Ahcehera's gaze lingered on the photograph displayed on her desk. The image had already answered one question. Unfortunately, it had created dozens more.
The young boy standing protectively between the others looked strikingly similar to Richmond Mors. Their facial features were nearly identical, from the shape of their eyes to the curve of their smiles. Only subtle differences separated them.
Beside the photograph rested a faded note.
Year 022208, Birthday Souvenir Card. Riezekiel Mors and Richmond Mors.
Ahcehera felt her throat tighten.
The answer was suddenly obvious.
Riezekiel and Richmond were brothers.
No. More than that.
Her eyes widened as she compared their appearances again.
The resemblance was too perfect.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"They're twins..."
The realization struck her like a thunderbolt. For several seconds, she simply stared at the image. Then another thought followed immediately. A much darker thought.
Does he blame me?
The question settled heavily in her chest.
She looked again at the younger Richmond standing beside his brother. Even through a decades-old photograph, the admiration in his eyes was unmistakable.
Riezekiel hadn't simply been his brother. He had been someone Richmond deeply respected. Someone he loved, whose death had undoubtedly shattered a part of him.
Suddenly, Richmond's behavior outside her office seemed far less confusing. The accusation, anger, and disappointment. The sadness she glimpsed behind his eyes. Perhaps none of it had anything to do with romance. It had always been grief.
Ahcehera carefully examined the group photograph again.
The image depicted seven students standing together. They were young, confident, and happy. A stark contrast to the complicated lives they would eventually lead.
Her attention drifted toward the figure standing closest to the original Ahcehera. A handsome young man with a warm smile. Riezekiel.
Not Richmond.
She noticed subtle differences between the twins. Richmond's gaze possessed a sharper edge, a certain intensity. Riezekiel's expression, however, radiated warmth and kindness.
The distinction was small. Yet unmistakable once noticed.
Then her attention shifted toward the second photograph. The one featuring only two people. The princess and Riezekiel.
Both smiled naturally at the camera. There was no tension, awkwardness, or distance. They looked like close friends. Perhaps even best friends.
The sight left Ahcehera speechless.
The novel had never mentioned any of this. Not once.
According to the original story, the villainess princess relentlessly pursued Richmond while he rejected her advances.
There had been no mention of childhood friendships.
No mention of academy days.
No mention of his twin brother.
No mention of shared memories.
Nothing.
The more she learned, the more incomplete the novel appeared.
Perhaps the story she remembered had never contained the entire truth.
Her attention shifted toward the digital diary she had discovered earlier.
The files contained nearly a year's worth of personal entries.
At first glance, they seemed ordinary.
Scattered thoughts.
Daily observations.
Fragments of emotion.
Yet the deeper she read, the stranger they became.
Several entries repeated the same themes.
Confusion.
Loneliness.
Memory loss.
Questions without answers.
Slowly, Ahcehera pieced the information together.
Then the horrifying truth finally revealed itself.
The princess forgot.
Ahcehera froze.
The original princess had forgotten the accident.
Completely.
Not partially.
Not selectively.
Entire portions of her memories had vanished.
The diary repeatedly referenced gaps she couldn't explain.
Missing conversations.
Missing names.
Missing events.
The entries became increasingly desperate as time passed.
One section caught Ahcehera's attention immediately.
Today everyone looked at me strangely again.
Why won't anyone answer my questions?
Someone important is missing.
I know they are.
But every time I try to remember, my head hurts.
Ahcehera swallowed.
Her fingers tightened around the tablet.
The military knew.
The family knew.
The survivors knew.
Yet nobody told her.
Nobody explained what happened.
Nobody informed her that Riezekiel Mors had died.
The realization made her stomach twist.
How cruel.
How unbelievably cruel.
Hours passed as Ahcehera continued reading.
The deeper she dug, the more disturbing the situation became.
Richmond had lost his twin brother.
The princess had lost one of her closest friends.
Yet somehow, the entire incident had been buried beneath layers of secrecy.
Even official military records barely acknowledged Riezekiel's existence.
It was almost as though someone had deliberately erased him.
Why?
That question refused to leave her thoughts.
Military confidentiality could explain certain details.
But not this.
Not to this extent.
A decorated academy student dying during a mission should have been remembered.
Honored.
Recognized.
Instead, his existence had quietly disappeared.
Almost like a cover-up.
The possibility sent a chill down her spine.
What happened ten years ago?
The accident was beginning to feel less like an accident.
And more like something dangerous.
Something hidden.
Something powerful enough to frighten the military itself.
Another diary entry caught her attention.
This one was written several months after the incident.
I saw Richmond again today.
For a moment, I thought he was someone else.
I don't understand why.
Every time I look at him, I feel like something is missing.
Like I forgot something important.
He looked angry when I spoke to him.
Did I do something wrong?
Ahcehera slowly lowered the tablet.
Her chest felt heavy.
The princess genuinely didn't know.
She wasn't pretending.
She wasn't manipulating anyone.
She wasn't playing games.
She truly had no idea what happened.
And yet Richmond blamed her anyway.
A surge of irritation rose inside Ahcehera.
The hero is heartless.
The thought emerged before she could stop it.
The more she considered the situation, the angrier she became.
If Richmond knew the truth, why didn't he tell her?
Why allow her to remain trapped in confusion?
Why let her spend years searching for answers alone?
Grief wasn't an excuse for cruelty.
Especially not toward someone suffering from memory loss.
Ahcehera exhaled slowly.
Perhaps she was being unfair.
Perhaps Richmond had his own reasons.
But right now, she couldn't help feeling angry on the princess's behalf.
The original Ahcehera had suffered far more than anyone realized.
Eventually, she closed the diary.
Silence filled the office.
Her gaze drifted toward the photographs resting on the desk.
Smiling faces.
Lost memories.
Forgotten friendships.
A dead twin.
A grieving brother.
A princess searching for answers.
The entire situation felt tragic.
Yet one thing had become clear.
There was far more to the story than she originally believed.
And she intended to uncover every piece of it.
No matter how deeply buried the truth might be.
Several hours later, Ahcehera finally returned to her assigned residence.
A private villa reserved exclusively for high-ranking personnel.
The exterior appeared elegant enough.
The interior was another matter entirely.
The moment she stepped inside, she stopped.
The house felt empty.
Not physically empty.
Emotionally empty.
The walls were bare.
The furniture was minimal.
No decorations.
No personal belongings.
No signs of life.
Nothing.
The place resembled temporary housing rather than a home.
A chill ran through her.
This wasn't what she expected.
The original princess loved beautiful things.
Jewelry.
Art.
Fashion.
Luxury.
So why did her villa resemble an abandoned military bunker?
Ahcehera slowly walked through the living room.
Every step echoed.
The silence felt unnatural.
Uncomfortable.
Lonely.
"How did you live here?" she murmured.
No answer came.
Only silence.
Curiosity drove her upstairs.
The second floor contained several rooms.
Most were empty.
Then she reached the bedroom.
Her brows furrowed.
There wasn't even a bed.
The room was completely vacant.
No furniture.
No decorations.
Nothing.
It was as though nobody had ever lived there.
The discovery made her increasingly uneasy.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
For nearly an hour, Ahcehera searched the villa.
Walls.
Floors.
Ceilings.
Hidden compartments.
Secret passages.
She checked everything.
Nothing.
The house remained stubbornly empty.
Until her optical brain suddenly vibrated.
An incoming call.
Unknown number.
Ahcehera frowned.
Then accepted the connection.
A calm male voice greeted her immediately.
"Mistress."
Her heart skipped.
"Mistress, we have located the dragon lair."
The room seemed to grow colder.
The man continued.
"Are we proceeding with the next phase of the plan?"
Ahcehera remained silent.
Every instinct screamed danger.
Dragon lair?
Plan?
Mistress?
None of it made sense.
Yet the caller sounded completely confident.
As though he had spoken to her many times before.
Carefully, Ahcehera chose her response.
"Rest for now."
The words came naturally.
"I need time to sort a few things."
A brief pause followed.
Then the man replied.
"As you wish, Mistress."
The call ended.
Silence returned.
Ahcehera slowly lowered her hand.
Her pulse hammered inside her chest.
The empty villa suddenly felt far more ominous than before.
Because one thing had become painfully obvious.
The original Ahcehera Bloodstone wasn't merely hiding secrets.
She was actively involved in something.
Something large.
Something dangerous.
And apparently...
Someone out there expected her to continue the plan.
Ahcehera stared into the darkness beyond the villa windows.
Her expression slowly hardened.
"The deeper I dig..."
Her voice echoed softly through the empty house.
"...the less I know."
For the first time since arriving at Agartha Base, she truly understood how dangerous her situation had become.
Because she wasn't simply inheriting a villainess's life.
She was inheriting her unfinished schemes.
And she had absolutely no idea what they were.