"Die..."
Bang!
"Die..."
Bang!
"Die..."
Bang!!
Kiana sat on top of Sirin, pounding down with her fists over and over again.
Sirin's face was already bruised and swollen, her golden eyes dull and filled with numbness.
She had fought back, of course.
But every time she managed to suppress Kiana, the girl would just keep coming back, like an undying mad dog, relentlessly regaining the upper hand and pinning Sirin to the ground once again.
Kiana had gone insane—this wasn't an insult Sirin hurled in anger, but a truth she felt deeply as another personality born from the same source.
From Kiana's emotions and actions, Sirin could sense it clearly.
Bang!
Another punch landed on Sirin's face, making her spit blood.
In this battleground of memories, the pain and injuries Kiana suffered mirrored those in reality, and the same was true for Sirin.
Sirin trembled as she tried to turn over, inadvertently catching sight of Kiana's bloodshot, lifeless eyes—eyes that resembled those of a beast, or more accurately, a creature that had forgotten what it meant to fear death.
This girl really only wanted her dead, in the most pure and stubborn way possible.
Seizing a moment when Kiana raised her fist, Sirin managed to push her off and crawled away as quickly as she could.
Next time. Her mental state is off this time. Next time, Sirin convinced herself, it won't be this difficult.
But Kiana got up once more, staggering on her feet, relentless as a demon, and continued her pursuit of Sirin.
"Don't... don't come any closer! Aaaaahhh!!"
"Die... die..."
Again and again, Kiana repeated those simple words, words that explained all of her actions.
Then, just as Sirin thought they might be the only two left in this world, a young man in a white trench coat appeared behind Kiana.
He embraced her from behind, gently holding her bloodied form.
"Enough, that's enough now."
"You did well, very well."
"You were amazing, so strong."
"It's okay now, Kiana..."
Sigurd spoke softly, his deep voice filled with a warmth as gentle as the spring sun.
He rarely showed this kind of emotion, but whenever Sigurd did express his tenderness, no one could resist it—at least, Kiana never could.
"I... I was so close, just a little bit more..."
Kiana leaned into Sigurd's embrace, reaching out towards Sirin, unwilling to give up.
Sirin, seeing this, couldn't help but crawl back a few more steps.
"Ahhhh!!!"
So close, she felt she was so close to finally killing Sirin.
But why, why couldn't she finish her off? Kiana clutched her head in agony, crying out loudly.
"Sigh—"
Sigurd sighed softly, gently stroking the top of Kiana's head.
She couldn't kill Sirin.
This was different from Wendy, Mei, and the others.
Sirin was the original consciousness in this body, the dominant personality, while Kiana was only a secondary personality derived from Sirin's amnesia.
A secondary personality could never kill the original one; at most, it could suppress it—just as Kiana was doing now, driven by deep, complex emotions, to suppress Sirin.
But that was her limit, and pushing further wouldn't achieve anything.
The most frightening thing was that if Sirin's consciousness disappeared, Kiana would die with her.
However, Sirin's survival wouldn't be affected by Kiana's death.
This was the most difficult problem to solve.
Sigurd, holding Kiana, transformed the chaotic world around them into a familiar office.
There was a desk, a high chair, sunlight streaming through the window, dust particles dancing in the light, a reddish-brown sofa by the window, and on the table before the sofa, there were tea and delicious cakes.
For both Sigurd and Kiana, this was a scene so familiar it felt like home.
"Fu Hua is still outside. There are some things we need to discuss, just the two of us, so we won't go out right away... Close your eyes."
Sigurd explained as he set the little girl on his lap, one hand supporting her back while the other held a warm, damp towel.
Kiana obediently closed her eyes, tilting her head back slightly.
Sigurd wiped away the dirt and blood from her face, carefully cleaning her tangled hair and the battered skin beneath.
Soon, the messy, disheveled girl had returned to her clean and adorable appearance—in the world of consciousness, it only took a thought to become clean, but this was a ritual, one that helped calm Kiana's troubled heart.
"I'm sorry..."
Nestled in Sigurd's chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, Kiana whispered, her voice filled with a sorrow she had never shown before.
Sigurd responded with a soft "Mhm," then casually fed her a piece of cake.
Kiana chewed on the cake, and in the sweetness of the imaginary treat, she began to sob softly, trying to suppress her cries.
Sigurd let out a long sigh, hesitating for a while before gently stroking her hair and asking, "Why are you apologizing?"
"I'm... sorry..."
"How long have you known?"
"A long... long time..."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I... I was so scared..."
She was afraid of being disliked by him, she's even more afraid of being resented by Sigurd—her cowardice left her with no other option but to bury her feelings deep inside, while outwardly pretending to be purely optimistic and carefree.
This had been going on for quite some time.
Every time she thought about this secret, the fear of it overwhelmed her to the point of wanting to die.
Then she would desperately cling to Sigurd, seeking temporary comfort from him.
But the more she craved Sigurd's indulgence and affection, the more terrified she became of this truth, creating a vicious cycle.
However, the mask of optimism was so strong that even Sigurd, who knew her so well, hadn't noticed anything amiss for a long time.
It was indeed strange—a pair of people who both understood the truth yet stayed together every day without ever addressing it.
"Silly girl."
Sigurd gently patted her head, speaking to both Kiana and himself.
Maybe if he had brought it up sooner, she wouldn't have had to endure so much.
"I'm sorry..."
"No need to apologize."
"Sig's mom and dad..."
"It's not unrelated to you, given your origins. But you don't need to blame yourself—at that time, you didn't even exist. I can't speak for anyone else to say if you're forgiven or if it doesn't matter, but as for me, I've never blamed you."
Sigurd spoke sincerely.
Kiana looked up at him, gently touching his face, and with a timid voice, she confessed, "I'm so scared... of being hated by you. If you didn't like me, I would die... I would really die..."
"Don't treat your life so cheaply."
"...I'm not lying."
Sigurd grasped her small, delicate hand, feeling its warmth and softness.
But the fact that she wasn't lying only made things more troubling.
She was far too dependent on him—this gave Sigurd a mix of comfort and satisfaction, but also a hint of disapproval.
If things continued like this, would she ever become independent?
"I don't want to be independent. Without you, Sig, I wouldn't know how to live. I could live without cake and ice cream, without pretty dresses and soft beds. I could live without friends, without dad, I could live without anything, but not without you..."
Kiana pressed her lips together, speaking with such seriousness as if she were stating an undeniable truth.
This was a direct and unfiltered confession, leaving Sigurd momentarily at a loss for words.
<+>
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Latest Chapter in Ko-Fi: Chapter 274: Infighting? A Hundredfold Payback![2]
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