Aki sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands dangling like broken wires. The morning sun stretched thin beams through the curtains, but it didn't warm him. His eyes were bloodshot from sleeplessness, his dark circles deeper than usual.
He replayed the garden scene over and over again in his mind.
Why did Eren save me? Why didn't he just watch me die like everyone else was supposed to?
Why was that assassin's blade aimed at me with such precision?
Why does the Princess keep smiling as if she knows something I don't?
His stomach churned.
A loud "MEOW!" broke the silence.
"You still look like you're going to hurl," growled Mr. Whiskerdoom, leaping off the windowsill and landing beside Aki with a theatrical flop.
Aki rubbed his temples.
"I almost died yesterday," he whispered hoarsely. "Again. And somehow… Eren—he actually saved me."
"And now you want to curl into a ball and die yourself," Whiskerdoom snorted, tail lashing like a whip.
Aki glared at the cat, but it didn't care.
"You're letting your guard down!" the cat continued, pacing across the table. "You should've seen it coming."
"I didn't!" Aki snapped, his voice breaking. "How could I?! Everything's changing. The diary's blank, the quests are wrong, assassins are everywhere—!"
"Exactly!" Whiskerdoom hissed. "The world's no longer playing by its rules, and you're still playing by yours."
Aki sighed heavily and slumped back against the wall.
"I'm not some hero," he mumbled. "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be the villain. It's the villain's job to die — not live through this madness."
The cat's eyes narrowed, watching him closely.
"There it is," Whiskerdoom said softly, "the 'victim complex' you've been ignoring."
Aki blinked.
"Victim… what?"
"Stop pretending you're helpless!" The cat's voice cracked like a whip. "If you keep waiting for someone else to protect you, you'll be dead before sunrise."
Aki's cheeks flushed with frustration.
"You think I want this? I barely know who I am! One day I'm dodging death flags, the next I'm supposed to make friends with the Hero, and now… now someone's trying to stab me while smiling at me."
The cat's ears twitched but his expression softened for a brief second.
"Then stop thinking about it. Do something. Make it harder for them."
Aki rubbed his face again, half in exhaustion, half in despair.
Later that afternoon, Eren stopped by Aki's chambers. His face was open, concerned, as if he wanted to help but didn't know how.
"You look awful," Eren said gently. "Are you alright?"
Aki's heart jumped. He wanted to spit out everything—that I'm not Riel at all, that this world's trying to kill me, that I don't even know how to fight properly!—but he forced a tight smile.
"Just tired," he muttered. "Too much… politics."
Eren frowned.
"You should tell someone," he suggested, hesitating. "You don't have to deal with this alone."
Aki's throat tightened. He almost laughed bitterly.
You don't even know, Eren.
You don't know that trusting me could destroy you.
"I'll manage," he forced out.
Eren frowned deeper but nodded.
"Alright… but if you ever need help…"
Aki cut him off with a small nod before the Hero could say more.
As the door closed behind Eren, Aki leaned against it and whispered to himself.
"Help? No one's helping."
When Aki turned back, Whiskerdoom was sitting by the window, tail coiled tightly, eyes blazing.
"That's how you look when you're not thinking," the cat growled.
Aki flinched.
"I am thinking!" he barked.
"No, you're whining," Whiskerdoom replied. "Thinking means preparing. Whining means waiting to be saved."
Aki's jaw clenched.
"Fine! I'll do something about it!" he snapped.
The cat's eyes glinted.
"Now you're talking," it purred. "But remember: hesitation is the blade assassin's best friend."
Aki's stomach knotted. He sat straighter.
"Then I'll make sure he doesn't get that chance again," he growled.
That night, as Aki lay awake listening to the sounds of the castle, something unsettled crawled beneath his skin.
He got up and walked to the window, pulling aside the heavy curtains. Beyond the garden's edge, shadows slithered between trees like living things.
His breath caught.
Someone's there, he thought.
Watching him. Watching Eren.
A cold chill trickled down his spine.
Whiskerdoom, perched beside him, huffed.
"And you wonder why I told you to stop whining," the cat growled.
Aki clenched his fists.
"I can't let this go any longer," he whispered fiercely.
The world that had once been a game — predictable, written, and mapped out — was now splintered into shadows and surprises. Every smile could be a trap. Every friendly gesture, a blade in disguise.
And in the middle of it all stood Aki — caught between survival and betrayal, between masks and monsters, between the friend he wanted and the villain the world expected.
The game wasn't over.
It had only just begun.