I woke up with a pounding headache. Dim light filtered through the cracks in the room, casting a faint glow in the dark, cramped space. My body felt weak, and as I tried to move, I felt cold metal pressing against my skin. My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the darkness surrounding me.

I was lying on a hard, cold stone floor. As my awareness fully returned, I realized I was in a small prison cell, surrounded by sturdy iron bars. The atmosphere felt threatening—damp and dark, with an icy chill in the air. I couldn't see much, but it was clear that this was not a welcoming place.

I tried to stand, though my arms and legs felt stiff. When I finally managed to rise, my gaze fell on a figure standing outside the bars. A girl with shoulder-length black hair stared at me, her pale face illuminated by the dim light. There was something unsettling about her eyes; they were too wide, too sharp, as if scrutinizing every part of me. Her expression was flat, but her gaze was filled with an obsession, as if I were something precious or, more accurately, something standing in her way.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strange after so long in silence. My throat was dry, and the words came out almost as a whisper.

The girl didn't respond right away, just continued to stare at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. After what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke.

"My name is... Mira Arnvelt."

Hearing her name sent a shiver down my spine. Mira Arnvelt? I felt a flicker of recognition, as if I had heard that name somewhere before. But despite my efforts to piece it together, my mind was too foggy to fully grasp what was happening.

"Why... am I here?" I asked more firmly, though fear twisted in my gut. I knew this situation was dire. "Let me go! What do you want from me?"

Mira didn't answer immediately. She tilted her head, as if deep in thought. Her unblinking stare made me even more anxious. I could feel the tension in the air, fear creeping into my mind. This girl was not normal. Something was very wrong with her, and I needed to understand what it was.

When she finally spoke, her voice was cold and devoid of emotion. "You... are an obstacle."

I froze for a moment, unsure of what she meant. "An obstacle? An obstacle for what?"

Her gaze intensified, and a small smile—a smile that felt terrifying for some reason—formed at the corners of her lips. "You... are my greatest obstacle. In my efforts to become Abigail's closest person."

My heart raced. What had she just said? I swallowed hard, trying to quell my nervousness. "Wait... what do you mean by that? Abigail? I don't understand... I... I just—"

"You don't understand?" she interrupted, her voice sharp this time, almost mocking. "Of course, you don't understand. You've always been around her, always by her side. You steal the time, attention, and affection that should be mine. You think I don't know what you're doing?"

I was utterly confused now. "I... I didn't do anything! Abigail and I... We're just—"

"Just what?" Mira's eyes flared with a terrifying intensity. "You're just a fugitive. A runaway prince. You think that just because of your position, you can claim all of Abigail's attention? You're dead wrong."

I was speechless. I had no idea how to respond. On one hand, I didn't want to make the situation worse. But on the other, I genuinely had no clue what was going on in this girl's mind. "Mira, listen to me," I said, trying to remain calm, though fear was coursing through my veins. "I don't understand what you're thinking. Abigail... she cares about you, right? But she cares about me too. We don't need to compete for that."

Mira fell silent for a moment, then slowly leaned closer to the iron bars, reducing the distance between us. I could see her eyes clearly now, and there was a wild glint in them. "You're right. We don't need to compete," she said softly, but it was a chilling tone. "Because once I get rid of you... Abigail will have only one choice."

My blood ran cold at her words. "Mira, please, listen to me—"

But before I could finish, Mira stepped back, casting me one last piercing glance before turning and leaving without another word. I tried to call after her, but the heavy door at the end of the room slammed shut with a deafening thud, leaving me alone in the darkness.

Panic surged through me. What did Mira really want? Did she truly intend to kill me? And how could I escape from here?

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. I had to find a way out, as quickly as possible. Abigail... Lilith...

I stood in the midst of this grim prison, breathless after exerting every ounce of energy trying to escape. I had just kicked the iron bars repeatedly, trying to break through this unyielding door. My hands and feet throbbed from the futile effort, and exhaustion began to creep in. The room felt smaller, the cold air closing in on me as if mocking my attempts, as if it were telling me that my efforts would only end in disappointment.

The sun had long set outside, leaving darkness enveloping the entire underground prison. I could hear the distant drip of water, the occasional crunch of stone echoing as I walked on the cold, hard floor. The iron bars in front of me stood strong, showing no signs of wear or weakness, making it clear they wouldn't be easily broken.

"You're such a fool, Archemidas," I whispered to myself. "Why didn't you take magic seriously all this time?"

Deep down, I regretted my past decision to treat magic as a mere hobby. Now, trapped and alone, I had no one to rely on but myself.

Feeling heat tingling in my fingertips, I attempted to conjure fire magic. I recited a simple incantation I could remember, channeling my energy toward the bars. Flames ignited, wrapping around the metal, but instead of melting or breaking, the bars merely grew hot—enough to make the air around me feel thick and stifling, but not enough to create an escape.

"What the hell?!" I shouted in frustration, cutting off the spell. "This should at least melt a little!"

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As despair began to gnaw at my thoughts, a voice from within myself—the other part of me—spoke up.

"I can take over, you know?" The voice was sly, calm, yet filled with energy.

I held my breath for a moment. I'd always hesitated whenever the voice emerged, but now, I had little choice. This other part of me often had bizarre ideas, but this time, anything could help.

"What's your plan?" I asked in my mind, though I remained cautious.

"Just trust me," it replied, full of confidence. "I have an idea that might get us out of here. But you have to relinquish control of the body. Just for a moment."

I took a deep breath, weighing the consequences. But I had no other options. Slowly, I said, "Alright. Do what you want. Just don't make things worse."

As soon as I allowed it, I felt my body change. It was like handing control over to someone else. The other part of me took over, and I could only feel and see from behind my own consciousness, as if I were merely a spectator.

Once it was in control, this other self moved with enthusiasm. It quickly grabbed a stone from the corner of the room and began banging it against the iron bars. The clash of stone against metal filled the space, bouncing off the narrow walls of the dungeon. The noise was deafening and disorienting, but the other me seemed to revel in it.

"Do you think this will work?" I asked, knowing it wouldn't listen.

"Relax," it replied with a cheerful tone, continuing its noisy assault. "You think you can lock me in here without a fight?"

Mira appeared unfazed. "You're an idiot," she muttered coldly. "This effort is pointless. These bars are reinforced with high-level magic. You won't be able to break them with that pathetic basic magic of yours."

At that, the other me paused for a moment, staring at Mira with curiosity. "Oh? High-level magic? Interesting... Are you sure?" It stepped closer to the bars, narrowing its eyes at Mira, as if challenging her.

Mira looked increasingly annoyed. "Yes, I'm sure. You're trapped in here, and there's nothing you can do to get out."

The other me just smiled widely. "Well, at least I got you to come here. That means my little plan worked, right?"

Mira huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "What's your actual plan, Archemidas? Do you think by making all this noise, I'll feel sorry for you and let you go? Foolish."

The other me chuckled softly. "No, of course not. I just wanted to see your stupid reaction. You know, there's something deeply satisfying about seeing an enemy panic, even if just for a moment."

I felt my anger boiling within me, even though I was merely a spectator right now. But the other me didn't seem to care. It was enjoying every second of this provocation.

"You're playing with fire, Archemidas," Mira warned, her tone dangerous.

"Used to it," the other me replied casually. "But speaking of fire, it seems your magic isn't strong enough to damage these bars, huh? Maybe you could teach me how to enhance this magic? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Mira shot me a cold glare, unaffected by the taunts. "Play around all you want, but remember, you'll never get out of here alive."

With that, she turned, leaving me—or rather, the other me—in the dark, the prison bars still standing firm before us.

My body was still under the control of the other self, and every passing second felt increasingly surreal. Amid the iron bars, darkness crept around me, but the voice in my head—my other self—began to speak with a sly tone. It grinned from within me, and I knew it was planning something that wouldn't end well.

"The scent... it's intoxicating. Abigail truly has an unforgettable fragrance," it suddenly said, teasingly. The words echoed through the dungeon corridor. Mira, who had been walking away, suddenly froze upon hearing those words. Her body stiffened for a moment before she slowly turned around.

Her expression changed in an instant. The calm, cold face from before morphed into something far more terrifying. Her large eyes widened, her lips trembled slightly, and with a swift motion, she pulled a pair of scissors from her pocket.

"What did you just say?" Her voice trembled, barely concealing the rage bubbling within her.

Even though I didn't fully control my body, I could feel my heart racing. Something was terribly wrong. The other self, in control, seemed to revel in the tension.

"Yes, she has such a... soft and soothing scent," my other self continued, still calm yet provocative. "Often, when we sleep together, her silky white hair falls across my face. It feels like a touch of heaven."

Those words slipped out of my mouth against my will, making me want to scream from within. Mira transformed instantly. Her face paled, then a smile emerged—but it wasn't a normal smile. It was something darker, more sinister.

"How dare you speak about her like that!" she screamed, her voice filled with explosive rage. In one swift motion, she swung the scissors toward the iron bars separating us, thrusting them forcefully into the gaps. The sound of metal clashing filled the room.

However, my other self nimbly stepped back, avoiding the brutal strike. I could feel my body tense, but the part of me in control merely laughed softly, proud of its antics.

"What have you done to Abigail?!" Mira shouted, her eyes now completely wild. Her face flushed with anger, and she no longer cared about anything else. Her trembling hands gripped the scissors tighter. She aimed another stab at the bars, this time faster and harder, but once again, my other self dodged effortlessly.

"You don't know, do you? We often sleep together," my other self said casually, as if discussing something mundane. "Her hair flows so sweetly, brushing against my face every night. And she... she's so peaceful when she sleeps beside me."

I felt how those words continued to provoke Mira, drawing out her darkest side. Mira's face had morphed entirely into a psychopathic expression. She no longer looked like a girl in control. Everything about her seemed wild—her gaze, her movements, even her voice growing increasingly harsh.

"You're lying!" Mira screamed, hurling the scissors at me with venomous hate. Still under the control of my other self, I just laughed and dodged each throw.

"Am I a liar? You have no idea what's truly happening between me and Abigail." My other self's laughter grew louder, as if relishing Mira's suffering. "Her soft white hair often falls across my face. Have you ever felt that?"

Mira threw more scissors, this time rushing to the bars and kicking them in frustration, but nothing changed. I could see the tears of anger in her eyes now.

"Don't talk about Abigail like that!" Mira screamed again, her voice rising in pitch and filled with vengeance. "Abigail is pure! She's not what you describe! You're just trying to ruin her, and I won't let that happen."

I could feel the other self reveling in every reaction from Mira. Its sly laughter echoed through the room, while I could only watch helplessly from within my own body.

"Are you feeling jealous?" I asked—or rather, my other self asked, in an incredibly calm tone. "Could it be that you feel threatened because Abigail chooses to be with me rather than you?"

Mira's eyes reddened with tears and rage. She began to shout incoherent words, but it was clear they were filled with explosive anger. "Abigail will never be with you!" she screamed. "She's mine! She's pure, and I won't let anyone touch her, especially you!"

I didn't know how to respond. My other self continued to savor the brutality of the situation. But deep down, I felt fear—not just of Mira, but of myself. I didn't know how far my other self would go or what it was planning next.

"Mine, huh?" my other self said quietly, as if pondering. "It seems we should prove that, Mira. Are you sure Abigail would choose you if she knew how obsessed you are with her?"

Mira exploded. She slammed the bars again with the scissors, over and over, this time without restraint. Each blow was filled with raw emotion. I could see how Mira was losing control. The iron bars might not break, but her screams of fury filled the increasingly dark space.

"She's mine! You don't understand anything about her!" Mira yelled again, her voice now higher, almost hysterical. "I won't let you touch her, get near her, or even see her again! You... will... die here!"

As Mira continued her frenzied assault, my other self just chuckled softly. "Let's see," it said, still calm. "Let's see who really knows Abigail."

I had no idea how I would get out of this situation, but one thing was clear: Mira was furious and uncontrollable. And I—whether as my other self or as myself—was still trapped behind those bars while this dangerous game unfolded.

***