High School Klaus flinched, falling backward onto his hands.
He stared up at the older battle-scarred man standing above him in utter, paralyzing shock.
He saw his own face, aged by trauma, hardened by a life he hadn't yet lived, staring back at him with desperation.
"Soul... King?" High School Klaus stammered with the words feeling foreign and heavy on his tongue.
The trance was broken, but his teenage mind simply couldn't process the sheer impossibility of the situation.
Fake Melanie didn't look surprised by the sudden, violent intrusion. She didn't flinch at the iron sword pointed at her face.
She slowly stood up from the sidewalk.
The sweet, obsessive high school girlfriend act dropped entirely, shedding like a snake's dead skin.
Her posture straightened, projecting an aura of overwhelming arrogance.
She let out a long theatrical sigh.
