Perfect. I'll expand your Chapter 8, keeping your tone, structure, and pacing intact, while elevating clarity, flow, and depth. Tar
After the gangster's shout revealed a truth too heavy to digest, Eiden stood there for a while—frozen. The hallway was quiet now, yet his heart roared louder than ever. The words echoed again and again in his mind.
> "That girl's brother… he's dead."
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Every creak of wood, every breath of wind, might've been the gangster returning. Eiden clung to silence like a lifeline, pressing his back against the door, hoping the man would just… leave.
Eventually, he heard it—faint, fading footsteps, getting softer until they melted into nothing. Only then did he exhale, a long breath laced with relief, dread, and the jagged edges of guilt. But his relief was short-lived. A new panic began to rise.
> What if Sasha meets him on the way back? What if he says something? What if she finds out? Or worst he Harms her too !!!,"This is bad real bad .
His stomach churned.
The weight of the truth was settling now: Sasha's real brother—Aidren—was gone. Dead. And he, Eiden, was wearing his face.
Minutes passed. Then more. When he finally dared to crack open the door, the corridor was empty. He scanned both ends before quietly stepping back inside. Locked it. Sat. Waited.
Two hours later, the front door creaked open.
Sasha returned, groceries in hand and smile intact.
Eiden nearly collapsed from relief. "Thank god," he muttered under his breath, standing quickly to greet her.
She glanced at him, puzzled. "What happened to you? You look like you've seen a ghost."
He stiffened, blinking away the emotion. "It's nothing," he replied with forced casualness.
"Okay then," she said with a shrug, clearly unconvinced. "Here—put these in the kitchen, would you?"
Without a word, Eiden complied. He carried the bags, sorting them onto the kitchen counter. Sasha stretched her arms and yawned. "I'll go freshen up first. Lunch prep in five!"
Eiden gave a nod.
As her footsteps faded into the hallway, he leaned on the counter, scratching his nose out of anxious habit. His mind spiraled again. The truth clawed at him from the inside.
> I should tell her. I have to tell her. She deserves to know. She has a right to grieve amd know the whole truth . I can't keep lying to this innocent and sweet girl who's been nothing but kind to me all this time, and i have been taking advantage of it .
He stared at the wooden surface of the counter, steeling himself.
But as the minutes ticked by, and the sounds of running water and soft humming echoed from the other room, the resolve he'd gathered began to crack.
> She's smiling. She's happy. She's safe.
He clenched his fists.
Sasha soon returned, hair slightly damp, wearing a fresh tunic and apron. Humming softly, she began cutting vegetables. The scent of herbs filled the kitchen.
"Hey, Sasha," Eiden called softly.
She turned her head with a light tilt, knife still in hand. "Hmm?"
His mouth opened… but the words didn't come. His throat clenched, heart pounded.
He swallowed.
"How were the groceries today?" he asked instead.
"Oh! Pretty normal," she said cheerfully. "There was a special sale on onions, so I got a few extra. Oh, and Miss Bensey wouldn't sell me the starroot again. Said something about keeping it for her son's wedding feast. Hmph."
She continued on with mild complaints and giggles. Eiden barely heard any of it.
> This girl… she's just living. Holding things together. And I… I'm a fraud.
His chest tightened.
> But if this lie is what keeps her happy, what keeps her whole, then I'll bear it. I'll protect her with it. Even if it means burying the truth forever.
> I'm not Aidren. But I'll become him for her sake.
> I'll be the brother she needs.
"Brother? Helloooo?" Sasha called, snapping her fingers in front of his face.
He blinked. "Oh—yeah, I'm listening."
"Lunch's almost ready. Go wash your hands," she said, grinning.
"Right."
He walked off, still carrying the weight in his chest.
> I can't afford to relax. If that gangster knows I'm not Aidren, there could be others. I need to be prepared.
As he returned from the washroom and sat at the table, the meal was already set. The two of them ate, talking lightly—about the market, the weird old lady who sold talking turnips (probably a lie), and how Sasha's school was on break.
"Wait, school?" Eiden asked, raising a brow mid-bite.
"Yup! Just twenty-five days of freedom left," she groaned.
> Twenty-five days huh… that's long enough for everything to fall apart if I don't get ahead of this.
Later, back in his room, Eiden sat cross-legged on the bed, the curtain drawn. The afternoon sun cut lines across the floor.
He closed his eyes.
> Those strange letters... they appeared the last time I focused deeply, right?
He exhaled slowly, centering his mind.
And there they were—three floating symbols, glowing faintly in the void behind his eyelids. One of them shimmered more brightly than the others.
> No translation. No explanation. Just weird magical alphabets floating in my brain. Cool.
He squinted mentally (if that was even possible) at one of the dimmer ones and focused.
The glow shifted. The first one faded. The one he focused on now began to shine.
And then—
> ZAP.
A bolt of sensation ran through him like liquid fire—his spine arched slightly, a tingling buzz crawling down his arms.
> What the hell is this?
He could feel it. Not in his body—but around it. A pressure. Like something uncoiling. Waiting to be commanded.
Instinctively, his eyes darted to the ceramic vase on the table.
"I… engage?"
A whisper, barely audible.
And then—whoosh.
A burst. A ripple. Like the air had been sliced.
The vase didn't explode. It didn't fall. It simply split—clean, surgical, perfect. Two halves tilted and rolled apart as if they had never been one.
Eiden stared...
"Holy fk!!!**"