Morning sunlight poured through the blinds of a cramped apartment. The room was messy—clothes strewn across the floor, snack wrappers on the desk, half-empty soda cans beside the bed.
On the bed lay the same man… but not the same.
His once-black slicked hair was now a golden brown, tousled and wild, like he hadn't bothered with it. His eyes, lighter now, sparkled with boyish mischief. His body language had shifted completely—loose, lazy, without a trace of Kane's sharp dominance or Arata's rigid discipline.
This was Lucian.
Lucian yawned, stretching like a cat, before rolling out of bed with a grin. He grabbed his phone, flicking it open to check his messages.
"Hmm… three missed calls from some Yakuza thug… two texts from Yumi threatening to kill me if I don't show up… oh, and a sweet little good morning from… her."
He smirked, eyes softening. Her.
The one who knew this side of him. The one who laughed at his childish jokes, blushed at his over-the-top flirting, and yet still stuck around.
Sera.
He scrolled through her messages, reading the latest one aloud: "Lucian, are you awake? Don't tell me you overslept again. I'm waiting at the café."
Lucian burst into laughter. "She knows me too well."
An hour later, Lucian strolled down a busy street, hands in pockets, humming a tune. He didn't look like a feared vigilante, or a stern officer—he looked like a college playboy. Carefree. Charming. A little stupid, even.
At the café, Sera was already waiting. She had tied her dark hair up in a ponytail, her expression equal parts annoyed and amused.
"You're late," she said flatly.
Lucian dropped into the chair opposite her with a grin. "Time is a social construct, my love. What matters is—I'm here now, and the world looks brighter."
Sera rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"Impossible? Darling, I'm inevitable." He leaned forward dramatically, lowering his voice. "Like your smile when you try not to laugh at my jokes."
Her lips twitched, despite herself. "You're such an idiot."
Lucian smirked. "An idiot you can't resist."
For a brief moment, the heavy darkness of the other personalities melted away. Here, in this small café, he was just Lucian—the fool, the lover, the one who lived for simple pleasures and affection.
But even here, shadows crept close.
As they talked, Lucian's phone buzzed again. A notification flashed across the screen. A livestream link.
The title read: "Judgment Delivered – Ribbon Reaper."
Sera noticed the way his eyes flickered. Just for a second. A trace of recognition, of something darker beneath the smile.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Lucian forced a grin, pocketing the phone. "Of course. Just some idiot trying to steal my spotlight."
But deep down, even he felt it—the other selves, clawing at the walls.
For now, though, he sipped his coffee, laughed too loudly, and leaned closer to Sera.
Because if Kane was the Reaper, and Arata was the Law…
then Lucian was the Illusion.
And illusions were sometimes the most dangerous of all.