"Come in."
Lencar's voice was calm.
Not commanding. Not tense.
Just… tired.
The door opened.
For half a second, nothing registered as wrong.
Then everything did.
Mariella stepped inside first—wearing him.
His height. His coat. His posture.
The artifact shimmered faintly, Thread Magic reinforcing every detail down to the way the light caught the edge of the cloak. If Lencar hadn't been standing in the room already, the illusion would have been flawless.
And behind her—
Rebecca.
She paused just inside the threshold, one hand still resting on the doorframe as if grounding herself. Her eyes moved once—slowly—from Mariella to Lencar.
Then stopped.
The room fell into silence.
Not the comfortable kind.
Not the kind born of familiarity.
This was the kind of silence that pressed inward, thick and suffocating, every breath too loud.
Lencar's first reaction was not panic.
It was surprise.
Genuine, unfiltered surprise.
He had expected one of Mariella's subordinates. A decoy. A courier. Someone trained to keep secrets.
Not her.
"…Rebecca," he said quietly.
Her shoulders stiffened at the sound of his voice.
Mariella closed the door behind them. The latch clicked softly into place, final and irreversible.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Seconds passed.
Three. Four. Five.
Rebecca's gaze didn't waver.
She wasn't looking at Mariella.
She was looking at him.
The real one.
Lencar exhaled slowly through his nose and turned his head toward Mariella.
The illusion flickered faintly as she shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable now that the deception had reached its limit.
"What happened?" Lencar asked.
His voice was low.
Helpless—not in volume, but in honesty.
Mariella hesitated.
Then spoke.
"She noticed," Mariella said simply.
She raised a hand and gestured toward Rebecca. "Not immediately. But… faster than expected."
Rebecca's fingers curled slightly against the doorframe.
Mariella continued, her tone professional but threaded with regret.
"She's too familiar with you. The way you leave imperfections. The way you hesitate. The way your mana breathes instead of sitting still." A pause. "I corrected too much."
Lencar closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Just a second.
Then opened them again.
"…I see."
He turned his gaze back to Rebecca.
Really looked at her this time.
She looked pale.
Not frightened—strained.
Like someone who had been holding a truth too tightly for too long and was now afraid it might break her hands.
"Lencar," Rebecca said.
Her voice trembled.
"Where were you today?"
The question was quiet.
But it carried the weight of hours.
"Who is she?" Rebecca continued, her eyes flicking—just once—to Mariella. "Why does she look like you?" Her breath hitched. "And why were you standing outside, watching, while someone else wore your face inside our restaurant?"
The words came faster now.
Cracking.
Lencar raised his hand.
"Rebecca," he said gently.
She froze.
"Please," he continued, voice still calm but softer now, "calm down first."
She stared at him, disbelief flashing across her face.
"Calm down?" she echoed. "You vanished during a zombie invasion. You come back acting like nothing touched you. Someone else pretends to be you in our home—"
"I will explain," Lencar interrupted.
Not sharply.
Not forcefully.
But firmly enough that the room listened.
He lowered his hand slowly.
"I promise," he said. "But not like this."
Rebecca's breath came unevenly. She looked away for a moment, pressing her lips together, fighting something behind her eyes.
Mariella shifted, clearly ready to intervene if needed—but Lencar didn't look at her.
His attention remained on Rebecca.
On the woman who had trusted him without ever asking for proof.
"Sit down," he said quietly.
Rebecca hesitated.
Then, slowly, she moved to the chair near the desk and sat. Her hands folded in her lap—not steady, but trying.
Lencar waited.
He did not speak while she gathered herself.
He did not rush her.
After several long breaths, she nodded once.
"…Okay," she said. "Talk."
Lencar leaned back against the edge of the desk, arms resting loosely at his sides.
"Today," he began, "I went to deal with the invasion."
Rebecca looked up sharply.
"You weren't at the restaurant."
"No."
"You weren't fighting with the Knights."
"No."
Her jaw tightened.
"I went," Lencar continued, choosing each word carefully, "to stop things from becoming worse than they already were."
He paused.
"There are things I did today," he said, "that I cannot explain to you yet."
Rebecca's hands clenched.
"Why?"
"Because knowing them would put you in danger."
Silence again.
Then—
"…That's not fair," she whispered.
"I know," Lencar replied.
And for the first time, there was something unmistakably human in his voice.
Regret.
"I never wanted you involved," he said quietly. "That's why she was here."
He glanced at Mariella.
"To protect you. To keep things normal."
Rebecca laughed once—short and broken.
"Normal?" she said. "Lencar, the capital was crawling with undead."
"I know."
"And you thought replacing yourself was normal?"
"No," he admitted. "I thought it was necessary."
Her eyes searched his face.
"You didn't even tell me."
Lencar didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"I didn't want you to worry," he said.
Rebecca swallowed.
"That's worse."
The words hit harder than any accusation.
Lencar straightened slightly and turned to Mariella.
"…You should remove the disguise."
Mariella froze.
Rebecca's eyes widened.
"What?" she asked.
"I don't want her seeing me like this," Lencar said calmly. "Not anymore."
Mariella nodded once.
Her fingers lifted toward the artifact.
The illusion shimmered.
And began to unravel—