Semua Bab Crave Me,Kill Me: Bab 121 - Bab 130

The invitation went out without filters.No signature seal. No encrypted RSVP.Just one image:Aria’s hand in Cassian’s.Below it, three words:Come if you choose.By midafternoon, thousands had gathered in the hollow shell of what had once been Eden’s emotional archive a towering open-air amphitheater, gutted and sun-streaked, reborn with light streaming through what used to be surveillance glass.The world came not in suits or titles but in skin.Mothers. Mechanics. Children who remembered the static hum of monitoring nodes and now carried chalk in their pockets instead of identification tags.Aria stood at the center, dress windswept, eyes unpainted. She didn’t raise her voice.She didn’t have to.“Some of you remember being measured,” she said. “Some of you were never seen at all.”She looked to the crowd. Found no fear.“But this isn’t a showcase. This is a nest.”Murmurs stirred.She went on.“This city was never meant to watch us. It was meant to hold us.”Her fingers reached o

The moonlight poured through the broken glass ceiling of the renovated amphitheater, dust motes dancing in the shallow beams. Their hearts still thundered, echoing the charged rhythms of the night before. Silence wasn’t empty it was electric.Aria stood in the center, barefoot. Her dress once crisp, now loose moved with her breath. She closed her eyes, feeling the stone beneath her toes, lungs expanding into memory.Cassian emerged behind her, fingers tracing the scar at her collarbone. He pulled her close, breath warm at her ear. “This isn’t just memory… it’s horizon.”Her hand slid down his chest. “We don’t get another night like the last.”His voice was husky. “Then let me make this one even more unforgettable.”The air between them thickened. From behind the curtains made of tattered banners, bodies moved: dancers, artists, children, citizens. But they were ghosts now witnesses to something surging greater than visibility.Cassian stepped in front of her, guiding her into his arms

The ceremony was her idea.No council vote.No formal decree.Just a private time, leaked publicly. A location posted without fanfare.And still thousands came.They stood at the edge of the river where Eden’s emotional override towers once rose like teeth from the shore. Now they were gone. The stone path remained cracked, overgrown, but walkable.Cassian watched from the crowd as Aria emerged, draped in charcoal silk, no jewelry, no podium.She walked alone.And carried only one thing:A bundle of ashes wrapped in stained linen.Nova stood to her left.Ivo to her right.But it was Aria who stepped forward.And knelt.She opened the cloth.Revealing Reza’s ashes.Nova’s sister.The voice Eden tried to erase completely.Aria didn’t speak right away. She ran her fingers through the ash like it might remember her skin.Then she lifted her chin.And faced the crowd.“Not everyone who was silenced got to scream,” she said, voice steady.She reached into the cloth again.“Not everyone who

The council chamber was no longer underground.After the collapse, they’d rebuilt it in the glass atrium above the city the highest point in the sector, where no secrets could be buried and nothing could be hidden.Aria walked in alone.No escort.No advisors.Just skin and silk and intent.Cassian waited near the east arch, eyes tracking her every step. He wasn’t here as muscle. He wasn’t here as lover. He was here because she chose him to witness.Aria reached the podium.She didn’t stand behind it.She stepped in front.Microphones buzzed. Screens flickered. Every citizen had access to the broadcast.She didn’t clear her throat.She simply said:“I will not lead you.”Silence cracked through the chamber.“I will not offer structure.”“I will not hold your hand through grief, or hope, or history.”She looked directly into the camera now.“But I will give you what Eden never did.”Her hand lifted a slate. Thin. Matte black.No system logo.Just three words burned into the surface:No

The new council chamber was brighter.Open-roofed, with no walls just glass, sky, and risk.It was designed to reflect transparency.It still reeked of legacy.Aria stood alone at the center dais, her hair windblown, a thin slash of light across her cheek. She wore no sigil. No colors. Just charcoal and skin and shadow.The circle of seats around her buzzed with nervous anticipation.They wanted to crown her again.But they wouldn’t say that word.They used titles instead.“Strategic Civic Anchor.”“Oversight Moderator.”“Permanent Public Balance.”They offered her the seat.The lifetime vote.The power to ratify or veto every public decision from here forward.Cassian stood in the shadows behind the glass wall.Watching.Aria stepped to the seat.Ran her fingers along its edge.Then looked up.“Do you know what the system feared most?” she asked.The room stilled.She turned in a slow circle.“It wasn’t rebellion. Not collapse. Not even death.”“It feared choice.”She stepped back.H