Rosalia — POV
A violent explosion tore through —one that swept away all my fear, all my hesitation, all the years I had spent struggling just to reach him.
My entire life was shattered in that instant.
"How dare you?"
My voice cracked, sharp and broken, as glass dragged across stone.
"How can you accuse of being a spy for that bastard?"
"How can you look at and think sothing so filthy, so cruel?"
"How—how—!"
The words dissolved into screams.
I lunged at Cassel, striking him wildly—my palms slapping his face and chest without restraint, my body trembling with fury and despair.
I even bit down hard on his hand, desperate to hurt him the way he had hurt .
But it was useless.
My teeth ached.
He didn’t bleed.
And the pain inside my chest only grew.
"I lived for you!" I scread. "I lived for you for so long that even death couldn’t take away!"
"I loved you—I followed you for years! Years of watching everything that happened to you in silence. Years of crying for you, raging for you, suffering for you!"
My vision blurred, tears streaming uncontrollably as I continued.
"Every single day, I rushed back to my room like a madwoman—just to grab my phone, just to read a new Chapter of your story! Just to see if you were still alive! If you survived! If you succeeded! If you were hurt!"
My chest heaved violently.
"Everyone laughed at ," I sobbed. "They mocked for loving a fictional character—ink on paper, words on a screen—as if he were real!"
My voice broke completely.
"So how can you say I don’t love you?"
"How can you doubt—"
The rest of my words dissolved into raw, burning screams—torn straight from the depths of my soul.
I didn’t even realize what I was saying anymore.
I was no longer speaking to Cassel.
I was pouring out everything—every wound, every humiliation, every night I had spent crying into my pillow with no one to hear .
"Do you know how many tis my mother hit for buying your rchandise?" I shouted.
"Do you know how many tis she and my sisters scolded because my room was filled with images drawn from fantasy?"
My laughter was hysterical, broken.
"Do you know how painful it was to watch you love that whore—how painful it was to see you willing to give her everything?"
"You don’t know," I whispered hoarsely. "You don’t know how miserable my life was."
"And yet I smiled," I continued, my voice shaking. "Because I knew that every ti I ca ho, no matter how unbearable that house was, I could find you again."
"In that cold house... in that family that rejected and never cared about ... when I lost all hope of living—"
I pressed my hand against my chest as if trying to keep my heart from tearing itself apart.
"You don’t know that I lived because of you. Because of you, I found the courage to keep walking in that world."
Tears fell freely now.
"On the day I tried to kill myself," I whispered, my breath uneven, "my head was spinning, my body aching, my hands trembling..."
"But I still opened my phone."
My lips trembled.
"I forced my blurry eyes to focus through the tears—just to read about you. Just to see what happened to you. Just for you."
"Ros—"
"Don’t say my na."
My voice was sharp, final.
"Stay away."
"You only ever say what you want," I continued bitterly, "without caring how miserable—how wounded—I feel when I hear it."
Cassel’s expression shattered before my eyes.
The proud, unshakable man I knew looked as if he were breaking apart. His eyes reddened, filling with tears he didn’t seem to realize were falling. His hand trembled as he reached for , hesitant—afraid, as if I were sothing fragile he might destroy with a single touch.
But I was already beyond control.
Every word dragged back into those mories—the dark room, the suffocating loneliness, the years of rejection and hatred.
I didn’t stop.
"I had no one," I said hoarsely. "Since I was little—no one."
"No family that loved .
No mother who worried about .
No siblings who respected .
No friends to share my joys or sorrows."
I gasped as the mories crashed down on like waves.
"Ros, please... don’t say anymore. I’m sorry. It’s okay—don’t—"
"I lived as an outcast everywhere," I interrupted. "The only safe place I had was my tiny room."
"And then... this world."
I looked at him.
Cassel stared at without blinking, as if every word were carving deep wounds into his chest.
"I used to sit alone in that room," I continued quietly, "holding my phone, watching movies or reading novels just to escape the cruelty of life."
"And one day, I found a novel online."
"A novel about the end of the world. About destruction, death, and killing."
"But also... about love."
A bitter smile touched my lips.
"Even though I cursed that foolish final villain for loving a fake woman like that disgusting heroine... I still loved him."
"I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how."
"He appeared in my dreams. In my thoughts. In my reality."
"All I could do was wish him happiness—the happiness he deserved."
My hands began to shake again.
"But one day—after my mother scolded for spending a few dollars to treat myself while I had a severe fever—I went to bed as usual."
"And I opened the novel."
My fingers clenched tightly around Cassel’s collar, my nails digging into the fabric as fear and despair overwheld .
"Only to find that my beloved villain had been killed."
"Those bastards threw him into a pit full of zombies and left him there to be devoured."
"When I saw it..."
My voice dropped to a whisper.
"I felt my heart tear apart."
"I wanted to die."
A bitter laugh escaped .
"Who would have thought my wish would co true the very next day?"
"And by the hand of my dear little brother."
Suddenly, Cassel pulled into his arms—fierce, desperate, terrified.
His grip was possessive, shaking, as if letting go would an losing forever.
"No," he muttered hoarsely. "No... I won’t allow it."
"You’re mine. I won’t let anything happen to you."
"You’re alive... you’re alive."
"Yes," I whispered. "I’m alive."
"Because while I was dying, I opened my eyes and sohow ended up here."
"In the world of my favorite villain."
"The man I love more than my own life."
"Do you know how ecstatic I was?" I asked softly. "When I realized I had arrived in a world that was supposed to be nothing but ink and paper?"
"How happy I was when I finally t you... When I could breathe the sa air as you, live under the sa roof as you?"
A dreamy expression crossed my face.
"And then you returned my feelings."
"When you wanted to be your lover..."
"In that mont, I felt that every hardship, every pain in my past life, was worth it."
"Yes," I said firmly. "If that was the price to et you—to be with you—then I was more than willing to pay it."
"But you—"
I lifted my head and looked at him.
I froze.
Cassel was crying.
Tears poured down his face endlessly, silently, without restraint.
Still, I hardened my heart and said the words I needed to say.
"You doubted ."
"And you doubted my love for you."
"Mmph—"
What—Cassel, you bastard—if you have sothing to say, then say it. Why use your lips?
The kiss crashed into violently.
It was desperate, fierce, almost frantic—so intense that my head spun from lack of oxygen.
I struggled at first, trying to pull away, but his hand pressed firmly against the back of my head, leaving no escape.
In the end...
I surrendered.
I let him invade my mouth, fierce and relentless, as my strength faded and my will crumbled—
Just as he had invaded my heart.
Without any warning at all.
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