The floorboards didn't even creak beneath my feet as I stepped past Marcos, crossing the threshold into his house as if I owned the air inside it. I didn't wait for an invitation. I didn't look back to see the expression on his face.
Behind me, the lock clicked back into place, a heavy, final sound.
"Lune?" Marcos's voice was shaky, filled with disbelief he couldn't hide. "What... what the hell is this? Why are you in a wedding dress? What happened?"
I didn't answer him. Instead, I trailed my fingers along the smooth wooden table near the entrance, my gaze drifting toward the grand staircase.
"Do you live alone?" I asked, cutting through all his questions without even looking at him.
He blinked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I live alone. My parents are always busy. They've been living abroad for the past two years. But that's not—"
"Mm."
I nodded to myself.
"No witnesses."
Marcos frowned.
"What?"
"Nothing."
I walked away before he could ask again, wandering into the huge living room. The house was massive. High ceilings, towering windows, and an empty silence that swallowed the sound of my silk gown brushing across the floor. It was too big. Far too big for someone to live here alone.
A perfect, empty fortress.
"I like empty houses," I said quietly.
Marcos looked at me.
"...Why?"
"They don't interrupt."
He stared, unsure if I was joking.
I continued walking.
Marcos followed a few steps behind, his footsteps heavy compared to my silent ones. He watched me carefully, like someone trying to decide whether a stray animal would bite or simply stare back. I took my time exploring the ground floor, letting the bright white of my dress stand out against the dark walls of his home.
Finally, I stopped in front of the large glass doors leading to the backyard, staring at my faint reflection in the dark glass.
"You were supposed to be at the altar today," Marcos said quietly. He stood behind me but didn't dare touch me. "You were getting married. To Asher."
"I was," I murmured, slowly turning to face him.
"Then what happened?"
"Then..."
I looked at him for a long moment, as if I was deciding whether he deserved the truth.
Then I smiled.
Slowly.
I lifted my right hand, curled my fingers into the shape of a gun, and pointed it between his eyes.
I whispered, never breaking eye contact.
"Boom."
A soft laugh escaped me. It was light, almost musical, yet completely empty. The laugh of someone who had watched everything burn and thought the flames were beautiful.
Marcos froze.
His jaw tightened.
The colour slowly drained from his face.
"Did you shoot someone?" he whispered. "Lune... did you shoot Asher?"
"No."
I lowered my hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"Don't rush."
I smiled.
"You'll know eventually."
A small pause.
"Everyone does."
His eyes searched my face before dropping to my dress.
"You don't even have clothes with you. You didn't bring anything. What the hell are you planning to do?"
I glanced down at the white silk.
"This is enough."
I smoothed a wrinkle from the skirt.
"I won't be wearing it for very long anyway."
I stepped closer.
The sweet scent of white gardenias filled the space between us.
"If I came prepared, this would be boring, wouldn't it?"
I tilted my head.
"Or maybe..."
My voice softened into something dangerous.
"If I came prepared, I wouldn't get to find out how useful you can be."
His breathing caught.
"People are always more honest when they're confused."
I looked straight into his eyes.
"You're confused right now."
---
On the other side of town, the perfect illusion had fallen apart.
Red and blue lights flashed across the white walls of the mansion, throwing strange shadows over the well-kept gardens where guests had been laughing less than an hour ago.
Crystal glasses lay shattered.
The music was gone.
Only sirens remained.
"I didn't kill her! You have nothing! This is a setup!"
My father's voice, usually calm and commanding, had turned into desperate shouting.
Two officers dragged him down the front steps, his expensive suit wrinkled, heavy handcuffs locked around his wrists.
He fought against them, his face twisted with panic as the remaining guests stared at him with disgust.
"It's a lie! I didn't do it! Look at me! I didn't—"
The police car door slammed shut, cutting off his screams.
Some of the guests quietly stepped away from the car as if guilt itself could spread through touch.
The madness only grew.
Near the fountain, a crowd surrounded my mother.
She lay unconscious on the cold stone ground, her perfect smile finally gone, her skin deathly pale.
"Call an ambulance! She's not waking up!"
Paramedics rushed through the crowd with a stretcher, lifting her into the ambulance.
Her world had ended.
Her body had simply given up.
Not far away, the wedding bouquet still rested where it had fallen.
Its white flowers slowly turned red beneath the flashing lights.
---
And in the middle of the chaos...
Asher sat alone.
He sat on the steps of the garden gazebo, the very place where they were supposed to exchange vows.
The velvet ring box was squeezed so tightly in his hand that his knuckles had turned white.
His tuxedo remained spotless.
A cruel reminder of the day that should have been.
He stared blankly at the grass.
Silent tears rolled down his face.
His hands shaking.
His mind kept repeating the same question.
Why?
Why did she do this?
Every answer he thought of sounded impossible.
Somehow...
Every impossible answer sounded exactly like Lune.
The words from her note burned inside his mind.
A murderer's daughter.
She had known.
She had known everything.
And she had left him behind without looking back.
He had been ready to give her his whole life.
She had turned it into a stage for someone's execution.
---
The silence inside Marcos's house felt almost unreal.
I sat calmly at the vanity inside the guest room upstairs.
The broken mirror from my room was gone.
In its place stood a flawless sheet of glass.
I stared at my reflection.
Everything outside had fallen apart.
Yet not a single strand of my hair was out of place.
Slowly, I lifted a finger and wiped away the tiny mark of mascara beneath my eye.
"Perfect," I whispered to my reflection.
---
Downstairs...
Someone pounded on the front door.
Marcos looked toward the staircase before walking over.
The lock clicked open.
Asher stood outside.
His breathing was uneven.
His hair was damp from the evening mist.
His eyes were red.
Hopeless.
Desperate.
He didn't even acknowledge Marcos.
He pushed past him and ran upstairs.
I heard his footsteps long before Marcos did.
I'd been waiting.
The guest room door flew open.
I didn't flinch.
I didn't move.
I stayed seated at the vanity, watching his reflection appear behind mine.
"Lune..."
Asher's voice cracked.
A broken whisper.
I slowly turned to face him.
"Oh," I said with a small smile.
"You found me again."