"Admit it."
The words hung in the air like a blade suspended mid-fall.
Aeron's breath stuttered.
His hands, still bleeding from split knuckles, trembled at his sides. For a moment, he looked like he might bolt—like a wounded animal backed into a corner. Then, slowly, his shoulders sagged. His fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms, fresh blood welling up.
His gaze lost focus, staring through me rather than at me.
"...Yes." The word was a whisper, raw and broken. "I did it." A shuddering inhale. "I tried to kill you." His voice cracked. "I—I am the one to bl—!"
"Am I dead?" I cut in, tilting my head.
"-?" Aeron froze.
A visible question mark might as well have materialized above his head. His guilt-twisted features slackened, replaced by pure, stunned confusion.
I didn't give him time to recover. "So, am I dead now?"
"Did you kill me?"
"..."
"...N-No," Aeron rasped, barely audible.
