I Reincarnated to Another World as a Woman-Chapter 245: Splintered Selves

"What do you want?" Arthur asks between gritted teeth.

Arthur II laughs.

"What do I want? You sure are weird, Art. I am here because you want me here. The question is, what do you want?"

Arthur walks past Arthur II and snorts. "I want you gone."

Arthur II laughs again, louder this time. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"If that’s true, I wouldn’t be here, would I?"

The smile fades from his face. He turns serious, eyes steady.

"Seriously, Art. What do you want?"

Arthur whips around. The towel in his hand flies across the room. His eyes blaze as fire envelops both of his hands, heat radiating outward.

"I want you gone!" he roars.

Arthur II takes a quick step back, both palms raised.

"Whoa, hey. No need to get this worked up. Jeez." He rolls his eyes and gives Arthur a lazy wink. "If you want me to go, just say the word. See ya."

And just like that, he disappears.

Gone.

Arthur stands there, still panting. His heart is pounding violently against his ribs. Every muscle in his body is drawn tight, coiled and ready to strike, even though there is nothing left to fight.

He clenches both fists until his knuckles turn white.

The other him has appeared for six days now.

He...

No. Not he.

It.

Arthur corrects himself immediately.

It first appeared on the second night after they exited the dungeon. Since then, it has shown up at least once a day without fail. Sometimes in the morning. Sometimes at night. Sometimes when Arthur is alone. Sometimes when he least expects it.

It has not attacked him.

It has not threatened him.

It has not done anything at all.

Except ask.

What do you want?

Arthur drags a hand down his face and takes a long, deep breath, trying to steady himself.

Why does it keep asking me that?

I want everyone safe. I want the world at peace. I want nothing more than that.

He groans softly.

"I’ve gone mad," he mutters under his breath.

He bends to pick up the discarded towel, tosses it aside, and heads toward his bed.

"I’ll just go to sleep."

Maybe tomorrow it will stop.

But deep down, he knows it will not.

-------------------------------

Liam puts the game console controller down slowly. His fingers linger on it for a second before letting go.

His eyes burn from staring at the screen too long. His thumbs feel numb. A dull ache spreads across his lower back from sitting in the same position for hours.

He reaches forward and turns off the console.

Then the television.

He looks at the digital clock.

02:49.

Another restless night.

Another night he cannot fall asleep.

He exhales slowly through his nose.

"It’s not your fault, you know."

The voice comes from behind him.

Soft.

Young.

Liam’s shoulders stiffen.

He turns around.

A boy stands there. Around twelve years old. Slight frame. Familiar face.

Looking straight at him.

Liam says nothing.

He pushes himself up from the couch and walks past the boy as if he is not there.

As if the space he occupies is empty.

"You can’t keep ignoring me, Monfort."

Liam keeps walking.

Keeps his expression blank.

Keeps pretending.

He heads toward the light switch.

"It’s too late to pretend you can’t see me, Monfort," the boy continues calmly. "We both know you can."

Liam pauses for half a second.

Just half.

Then he takes a deep breath.

Turns off the lights.

Darkness swallows the room.

He climbs into bed without another glance in the boy’s direction.

Pulls the blanket over himself.

Closes his eyes.

Tries to sleep.

The silence stretches.

But he knows.

The boy is still there.

Watching.

Waiting.

-------------------------

Theo stands alone on the balcony, staring up at the moon.

For the first time in a long while, he looks at it without instinctively comparing it to the twin moons of Caelthorn. There is no quiet ache. No reflexive counting of what is missing. Just a single pale sphere hanging in the night sky.

If anyone were to see him at this moment, they would probably forget how to breathe.

His straight, silky white hair falls to his shoulders, catching the moonlight and reflecting it back in a soft glow. It frames his face like a halo, giving him an otherworldly presence. Under the silver wash of night, he almost looks unreal. Like something sculpted rather than born.

He wears simple beige pajamas, the fabric soft and loose against his slender frame. Misty grey eyes gaze upward, their irises faintly rimmed with gold. His lips are naturally pink, his features delicate and flawless, almost innocent at first glance.

But the innocence disappears the moment one looks directly into his eyes.

There is power there.

Not arrogance. Not cruelty.

Power.

Theo lowers his gaze slightly, resting his hands on the cool metal railing. He can feel it inside him. His mana is full. Completely full. It hums beneath his skin, dense and heavy, like a second heartbeat.

And that is the problem.

Inside the dungeon, where mana saturates the air and seeps from the ground itself, his full reserves feel balanced. Natural. Like standing in deep water while being made of water.

But here, in the ordinary world, mana is scarce. Thin. Barely present.

His body is overflowing while the world around him is nearly empty.

The imbalance presses against him from the inside. A subtle pressure. Not painful, but constant. Like wearing armor that no one else can see.

He exhales slowly.

Full does not mean peaceful.

Full means heavy.

He lifts one hand slowly and opens his palm toward the night sky.

He releases a thin stream of mana.

It drifts upward in small, glowing motes, like a handful of fireflies released into the darkness. They shimmer softly under the moonlight, hovering for a few fleeting seconds before dissolving into the wind, scattering into nothing.

Theo feels it immediately.

The slight lightness in his chest lasts only a breath.

Then his mana refills.

Full again.

Complete.

He chuckles under his breath, the sound quiet and tinged with something complicated.

"I like the gift you gave me, Alex. Is this for rescuing your sister?"

The balcony remains silent.

The night answers with nothing but distant city sounds and the rustle of leaves.

He exhales slowly.

"Thank you. You shouldn’t have done that, you know. It would’ve been better if you had given it to your sister."

He turns and leans back against the railing, facing his room.

The moonlight frames him from behind, casting a pale glow across the floor.

"Her memories are fragmented," he continues softly. "But don’t worry. I’m helping her piece them back together. Slowly. Carefully. She’ll be alright."

His voice lowers even more.

"I promise."