"…if I tell you I'm not Aurex, would you believe me?"
The words slipped from Rex's mouth, light, almost careless, but beneath them was the sharp edge of a blade meant to test.
Rex was many things in his life, but truthful wasn't one of them. Honesty had no place in the world he came from. A wanted man, marked across every state, every border, he had long since learned that truth was a luxury. Truth got you cornered. Truth got you chained.
No, Rex lived on something sharper. He spoke only what he needed to. Sometimes it was lies, sometimes half-truths, sometimes just enough to sow doubt or confusion.
What mattered wasn't the truth, but survival, and the faster he could pry information out of the people standing against him. One sentence, if he chose it well, could unravel an opponent, could make them reveal what they didn't intend to.
So he never said what was. He said what would keep him alive.
And yet, experience had taught him another rule.
Just because you gave them the line you wanted, didn't mean they'd take the bait. Reception could swing either way.
Sometimes they laughed and dismissed him. Sometimes they believed and gave him more than he dared hope for. And sometimes, too often, his words were met with fists, guns, or cell.
So now, as his question hung in the air, half confession, half provocation, Rex let his eyes wander across their faces, studying them.
Would Mira Lilith smirk, play along with her chains still wrapped around him?
Would Shin Lan tighten his grip on that lance, suspicion clouding reason?
Would the Inis spit grief in his face, calling him a liar, a murderer?
Would the boy Cross falter, wide eyes trembling with doubt?
Rex's grin widened, thin and mocking. Whatever their answers, he knew one thing... he would not tell them the truth.
Because in the span of a heartbeat, Rex went from breathing evenly to choking as though the air itself had turned against him. His chest seized.
It felt as if invisible hands had reached inside his ribs and begun to snap them one by one, grinding bone against bone, while a cold fist clamped down around his lungs.
He coughed, hard, his throat straining for breath that refused to come, each gasp rattling like broken glass in his chest.
His eyes bulged, veins burning as though they might burst, and for an instant he thought his heart might simply stop from the pressure.
Then came the sharper pain, a thin, deliberate sting skimming across his cheek. He didn't even need to look to know it was her.
Mira Lilith's nails, long and lacquered, dragging just enough to leave marks that throbbed hot against the suffocating cold that bound the rest of him.
Her voice was honey and venom all at once, low but carrying through the grand chamber like a knife sliding across stone.
"What did you just say?"
Rex forced himself to meet her eyes, violet and gleaming, alive with a hunger that wasn't entirely human. There was no mercy in them. No patience either.
And in that instant, he understood. Whatever words left his mouth next, lie, truth, or something in between, would decide whether he walked out of this room or left it as a corpse crumpled on the palace floor.
"…It's… the crown…" Rex rasped, coughing hard as his words scraped out through a wheeze.
His chest heaved, ribs aching with every shallow breath. The crushing grip had eased, only slightly, but enough that air began to trickle back into his lungs.
His vision, once speckled with black, swam into focus again, though his ears still rang like bells struck too long.
From behind him came a stir of voices, low at first, then sharpening against the pounding in his skull.
"Mira Lilith…" Shin Lan's voice rumbled, low and edged, the sound of iron drawn from its sheath. Rex could hear the scrape of metal, his lance was out again. "Is he lying?"
Rex didn't need to look to know the man's knuckles were white around his weapon, ready to spill blood at a word.
"He's just making excuses," Inis snapped, her teeth audibly clenched, each word biting out with venom. "I would never forgive what he has done."
The weight of her grief pressed the air like a storm before it broke.
Then a smaller, unsteady voice broke in, wavering yet urgent. "W-wait… maybe… we should check first."
It was the elf boy, Cross, his green hair trembling around his face as he half-stepped forward. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his white cloak, but his golden eyes burned with something almost desperate.
"I… I can sense mana on the crown. It, it doesn't feel right. Maybe it's not him, maybe it's---"
"Cross," Shin Lan's voice cut him off, harsh but not dismissive.
Still, the boy pressed on, gulping air. "Maybe it's the crown doing this. Possessing him. Binding him. I can feel it."
Rex's head tilted slightly where he sat on the golden stool, the pressure on his ribs not yet gone, Mira's nails still brushing his cheek like a reminder of how close his death lingered. But even through the haze of pain, he smirked faintly.
Good. Let them argue. Let the doubt spread.
And then, low, deliberate, and crawling like smoke, came a laugh. Soft, but edged with menace.
Right by his ear.
Rex stiffened. The sound curled along his skin as though it had weight.
Mira's nails, still pressed against his face, began to drag. From the ridge of his cheekbones to the hollow near his ear, the tips scraped just enough to leave a sting. He flinched despite himself, breath catching.
Her touch shifted, sliding higher. Fingertips weaving into his hair, nails grazing across his scalp with a slow, deliberate scratch. The sensation made him shudder, sharp, electric.
He hated how his body responded in this one, too heightened, too sensitive compared to the flesh he'd been born with. Every scrape made his nerves jump, every drag felt amplified, like the crown itself was drawing his senses tighter.
He clenched his jaw. Stay calm. Don't give her the satisfaction.
But just as her nails pressed harder, he felt the shift. A sudden recoil.
The weight of her presence vanished, replaced with a hiss that cut the air.