The Academy courtyard was alive with noise. Students hurried about, chattering, carrying books, practicing sword drills. It looked normal… too normal.
Aki leaned against a stone column, arms crossed. His crimson eyes scanned the crowd, unsettled. Something felt off.
Whiskerdoom perched on the column beside him, tail flicking. "You're frowning again."
Aki shot him a glare. "I have a reason this time."
The cat yawned. "Oh? Do tell, almighty 'not-a-villain'."
Aki ignored him. His gaze landed on the boy across the yard—Eren. The hero. His supposed rival. His supposed executioner.
Eren was laughing with a group of students, cheerful and bright as ever. When his eyes met Aki's, he waved. The kind of wave you'd give… a stranger you only barely knew.
Aki's stomach dropped.
He pushed off the column and walked over. "Eren!"
The hero turned, smiling politely. "Yes, Riel?"
Something in that tone made Aki's skin crawl. Not warm. Not familiar. Just… formal.
"You're acting weird," Aki said bluntly.
Eren tilted his head. "Am I? I didn't realize."
Aki frowned. "You… don't remember?"
Eren blinked. "Remember what?"
The silence between them stretched. Aki studied his face carefully. There was no trace of recognition. No spark of all they had been through—the duel, the forest, the assassination attempts, the nights they'd talked like reluctant allies.
All gone.
Whiskerdoom hopped onto Aki's shoulder, whispering in his ear. "He doesn't know."
Aki's chest tightened. He forced a casual grin. "Never mind. Forget it."
Eren nodded, still smiling, and returned to his friends.
Aki stood frozen.
The diary had warned him about death flags, betrayals, and the Princess's smile. But it had never said anything about… this.
His only ally. His only anchor in this twisted game. His memories—rewritten.
Aki clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.
"This isn't fair," he muttered.
Whiskerdoom stretched lazily. "Life isn't fair. Neither are games."
"This isn't just a game anymore!" Aki snapped. His voice came out louder than he intended, drawing a few curious stares. He forced himself to calm down, lowering his voice. "…If Eren forgets everything we went through, then what the hell am I even fighting for?"
The cat's golden eyes gleamed. "Good question. Ask yourself this: why did you remember?"
Aki paused.
That thought hadn't occurred to him.
If someone—or something—had gone back and rewritten Eren's memories, why had his own stayed untouched?
"Because I don't belong here," he whispered. "Because I'm not Riel."
Whiskerdoom licked his paw. "Or because someone wants you to suffer watching your only ally forget you. That's crueler, don't you think?"
Aki's eyes narrowed. "Celis."
He didn't even need to say her name aloud. He knew.
The Princess had always smiled too sweetly, her words always edged with something sharp. If anyone could twist the world itself, it would be her.
That night, Aki sat in his quarters, staring at the blank diary. He slammed it shut in frustration.
"Why did you stop helping me?" he whispered.
The silence was suffocating.
Then, faintly, on one of the pages, words flickered. Only for a second.
Don't trust what you see.
Aki's breath hitched. "You are still here…"
Whiskerdoom, curled up at the edge of the desk, cracked one eye open. "It's mocking you."
"No," Aki said firmly. "It's warning me."
The cat snorted. "And will you listen this time? Or stumble into another trap?"
Aki ignored the jab. His thoughts kept circling back to Eren. His laugh. His smile. The way he had looked at him like they'd never spoken before.
If Celis—or whatever force was rewriting the story—had taken Eren's memories, then they were rewriting the "hero route" itself.
Which meant…
Aki had just lost his one lifeline.
He closed his eyes, whispering to himself: "I'll get him back. Even if I have to tear this world apart."
Whiskerdoom purred darkly. "Now you're starting to sound like the real Riel."
Aki's eyes snapped open, burning with determination. "No. Not Riel. Me. Aki."