CHAPTER 121: LILITH’S_MAGIC

The steam in the bathroom filled Alice’s lungs until every breath felt heavy. The hiss of the shower swallowed every sound beyond the thin door. She was glad for it. Glad the world outside couldn’t hear her. Glad she couldn’t hear the world.

The water beat down hard, soaking her hair until it clung to her face in wet ropes. Soaking the bandage wrapped around her arm.

It didn’t matter.

The heat stung her swollen eyes, turning them raw, but she didn’t move away from it. It was easier to just... stand here. Easier than thinking.

But thinking crept in anyway.

She could still feel the weight of his arms around her. Hades’s arms, like phantom heat beneath the water’s burn. The quiet, immovable way he’d held her when she’d collapsed against him earlier. No words. No judgment. Just that steady, solid presence that had felt, for one dangerous second, like safety.

She should have been mortified. She’d broken down in front of him, completely. Publicly. She had sobbed into the chest of a man she barely knew. But the shame never came.

Because in that moment, she hadn’t wanted him to let go.

He had, though. Eventually. Once her breathing had steadied, once her hands had stopped clawing at his shirt. He had pulled away just enough to lead her upstairs, his voice low, almost a rumble.

"Take your time. Freshen up. I’ll be back."

Such simple words. But the way he’d said them, not like an order, not like pity, had felt like a promise she could almost touch.

And like an idiot, she’d wanted to tell him to stay.

To just... stand there beside her.

To not let the thin thread of safety unravel.

But now it was gone.

She pressed both palms to her face, and the water hit her harder, sliding over her fingers, down her wrists. It should have been cleansing. It should have felt like relief. But it couldn’t wash away what was lodged in her chest.

Because the moment her mind wandered, it found her name again.

Aurora.

Her sister’s name was a fracture line through her ribs.

Alice shut her eyes, but the images still came. Images she wished she could burn from her mind.

The papers Dawin had handed her.

The neat black type on official forms.

The cruel neatness of medical records.

Aurora.

In a psychiatric hospital.

Because Priscilla had put her there.

She had asked Dawin once, how he knew.

He’d shrugged, almost bored. "I know things."

And then had added, "A lot of things."

And he did. He knew things no one should know.

Things Alice wished she could unknow.

The reports had been merciless in their detail.

Forced abortion.

Physical abuse.

Mental abuse.

Blood ’donations’.

Suicide attempts. Plural.

Each phrase had cut her open in a different place.

Her knees gave out under the weight of it, and she slid to the tiled floor, curling her legs up and resting her forehead against them. The water poured over her head, into her hair, until she couldn’t tell where the shower ended and her tears began.

Aurora’s face wouldn’t leave her.

Too thin.

Too pale.

Too empty.

Alice hadn’t been able to speak when she saw her. Hadn’t been able to go to her. She had just stood there like a coward, watching from a distance.

And then Aurora had turned her head, eyes meeting hers for the briefest heartbeat.

Empty eyes.

Alice had felt her stomach turn.

Aurora had closed them again almost instantly, like even that little moment had been too heavy, too exhausting to bear.

Alice dug her nails into her arms until her skin screamed.

Priscilla.

Nicholas.

She whispered their names into the steam, into the hiss of the water, as if saying them could hex them.

They wouldn’t get away with this.

Her head tilted back, the spray hitting her directly in the face, almost choking her, and still she stayed there.

Dawin’s voice drifted back to her through the heat and the noise.

"Do you want revenge?"

The words had hung between them like a blade suspended in the air.

"I can help you."

He had said it like it was simple. Like he was offering to fix a leak or move a box. But she had felt the weight of it, the way it could burn down entire lives if she said yes.

She hadn’t answered. Couldn’t. Her voice had been locked somewhere deep in her chest.

She didn’t understand him. Why he was helping her, how he even knew these things. How he had gotten the files. The hospital records. The truth.

And how he could walk into that place, that fortress Priscilla controlled, and walk out again like he controlled it.

She hadn’t asked. She’d just wanted to get away.

But her body hadn’t cooperated. She’d ended up vomiting in the alley beside his car, gripping her knees and heaving until her throat was raw. Dawin had just stood there, watching, his expression unreadable. He’d offered her a handkerchief. She hadn’t taken it.

She’d insisted she would drive herself back.

She needed that much control.

She wanted to get back to her car parked in that building she didn’t want to remember.

But once she was in the driver’s seat of her car, she’d barely been able to do anything. Her hands shook on the steering wheel. Tears blurred the road.

And then, without even knowing why, she’d taken out her phone.

She told herself it was just distraction. That she was scrolling for no reason. But her fingers had a target.

Her author page.

She’d scrolled and scrolled, heart racing, until she found the username she hadn’t thought twice about before.

’Unappealing painting.’

They’d been a regular reader. A generous one. Always sending coins. Always leaving comments. Warm, but with something else threaded underneath. Something she hadn’t noticed because she’d been too dazzled by the gifts.

Now, she began to read back.

---

Comment #1

’I like the way your stories have lonely characters who still fight for themselves. Even when they lose, they keep a little piece of themselves intact. That’s beautiful. Some people don’t get to keep anything. Some of us... we don’t get that choice.’

She remembered replying with a casual ’Thank you for reading "red heart emoji"’

Now her throat burned.

---

Comment #2

’That scene where your heroine watches the stars from her bedroom window. I read it three times. I haven’t seen stars in a while. But I remember them.’

She had replied: You’ll see them again someday. Keep going "white heart emoji".

She’d meant it as encouragement. But now it felt like a knife in her gut.

Comment #3 had been under a controversial Chapter where a character left her poor family to marry into wealth despite everyone’s advise to not do it. Alice had defended the choice as selfish.

Unappealing painting: What if she didn’t do it for herself? What if she thought it would help them? Maybe she believed more stability for herself would mean she could help them later... and maybe it just didn’t work out. What if she lost everything? Even herself?

Her own reply then had been blunt: That still wouldn’t erase the fact she left them when they needed her. Some wounds don’t heal, no matter the intention.

The answer from Unappealing painting had been short: Maybe. Or maybe the wound is all she has left to hold onto.

She read that line now and couldn’t breathe.

Aurora.

It had to be Aurora.

It was her.

Her stomach clenched so hard she bent forward, one hand pressed to it as if she could stop herself from splitting in half.

The sob that broke out of her throat was jagged and ugly, ripping up whatever was left of her composure.

If it had been her sister all along... then Alice had been judging her without knowing. Speaking to her without recognizing her voice.

She had scrolled further.

A casual post she’d made months ago on her author’s page:

’Since it’s my birthday, I’ll be taking a little break to hang out with friends! "Party emoji"’

Beneath it, Unappealing painting had written:

It’s my birthday too. I’m glad you can celebrate with friends. Have fun. Love you.

No emojis. Just words.

Alice’s chest ached so fiercely she pressed her fist against it.

And then the last one.

It had come out of the blue. The very last comment she had left.

Unappealing painting: I will always support you Lilith’s_magic. And I’m sorry I can’t do much for now.

Beside it: 100,000 coins gift.

Her breath had caught when she saw it back then. She’d called Paula and Vivian. They’d screamed and laughed and stayed up until morning celebrating. She hadn’t thought about where the money came from. She hadn’t wondered what it had cost.

Lilith’s_magic.

Her childish pen name. From a silly story she’d written as a kid. A story Aurora and Paula had teased her for. She’d used it here, publicly. The region. The birthday.

Of course Aurora would have recognized her immediately.

What had she been doing with her life?

A knock at the bathroom door jolted her.

"Little girl." Hades’s voice, deep, steady, but carrying a warning this time. "Time’s up. If you don’t come out, I’m breaking the door."

She blinked through the steam, realizing with a start how long she’d been sitting here, crying.

Her fingers found the faucet and twisted. The water stopped. The silence left in its place felt almost violent.