Chapter 54: Time Doesn’t Move Here

The hall groaned as if it were alive. Shadows twirled across the cracked floor, and the red door oozed silky threads that pulsed like veins.

The double Camela shone brightly, looking perfect and calm, with her crown sparkling like it was crafted from stars. Her silk gown draped elegantly, free from any blood or dust. Her eyes—identical to Camela’s—were soft but too soft, giving the impression of a mask covering something hollow inside.

She smiled at Vincent, sweetly and steadily. “Stop running,” she said softly. “I’ve already made my choice.” She raised her hand toward him.

Camela stumbled back, gripping Vincent’s arm tightly. “Don’t touch her,” she whispered, her voice strained.

Vincent’s anger flared up, but he hesitated in his steps. His eyes flickered with uncertainty as they glinted gold.

“She looks just like you,” he murmured. “Too much like you.”

The double tilted her head and spoke patiently as if reprimanding a child. “Because I am her…the better version. The one who doesn’t fight or cause pain.”

Her hand reached out closer to him, and he was trembling not from fear but with tenderness. “Vincent, don’t let her pull you down. Choose me; I’m already yours.”

Camela trembled and tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t listen! That’s not the real me,” she said.

The double turned her gaze toward Camela as she responded. “But deep down, you want to be like me, don’t you?”

Camela's throat tightened painfully. The gown around her chest felt tighter, almost as if it were agreeing with the words spoken.

The atmosphere changed.

The threads spilling from the door thickened, spreading across the floor until the hall looked like a weaving loom. Each thread hummed softly, and with every hum, Vincent's flame weakened.

He frowned, staring at his hand as the flame flickered weakly.

"This place...it drains my energy," he murmured.

The double stepped closer, moving slowly and gracefully, as if time itself obeyed her presence. “Because time doesn’t move here. Nothing burns. Nothing fades. Nothing ends. Here, Vincent, you’ll never lose her again."

Her gaze shifted back to Camela. "You won’t lose yourself either. Isn’t that what you wanted? To stop running? To stop fighting?"

Camela’s heart raced. She felt like screaming or tearing apart the air around her, but her voice wavered instead.

"You’re not me! I would never beg for chains," she replied.

The double gave a faint smile. "Chains can be gentle; they keep you where you belong."

Vincent raised his voice in an attempt to break through the odd calmness surrounding them.

"Who are you really? Speak plainly," he said.

The double’s lips curved into a smile as she replied. "I am her promise."

Camela responded angrily, shaking with emotion, "No…you’re a lie! A lie she created to trap me!"

The double’s expression softened with what seemed like pity. "Every lie is built from the truth, Camela. Don’t you see it? I’m not here to hurt you; I am here to show you the part you've buried inside. You long for peace. You want to stop hurting."

She turned back to Vincent, her voice smooth as silk. "And I can offer her that peace. I can give you that too."

Camela pressed her nails into her palms tightly in response. "You want to take him away from me."

The double held her gaze firmly. "No, I want to become you so that you don’t have to keep breaking."

Those words struck deep like poison in Camela's mind, and for a brief moment, she almost believed them.

Vincent clenched his jaw and moved closer, anger flaring within him. But his steps slowed down as the double reached out toward him.

Her gaze locked on him as she spoke. “Do you realize how exhausted she is, Vincent? How heavy it feels for her to keep breathing next to you? She doesn’t want to keep fighting. Let me carry that burden. Let me love you without fear.”

Camela grabbed him, shaking him urgently. “Don’t listen to her! It’s not me…it’s not me!” she shouted.

Vincent's chest heaved as he felt caught between them. His eyes glowed gold but the flame faltered, fading its intensity every time he glanced at the double’s face because she wore Camela’s smile and looked at him with Camela’s eyes—the same eyes that once begged for freedom, the same voice that softly called his name in the dark.

The double leaned in closer. “Say it. Choose me. And all the running ends.”

Camela snapped. She lunged forward, ripping a loose thread from her gown and slashing at the double’s hand. The silk hissed as it burned black upon contact.

The double didn’t flinch; she only looked at Camela with an expression of disappointment. “You're hurting yourself, not me.”

Camela felt a burning sensation in her chest but held onto Vincent’s arm tightly.

“She isn’t real! She isn’t me! You once told me…” her voice trembled but she pushed through, “…that I don’t have to be perfect to be yours. This…” she gestured toward the double “…is just a perfect corpse imitation.”

Vincent's eyes snapped wider at her words, reigniting his inner fire even if just for a split second.

The double's sweet facade wavered before she let out a soft, low laugh like silk ripping apart. “A perfect corpse? How cruel...yet so true.”

Her veil slipped away, revealing a grin stretched too wide and porcelain-like skin that was cracked beneath it.

The hall groaned deeply.

The threads on the floor suddenly came to life, snapping up like snakes. They wrapped around Vincent’s legs and Camela’s wrists, pulling them apart.

Camela screamed, fighting as the silk tightened around her.

“Vincent!” she screamed.

Vincent shouted in fury, trying to burn the threads with fire, but for every one he destroyed, two more tightened their grip.

The double remained calm amidst the chaos, her veil floating as though there was a breeze. “You can burn forever, fox. But here, time doesn't move. For every flame you create, the thread just resets. It’s endless…eternal.”

Vincent struggled as his golden fire surged through his body, but the threads tightened around his chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Let it end. Choose me. Just say the word, and she will find peace.”

Camela writhed against the silk that was tugging her wrists. Her crown pressed painfully against her head as each thread dug in deeper. But she forced her head up and shouted—her voice was raw and strained but filled with determination:

“Vincent…don’t you dare give up on me! I would rather bleed than let her take my face!”

The double softly whispered in response. “Such a stubborn little bride.”

She crouched down with her veil brushing against the floor, her eyes glinting cruelly as she spoke. “Do you know what happens if you refuse me? You’ll unravel completely; every part of you will tear apart. He will be left with nothing but ashes.”

Camela spat blood defiantly and glared at her. “Then let me burn,” she said fiercely.

For the first time, anger flickered across the double’s face, breaking her sweet facade.

Vincent's roar echoed through the hall as his flames surged, ripping apart the silk that held him captive.

The double staggered back, her perfect gown splitting at the seams. "You can't kill me," she spat. "I embody her stillness."

Vincent's eyes ignited with a fierce golden light, wild and angry. "Then I will burn until there's nothing still left.”

He broke free and lunged for Camela, tearing away her thread restraints and pulling her into his embrace.

The double screamed—not in pain, but in fury. "You can't keep running! Time doesn't move here; it only loops back. Every step is the same. You will never escape me!"

The hall trembled violently, cracks spreading along the walls.

Camela clung tightly to Vincent, gasping for breath while the silk crown glowed hotter as if reacting to the double’s fury.

The double straightened herself, with a cracked smile widening across her face. "If you won't choose me willingly..."

Her gown split open.

From within poured dozens of pale hands, clawing their way out, each adorned with Camela’s ring. They reached toward Vincent and Camela from across the floor.

Camela screamed, gripping Vincent's sleeve tightly. "She’s splitting apart…she's trying to create more!"

Vincent unleashed his flames, searing the hands that approached him, but for every hand he burned away, three more emerged to take their place.

The double’s voice filled the hall, echoing like a hymn. "You can’t fight forever. Time doesn’t move here. And every one of those hands belongs to me."

The ground split apart beneath them, revealing a deep pit that opened wide, with the fiery threads cascading into the endless red abyss.

The double's hands reached for Camela's crown.

Vincent quickly moved her behind him, his flames blazing high around them. His voice echoed through the air.

"You will not take her!"

But even as he shouted, one pale hand emerged from the fire and gripped Camela's ankle.

She breathed sharply in panic as she was being pulled toward the pit.

"Vincent!"

He tightened his grip on her hand, the fire roaring around them—but the pit kept widening, and the threads pulled stronger.

Above them, the double’s smile lit up like a lantern in the darkness:

“Fall! And when you wake up, you'll wear my face.”

The floor crumbled beneath them—

And they plunged.