There Is No Lie In This World Chapter 2: There Is No Lie In This World

I must’ve blacked out for a second.

Or maybe it was just my brain buffering.

Because the next ti I opened my eyes, the assistant - my assistant? - was standing in front of with a glass of water in one hand and a folder in the other, as if both were of equal importance to my survival.

"Miss Roen," she said gently, "I’ve prepared the briefing for today’s transitional etings. Shall I summarize, or would you prefer to read it in full?"

"I-, what?"

My voice barely worked. I was still sunk in that ridiculous throne of a chair, staring up at her like a child caught sneaking into a VIP lounge.

"I suggest the executive summary first," she said, as if I’d asked. "You must be overwheld."

Overwheld didn’t begin to cover it. I took the water without thanking her - too numb - and imdiately felt guilty. She didn’t seem to mind. She never seed to mind anything.

"Your attendance has been requested by the internal board," she continued. "They’d like to welco you in person. Nothing formal. Just handshakes, condolences, reassurances."

I blinked slowly. "I’m not-"

"-ready. I understand." Her tone was sympathetic yet neutral, an impossible mix of sincerity and professional formality, intimate and detached at the sa ti.

"You don’t have to say anything today. Just smile. They’re not expecting leadership from you right away."

Of course. They thought I was grieving. That’s why no one was asking questions. That’s why no one was calling out.

They weren’t being polite.

They were being cautious.

They thought I was fragile.

They thought I had lost sothing.

They thought I belonged here.

"I... I don’t think I should go anywhere," I mumbled.

She didn’t flinch.

"If you prefer, I can postpone the welco. However, I must advise against long absences. Visibility, Miss. The staff needs to see you."

My eyes flicked to her face, her unreadable expression. "What’s your na?"

She paused, just for a second.

"You may call Luc," she said.

"Is that your real na?"

"It’s the na I use here."

2

I had no idea what that ant, but the way she said it felt slightly odd, and perhaps - unless I was imagining things - there was a very, very slight pause before she answered.

I was never good at reading people, but this lady was certainly on a different level of diplomatic manners that I couldn’t even dream of understanding.

Before I could press, there was a soft knock on the door.

Luc turned her head slightly. "Enter."

The door opened without a sound. A man in a charcoal suit stepped in, followed by two others. They looked like triplets grown in a corporate lab - hair sculpted, suits wrinkleless, smiles carefully asured for dium sincerity.

"Good morning, Miss Roen," said the first man with a practiced bow. "On behalf of the transition team, we welco you and grieve with you. If there’s anything we can do to make this day easier-"

"I’m not-" I started, sitting up, but Luc moved beside so smoothly I barely saw her move. She placed a hand just above my shoulder-not touching, but it managed to halt from moving or speaking any further.

"She appreciates your support," she said, voice sharp and clear.

The man smiled tightly and nodded. "Of course. We’ve also taken care of the downstairs lobby," said another. "There were so... morial gestures left overnight. Flowers. Cards. A lot of journalists trying to get statents. Security has cleared them."

morial gestures.

For people I never knew.

People I was allegedly related to.

Yet I was here, sohow in the position to continue their legacy that I had no hope of carrying even for a fraction of a second.

"Please take your ti, Miss Roen," the third one said. "We’ll wait for your command."

My command.

The n bowed again in perfect sync and left the room like they were gliding. The door closed behind them with a low click, sealing the silence back in like a pressure chamber.

"You handled that well," Luc said with a hint of motherly pride in her voice.

"I didn’t do anything."

"Exactly."

She placed the folder on the desk beside , another matte black marvel.

"The less you say, the more powerful you seem."

"That’s... not how it works."

"In here," she said, "it is."

I slumped back into the chair. I didn’t even feel the plush leather anymore. Just the weight. Like the chair had grown roots and was trying to absorb .

Above , the ceiling glittered faintly with the chandelier. A minimalist monstrosity of asymtrical white glass and golden rods. It looked like frozen lightning. Beautiful and threatening. Like it might co crashing down the mont I breathed wrong.

I didn’t belong here.

"You said I’m the heiress. Why?"

Luc answered without hesitation. "Because you are, Miss. But let’s call it a mistake for now, just as you wished."

"That’s not an answer."

She tilted her head slightly. "You arrived at the exact mont the position beca vacant. You were in the system under the Roen na. A na that, as far as the public record is concerned, was privately connected to the family lineage. The board was already aware of rumors. Of a contingency heir. A hidden child."

"Hi...hidden child?!"

Luc said nothing and just calmly looked into my eyes.

"I... I was just eating instant noodles and crying over job rejections until recently..."

Luc didn’t smile, but the air around her seed to ripple with restrained amusent.

I stood up abruptly. "Soone’s going to find out... Soone’s going to realize this is all a lie..."

I was shouting now. My hands were shaking. My voice didn’t sound like mine anymore.

"Miss. There is no lie in this world."

"That is not true! This world is full of lies and I’m one of them now!"

"The only lie in this world is what people believe is the truth."

...

"Eh?"

"All we know is that you are the one. That is the truth."

My brain short-circuited. Didn’t that an that’s the lie?

But as her eyes locked onto mine, I could feel the unshakable conviction in her.

How can I convince soone that I’m not the one when they believe in so much...