Aeron stood outside the door for a full minute before walking in.
He wasn't carrying a blade today. No chains. No tests. Or maybe this was one—just a different kind.
Liora sat with her back against the wall, her knees pulled up, head resting on them. She looked small. Almost like a child. But her eyes, when they lifted to meet his, were old. Worn down.
Like she'd lived through too many lives in one.
"You're feeding me again?" she asked, eyeing the tray in his hands.
"You think I care if you eat?" he scoffed.
"I think you don't know why you care," she replied.
He hated how she spoke sometimes—not sweet or clever, but honest. Like the words had no armor. That made them dangerous.
He set the tray on the floor and sat opposite her.
"You haven't asked to leave once," he said, studying her. "Why?"
"Because I don't expect people to let me go," she answered. "Not anymore."
"So you've given up?"
"No."A pause."I've just learned that begging never works. Especially with people who enjoy hearing it."
Aeron's expression hardened, but he didn't deny it.
"You think I enjoy this?" he asked.
"Don't you?"
"What if I said no?"
"Then I'd wonder why you still do it."
That stung more than he expected. He tried to shake it off.
"Kindness," he said suddenly. "You keep showing it. Even when you should hate me."
"Because if I stop being kind, then I become you."
Aeron's eyes flashed.
He stood quickly and grabbed her wrist—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to feel the weight of it.
"You don't know me," he hissed.
"Then tell me who you are."
The air between them felt thick with heat. Not desire. Not fear. Something more dangerous: tension built on truth.
He let go, stepping back like her touch burned.
"Kindness is a lie," he muttered. "People use it when they want something."
"Then what do I want?" she asked.
"Freedom. Safety. My pity."
"Wrong," she said, shaking her head. "I just want to feel human again."
That stopped him.
He looked at her, for the first time, not as prey—but as a person.
She wasn't crying. She wasn't begging. She was just… existing.
Barely.
"Did anyone ever love you?" he asked suddenly.
"No," she said simply. "Not really. Not the way love is supposed to be."
"Not even your mother?"
Liora let out a bitter laugh, soft and hollow.
"She blamed me for ruining her life. For 'stealing her man.' As if a little girl could seduce someone."Her voice cracked, just slightly."She told me I deserved what happened. That I was disgusting."
Aeron's jaw tightened. His breath came slow, deep.
He didn't know what to say to that.
He'd wanted to trap her. Push her into revealing the fake kindness beneath her skin.
But the more she spoke, the more it felt like she wasn't pretending.
She wasn't hiding anything.
She had already been ripped open long ago.
"You remind me of a ghost," he said finally.
"Do I scare you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"No," he replied. "Ghosts don't scare me. They annoy me."
"Why?"
"Because they never leave."
Liora gave a small, almost invisible smile.
"Then maybe you should set me free."
He stared at her.
"I can't," he said. "Because I don't know if you're real."
She lowered her eyes.
"Maybe I don't know either."
That night, after leaving her room, Aeron went to his hidden drawer.
He pulled out a photo of one of his old victims.
Her name was Delilah. A woman who smiled too easily. Flirted with married men. Lied to her husband. Lied to Aeron.
He remembered the moment he saw her fake tears. The way she pretended to be scared, just long enough to pull a blade from her boot.
She tried to kill him.She failed.
He stared at her photo now, then back at the live camera feed showing Liora, curled up under a thin blanket.
"She's not Delilah," he said aloud.
But that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous in another way.
She made him feel again.She made him question things he buried long ago.
And that, to him, was more terrifying than a knife in the dark.