As I climbed into the backseat, the man briefly glanced at me. He was tall, with black hair neatly combed back, sharp features that made him look both intimidating and well-composed. His skin was pale, and his black eyes seemed to always be observing, like he never missed a detail. The suit he wore was perfectly tailored, giving him the air of someone who was always in control.
"It's time to go, Dina," he said, his voice calm and measured.
"Okay," my mother—Kevin's mother—replied softly, slipping into the front seat. She looked tired, her eyes shadowed with a sadness she tried to hide. Kevin's memories painted her in a different light—she used to be more vibrant, but now, there was a dullness to her expression.
The car's interior was sleek and luxurious, the dark leather seats cool against my skin as the engine hummed quietly beneath us. I stared out the window, allowing Kevin's memories to wash over me. He was only seven years old, too young to fully understand the complexities of his family's unraveling. His father had died in a car accident, an event that seemed to have everything to do with the man driving us now.
But when I tried to recall my past life, before I became Kevin, there was nothing. Just a void where my memories should have been.
"Does it even matter anymore?" I muttered under my breath, arms folded across my chest.
I asked the familiar voice in my head, "So, who is this man?"
The voice, the one that had always been with me since I'd arrived in this world, answered after a moment. "He's the man your mother was seeing behind your father's back. He's the reason your father is dead."
I glanced at the man again, his face impassive, cold. "Then why did you tell me to kill her?"
"She's the cause of Kevin's pain, the source of his suffering," the voice replied, but it hesitated before continuing. "But you're not Kevin, are you?"
I frowned. "No… we're not." And with that, the voice fell silent, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
The car finally came to a stop in front of a mansion. It wasn't just a house—it was enormous, with tall stone walls and wide windows that gleamed faintly in the fading evening light. The gardens were carefully maintained, with rows of flowers arranged like they were designed to impress anyone who passed through. The iron gates added an almost intimidating presence to the estate.
The man stepped out of the car with a practiced grace, walking around to open the door for my mother. I didn't wait for him to open mine; I climbed out on my own, standing in front of the mansion. It loomed over me, massive and imposing. My mother stood nearby, speaking in low tones with the man. Her face was tense, like she was bracing herself for something.
After a moment, she turned to me. "I know it's a lot to take in, but… that man is going to be your new father," she said gently.
Before I could process her words, the man returned, this time holding the hand of a small girl. She had the same black hair and sharp eyes as him. Her gaze flicked toward me, and in that brief moment, I saw something cold in her expression. There was no warmth, no kindness—just a distant, guarded look.
"This is your new sister," the man said, his tone flat and matter-of-fact.
The girl didn't say a word. She just stood there, staring at me like I was an intruder in her world.
We were led inside the mansion, and the interior was even grander than the exterior. The floors were marble, polished so thoroughly I could see my reflection in them. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, and a grand staircase curled upward, leading to the upper levels of the house. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft, warm glow that did little to ease the tension in the air.
A maid stood by the entrance, her posture stiff and formal. She had golden hair tied neatly back, her eyes a striking gold that gleamed faintly in the dim light. Her face was kind, though, her smile polite.
"Welcome back," she said in a pleasant tone.
The man nodded to her. "Lucy, take him to his room."
The maid smiled at me, her voice soft as she gestured for me to follow her. "Come with me," she said. I followed her through the maze-like halls of the mansion, past rows of paintings and ornate furniture, until we reached a spacious bedroom.
The room was large, with wide windows that overlooked the sprawling gardens below. A soft bed sat in the center, draped with pristine white sheets, and the furniture was finely crafted, each piece looking like it belonged in a museum. Before Lucy left, she turned to me with a gentle smile.
"If you need anything, just call for me," she said. "I'm Lucy."
Once she was gone, I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind racing with thoughts. The room felt quiet and suffocating, like the air itself was too heavy. I barely had time to process everything when the familiar voice returned, breaking the silence.
"We meet again," it said, the tone laced with amusement.
Before I could respond, dizziness washed over me, and the world spun out of control. Darkness swallowed me whole, and when I opened my eyes again, I found myself standing in a strange, otherworldly space.
In front of me sat The Author—a figure dressed in white, with skin so pale it almost glowed. He had no face, just a smooth, featureless surface where his features should have been. Despite this, there was an overwhelming sense of presence around him, as if he was watching me even without eyes. He sat on a grand, white throne, exuding an air of omnipotence, like a puppet master pulling strings I couldn't yet see.
"I've been waiting," The Author said, his voice calm, echoing in the vast space around us.