Lucien shut the door behind him and stood there for a long moment.
His fingers slowly rose to his lips.
The memory of the kiss came rushing back.
He froze.
More than excitement, he felt lost.
Just a few days ago, he had been married to someone else. Now he was in a different world, living in another man's body, and that man had a wife.
Lyra.
It would be a lie to say he hated this world. In fact, there was a strange sense of ease here, something he had never felt before.
But that only made things more complicated.
In his past life, he had shared a bed with Anna. But that night had not been love. It had been duty.
Cold. Distant.
Her eyes had held nothing for him.
He had told himself to be patient. To understand. To wait.
But she never came back to him.
Not once.
There had been no warmth, no softness, nothing.
But Lyra's kiss was different.
Gentle.
Alive.
When her lips touched his, something inside him had trembled.
That feeling was completely foreign.
And that scared him.
Did he even deserve something like that?
He wasn't Lucien Crossel.
He was someone else, someone who had died.
So was it right for him to accept this? To feel something?
His thoughts tangled further.
What really happened between Lyra and the real Lucien?
Was it truly Lucien's fault or hers?
From what he had heard, neither of them had loved the other. But unlike his past life, Lyra had never humiliated her husband publicly.
This marriage had not been destroyed by outsiders.
It had simply failed.
Because both of them gave up.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
But then why would a man like Lucien Crossel try to kill himself?
That did not fit.
Something was wrong.
Something missing.
Without his memories, there was no way to know the truth.
He walked slowly toward the mirror and stopped.
The reflection staring back at him still felt unfamiliar.
"I don't know where you are," he murmured softly.
"But I hope you're at peace."
His gaze softened.
"I don't know why I came here or why I took your place."
He paused.
"But I feel like people never truly understood you."
His fingers curled slightly.
"Sometimes what we see is not the truth. There is always more beneath it."
He looked into his own eyes, yet not his own.
"You must have had your reasons too."
A sharp pain suddenly exploded in his head.
He clutched his temples, staggering back.
The pain was unbearable.
It felt like something was tearing through his mind.
His vision blurred.
His breathing became uneven.
Cold sweat soaked his body as his legs gave out beneath him.
He collapsed onto the floor.
Still clutching his head, he tried to endure it, but the pain only grew worse.
His strength drained rapidly.
His eyelids grew heavy.
And then everything went dark.
A knock echoed from the door.
"Master?"
David's voice sounded from outside.
No response.
He knocked again, louder this time.
"Master, it is time for your medicine."
Still nothing.
Across the hall, Lyra's door opened.
She stepped out, her expression already irritated.
"What is all this noise?"
David turned, worry written all over his face.
"Mistress, Master is not answering. I have been knocking, but…"
Before he could finish, Lyra's expression changed.
Something cold and sharp flashed in her eyes.
She did not wait.
She pushed the door open.
And froze.
Lucien lay on the floor.
Pale.
Unmoving.
"Master." David rushed in.
Lyra was already beside him.
She pushed his hair away from his forehead, her fingers trembling slightly.
His skin was ice cold.
Her heart skipped.
"Lucien…"
No response.
Panic rose in her chest.
"Call the doctor. Now."
Her voice came out sharp.
David ran.
Lyra pulled Lucien's head into her lap, her hand instinctively brushing through his damp hair.
His face looked drained and fragile.
Nothing like the calm man from earlier.
She tapped his cheek lightly.
"Wake up."
Nothing.
She grabbed his hands.
Cold.
Too cold.
Without thinking, she began rubbing them, trying to bring back warmth.
"Lucien, wake up."
Her voice dropped this time.
Softer.
Almost afraid.
For the first time, she was not angry.
She was scared.