CHAPTER 49: THE MISUNDERSTANDING

Cassel — POV

I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel as I pinned the girl beneath me to the car seat.

Her small body trembled under my hands, fragile in a way that made something inside me twist painfully. I had heard everything she said earlier—every word she uttered pierced straight through me like a knife. It was almost surreal, hearing my past dragged into the open by a girl I barely knew, yet knew too much about me.

I had suspected for a long time that she knew me... that she somehow knew what happened in my previous life. And I had confirmed that suspicion more than once. But suspicion was nothing compared to the reality of watching her lose her mind over me—over the things I had done, over the miserable patterns of self-destruction that haunted both my lives.

But seeing her hit Mary in that hysterical way... hearing her curse her because of me—that was something else entirely.

Especially the look on her face, the desperation in her voice as she vowed to protect her villain.

My villain.

I still don’t know why she calls me "villain."

But... it sounded strangely sweet the way she keeps calling me my favorite villain.

Sweet enough that the words lodged themselves inside my chest like a thorn I didn’t want removed.

Rosalia... I’m almost certain you’re not someone I knew in my past life.

At first, I thought you were someone like me—reborn. But no. My photographic memory never fails. I never met you in either of my two lives.

And yet... somehow, you know the past and the future. You know every shameful moment I lived, every pathetic decision I made, every scar under my skin.

How is that possible?

Who are you?

Where the hell did you come from?

"C-Cassel, you..."

Her voice trembled, her breath uneven as her tearful eyes locked onto mine. Her cheeks were flushed—part anger, part shame, part heartbreak—and all of it made her look so painfully human.

And so painfully mine.

I wanted to know everything about her.

To tear her open and sift through every secret she held.

To ask her who she was.

How did she know me?

Why did she hate Mary so much?

A constant uneasiness gnawed at me whenever I remembered that I knew absolutely nothing about this girl. It always felt like she could disappear at any moment—fade like mist in front of my eyes.

Disappear to a place I could never reach.

A place where no matter how far I stretched my hand, I wouldn’t be able to touch her again.

The thought alone was enough to drive me insane.

What should I do... to make you mine entirely?

"Why did you hit Mary?"

The girl looked at me, her shy expression turning fierce in an instant—like a cornered kitten baring its tiny claws.

"Are you interrogating me now? Over that gloomy, fake lotus flower?"

Her eyes glimmered with something broken—something aching, trembling, hurting. She looked like she was moments away from bursting into tears again.

This silly bunny... she completely misunderstood me.

I opened my mouth to explain, but she shoved me—hard.

Her strength wasn’t enough to move me an inch, but she didn’t care. She pushed at my chest again and again, her lips trembling, her breath sharp with pain.

"Get away. Get away from me! Go to that disgusting heroine of yours! Why do you love her? Why? Why?"

She hit my chest a few times—pathetic, weak hits that shouldn’t have hurt.

But they did. They hurt because she was crying.

Her fingers curled into my collar with a desperate grip, her whole body shaking violently.

She was crying for me.

Why are you crying...?

I just wanted to hear you admit that you hit her because of me.

I placed a hand on Rosalia’s back, patting her gently to calm her down.

She was gasping through her sobs, barely holding herself together.

I always found her tear-streaked face beautiful and alluring.

But I hated seeing her break like this.

"You always stand by her... protect her... care for her... but what has she ever given you in return? Why don’t you value your life? Why do you always go back to her and throw yourself at her feet? Why do you only see her? Why?"

Rosalia’s voice cracked, her sobs interrupting every few words, but the meaning stabbed straight through me.

But she was wrong.

I hadn’t gotten close to Mary at all in this life. I hadn’t touched her. I barely spoke to her. I didn’t even look at her unless necessary.

Wait...

Was she talking about the past?

About my past life?

"I... Do you know how much it hurt when I read that? Do you know how many times my heart shattered watching you sacrifice yourself—again and again—for her? Do you know how painful that was?"

Her breath hitched, and her tears fell faster, soaking my shirt.

"How could you dare love someone like her?"

"I hate you... I hate your stupidity... I ha—"

My entire body went cold.

Hate.

She said hate.

Directed at me.

Something snapped inside my chest—something feral, possessive, vicious.

In a burst of anger, I grabbed the girl’s hair and forced her to lift her head to meet my gaze.

Her face was drenched in tears, her eyes red and swollen, her lips trembling helplessly.

She looked like a broken doll.

A beautiful, heartbreaking doll.

But my anger wouldn’t let me appreciate it.

"Repeat what you just said."

My voice was low, dangerous.

"Who did you say you hate?"

I leaned closer, close enough to feel her warm breath against my lips, close enough to smell her sweet, milky scent.

She stared at me—but she seemed strangely unfocused, dazed, as if her mind was slipping away from consciousness.

I didn’t notice.

I was too focused on tearing the truth out of her.

After a long silence, while I still held her beneath me with rough hands, her angelic voice finally echoed faintly inside the cramped car.

"I...