"I didn't read it in textbooks," she said. "It was… written more like a novel."
Her voice was steady — almost too steady.
As if she had rehearsed that exact explanation in her head long before anyone asked.
Ares' gaze sharpened.
A novel.
The word echoed in his mind with quiet dissonance.
Technically plausible. Emotionally hollow.
It sounded like the kind of answer people gave when they wanted to close a door without making it obvious there was something behind it.
And then — unbidden — a memory surfaced.
A classified medical report he obtained from Hope Hospital. It was stamped restricted.
Subject: Larissa Reyes — Post-coma neurological observations.
He had only skimmed it at the time, more out of obligation than concern.
Now every line came back with unnerving clarity.
Patient exhibited disorientation upon waking. Spoke of unfamiliar titles and identities. Repeated references to being an "empress." Possible confabulation due to traumatic brain injury.
