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Music rec: Tragic- Tome Profitt & fleurie,

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"Foolish," he remarked, unhappy with her words. It was clear that once she had seen through him, this made him uncomfortable. Cassius let go of her face and stood from the bath, "Do you really see as ? Or as an ideal Cassius you wish to see?"

She looked to him, now her eyebrows taut on her forehead, "I’m trying to see you as you."

Cassius scoffs, "Seems like you do have such a bad eyes, birdie," and he turns into his grinning self, the Cassius who doesn’t look at people as creatures but as a foolish puppet. "Finish your bath, then walk out."

"I thought about it," she said aloud, stopping him just before he could leave. Her voice was steady, but there was sothing else beneath it—a thread of uncertainty she hadn’t yet untangled. "When soone who’s always been cruel does sothing even slightly kind, it feels... monuntal. But maybe they haven’t changed at all. Maybe the act itself is aningless, and it only looks like a change because we expect nothing from them to begin with."

Cassius paused at her words, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes never left her as she spoke, her voice strained, almost as though she was trying to convince herself more than him. His eyes never left her, watching, waiting.

"And what exactly is it that you’re trying to say, Arabella?" he asked, his gaze darkened just a fraction.

She hesitated, then exhaled, eting his gaze. "That sotis... even the smallest act can stir up more than it should. Maybe that’s the real deception—not the act itself, but the way it tricks us into thinking sothing is changing when it isn’t."

She couldn’t touch his heart. She knew that. And yet, she wanted to. To prove, beyond doubt, that there was nothing to find.

She didn’t know why.

"You think I did this—" Cassius murmured, stepping closer, his voice like smoke curling around her thoughts, "—because I wanted to appear kind? That all of this was just so illusion to make you believe I had changed?"

"I doubt you care about ," she said, the words a quiet challenge.

She turned to him, eting his gaze head-on, her green eyes darkening. Prove right, she almost willed him. Tell you don’t care.

"You enjoy my suffering," she continued, her voice softer now, almost resigned. "You helped tonight, and for a mont, I thought that ant sothing. That you care for -"

"—I don’t." Cassius’s smirk vanished.

His voice was cutthroat, enough to make her breath to hitch and to look at him with wide, round gazes.

"I saved you because you’re my pet; don’t read too deeply into it," he dismissed, his tone colder than ever. As if sothing had snapped inside him. Hearing this, she should have been happy, but sohow, she felt as if she had just been pushed away, and that made her heart itch. Not ache. Itch, she reasoned.

"I do enjoy your suffering, how quick you are on your feet, and how naive you are which allows to show you the darkest part of the world that your pretty little head seed to not see," he comnted without a single change in his tune, calm and lazy, "Whatever you think you see from , is sothing that perhaps you want to see deep in the corners of your heart."

Hearing this, she frowned, glaring at him with a sense of irritation. "? Wanting to see kindness from you? I doubt it."

Cassius stared at her, his eyes hard as stone, as she stood there, so easily upset. He glanced down at his chest, almost expecting sothing. But no. There was nothing. No ache. No lingering unease. The strange sensation that had twisted inside him earlier, when he thought she might be in danger, was gone.

Good riddance.

He didn’t need that. It had been a mont of weakness, and he would never allow it again.

He had always been in control, always calculating, never letting anything, least of all emotions, undermine him. Yet for a mont, he had almost believed sothing might matter. Almost. That feeling, that fleeting twinge of concern, had no place in him. And now, standing before her, watching her face twist with anger and discomfort, he could feel that flicker of weakness burn away.

It had never been real.

He didn’t need her. He didn’t need anyone.

What was she to him? A fragile, disposable thing. A human girl who didn’t even know how to stay out of the way.

Emotions? Weakness. He had long since buried any trace of them. Flaws, flaws are death. He had survived without a single shred of sentint. His mother’s death had barely scratched him. His father’s manipulations had barely fazed him. Arabella? No different.

She ant nothing.

His lips curled into a cruel smile as if tasting the bitterness of his own thoughts. He stepped closer to her, his voice dripping with coldness. "I intervened, Arabella, because it would have been a nuisance if you died. Nothing more."

I only stepped in because it would be annoying if she got hurt. Not because I care.

Cassius smirked as he closed the small distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. His voice was a low rasp, and with every beat of her heartbeat, he took a step forward, just enough to stop in front of her bathtub again. "So, I suppose you’re disappointed then?" he said, his hand rising to cup her jaw, lifting her face just enough to force her to et his gaze. "You thought that sothing had changed? That I had sohow..." His lips quirked at the corners, amusent tinged with sothing far darker. "Beco the man you wanted to be?"

The challenge was there, thick in the air.

Arabella’s lips parted, but she didn’t say anything at first, her breath shallow, like she was considering how to respond. She was trying to figure out the truth, just like he was. Did he really feel anything for her? Did it matter?

Cassius leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek, his lips close enough to feel the heat between them but not quite touching. "Don’t mistake my actions for sothing they’re not. I’m not so knight in shining armor, Arabella. I don’t do kindness."

His gaze dipped to her lips, dark and intent. "I do what I want. I’m Cassius."

After a while, she saw his red eyes that looked at her forehead and stopped at her lips. Then, it turned back to her firmly and without a hint of emotion.

"Leave when you’re done."

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