"J-Just let me come with you then," Zixuan pleaded, her voice fragile as she stepped forward.
But Casper's hand rose—palm out, subtle but firm. A silent command to stay back. The gesture cut through the air like a blade.
"Why?" she demanded, her voice cracking. "We used to know each other, right? You said that yourself. Then you should trust me!"
Casper's gaze flickered. For a moment, there was a ghost of softness behind his eyes—then it vanished, shuttered by something far older than doubt. When he spoke, his voice turned low, brittle, sharp enough to draw blood.
"But it doesn't mean I can."
Zixuan flinched.
"You haven't remembered the roles," he continued, voice growing colder. "Seven people in each circle… each bound to a role. Each answer bound to a rule."
He let the words hang between them like frost on the air.
Zixuan stared, struggling to follow the weight of meaning in his voice. "What are you talking about…?"
