Marianne awoke lying on a couch in the middle of the Sinclair living room. There was barely any furniture, just what was necessary. Parts of the wallpaper had been ripped off, exposing patches of the wall underneath. There were streaks in the floorboards where furniture had been thrown across the room. Marianne shuddered.
"What happened here?" she asked, to nobody in particular.
"My dad happened," Cleo replied, stepping out from Marianne's blind spot. "It was right after my mom died and then he...well, you know."
"What happened to you?" Cecil said, walking into the room and taking a seat on one of the other couches. "It's been...what? Two weeks? And you're already running from an assassin?"
Cleo elbowed him and he went silent. "What he means is that what happened to you is really strange and out of the blue. Right?"
She glared at Cecil pointedly. He nodded obediently. "Whatever you say is right."
Marianne watched their exchange. Maybe Cleo was not as bad as she had thought she was. Maybe she was actually a really nice person, and Marianne had been the one quick to judge her. Initially, Marianne had thought that Cleo was like those fake girls, pretending to be all perfect, and when they were called out for it, their glass hearts would shatter immediately. Marianne hated those people. She was honest. Her mother had taught her to be honest, and she hated people who pretended. She hated how everyone let them get away with it.
"I don't know what happened, but...I think that my stepmother, the Duchess, wants me gone so that my stepbrother can become the heir."
Marianne bit her lip. She had never opened up to anyone else before. Ever since her mother died, she had kept all her feelings and problems to herself, waiting for them to all ball up into a maelstrom of pain. Then she would unleash it all in the privacy of her bedroom. She hoped that she would not regret telling Cleo about this.
"Oh," Cleo murmured to herself, subconsciously twirling a strand of her hair with her finger. "That would be about right."
Marianne blinked at her. She talked...like someone who was from the real world. Could Cleo be one of the transmigrators? Marianne was about to ask, but a small motion from Cleo stopped her.
"Cecil," she said. "Could you leave us for a moment?"
"But-"
"Just this once. Please, Cecil."
"Fine," he responded, standing up and leaving the room. "You'll tell me later, right?"
Cleo nodded.
Marianne watched Cecil leave. Only when he was gone did she open her mouth. "You're from the real world!"
Cleo nodded.
"So it should be fine if I tell you this."
Cleo perked up. "Tell me what?"
"Well, the others...I mean, the ones who have returned, asked me to go find the tower. They gave me directions and everything...but I just couldn't find it. I don't know much about this book, but I remember that the tower appeared to Cecil when he had lost almost all hope. So I think that the tower only appears to those who need it. It chooses you, not the other way around."
"That..." Cleo said, deep in thought. She went through each and every character who had gone to the tower. Kiersten and Cecil had successfully entered the tower, but Aegaeon could never find it. "...would work."
"It explains why Cecil is only able to find the tower when he has lost everything."
Cleo nodded. After a moment's pause, she changed to topic. "Do you think that...assassin...that was chasing after you went back to report to the duchess?"
"I would assume so," Marianne replied. "But I doubt that he'll simply admit to failing his assignment. Johnathan's just like that. He'll try to drag out his report until the latest possible time, and then he'll try to make up some lame excuse or something."
"Have you ever thought about killing yourself?" Cleo asked, completely out of the blue.
Marianne was caught off guard. "W-what?"
"I mean, if you did that, you would be able to return to the real world."
"Then why haven't you done that yet?"
"I...have other problems. My real world body is dead."
"What? That's possible? Will I be alright if I die?"
Before Cleo could respond, an arrow flew in through an open window. It planted itself straight in the center of Marianne's chest. Blood blossomed from the wound almost immediately.
Then a voice whispered, "I guess we'll have to see."
Cleo watched as Marianne choked on air, and slowly crumpled to the floor, unmoving. She was dead. Cleo spun towards the open window. She barely caught sight of a masked figure darting away. She ran after it.
The masked figure ran along the balcony railings before ducking into the mansion. Cleo followed, and she chased him all through the house. She thought that she would have the upper hand, since this was where she lived, but the mysterious figure seemed to know the Sinclair mansion like the back of their hand. Finally, Cleo managed to catch up to them in the garden. But by then, she had already sensed a foreign, but familiar energy that swirled around this stranger. She reached out with her magic, and in the darkness and silence of the spirit world, she found a golden sword. The golden sword was the spiritual sign of the royal family's magic. Cleo knew everything about this book. She knew that only one person of the royal lineage inherited the pure light blade as their magic soul.
The masked figure seemed to realize that his identity had been found out. He turned to face Cleo. And when he did, she saw the brightest blue eyes staring back at her. She was so surprised, she froze. The stranger seemed to take this as a chance for him to escape. He was about to run down the road when Cleo called out to him.
"Wait!"
But the figure did not stop running.
"Cecil!"
He stopped. Turning around, Cleo realized that this was not the Cecil that she knew. This was somebody else. Somebody who had experienced loss and pain. He was older, too. Cleo could barely recognize him, but his eyes...they were so similar. They were Cecil's eyes...
But they had lost their spark.