The night was calm as Denial walked beside Shelly, leading her toward the road that passed in front of her house. They spoke in a low voice, the sound of their footsteps echoing lightly on the quiet street.
At one point, Shelly casually mentioned, "Oh, I forgot to tell you— I'm actually a reporter."
Denial froze for a moment, his expression tightening. "Please… don't write anything about me in the news," he said quickly, almost pleading. "If you do, my life could get into serious trouble. I already have more than enough problems as it is."
As they walked, Denial began to open up more. He told Shelly about his company—how for decades, the only time he ever stepped outside was to drink animal blood, and how, despite having multiple businesses across the country, he managed them all from the confines of his home.
His voice grew softer as he confessed another secret. "Sometimes… I still see them. My old lovers. In my dreams. It's like they're haunting me."
Shelly listened quietly before speaking in a gentle but firm tone. "Denial, that's psychological. You've been isolating yourself for so long… anyone's mental state would suffer like that. If you start your life fresh, you'll see those dreams fade away. Being locked inside forever isn't living—it's just surviving."
She looked him in the eyes. "You should go back to the office again."
Denial hesitated. "But… my identity—"
Shelly cut him off with a confident smile. "Then change it. Keep doing what you've been doing all these years, but under a new name. Legally change the company name too, make yourself the heir of your 'past self.' That way, your history stays buried."
Her words struck him deeply. For the first time in years, Denial felt a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he said quietly, with genuine sincerity.
By now, they had reached near Shelly's house. Before she stepped inside, she told him warmly, "If you ever need my help, call me without hesitation."
Denial smiled faintly. "Thank you, Shelly." He turned and began walking down the empty road, his thoughts tangled.
No matter what happens, he told himself, I'll never let my heart form a friendship or love with anyone again. That way, no one will die because of me.
But… could the heart ever truly be controlled? It was like a river—flowing freely, refusing to obey man-made barriers.
From that day onward, Denial began to upgrade himself. He refined his lifestyle, changed his habits, and even took Shelly's advice to heart—learning new languages, improving his skills, and becoming sharper in every way.
Months passed, and finally, Denial returned to the office—this time, introduced as the legal heir of his "past self."
A year went by. Denial's business empire expanded into luxury markets—perfumes, designer bags, and high-end jewelry. Within a few short years, the brand became famous across the country.
Yet, no one knew who truly owned the company. Denial's real identity remained hidden, never once revealed in all those decades.
The only clue lay in a handful of old photographs—taken ten or fifteen years ago—where Denial had appeared alongside prominent businessmen of the past. Whenever curious employees asked about those photos, Denial simply smiled and replied,
"Oh, that was my grandfather."
And so, his secret lived on…
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