to be. Another value crumbled. Another thread of belief came undone. She felt like she’d fallen again, and this time, she wasn’t sure she’d ever rise. God, it was so unfair. She wanted to be strong. She trained. She studied. She pushed herself harder than anyone. But none of it had helped her here. None of it had prepared her for this. And the ghost? That had been a disaster, too. Why? These past few hours had shattered everything—a landslide down the mountain she’d been climbing. All of it… dust. Ashes. Nothing left.

  As she sank deeper into the swamp of self-blame, one thought clawed its way into her mind: even if all of this was true, even if she had failed, she had still survived. She had been alone. Utterly. No backup. No help. And still, she had made it. That black-haired bastard hadn’t even bothered to show up.

  "I hate him," she croaked, gathering what strength she had left to crawl to the bed. "I hate him with every fiber of my soul. Let him rot in agony. Let him writhe at the bottom of hell. Let him pay tenfold for what he did to me."

  "You're allowed to hate me, girl," came a calm, musical voice from the shadows. "Be angry. Wish me dead. I won’t hold it against you. But at least admit this much to yourself: I warned you. I told you what was coming. I told you clearly, plainly. Because riddles were never your strength."

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Alice forced herself up onto her elbows. He was there. Leaning against the wall by her bed. The black-haired man. She hadn’t heard him come in. Hadn’t felt his presence. He stood like he’d always been there. Like the room had been built around him. That infuriating, detached smile. That empty stare, focused somewhere far away. She didn’t know what was worse: that he’d left her to drown when she needed him most, or that he had the audacity to show up now, when she didn’t need him at all.

  "You knew I was testing you," he said, turning his face toward her. "You could’ve admitted you weren’t ready. You knew I wouldn’t step in."

  Alice almost laughed. Fifteen minutes ago, she’d thought something inside her had already broken, but no. This was the moment it truly shattered. Loud. Violent. Final. She couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t keep up the illusion that everything was fine. Not now.

  "I needed you!" she screamed through sobs. "I needed you, and you left me! It was so close! He almost raped me! And that ghost? He nearly killed me! And you! You didn’t care! Not even a little! Would it have been better if I’d just died? Is that it? Am I not good enough? Not learning fast enough for your standards? What the hell do you want from me?!"

  The man’s smile vanished, gone like smoke in still air. A heavy silence followed. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. Detached. Like someone commenting on the weather.

  "As if you expected a knight in shining armor," he said. "Someone to sweep you off your feet, give you perfect little twins, and play loving husband of the year?"

  "I don’t know..." Alice whispered, eyes half-shut. Shame crept in. That he had seen her like this. Broken. That she’d allowed herself to feel. "Maybe just a bit of support."

  The man burst out laughing. Loud. Too loud. And that grin—it stretched across his face like a mask, warping him into something monstrous. Mad. The look in his eyes was worse than the owner’s had ever been. Worse than the ghost’s. This… this was real danger. For a heartbeat, she genuinely believed death might’ve been a mercy compared to whatever this man, this thing was capable of.

  "Support, Alice?" he spat, still grinning. "God, you're even more pathetic than I thought. Maybe I should’ve let you die."

  Oddly enough, she wasn’t even surprised. No, she’d been expecting it. Somewhere deep down, she’d always known it would come to this. But it still hurt. Worse than she’d imagined.

  "Get out of my life," she said, forcing herself to her feet. "I don’t need you."

  "As you wish," he whispered. "No point wasting your precious time."

  And as he began to fade, that cruel smile still lingered on his lips. When he was gone, the silence felt different. Final. Something was missing now, that eerie presence that had always been with her, lurking just out of sight, gone. And with its absence came the doubt. A thousand voices in her mind, all asking: what now? Can I survive without him? Will I even be safe? But one question towered above the rest, a question she didn’t want to face: Did I do the right thing?

  She drifted into sleep, clutching the lie that she didn’t regret a single word.