When Amy saw the provocative smile lingering on Aren's lips, her reasoning deserted her, and her patience shattered completely.
"Hey! Are you smiling now?"
Amy's gaze sharpened to an icy point; a murderous desire glimmered within her. Aren's lips didn't twitch even slightly. He considered her anger insignificant—like the tantrum of a child throwing a fit before him. He watched her silently, and that calm alone sent shivers down Amy's spine.
The smile lingering on Aren's face was cold and terrifying, like a snake coiling along her body, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Amy had been afraid of Aren since childhood; he had never done anything to her, yet his mere presence felt distant and alien. In brief encounters, she had tried to get close to him, only to crash against a wall every time. The only thing that softened that disappointment was her father's presence.
Amy admired her father. With his golden hair and blood-red eyes, he had a beauty and charisma that captivated everyone. Amy longed for that beauty in herself, but she resembled her mother instead—dark green hair and eyes of the same hue. Only one sibling had inherited the looks of both parents.
Aren's hair was darker than theirs, almost black-green. His eyes were redder than his father's. In them, Amy didn't see the gentle warmth she felt in her father's gaze, but a bottomless void capable of dragging anyone into his darkness at any moment. His eyes seemed otherworldly, looking down on everyone.
Moreover, at the social gatherings he occasionally attended, Aren managed to draw attention with his appearance, aura, and charm. With his three-centimeter tongue, he could easily manipulate people.
Cunning and intelligent, he was always a hunter, a snake ready to strike his prey with venomous fangs. Though his illness kept him from being very visible at social events, his presence was deeply etched into people's minds.
Even in isolation, the world was aware of him. And that notoriety was why the murder he committed had shaken the world.
The news that he had killed his own father and his guests had already spread everywhere—online, social media, news reports... Everywhere. Once admired despite his eccentric personality, people now wished for his death.
"Why did you do it? My father always wanted what was best for you. He visited you, taught you when you couldn't go outside."
Amy's voice echoed against the moldy prison walls. She clenched her fists, bit her lips; a few tears slipping from her eyes betrayed her attempts to suppress her rage.
She gripped the bars, pressing her face against the small window. A narrow beam of light illuminated Aren's face, while Amy's gaze sharpened with lethal intent.
"Then why did you kill our father, who was kind to you?" Her trembling voice erupted, as if pouring out the fiery emotions she had been holding back.
"Do you have any proof that I did?" His calm, almost caressing words made Amy pause.
"What?"
"I said, Do you have any proof that I killed our father?" He rested his arm on his raised knee. Leaning his chin on his hand lazily, a lazy smile lingered on his lips.
Amy's eyes flickered in the dark as she looked at him, still soaked in dried blood, her anger boiling. Her hands trembled with rage, her breathing quickened.
"Are you mocking me right now?" Aren noticed the vein on her temple, visibly throbbing even from a distance, and realized how truly angry she was.
It might have sounded like a mockery, but wasn't it the truth? In the story, Aren's involvement in the murders had never been questioned. He hadn't said anything to clear himself either. Having been caught among the corpses at the crime scene, everyone concluded that he was the one who committed the murders and sent him to IMFA prison.
"Mocking you?" he said, still calm, giving her a wise smile. "No. I was just explaining the situation."
His words seemed only to fuel Amy's anger, the flames in her eyes flaring higher.
"The woman who blamed me," he paused briefly, raising an eyebrow at her as if to point out the absurdity of the situation. "And now, everyone who caught me and is blaming me is certain that I killed my father and his guests."
"So… you didn't kill them?" Her voice came out icy, her gaze piercing Aren with a subtle mockery.
But Aren, sitting across from her, seemed unconcerned by the accusation; his face bore a calm ease, as if he alone held the truth.
In that moment, Amy's mind wavered—where she should have let her anger grow, a subtle shiver settled inside her. The doubt creeping into her thoughts began to gnaw insidiously.
"Have you ever considered the possibility that I arrived after someone committed the murders?"
The smile on his lips remained calm, but his eyes gleamed with the cunning of a predator locking onto its prey. Amy's gaze faltered for a brief moment.
"That's impossible!" she muttered, unable to contain her anger, shouting:
"Don't lie to me! Even though your hands are stained with the blood of the people you killed, you claim you had nothing to do with it. You are the reason for those murders! Was someone setting a trap for you?"
As her words echoed off the walls, a twisted smile spread across her face, madness gleaming in her eyes, and she looked at him with pure disdain.
"Your shamelessness should have limits!"
"Shamelessness?" Amy flinched at the terrifying expression that replaced the smile on Aren's face.
"I was merely pointing out that someone falsely accused me of this misfortune. After all, isn't every person innocent until proven guilty?"
Amy recalled the times she had seen Aren before, the same calm yet suffocating expression on his face that had always sent shivers down her spine.
I'm certain she's afraid of me now. After all, when Aren had died in the story, many had rejoiced at his death. Even though the narrative began with his demise, whenever his name came up later, he was described as a cruel, terrifying madman.
Contrary to Amy's assumptions, Aren—calm and composed as ever—was preoccupied with thoughts stuck in a story he had once read, a novel that the author had never finished.