Elysium: Desired by the Cold-hearted Princess [GL]
Chapter 122 122: I know who you are

Electra's POV

I couldn't stop thinking about Yuna's dream. The image of me—me as Electra Vale—watching her twin sister drown haunted my thoughts because it was the last thing I expected to be reminded of.

I wanted to dismiss it as a coincidence, as some weird figment of Yuna's overactive imagination, but no matter how hard I tried to brush it off, it bothered me, and then there was the voice. That strange, mocking voice I'd heard on the rooftop. It had spoken to me like it knew me and even went as far as mocking me for being powerless.

None of it made sense.

I paced back and forth in my dorm room, my thoughts spiraling. The pieces didn't fit, and the more I tried to make sense of them, the angrier I became. Yuna's dream was too specific. Too accurate, and there was no way she could've known about what I'd done to Yura back in my real life.

No one in this world should've known, but somehow, she'd seen it, even if it was just in a dream.

And the voice… I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The voice wasn't something I could just write off as a hallucination from the cold. It had been too clear, and whoever—or whatever—it was, they knew about me.

They knew about my life as Electra Vale, and more importantly, they knew I wasn't supposed to be here, but it sounded like they were happy that I was here.

I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. It wasn't a coincidence. It couldn't be. Someone—or something—was still messing with me, still pulling the strings behind this twisted situation, but why?

What was the point? Did the gods have it out for me? Was this their way of punishing me for all the people I'd hurt, for all the times I'd gone too far with my so-called "punishments"?

Or was it something else entirely? Something I didn't understand?

I sat down on the edge of my bed, my legs bouncing nervously as I tried to think it through, but the more I thought about it, the less sense it made.

What had I done that was so unforgivable, so wrong, that I deserved to have my entire life ripped away from me? Sure, I wasn't a saint. I'd hurt people, and maybe I had gone too far a couple of times for my own sadistic pleasure, but that wasn't enough to take my life away from me.

I clenched my jaw, feeling angry at the situation all over again . This wasn't fair. I didn't deserve this. Whatever I'd done, it didn't warrant having my identity stolen, my power stripped away, and my entire life turned upside down.

But there was no one to blame. No one to direct my anger at, and that made it so much worse. I didn't know who to ask for answers, who to plead with to make it stop. I didn't even know where to begin.

The isolation was making me mad. I was the only one in this fake reality who knew the truth, who was aware that everything around me was a lie. I couldn't tell anyone, not even Yuna—not after how easily she'd dismissed her dream as just that: a dream.

And if I did tell her, she would hate me, and the last thing I needed was to have the only person who was still kind enough to talk to me hate me because I hurt her sister to get back at her.

I was in the middle of drowning in my own thoughts when a knock on the door jolted me back to reality. My head snapped up, and for a moment, I just stared at the door, wondering who it could be.

"Who is it?" I called out, my tone already laced with irritation.

The last thing I needed right now was one of my roommates' friends barging in. Honestly, I wasn't in the mood for anyone, not even Yuna—and she was the only person I could remotely tolerate these days.

But then the voice came back, and my stomach twisted. "It's Seraphina," she said.

I let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Of course, it had to be her. Why wouldn't it be? She was probably here to throw another humiliating curveball my way, as if the rooftop stunt hadn't been enough.

Just the thought of it made my blood boil, but at the same time, a small, bitter realization settled in: this must've been exactly how she had felt when the roles were reversed. When I was the one holding all the power and she was the one suffering under me.

"Great," I muttered under my breath, dragging myself to the door. I opened it, leaning against the frame with my arms crossed. "What do you want?" I asked, not bothering to hide my annoyance. "If you're here to humiliate me again, I suggest you postpone. I'm really not in the mood."

To my surprise, Seraphina didn't smirk or snap back at me with some sarcastic remark. Instead, she stood there with a serious look on her face, her expression so uncharacteristically intense that it made me pause. "Are you alone?" she asked, her voice low.

I raised an eyebrow, her question catching me off guard. "Yeah," I said slowly, my tone skeptical. "Why?"

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stepped forward and pushed past me, walking into the room like she owned it. "We need to talk," she said simply.

I closed the door behind her, watching as she made herself at home, standing in the middle of the room like she had every right to be there. "You could've just said that instead of barging in," I muttered, crossing my arms again. "What's so important?"

Seraphina let out a frustrated sigh, crossing her arms as she stared at the floor like it had personally offended her. Then, out of nowhere, she blurted out, "I'm not like you, Electra."

I blinked, completely thrown off by her words. My brow furrowed as I tried to make sense of what she'd just said. "What the hell are you talking about?" I asked, my voice flat with confusion.

She didn't answer right away, just kept staring at the floor like it held some kind of answer she was searching for. Her behavior was so weird that I couldn't help but step closer to her, leaning in slightly to sniff around her mouth.

"Okay," I said, straightening up, "I don't smell any alcohol on you, so why are you acting drunk?"

Seraphina scoffed, lifting her gaze to meet mine. "I'm not drunk," she hissed.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "If you're not drunk, then why are you standing in my room, randomly talking about how you're not like me? What are you even trying to say?"

She let out another sigh, heavier this time, like she was carrying the world on her shoulders. "I thought I could be like you," she began, her tone quieter now, almost reflective. "Or at least convince myself that I was close to becoming like you, but I've realized something." She paused, her gaze steady. "I'm not like you, and I don't think I ever want to be."

My frown deepened, and I stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Alright," I said slowly, my tone filled with suspicion. "If you don't start explaining yourself in the next ten seconds, I'm going to assume you've gone completely mad and throw you out of my room."

I gestured toward the door for emphasis. "And if this is some ridiculous ploy to fool me again, save yourself the trouble. I'm not falling for it, so just leave me alone, Seraphina."

She didn't move. Instead, she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "This isn't a trick," she said firmly. "I'm not here to fool you or humiliate you. I just… I needed to say it. To admit it to myself."

I raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced. "Admit what?"

"That I'm not you," she said simply. "That I'll never be you, no matter how much I try, and honestly? I don't think I want to be."

I stared at her, my confusion only growing. "Okay, you've said that already," I said, my tone sharp. "But what does that even mean? What are you trying to say?"

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping again. "I thought I could handle this," she admitted quietly.

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might fall out of my head. "What the hell are you even talking about?" I snapped at Seraphina, my irritation growing. "What did you think you could handle, and what does that have to do with me?"

Seraphina let out an equally exasperated hiss, glaring at me. "Would you let me speak without interrupting?" she shot back.

I crossed my arms. "Maybe, just maybe, if you didn't take forever to get to the point, I wouldn't feel the need to interrupt," I retorted, glaring right back at her.

She scoffed, shaking her head in frustration. "You're insufferable," she muttered under her breath, before letting out a deep sigh. "Fine. I'll get straight to the point."

"Please do," I said flatly, gesturing for her to continue.

Seraphina took a step closer, her expression serious now. "I'm supposed to go to the palace tomorrow," she said, her voice quieter but still tense. "To see your mother."

That made me pause. I raised an eyebrow, my irritation momentarily replaced with confusion. "My mother?" I repeated slowly, the words feeling strange on my tongue. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the Queen, Electra," she said quickly, like the words were burning a hole in her throat. "Your mother, or better still, Electra Vale's mother. I'm supposed to see her tomorrow, and—" She cut herself off, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "And it made me realize something."

I stared at her, my confusion deepening. "You're not making any sense," I said, my tone sharp. "What do you mean, the Queen? Why would you think—"

"I know who you are," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I know you're not Electra Hook. I know you're Electra Vale, and I know that we've switched lives. I've known this the whole time."