The night didn't feel the same anymore.
Something had changed.
Not outside.
But inside him.
He stood in front of his mirror, staring at his own reflection.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But something… felt off.
Like a part of him had shifted.
Or cracked.
"…Nothing happened."
He said it out loud.
Like saying it would make it true.
Like saying it would erase what he had done.
The name.
The notebook.
That voice.
"…Velmora…"
The word slipped from his lips before he realized it.
Silence.
No response.
No presence.
No sign of that thing.
"…Great," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "Now I'm imagining things."
He turned away.
Trying to forget.
Trying to move on.
Trying to pretend it was all just stress… anger… heartbreak.
That's all it was.
Right?
Morning came too quickly.
The world didn't care about broken hearts.
People walked.
Talked.
Laughed.
Lived.
Like nothing had changed.
Like nothing should change.
He walked through campus, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded.
Cold.
Distant.
Unreadable.
Whispers followed him.
Not loud.
But enough.
"Isn't that him?"
"Yeah… I heard—"
"She cheated on him, right?"
He ignored them.
Or at least… tried to.
His jaw tightened slightly.
But he didn't stop.
Didn't react.
Didn't care.
At least… that's what he told himself.
Then—
"Hey."
A voice.
Soft.
Nervous.
Familiar.
He stopped.
Slowly… turned.
And saw her.
Not her.
Not the one who broke him.
No.
This was someone else.
Someone he had written.
She stood a few steps away, fingers lightly gripping the strap of her bag.
Eyes locked on him.
There was something in them.
Something intense.
Something… wrong.
"…Do you remember me?" she asked.
Her voice trembled slightly.
But her eyes didn't.
They were steady.
Focused.
Too focused.
He recognized her.
Of course he did.
The sister.
Of that guy.
The one who—
His thoughts stopped.
His chest tightened.
Not from emotion.
From something else.
Something colder.
"…Yeah," he said flatly.
Her face lit up.
Not normally.
Not naturally.
It was too fast.
Too strong.
Like a switch had been flipped.
"I knew it," she said, stepping closer. "I knew you would."
He frowned slightly.
"That I would what?"
She hesitated.
Then smiled.
Soft.
Warm.
But… unnatural.
"…That you would notice me."
Something felt wrong.
Deeply wrong.
"I've been thinking about you," she continued.
His brows pulled together.
"…What?"
Her cheeks turned slightly red.
But her gaze didn't waver.
Not even for a second.
"I don't know why," she said. "But… I can't stop."
Silence.
The world around them faded.
People walked past.
Voices echoed.
But none of it mattered.
All he could focus on—
Was her.
And the weight of her words.
"I think…" she stepped closer again.
Too close.
"I think I like you."
His heart didn't react.
Didn't race.
Didn't skip.
Nothing.
Just… empty.
This should have meant something.
A confession.
A moment.
Something people dreamed about.
Something he used to want.
But now—
It felt hollow.
Artificial.
Wrong.
"…Why?" he asked.
The question came out sharper than expected.
She blinked.
Confused.
"Hm?"
"Why do you like me?"
His eyes locked onto hers.
Searching.
Demanding.
Needing something real.
Anything.
She opened her mouth.
Paused.
Then—
"I just do."
Silence.
That was it.
No reason.
No buildup.
No emotion.
Just—
"I just do."
Something inside him sank.
Not painfully.
Not violently.
Just… quietly.
Like something breaking without sound.
"…I see," he muttered.
"You don't believe me?" she asked quickly.
There was urgency now.
Fear.
Not of rejection.
But of losing him.
"I can prove it," she added. "I'll do anything."
Anything.
The word echoed.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
"…Anything?" he repeated.
She nodded immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without thought.
"Yes."
And that's when it hit him.
This wasn't love.
This was control.
A cold realization spread through him.
Slow.
Heavy.
Certain.
"…So it works," he whispered.
"What?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
Didn't look at her.
Didn't need to.
Because behind him—
He felt it again.
That presence.
"…Of course it works."
The voice returned.
Soft.
Smooth.
Amused.
He didn't turn this time.
"You wrote her name," the voice continued. "What did you expect?"
Velmora.
"She loves you now," it said. "Completely. Unconditionally."
A pause.
Then—
"Artificially."
His fingers curled slightly.
"…This isn't love."
Velmora chuckled softly.
"Of course it isn't."
Silence.
"Real love is messy," it continued. "Unpredictable. Painful."
Another pause.
Then—
"Yours is much… cleaner."
He clenched his jaw.
"…It's fake."
"Everything is," Velmora replied calmly.
His eyes darkened.
Behind him, the girl was still talking.
Still smiling.
Still waiting.
Still… loving.
"…Stop it," he muttered.
Velmora tilted its head.
"Stop what?"
"This…" he gestured slightly. "This situation."
Velmora's smile widened.
"But you created it."
Silence.
The truth hit harder than anything else.
He did this.
Not her.
Not fate.
Not the world.
Him.
"…Then how do I undo it?" he asked.
A pause.
Long.
Deliberate.
Velmora leaned closer.
Its voice dropped.
Almost a whisper.
"…You don't."
His eyes widened slightly.
"Love, once written…" Velmora said softly, "doesn't disappear."
The girl stepped closer again.
Grabbing his sleeve gently.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "You look pale."
He looked at her.
Really looked.
And saw it.
The devotion.
The obsession.
The emptiness behind it.
A love that had no roots.
No history.
No meaning.
Just him.
"…Yeah," he said quietly.
But his mind was already somewhere else.
Because for the first time—
He understood the true weight of what he had done.
And this—
This was only the beginning.
Behind him—
Velmora smiled.
Satisfied.
Because the first step had been taken.
And the fall—
Had just begun.