Free Web NovelChapter 21: "So Only I Know"
The pale amber liquid flowed slowly into the crystal glass before Aren.
She sat quietly at the long dining table once more, hands folded neatly in her lap.
Beside her stood Caio Sartori, pouring the wine himself. The bottle rested steady in his hand, but his eyes never once left her face.
Aren watched the wine filling up her glass with calm curiosity. However, somewhere deep inside her chest, something old stirred awake.
Warm yellow light.
Laughter layered over laughter.
A wooden table filled with people she loved.
Someone setting a cake down in front of her, hard enough to nearly crush the frosting.
Eighteen crooked candles.
"Happy birthday, little Aren!"
Someone else wrapping an arm around her shoulders, while the others yelled dramatically:
"The wait is over!"
"She can finally drink with us now!"
Back then, her squadmates never allowed her alcohol. Said she was too young. Too disciplined. Too likely to lecture them afterward.
Except for that night.
Aren stared at the pouring wine now.
’Ah... yes.’
’They gave me something similar to this one that day.’
The memory felt strangely warm against her chest.
One month later, she had died in fire and collapsing steel.
The wine stopped pouring.
Reality returned all at once.
Caio filled his own glass next, then set the bottle down. He looked toward the servants still waiting nearby.
"All of you," he said calmly, "leave."
No one hesitated.
The maids bowed and withdrew immediately. Mrs. Pecora was the last to leave, the doors closing until silence swallowed the room whole.
Caio leaned back against the edge of the table, glass in hand, facing her.
"Care for a toast?"
Aren brightened at once. She lifted the glass carefully, trying to remember the phrase her squad often used.
"...Cheers?"
A small smirk tugged at his mouth.
Their glasses met with a light clink.
"Cheers."
Caio didn’t drink.
Instead, he watched her.
Aren lifted the glass to her nose first, inhaling curiously. The scent alone seemed to delight her.
She took a sip.
And another.
Slowly savoring it before swallowing.
When she lowered the glass again, a faint pink had already touched the tips of her cheeks.
She looked at the untouched wine in Caio’s hand, then at his face, her expression openly curious.
"Why aren’t you drinking?"
Caio ignored the question.
"How is it?"
"It’s very nice," Aren smiled. "Like peaches... and lemons. But very strong."
"Mmm."
Only then did Caio finally take a sip from his own glass before setting it aside entirely.
Then—
Without warning—
He moved.
He leaned down abruptly, closing the distance between them until only inches remained.
Aren startled, leaning back until she hit the wood of her chair, but there was nowhere to go. Before she could recover, Caio braced both hands against the wood behind her head, pinning her beneath his shadow.
His voice dropped.
Low.
Quiet.
Dangerously calm.
"Who are you?"
Aren froze.
Of every question she had prepared herself for, that question had never crossed her mind.
Her voice came out smaller than intended.
"Um... what do you mean?"
Caio caught the tremor immediately.
His gaze sharpened.
"You hated white wine. You once shattered three bottles because Mrs. Pecora served you the wrong vintage."
His eyes moved slowly over her face, tracing every twitch of her expression.
"Now you’re drinking it like it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted."
Aren’s throat tightened at once.
’Oh no.’
’Oh no no no no no no—’
’Stay calm.’
’Stay calm.’
"I recently started liking—"
"Don’t."
The single word cut cleanly through her excuse.
"Don’t even try."
His gaze lowered briefly to her lips, then drifted back up to her eyes.
"You are not Ariana Lombardi."
Each word landed with certainty.
"Nothing about you is."
The room went painfully quiet.
Aren had gone completely still.
Caio took her silence as confirmation, his confidence sharpening.
"Who exactly are you?"
Aren looked down at the drink in her hands, trying to think.
Unfortunately, no excuse sounded right in her mind. Decision made, she braced herself and met his gaze.
"If I told you...," she said, voice small and tentative, "would you terminate the contract?"
Caio stared at her.
For one dangerous second, a laugh nearly escaped him.
’That’s what she’s worried about?’
He killed the laugh successfully.
"The contract?" he repeated, face perfectly flat.
Aren nodded seriously, concern knitting her brow. "This contract is very valuable. I cannot lose it."
Caio exhaled slowly through his nose, killing yet another laugh.
"If it matters that much," he murmured, "then shouldn’t I know who I actually signed it with?"
Aren found herself reluctantly agreeing.
"...You’re right," she admitted. "I’m very sorry for deceiving you."
Her voice grew smaller.
"I’m not Ariana Lombardi."
Caio said nothing. He held her gaze in silence, expecting more.
Aren continued hesitantly.
"I’m... not from this world. My name is Aren. In my world, I... died. And when I woke up, I was here. In this body... Somehow." freewebnovel.cσ๓
Silence followed.
A long one.
Caio remained leaning over her chair, fingers gripping the wood as though steadying himself.
When he finally spoke again, his voice had changed.
Slower.
Softer.
"Aren," he repeated.
Something about the name fit her disturbingly well.
"Just Aren?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"What sort of name is that?"
Aren looked mildly embarrassed.
"It’s just what everyone called me," she said shyly. "My brothers. My squad."
His eyes narrowed.
"What were you?"
This time, Aren didn’t hesitate.
"I killed people for a living."
The honesty of it chilled the room.
"With a squad," she added, trying to be helpful. "There was war where I came from."
His brow lifted.
"So... military?"
"Not exactly." She shook her head. "More like... for hire."
"Mercenary," he concluded.
Aren considered it.
"...Yes."
"And what happened to Ariana?"
A faint trace of sadness crossed her face.
"She was already gone when I arrived. I don’t know where she went."
"Mmm." His gaze lowered thoughtfully. "And who else knows this?"
"No one," Aren replied honestly. "...Yet."
He closed his eyes for one second.
’So only I know.’
Something dark and deeply satisfied curled beneath his ribs.
When he opened his eyes again, a slow smirk had appeared.
"Listen, Aren."
She looked up immediately.
"How about we make another deal?"
"What deal?"
He pulled back slightly, leaning against the edge of the table.
"I teach you how to be Ariana Lombardi," he said, each word a dark promise. "How she speaks. Behaves. What she likes. What she hates. Enough for you to keep pretending without drawing attention."
His gaze settled meaningfully on her.
"In exchange," he continued, lower now, "this little secret stays between us."
Aren frowned.
"...Have I really been that bad at being Ariana Lombardi?"
A laugh nearly escaped Caio.
He barely stopped it.
"You’ve been terrible."
Her shoulders dropped.
"Oh."
Pink flooded her cheeks again.
"I see..."
Now, it became painfully hard not to smile at her.
Caio failed completely.
"So," he asked, openly amused, "do we have a deal?
Aren nodded quickly.
"Yes. I agree," she said eagerly. "How do we proceed?"
Before thinking better of it, his hand lifted toward her face.
One finger brushed lightly against her cheek.
Aren’s eyes crossed downward toward the touch, wondering whether something had gotten on her face.
Caio stared at her.
’No reaction.’
His gaze drifted to her eyes, then watched the pink gradually fade from her cheeks.
’No flustered disgust, no flirtation.’
His brow drew together.
"You’re very strange," he murmured.
With great reluctance, he withdrew his hand away from her face.
"First," he straightened up, "you’re going to sit there and have dinner with me."
Aren nodded obediently.
"And tomorrow morning," he continued, "you’ll show up here at seven for breakfast."
Her brow drew faintly together.
"...For training?"
"Training," he confirmed with a faint smirk.
A warm, pleasant smile finally appeared on her face.
"I understand. I’m very good at training."
Caio watched that smile for a second too long.
He picked up his wine again before he started thinking stupid things.
