CHAPTER 231: CURIOSITY

Chapter 231

Nima

"You’re such a charmer, ##$_&," I giggle, cheeks aching from how hard I’m smiling.

"What can I say? I have to impress my beloved."

"It’s been ten years."

"Ten years, a hundred years—this life, the next, our past lives, the lives yet to come. Always."

I laugh, breathless. "Didn’t take you for someone who believed in the supernatural, #$_$—"

"Want to know what else is supernatural? My love for you!"

They sweep me into their arms, laughter spilling out of me as their fingers trail over my ribs, tickling until I can’t breathe.

I wake with a sharp gasp.

The warmth vanishes. The arms vanish.

I sit up, chest heaving, eyes darting around—until I realize. Oh. Daphne’s room.

The curtains are still drawn, the faint scent of paint lingering, the silken sheets twisted around me. Empty.

She hasn’t come back. Two weeks.

I lower my legs over the edge of the bed, toes sinking into the plush rug. My hands tremble against my thighs.

It’s always the same.

The dreams.

This faceless person whose name never reaches my ears. The voice always clear, the laughter always familiar, the longing always unbearable. I wake up hollow, as if I’ve lost something I can’t remember ever having.

But ever since Daphne’s been around... those dreams had started to fade. The ache dulled, the sorrow softened.

Until now.

Could it be... her?

I freeze. My ears twitch. My heart pounds.

No. That’s too absurd.

Is it?

I think of her paintings. My sketches. The impossible overlap.

I shake my head hard, trying to scatter the thoughts like dry leaves in the wind.

What am I even saying? That Daphne Nyxclaw is my past life’s lover? That this predator who teases and terrifies me might be... that?

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

I force myself to grab my notes from the desk, flipping open the ink-stained pages. Exams are coming. I need to study.

Not think about this.

Not think about her.

*

Everything about not thinking about this?

Impossible.

It gnaws at me, restless and demanding. Which is why I’m here —in Daphne’s art room.

My sketchbook lies open in my lap, trembling fingers flipping back and forth, double-checking, triple-checking. And the more I look, the more my stomach twists.

They’re the same.

Not just similar. Not just inspired. The same.

The sweeping tree bent by wind. The exact curve of a distant hill.

The same images I’ve drawn for years, pulled from dreams I could never explain.

Is it possible?

No. No, it’s ridiculous. The logical explanation is that she saw my sketchbook. She found it, flipped through it, and brought those outlines to life on her canvas.

Yes. That has to be it.

Except some of my sketches are from years ago. Long before I ever came to Felaris. Long before I ever knew Daphne Nyxclaw existed.

A coincidence. It has to be a coincidence.

...Right?

My throat feels tight. I stand, unable to sit still, and drift further into the room like a criminal about to be caught. My ears twitch nervously at every creak of the wood.

And then my foot catches on something.

I stumble, barely catching myself on a table, and glance down. One of the floorboards juts out ever so slightly from the rest. Different wood grain. Different color.

My pulse quickens.

I shouldn’t. I reallyshouldn’t.

Which is why, of course, I crouch down and pry it open.

The hidden panel lifts with a soft scrape. Beneath it, a narrow opening yawns. A small ladder descends into darkness.

I bite my lip hard enough to sting, heart thundering.

"I shouldn’t," I whisper.

And then I climb down anyway.

The air shifts—cooler, damper. My feet touch solid ground. My hands skim blindly along the walls.

It’s dark. Too dark. But in the faint threads of light seeping through the floorboards above, I see shapes.

Rectangles leaning against the walls. Dozens of them.

Canvases.

I step closer, reaching out—my fingertips brushing the edge of one. But the light is too dim. I can’t see what’s on them.

My heart won’t stop pounding.

Whatever’s on those canvases—whatever she’s hiding—it’s not meant for me to see.

I back away, shivering, and grip the ladder like a lifeline. Climbing quickly, I push the panel back into place and stumble upright, gasping for air.

The morning light streams in through the tall window. Warm. Ordinary. Mocking.

And then it hits me—

Poppy.

I promised her I’d meet her.

Panic jolts me back into motion. I grab my things and leave the room, shutting the door behind me as though I can shut away the questions clawing at my mind.

***

Felix

I run my hand through Velesia’s hair as she tries her best. Her mouth moves, her throat works, she’s determined—too determined. I watch detached, bored, counting seconds in my head as her head bobs up and down.

It’s okay. That’s the best I can say.

But twenty minutes later, I’m still not close.

And the problem isn’t her—it’s me.

Poppy’s absence has made something brutally clear: she was the only one who ever actually satisfied me. Not just physically. Something about her—the way she’d look at me, tease me, fight me, yield at just the right time—it fed something in me I didn’t even know existed until she left.

Lumiya? Cold, untouchable, she still won’t let me past the surface, kisses occasional groping.

The twins? Pretty, soft, but passive—lying there shyly, like I’m supposed to be grateful just for their presence. That was cute at first. Now it’s exhausting. Always me doing the work, always me carrying the fire.

And Velesia? She’s... enthusiastic. Too enthusiastic. It comes off fake, and worse, she doesn’t really know what she’s doing.

This could take forever.

I sigh, tugging her up. "Come to bed. I can’t wait to get inside you." The lie slips out smooth.

Her eyes brighten at the words, and she climbs onto the mattress eagerly. I flip her onto her hands and knees, grip her hips, and push forward.