He rubbed his temples, caught in an endless loop of trying to convince himself and failing. The rain came down in a sudden, noisy burst, typical of a spring day that couldn't decide between warmth and chill. It was anything but gentle, with a coldness that seeped into your bones. Still, his heart, hard as it was, couldn't stand the thought of her getting soaked.
"Bring her in," he murmured softly.
"Yes, sir," replied the servant, who then went to fetch Eliza into the manor. Dillon didn't bother greeting her himself.
She was alright, though her hair was a bit damp from the rain. Her thick coat had shielded her from the worst of it.
"Where's he at?" she asked, anxious to see him.
The servant gestured upstairs. "The master's on the second floor. You can head up."
"Thanks," she said, quickening her pace, almost breaking into a run as she climbed the stairs.
At the end of the hallway, a door was slightly ajar. Her heart was pounding, a mix of nerves, excitement, and the joy of a reunion she'd imagined a thousand times over.
She tread softly, pausing at the door to take a couple of deep breaths before gently pushing it open. Inside, a man sat with his back to her, framed by the window. The heavy medieval chair seemed to swallow him whole.
"Casper?" she called gently, her voice a mix of tenderness and caution.
He didn't respond, didn't even flinch.
She bit her lip but kept moving closer, her steps slow and deliberate. "Casper, is that you?" This time, her voice carried more urgency and hope.
Finally, she was behind him, close enough to feel the rhythm of his breathing. Still, he gave no sign of acknowledging her.
Then, the lights suddenly cut out, plunging the room into a deep, chaotic darkness. The gloomy sky outside offered no light, making the room feel even more desolate and eerie.
Eliza's heart tightened, her breath coming faster. Summoning her courage, she moved around to face him.
As her eyes adjusted, she met his gaze, and a chill swept over her. Beneath a cold mask were those deep, familiar eyes... "You're Casper, aren't you?"This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.
She knew those eyes. Last time, she recognized him. His hasty retreat had screamed guilt.
"Why won't you talk? Afraid I'll
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recognize your voice? Why didn't you tell me you were alive? Casper, say something!" She was angry, baffled by his insistence on hiding behinda mask. "Are you really that scared I'll know it's you? If you wanted to end things, you could've just said so. Why all this drama?"
"Say something," Eliza's eyes glistened with unshed tears.
He stood slowly, his steps steady as he approached her. His fingers lightly touched his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one in the dim light, each one releasing with a soft, clear click.
Eliza instinctively stepped back, panic flashing in her eyes. "What are you doing?"
"You asked why I didn't tell you I was alive," he said, his voice low and rough, tinged with bitterness. "I'm here to show you why."
He turned away, slipping off his black shirt, revealing his back under the light. It was a tapestry of scars, crisscrossed like twisted vines, ugly and shocking.
Eliza's eyes widened in disbelief, her hand flying to her mouth. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the air thick with an unspoken heaviness. "Scared? Disgusted?" he asked, knowing she must be.
He turned to face her, pointing to the mask. "Do you want to see what's behind this? It's a thousand times worse than my back. Is this really the Casper you want?"