Ashen had never forgotten his twin soul's warning: some people could pry into one's mind, scry through memories, and steal secrets while the victim slept unaware.
To this day, he had no reliable defense against that kind of invasion. Since he'd never actually met anyone capable of it, he hadn't exactly treated it as urgent.
But something far more tangible had his full attention instead; something he was almost certain to face soon.
A lie detector.
Ashen was sure he'd have to pass through one eventually after advancing along his path.
At first, he drew a complete blank. No matter how well he controlled his heartbeat, microexpressions, or tone, it wouldn't matter. The device didn't measure those. It measured belief.
And belief was a tricky beast. It came from the mind, and the mind was far harder to deceive than the body.
…Until Ashen remembered one tool that could make it possible: Lucid Dreamweaving.
The idea was simple to set up, though difficult to maintain.
He would dream of his advancement, recreate the event, but alter it just enough to make it safe to share.
But this time, he couldn't stay lucid. Being aware would ruin the trick. To fool the detector, he needed to believe the lie himself, which meant temporarily forgetting the truth.
'Anyone can dream false scenarios… a poor man dreaming of wealth, a prisoner dreaming of freedom. And if such dreams can exist naturally, then Lucid Dreamweaving could make them happen with certainty.'
That became the foundation of his ploy.
First, dream a version of himself who had become an Idle Reader instead of an Idle Chronicler.
Second, suppress the memory of what truly happened.
Finally, bring that dreaming self into reality while his body remained asleep.
And that, Ashen could already do through his Daydream state.
Still, there was a flaw. His Daydream could stretch on endlessly, breaking only when the dreamer realized it was a dream. So Ashen set a trigger word to shatter the illusion: Alice.
The moment he thought of her name—most likely when leaving the interrogation room—the false self would collapse, and his real memories would rush back.
If the trigger broke too early, he could simply recast the dream, this time beginning from the latest point: the conversation with the officer.
Surprisingly, the hardest part of the entire trick wasn't weaving the false memory. It was convincing his skill to let him dream normally instead of lucidly… a task that, somehow, turned out to be far more difficult than mastering lucidity itself.
⛧⛧⛧
In the end, Ashen decided to visit the nearest bar, casino, or place where people gathered to gossip and hope.
Lucia was off the radar, so he couldn't ask her about Alice's whereabouts. Bonnie was also out of reach, still beyond the wall at the permanent Bloodwall camp, and he didn't know anyone from the escort team that came back with him well enough to cozy up to them.
The gleeful feeling from his earlier successful ruse was starting to give way to irritation.
Alice was one of the few things that still easily riled up his emotions, even after all he'd been through.
His steps turned brisk as he headed toward the exit of the administration building. "…Can't she just, I don't know, show up in front of me…?"
Click—Clack—Click—Clack—
The sound of heels echoed down the marble hall.
Ashen lifted his gaze.
A figure approached from the far end, her steps even, her movements so precise it was as if she walked along an invisible ruler, measuring each stride before she let her foot touch the ground.
She wore crystal high heels and white pantyhose tracing along long, toned legs that disappeared beneath a dark dress, the hem stopping just above her thighs. Over it, she wore a black coat lined with faint blue circuits pulsing softly with mana.
The glow gave her an almost ethereal edge.
Ashen's eyes trailed up before he could stop himself.
She moved with confidence. There was poise in her walk, composure in her gaze… and a cool detachment that made it seem nothing would faze her.
When she stopped, so did he.
Her face came into view.
Sharp lines accentuated by the cool focus of a thinker, of someone used to observing rather than being observed, softened only by the faintest tilt of her head.
For a heartbeat, that composed, unreadable mask held steady. Then her eyes trembled.
A flicker of disbelief shattered the quiet poise she carried. The air thickened between them, charged with recognition, shock, and… longing.
The name escaped before he realized it had formed on his lips.
"…Alice."
Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her shoulders stiffened, and the faint hum of the circuits lining her coat grew louder.
"Ashen…?"
She whispered his name. Then she moved, each step faster than the last, heels clicking in a frantic rhythm that shattered her calm facade.
He found himself moving too, closing the distance between them.
Halfway through, his vision flickered. A blink later, the perfectly fine Alice now had a hole through her chest, right where her heart should've been.
ZZST—
"Ah—aaah."
Ashen's eyes widened; his mouth fell open. He wanted to scream, but what came out was a broken wail. The next step he took cracked the marble beneath his heel.
Alice froze. From her perspective, his eyes had shifted from longing to raw terror in a heartbeat, and before she could react, he was right in front of her.
Her coat hummed, the automatic defense flaring to life, but she suppressed it just in time.
His trembling hand lifted toward her chest, hesitant yet desperate. A dozen daggers slipped from her sleeves, glinting midair, but another silent command halted them in place.
Anyone else would've been skewered from every angle and blasted down the hall. But this wasn't anyone else.
This was Ashen; she was sure of it, no matter how different he looked from his old self.
This was the man she'd spent a decade loving… and still loved, even after the breakup.
She would never mistake him for anyone else.
So she didn't move, even as his hand reached her round, full breasts and grabbed a fistful, distorting the dress, and making her involuntarily let a quiet moan.
"Mm~"
The soft, involuntary sound snapped Ashen from the nightmarish vision that had bled into reality and cruelly reminded him of Alice's death in the first timeline.
'Damn that trait…' he cursed inwardly.
The Liminal Dreamer trait had chosen the worst moment to manifest. For a horrifying second, he'd lost his grip on what was real.
Now, he found himself in a compromising position, with his hand groping his ex-girlfriend and her eyes locked onto his in a judgmental yet faintly flustered manner.
The daggers still floated nearby, and the hum of her coat didn't abate, but he didn't seem to care… and didn't seem to pull away.
He decided that this was as good an icebreaker as any and thickened his skin.
He squeezed once more.
"Hnn~" Alice bit her lips, "You should let go."
"Why?" Ashen smirked, "What's wrong with me touching my woman, or did you seriously believe I'd let you go after that 'breakup'?"
His mouth curled into a sneer as he mouthed the last word, but beneath the mocking tone, there was something possessive. "You can't be that delusional just because I played along for a while, right?"
He stepped closer, his other hand sliding around her waist, drawing her in until their bodies met in a tight hug.
"You'll never get away from me," he leaned in and roughly whispered, almost trembling. "Never."