"So, you're saying you don't remember anything at all?"
Inis scowl could have cut stone, her sharp voice punctuating the question as she stood over him.
She loomed close, arms crossed, her shadow falling across his seat. The sharp wariness she'd carried earlier, the instinctive fear of the crown, had dulled once Mira Lilith explained what it meant.
That the crown had already set its claim. That Aurex was chosen. That no one could pry it free or strip away its authority, not without destroying everything tethered to it.
The room seemed to tighten at those words, like a noose cinching shut.
Rex let out a breath, more huff than answer, then froze.
He'd forgotten. Mira Lilith hadn't moved. She still draped herself across his back, her weight warm against his back, her chin almost brushing his ears.
The back of his neck were smothered in a cloud of impossible softness, the heat of her body seeping through his skin like a cruel joke.
And then, as though fate wanted to double his torment, his eyes, poor, treacherous eyes, slipped upward.
Inis leaned over them, and he was suddenly face-to-face with a far too generous view of what her attire did little to hide.
He blinked once. Twice. His mind, blank as paper, offered only one thought...
Oh hell.
A pitiful attempt at innocence flickered across his expression as he forced himself to answer, voice small and flat.
"…No."
Inis leaned back, exhaling sharply through her nose before she began pacing the length of the room. Her boots struck the stone floor in clipped beats, her anger barely contained.
"…My sister," she spat, her voice rising, "she devoted herself to you! She chose to remain at your side despite being a Reinhardt!"
Her words cracked like a whip in the room, each one laced with fury and grief.
Rex let her vent, silent, unmoving. It wasn't like he could move much anyway, not with Mira Lilith still draped behind him, her arms snug around his chest, her presence practically suffocating him in a way far different than her chains had earlier.
His neck was buried in the most heavenly cushions he'd ever known. It was ridiculous, downright blasphemous, that in a room filled with fury and blame, all he could think about was how soft she felt.
He had never known softness before. His childhood had been filled with thin, frayed pillows that collapsed into the cracks of old floorboards, and sometimes even bricks were a better alternative in his neighborhood.
Clothing was a luxury, blankets rarer still, food always mattered more than comfort. And now?
Now this body trembled in a haze of heat and disbelief at a luxury he'd never even dreamed of, one he could not escape, pinned by her embrace.
"Inis."
Shin Lan's voice cut across the room, low and even, like a blade sliding from its sheath.
He had moved to the window, his back half-turned to them, but his hand rested easily at where his lance was strapped once more. The dull sunlight caught the pale edge of his profile as he gazed outward, surveying the horizon as though the world itself was pressing in.
"Calm yourself. It isn't helping," he muttered. The words weren't sharp, but the weight behind them pressed down heavier than Inis' rage.
"I know you're grieving," he continued, his tone flat, clinical, almost cruel in its composure, "and that you want someone to blame. But we don't have time for that."
He turned his head then, slowly, his gaze meeting theirs.
The temperature dropped in an instant, his skin prickled, his lungs felt tight, and Mira Lilith's warmth against him suddenly seemed like the only barrier keeping him from freezing where he sat.
"…Right." Rex muttered, flinching slightly in his seat.
He hadn't moved from the interrogation stool since they'd put him in it. Why would he?
For one, it was surprisingly comfortable compared to the places he'd been forced to sit before. Two, it was far more comfortable than the damp concrete cells or rickety benches of his old world. And three, most importantly, his neck had been braced by the most heavenly pair of supple breas---
Gone.
The warmth vanished in an instant. Mira Lilith had slipped away from behind him, her presence untangling like smoke.
Before Rex could mourn the loss, slender fingers gripped his shoulder once again and spun him around with unsettling ease.
The world tilted, and suddenly he was staring right into the source of that lost comfort.
Neck cushions. Full view.
Rex's brain stalled. His throat clicked.
"Up here, boy."
He flinched again, snapping his gaze upward. Mira Lilith's grin hovered above him, sharper than a dagger yet softened by a teasing lilt.
The menace that had hung over her earlier seemed to have shifted, reshaped into something far more playful, but no less dangerous.
Her eyes glimmered with a knowing look, as though she could see every single thought that had just betrayed him.
Rex swallowed hard. He did not like how much she enjoyed his discomfort.
A second shadow stepped closer. Shin Lan moved beside them, his presence cool and weighty, his long frame casting Rex in partial shade.
"…They've done this to really make him their King," Shin Lan said, his voice low, thoughtful, but heavy with disdain. "After all the contingencies we prepared…"
His words trailed off as his gaze slid down to Rex. Those eyes, sharp and unblinking, caught him. Green.
Not the mix color of brown, blue and yellow, Rex had seen in some people's eyes, but something sharper, brighter, almost unnatural.
The irises glowed faintly in the dim light, more forest green now that Rex stared too long.
It made him think of a black panther's stare, a beast caught in human skin.
He almost laughed, almost, because for a split second, he thought about how back in his world, he'd chalk it up to really high-end contact lenses.
Something flashy, something expensive for cosplayers or Hollywood types. But here? In this world? No.
This wasn't dye, wasn't cosmetic. Here, hair that wasn't black, brown, blonde, orange-red, or white wasn't a bottle trick, it was real. Real enough to unsettle him down to his bones.
In Shin Lan's gaze, he saw not a glance, but a judgment.
He was not just being watched, Shin Lan was actively searching for a weakness, a fault to exploit.