The man’s pupils dilated when he saw her reaching out. Lola was paralyzed from the waist down, but her upper body functioned as normally as ever. And yet, even though he knew what she was trying to do, her words left him frozen in place.
"Have you... ever considered that this might not be a curse? Or a gift? What if it’s a punishment bestowed upon you by the heavens—for trying to play God?"
As soon as the words left her lips, his hood slipped off his shoulders and down his back.
The moment their eyes met, she felt her own widen.
Staring back at her were a pair of dark, naturally brooding eyes. He looked just as surprised as she did, but she couldn’t tell what had startled him. Was it because she had removed his hood? Or because of what she had said?
He looks younger than I thought.
That was the first thing that crossed her mind. Then she noticed the unusually dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted.
Was this really the face of the man who had been playing God with everyone’s lives?
If so, looks truly were deceiving.
He looked like someone who wouldn’t even swat a fly. If anything, he looked younger than her. It didn’t match the level of power he supposedly held, especially within a Church governed by strict hierarchy.
Right. He did mention making himself appear like some kind of prophet with reliable visions or prophecies.
If he had been living through four lifetimes, all he needed to do was display a little foresight to convince others he carried divine favor.
That trick works every time... But does he feel a little familiar? Have I seen him before?
Not lingering on the thought, Lola parted her lips.
"Why do you look so surprised?" she asked. "Am I not supposed to see your face?"
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stared at her as though weighing something. Then he drew a slow breath and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, whatever warmth had been there was gone. A cold frost seemed to coat his gaze as he looked at her with detached indifference.
It was like watching someone flip a switch.
"But even with all those hiccups, I’ve come to accept that achieving my goal would never be easy," he continued, his voice colder and more distant than before. It felt like listening to a completely different person, leaving her unsure whether to feel unsettled or amused.
"It no longer matters if others remembered the previous timeline," he went on. "It doesn’t matter if you all come together and paint me as the villain in your story."
His eyelids lowered slightly, though not enough to hide the dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Because just like you... I, too, have a goal."
"And that goal is to massacre the innocent?" she scoffed. "You’re full of crap."
If they all died again and returned, there was no guarantee they would remember—just like Old Mrs. Pierson. And everything from this timeline would carry over unless someone else interfered in the next. If there was another one.
"It’s the only way I can atone—for hurting you, for pushing you away from the path you once sought—"
His words cut off abruptly when Lola grabbed the collar of his robe and yanked him toward her.
His eyes widened, pupils shrinking as his face halted inches from hers. Up close, he could feel the murderous aura radiating from her.
"Hey..." she said, her voice blank—just like her eyes. "If you’re going to kill me, then do it now. Otherwise, you’ll regret it. Because I, Lola Zorken, will not rest until I burn you and this entire Church to the ground."
"A new world order where the Secret Society doesn’t exist?" she added with a scornful laugh, dragging him closer despite being able to move only her upper body. She swiftly wrapped her arms around his neck, her gaze sliding to the side without blinking.
"At one point, maybe I did want the life you described," she breathed, refusing to release him even as he tried to pry her off.
She laughed, unfazed by his struggle.
"But after four lifetimes... it’s bold of you to think you can atone just by trying to fix what you broke."
Her voice dropped lower, stopping him for a fraction of a second as her grip tightened around his throat.
"And friends... don’t do what you did, you fucking psycho."
The moment the words tore from her throat, Lola squeezed his neck with every ounce of strength she had—determined to end him once and for all.

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