Capítulo 9: The Facade Unraveled
I wasn't sure what I expected when I returned to the brat's room, but it certainly wasn't the sound of laughter. As I neared the door, I could hear Lilia's voice ringing out, filled with playful challenge.
"Come on! You can't be that slow!"
Her enthusiasm was infectious, but a dark twist of unease tightened in my gut. This wasn't a game; it was life and death. I hesitated for a moment, watching through the crack in the door as I saw her hopping around the room while the brat sat cross-legged on the floor, arms raised in mock surrender.
"All right, all right, you win!" His laugh was genuine, almost carefree, and it caught me off guard. I wasn't used to seeing that kind of joy, especially from someone who'd just been through hell.
For a moment, the image of them—Lilia with her vibrant energy and the brat with that unguarded smile—struck me as a fleeting glimpse of normalcy. But reality crashed in, reminding me of the truth: behind that laugh and those innocent games lay a web of deception.
"Lilia, leave the room," I commanded, cutting through the moment.
She froze mid-hop, her face a mix of surprise and disappointment. "Aww, come on, boss. We're just getting started!"
"I said, leave," I repeated, my tone leaving no room for argument.
She threw her hands up in surrender, pouting at me before finally relenting. "Fine, fine. But if you need me, just call!" She shot the brat a wink before skipping out the door.
Once she was gone, the atmosphere shifted. The room felt charged with tension, thick and palpable. I stepped closer to the brat, who stood up slowly, his expression morphing from carefree to wary in the blink of an eye.
"Now, brat, it's time to talk," I said, my voice steady but laced with an edge.
He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. "I told you everything already—"
"Don't bother lying," I cut him off sharply, my eyes locking onto his. "You claimed you were supposed to be experimented on by Dr. Chris, but your story doesn't add up."
He stiffened, his gaze darting toward the window like he was considering bolting. I took another step closer, blocking his exit. "You want to know what Chris said during our little chat? He didn't know anything about you. Hell, he didn't even let the Red Well near his lab. So explain to me how you—an 'escaped experiment'—managed to get both his lab's location and the ridiculous password?"
"I-I overheard it—" he stammered.
"Overheard it? From the Red Well?" I gave him a cold smile. "They're one of the most meticulous organizations in Gaea. They wouldn't be careless enough to let a prisoner, some random kid, overhear critical information. So tell me—what are you really hiding?"
He flinched, and for a brief moment, I thought I'd struck a nerve. "I didn't overhear everything! I just heard pieces!" His voice trembled slightly, but he quickly regained his bravado. "You have to believe me!"
"Why should I?" I leaned in closer, narrowing my eyes. "You think I trust a brat who plays games and spins tales? You're hiding something, and I won't let you walk away until I figure it out."
"Because I know about other villains," he said, his voice lower, edged with urgency. "I know their operations. I can help you bring them down."
The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. I could feel the gears in my mind starting to shift, contemplating the possibility of using him. But skepticism pulled at me, and I wasn't about to let my guard down that easily.
"Let me get this straight," I said, crossing my arms and leaning back slightly. "You, a kid with no prior experience, want to help take down some of the most dangerous people in Gaea? Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"
"Because I can't go back," he said, desperation seeping into his voice. "The Red Well is ruthless. They'll come for me, and if I don't act first, I'll end up back in their hands—used as a pawn again."
I studied him closely, trying to gauge the truth behind his eyes. "And you think I'm going to just take you at your word? What's in it for me? Why shouldn't I just turn you over to the authorities and let them deal with you?"
His face paled at the suggestion, and I could see the panic flashing in his eyes. "No! Please, you can't do that! I won't survive in prison! They'll kill me!"
"Maybe that would be for the best," I said coldly, enjoying the way his expression shifted from defiance to fear. "Why shouldn't I? You've done nothing but lie to me."
"Because I'm not lying about this!" he pleaded, stepping forward, desperation clear in his posture. "I know things about the Red Well—about their operations, their experiments! They were going to sell me to Dr. Chris! I know their secrets!"
The intensity in his voice caught me off guard. It was genuine fear mixed with determination. It wasn't just an act; he was terrified, and yet he was willing to throw himself into the fire for the chance to escape that life.
"Tell me," I demanded, leaning closer. "What do you know?"
He took a deep breath, collecting himself as if the weight of my scrutiny pushed him back against the wall. "I was trained by them as an agent, but I didn't want that life. I fought my way out before they could send me to Chris."
"Trained?" I echoed incredulously. "You expect me to believe that? You think someone just escapes the Red Well like it's a joke?"
"I did escape!" he shot back, voice rising. "It wasn't easy! But I had to! They were going to use me as a pawn, and I couldn't let that happen!"
The anger and fear in his voice made me reconsider. There was something raw about his desperation, a truth hiding beneath the surface of his words.
"Why would you want to help me, then?" I pressed, leaning in closer, trying to see past the facade. "What's your endgame?"
"Because I don't want to be a pawn anymore," he replied, his voice firm now. "I want to be the one calling the shots for once. If we team up, we can take them down together. I know how they operate. I can help you infiltrate their ranks and gather intel."
"Intel?" I scoffed. "What kind of intel? You're still just a brat. What makes you think you have anything worth offering?"
"I know their weaknesses," he insisted, his voice rising again. "I've seen their methods. They don't just experiment on people; they use their fear against them. I know how they think."
I regarded him for a long moment, weighing his words carefully. There was an intensity in his eyes that made me pause. He wasn't just talking out of desperation; there was a glimmer of genuine knowledge behind his words.
"If I were to entertain the thought of working with you, how can I be sure you're not just leading me into a trap?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Because I have nothing to gain from betraying you," he replied, his voice steadying slightly. "If I wanted to betray you, I would have done it when I had the chance. You think I would risk my life for some pathetic revenge? I want to be free! That's all."
The weight of his words settled over me. His sincerity was surprising, and despite my instincts telling me to be cautious, a part of me wanted to believe him. Maybe there was a chance he could help us.
"All right," I said slowly, still skeptical but willing to entertain the notion. "If we're going to do this, I need to know everything you have on the Red Well. No more lies. You can't afford to hide anything from me."
He nodded, his expression serious. "I can do that. I promise."
"Then we'll work together," I said, still unsure but feeling the undeniable pull of his determination. "But I'm not going to let you out of my sight. The moment I suspect anything, you're done."
"Understood," he replied, and for the first time, I could see a flicker of relief on his face.
"Now, what's your name?" I asked, wanting to know who I was dealing with.
He hesitated, his face falling slightly. "I don't have one."
"What do you mean you don't have one?" I pressed, raising an eyebrow.
"The Red Well didn't care about names," he muttered. "Just numbers."
I frowned, crossing my arms. "Then pick one."
His brow furrowed as he thought, and I could see the uncertainty in his expression. "I—uh, I don't know. What about 'the brat'?"
I sighed, shaking my head. "That's not going to work. You need something better."
"Then how about Alex?" he suggested, the name seeming to hold some weight for him.
"Alex," I repeated, testing the sound. "Not bad. It's a start."
He nodded, relief washing over his features. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet," I warned. "You still have a lot to prove."
As we stood there, the tension slowly shifted, replaced by the prospect of a tentative alliance. Perhaps together we could take down the Red Well and the other villains lurking in the shadows. But deep down, I knew I had to keep my guard up; trust was a fragile thing, especially when dealing with someone who had lived a life built
--
As I sat there, the weight of the moment settled heavily on my shoulders. I had just revealed more of myself than I ever intended. Alex—was that really me now? My real name, but it felt more like a label than an identity. Could I really trust Brandon? I had laid my cards on the table, but the fear of being exposed loomed over me like a dark cloud.
Brandon had listened intently, his skepticism palpable. I could see the gears turning in his mind, dissecting my every word, searching for the lie hidden beneath the surface. My heart raced as I remembered his piercing gaze, the way he studied me as if I were a puzzle to solve. I had to convince him. I needed him to believe me, or everything I had risked would be for nothing.
The truth hung in the air between us, shimmering like a mirage. I wasn't from the Red Well; I was merely the author of this chaotic world, an architect of its villains and heroes. But how could I explain that? The fear of being labeled a mere character, a figment of someone else's imagination, gnawed at me. Was I even real? Or just a creation of my own despair?
The idea of teaming up with Brandon had initially seemed like a lifeline, a chance to redirect my fate. But what if it backfired? What if I couldn't live up to the expectations I had set for myself? My mind raced with scenarios—some thrilling, some terrifying. Could I truly help him take down the other villains lurking in the shadows? Or would I lead him into a trap of my own making?
I glanced at Lilia, who was now happily playing nearby, oblivious to the turmoil raging within me. Her laughter echoed like a distant memory of normalcy, a reminder of what I had lost. Could I really bring about change? Could I forge my path while shackled by the remnants of my past?
There was no turning back. I had to push forward, to make this alliance work. But as I stared into the uncertain future, I felt the heavy weight of my secret pressing down. The brat, the hero, the author—it was all intertwined in a way I could hardly grasp. If I failed, I would lose everything, and perhaps even the chance to write a new ending for myself.
In that moment, I vowed to fight for my place in this world, to unravel the threads of destiny woven by my own hand. I would convince Brandon, prove my worth, and in doing so, maybe, just maybe, I would find my own redemption.
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cassi_godd
cassi_godd Thank you for reading once again! I hope you’re enjoying the stories. If you like what you see, please consider voting, adding the stories to your libraries, leaving a comment, or giving some power stones—though it’s not necessary. I apologize for the recent delay in posting; it’s been due to my project. Moving forward, I plan to post 3-4 chapters per week, either as a mass drop or every other day. Thanks for your understanding, and happy reading!
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