Irina Everhart
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Why… why was I crying?
I quickly wiped my tears again, feeling the cold wetness on my hands. Was it because of the rain? But I love the rain, always have, so why would it make me—
Suddenly, a flash lit up in my mind, an image that wasn't mine, a memory that didn't belong to me.
Memory Unlock
Irina's past?
Yes… I never fully read her story, never knew the truth behind her character, her origins. And then, there it was, piecing itself together like fragments of a forgotten nightmare.
I saw a woman—a beautiful, grown woman with long, flowing red hair, the color vibrant even in the muted light of memory. She was holding a small hand, gentle and loving. But it wasn't my hand. It was Irina's, a child's small, fragile hand. This woman… this faceless figure… she was Irina's mother.
Then, everything shifted, memories unveiling themselves like pages flipping in a worn book.
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In the vision, I saw Irina as a newborn baby, though her face was blurred, only dark hair visible, her features indistinct. Her mother held her gently, her touch full of love and care. Her father—Lord Frodo—stood beside them, a kind smile on his face. It seemed like a happy family, once… but happiness has a way of slipping away.
Then, the scenes raced forward, years disappearing in seconds. At around seven or eight years old, Irina's father began to change. His kindness disappeared, replaced with cruelty. Her mother… tied up, restrained, suffering his abuse every day.
And then one day… a rainy day.
Lord Frodo allowed her mother to leave the house for the first time in what must have been ages. Irina watched from afar, and then… she saw it. The horror of it struck her like the first clap of thunder. Her mother was killed, her body abandoned in the distance.
Little Irina, terrified and desperate, ran to her mother through the downpour, her small figure trembling as the storm raged around her. Her mother, with her last breath, whispered, "Keep living… for me." But all Irina could do was cry and scream in the middle of the storm, her child's heart shattering as blood pooled around them.
Lord Frodo arrived soon after, tearing Irina away from her mother, servants dragging her mother's lifeless body toward the river. Just a week later, her father married Anna, bringing with her a son, Victor. And from that moment, everything within Irina changed. That day, the seeds of darkness were planted. Her trust shattered, her hope destroyed, she became colder, her heart harder. She started treating everyone with disdain, matching—even exceeding—her father's cruelty.
This… this was the Irina I never knew. The one I'd judged, hated even, without ever understanding her. All her mother had wanted was for her to keep living. But in the end, she was killed by her own husband, her life ended at the hands of the male lead, Noah.
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The vision faded, and as I came back to reality, I felt tears welling up again. But this time, they weren't from me. I was Irina now, her fear, her trauma, her deep-seated hatred woven into every fiber of my being. My body trembled, automatic, as the rain continued to fall. I couldn't help it—I was afraid of the rain, an unshakable panic rising inside me.
I looked at Ezra, trying to hold myself together. He was watching me, his face a mask of confusion and suspicion.
Anxiety gripped me, unfamiliar and suffocating. I'd always found comfort in the rain, but now, trapped in Irina's body, I was terrified.
Ezra began to speak, his voice distant, echoing through my haze of fear. But I couldn't focus, couldn't hold onto anything except the image of Irina's mother's final words, her final breath.
And then, everything went dark.