A wave of cold anxiety washed over Hiruko as he stepped into the silent halls of the Tross mansion. What could Clarissa possibly want? His mind, so recently a forge of plans and strategies for the duels, was now a panicked mess of uncertainty. Had she seen something in his face, a flicker of intelligence that didn't belong to the real Lukas? Had she found the second journal, the one detailing the real Lukas's despair? Or worse, had she figured out he was a complete fraud?
He tried to distract himself, forcing his thoughts back to the duel. He had lost, but he had survived. He had shown Mina that he was a fighter, a man with a plan, not a boy with a broken spirit. But the victory felt hollow now, a distant memory as the dread of facing Clarissa grew with every step he took toward the conservatory.
The mansion felt like a maze, each ornate painting and gilded statue a silent judge of his deception. He made his way to his room, the grandeur of the space no longer a comfort but a gilded cage. He paced, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. He thought about faking another illness, of pretending to be too exhausted from the duel to see her. But that would only raise more suspicion. He had to face this head-on.
The afternoon crawled by, each minute feeling like an hour. He changed into a clean tunic, the familiar wool a small comfort against his trembling hands. When the time finally arrived, he made his way to the conservatory. The heavy oak door loomed before him, a barrier between his mounting fear and the unknown waiting on the other side. He took a deep breath, the scent of lavender and old paper reminding him of the day he had woken up in this world, a stranger in a stolen life.
He raised his hand and knocked. The sound was soft but final. He waited, his heart pounding against his ribs, for the door to open and reveal his fate.
The door creaked open, and Hiruko's heart, which had been a frantic drum against his ribs, stopped cold. The conservatory wasn't empty as he had expected. It was filled with people, a sea of familiar faces from North Gate School. He saw Kaelen, Kevin, and a host of other classmates. The air, thick with the scent of flowers and damp earth, now also smelled of baked goods and a hint of a sweet, celebratory wine.
In the center of the room, standing beside a table laden with food and a towering cake, were Mina and Clarissa. Both of them were beaming, their faces alight with a shared, mischievous joy.
And then, in a chorus that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, everyone shouted, "Happy Birthday, Lukas!"
Hiruko stood frozen in the doorway, a look of utter, complete shock on his face. His mind, which had been so focused on anticipating a lecture or a confrontation, was now a complete blank. A birthday party? For him? The impostor? He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He could only stare at the happy faces of the people who knew the real Lukas, the people who were celebrating him, a man who didn't exist.
Clarissa, her eyes shining with happiness, ran over and hugged him, pulling him fully into the room. "We did it!" she whispered in his ear, her voice filled with a conspiratorial delight. "We wanted to surprise you. We knew you would be upset about the duel, so we thought we'd celebrate. It's not a real Tross party, but we did our best!"
Mina walked over, her own smile wide. "Happy birthday, Lukas," she said, her voice soft and warm. "Clarissa planned it all. She wanted to show you how much we all care about you."
Hiruko looked at the smiling faces of his friends, at the girl who had taken so much time and effort to plan this party for him, and at the kind, prodigy-level mage who was now his closest ally. He had been so worried about the humiliation of his loss, about facing a disappointed Clarissa. So it was the real Lukas's birthday? The boy who had been so lonely, so desperate for a connection, had a group of friends who were willing to throw him a party, a true celebration of him, not the Tross name.
He felt a sudden, unexpected warmth spread through his chest. It was a feeling far more powerful than any spell he had ever cast, a feeling more real than the world he had left behind. It was the feeling of being loved, of being a friend, of being a part of something good. He was no longer just a ghost in a stolen body. He was Lukas Tross.
For a long moment, Hiruko could only stand there, a choked-up lump in his throat. He looked at the faces of his friends, at the small, genuine celebration they had thrown for him, and a wave of emotion he hadn't expected washed over him. He was a fraud, a ghost in a stolen life, yet these people, who knew the real Lukas, were showing him a kindness he hadn't known existed.
He cleared his throat, a genuine smile finally breaking through his shock. "Thank you," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "All of you. This… this means a lot."
The crowd cheered, their laughter and applause a warm blanket against the cold of his recent defeat. He was no longer the humiliated boy from the duel; he was Lukas, their friend, their companion.
Clarissa, her eyes shining with joy, pulled him away from the crowd and toward a small, secluded corner of the conservatory. "I'm so glad you liked it," she said, her voice filled with a conspiratorial delight. "I've been planning it for a week! Mina helped me with the guest list."
"You did all of this?" Hiruko asked, his voice filled with genuine awe. "After the duel… I thought you'd be disappointed."
Clarissa shook her head, her golden hair swaying. "Don't be silly. The duel doesn't matter. What matters is that you're okay. And you were so brave out there, Lukas. You didn't give up. You fought with everything you had."
He looked at her, at her kind, innocent face, and felt a pang of guilt. She was the only person in this world who seemed to truly care about him, about the person she thought he was. He had to be careful. He had to keep up the facade, for her sake.
"I had to," he said, his voice soft. "I couldn't let everyone down."
"You didn't let anyone down," she said firmly. She then leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I heard about your fight, Lukas. how you used a pebble to win, you trying to make your magic work. And I'm going to help you. I'm going to help you get better."
Hiruko's heart, which had been so full of warmth a moment ago, now felt a familiar thud of dread. She was going to help him. The well-meaning, innocent sister was going to become his new teacher. And he, the fraud, had to pretend to learn. The game had just gotten a lot more complicated.
Hiruko moved from his talk with Clarissa and found himself in the midst of the party. He grabbed a plate of pastries and a cup of what looked like fruit punch, making his way toward Kaelen, who was enthusiastically telling a story to a small group of friends.
"And then," Kaelen was saying, gesturing wildly with a half-eaten tart, "he just stands there, right? And this tiny little fireball, I'm talking firefly-sized, comes wiggling out of his hand, and I thought, 'Oh, Lukas is gonna get roasted for sure!'"
The group laughed, and Kaelen, spotting Hiruko, grinned. "Speak of the devil! The man himself!" He clapped Hiruko on the back. "Don't listen to me, Lukas, I'm just telling them about your amazing dueling skills."
Hiruko managed a wry smile. "My amazing dueling skills got me a bath, remember?"
"Hey, a bath is better than a scorch mark!" Kaelen retorted, taking a large bite of his tart. "Seriously though, man, you had us all fooled. We thought you were a sitting duck, but you were actually trying to outsmart Kevin with all those wobbly fireballs. It was hilarious to watch!"
Kevin, who had been listening from the side, chimed in, "I'll admit, I was completely confused. I've never seen anyone fight like that. Your movements were so... unpredictable."
The friends continued to tease him, but it wasn't with malice. It was with a genuine, lighthearted camaraderie that Hiruko had never experienced. They talked about the match in detail, replaying every feint and every stumble, turning his humiliation into a funny story. It was a kind of acceptance he'd never known. He was no longer the Tross disgrace, but a clumsy, funny friend who had fought with everything he had. And to them, that was all that mattered.
After a while, as the party began to wind down, Clarissa found Hiruko by the refreshments table. She was all smiles, her emerald eyes bright with an energy that seemed to light up the room.
"Lukas, can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked, her voice cheerful. "There's something I want to show you."
She led him to a heavy, unmarked door at the back of the conservatory. Hiruko's stomach fluttered with a familiar sense of dread. The party was a happy memory, but the core of his deception remained. Clarissa opened the door, revealing a small, private study. Two stern-faced guards stood in the corners,they were unarmed, but their presence was still a clear signal of the Tross family's constant need for security and control.
Clarissa, oblivious to the tension, gestured for Hiruko to enter. "I just wanted to talk to you in private, away from everyone," she said, her smile unwavering. She waited for the guards to close the door behind them, sealing them in the quiet, secluded room.
"Mina told me about your duel," she began, her tone a mix of excitement and pride. "She said you were incredible. She said you fought with a determination she's never seen from you before. She said you didn't give up. And she said you're not just practicing magic, you're fighting with it."
She looked at him, her eyes filled with a pure, unadulterated happiness. "I'm so proud of you, Lukas. I've always known you had it in you. You just needed to find your courage."
Hiruko felt a wave of relief so powerful it almost made him weak at the knees. This wasn't a trap. This wasn't an interrogation. This was Clarissa, being the loving, supportive sister. She saw his change not as a threat, but as a victory. She saw his courage, not his deceit. And for the first time, he realized just how much he wanted to live up to her expectations.
Just as a wave of relief washed over Hiruko, a new, far colder wave of dread crashed over him. He felt two strong hands grab his arms from behind, pinning them to his back with an almost practiced speed. Another set of hands pressed against his shoulders, forcing him to his knees on the polished wooden floor. He looked up, his eyes wide with shock, at the two guards. They moved with a silent, professional efficiency, their faces impassive.
He then looked at Clarissa. Her cheerful, smiling expression had vanished. Her emerald eyes, which a moment ago had been so full of warmth and pride, were now as cold and hard as stone. The smile on her face was thin and cruel, a stark and terrifying contrast to the one he had just seen.
"You see," she said, her voice a low, chilling whisper, devoid of its usual girlish cheerfulness. "Today isn't actually your birthday."
The words hit him like a physical blow. The party, the friendship, the congratulations—it had all been a lie, a carefully orchestrated trap. His mind raced, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. He had been so focused on the duels, on Mina's challenge, that he hadn't even considered the possibility that the kind-hearted, innocent Clarissa was playing her own game.
"You actually thought you could fool me?" she continued, her voice filled with a quiet, burning fury. "There is absolutely no way the brother I love, the kind, gentle, sweet brother I cherish, would ever be like that. He would never have fought so hard. He would never have even tried."
She knelt in front of him, her gaze boring into his. "I had my suspicions when I saw you a few weeks ago, suddenly interested in magic. But when I heard about your duel with Mina, and your sudden determination to win… I knew. Now, I am certain."
Her face was a mask of cold, heartbreaking resolve. She looked at him not with anger, but with a deep, bottomless sorrow. "Where is my brother?" she asked, the question a quiet demand. "Who are you?"