The realization brought a bitter taste to his mouth.
"Darn, paying for something I didn't eat..."
"But who could it be?" Adrian muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible in the oppressive stillness of the forest. His hand instinctively brushed against the hilt of his dagger, as if drawing strength from the cold steel.
He had asked himself that question a hundred times, but the answer continued to elude him. Whoever the impostor was, they weren't just imitating him. They were erasing him. Overwriting his existence, step by step. Every vision he'd seen, every action that should have been his—it all felt like a piece of his identity slipping through his fingers.
And only one person could do it like that...
The only possible answer has already been formed in his mind.
Long ago, the moment he realized it wasn't him living in those visions.
That was the first guess that came to his mind.
"It can't be… really him?"
