Kafka rubbed his eyes hard, once, twice—then blinked rapidly.
But no matter how much he looked, the figure didn't vanish.
He was there. Real. Breathing.
"Mom…" Kafka's voice wavered. He slowly raised a trembling finger at the stranger. "What...What the hell is that? No—who the hell is that?!"
Vanitas didn't respond immediately.
"Mom, do you not see it?!" Kafka's pulse raced. "There's someone—someone who looks exactly like me—standing right next to you! Are you seriously not gonna say anything?!"
He then blinked rapidly, then forced a shaky laugh.
"Wait—wait, I get it. This is one of your pranks, right? You're trying to scare me, showing me some...illusion of myself or something."
"I'll admit, you got me! I actually freaked out for a second seeing another me standing there."
He chuckled uneasily, looking at her expectantly.
"You really went all out with this one."
But Vanitas didn't laugh. She didn't even smirk.
Her expression stayed solemn.
