The mirror fogged up in the bathroom, my face wet, my body wet. I’m supposed to feel clean, feel warm, and feel good.

  But I feel none of those things.

  I wipe my face with a towel, just had gotten out the shower. It was well deep into the night, Rei was already sleeping, Jex cleaning up and shortly she would be too.

  But there was me.

  Still up.

  That gnawing feeling.

  I can’t describe it, not good.

  And…and…I feel like most of the time it ends up nowhere. That sense. That lingering sense. Derealization? Depersonalization?

  Elise used to talk about it sometime. But I barely even remember that. Those memories, still trying to fade away from me. It felt like yesterday, and I act like tomorrow is the day I’ll have the chance to re-enact it.

  I give out a deep, heavy sigh. Deep from my chest, and deep from my own sins.

  My hand slowly grips on the countertop.

  No matter how much I play “house” in this glorified ranchouse.

  I can’t look away from the real problem. That I’m just…feeding into it.

  I thought a nice, warm shower would fix me. It did in the early days, when I was out there, barely surviving, happy to even be here.

  And now? I’m disgusted that I was.

  I sat in that shower. Letting the warm and hot water pour over me. For a brief moment, I thought it would cleanse me. Wash away the lies. Wash away my skin. Boil me alive and consume me if it had the chance.

  It never did.

  I wipe the mirror, to see something. My face. It was fogged from the steam, but there it was.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it, or moreso studied it. Hazel eyes. Healthy, white skin. Black hair.

  I was me, I am me, and I’m going to be me.

  How long can I be me? Until I’m no longer me?

  Who am I?

  I shake my head too violently. Now’s not the time to have an identity crisis. It’s simple. Survive here for six months—and if I can, drum up something with Wayne that satisfies all parties.

  I can do this. I know I can.

  I wiped the mirror more, just out of habit, and there it was.

  Two blue piercing eyes staring back at me.

  My body stiffened, I didn’t jump, all I did was snap my neck behind me, and there she was.

  Jex. But…not in the outfit I had gotten her, no. She was back into her maid outfit.

  “Jex.” Was all I could get out, her sudden appearance startled me.

  She doesn’t creep up on me. Not normally. She doesn’t enter my room when it’s already closed, so something was up. I knew it was.

  I turn around, towel wrapped around my waist, and beads of water still running down my upper body. Not having time to properly dry myself and get ready is one thing.

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  My maid showing up in front of me while I’m half naked is another.

  I study her face. Her eyes aren’t beady, she’s not grinning or smiling. Her hands are tight to each other, and her face is down. Demotivated.

  She looks no different than when I saw her on the first day.

  “...M-Master Lucien…I’m sorry for intruding you in on this moment…but there’s something that I’ve been meaning to speak to you about.” She says. Her words are knit together closely. Not as if she’s been holding this back in the last minute.

  Or that she thought of this randomly one night.

  This…this whole personality flip. It doesn’t make sense, nor even compare to how she was acting earlier.

  I slowly nod, “Y-yeah…just wait outside for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

  She slowly nodded, and left the bathroom in quick steps. I closed the door, and exhaled. For some reason, I feel on edge. Why?

  I don’t know.

  It wasn’t long before I left. Clothed fully in a long-sleeved tunic and comfortable pants to match. She was standing right outside my bed, and I took a seat to welcome the topic.

  “Well? Something’s wrong?” I ask her, but yet my tone betrayed me. She could sense that I was on edge.

  She took a seat on the bed, uninvited. I didn’t speak about it, not yet. So I waited for her to begin.

  “I…I…” She stammered on her words. She didn’t look around the room frantically, but eyed her lap. Her long, black natural nails, and her deep blue skin.

  “Take your time.” I tried to reassure her, but it didn’t work as I thought it would.

  Jex went on, and strangely.

  Put a hand on my back.

  Not pat my back.

  But soothe it.

  She ran her hand around my back, and it felt…weird.

  I didn’t question it. I should’ve, but I didn’t. This was one of the times I felt like Jex has ever put her hands on me.

  Why was it now?

  But then, it struck me.

  She must’ve seen me in the bathroom.

  The look on my face, my body language. Everything.

  I thought my mask was more than enough to hide it. But what difference does it make for someone like Jex?

  A heavy sigh escapes from me, and at that moment. It felt like I caved in. That I wanted to vent Jex about everything. The same way I did to Wayne, and felt refreshed—if only for a moment.

  And I would’ve.

  Had I not hear her speak first.

  And a name that ceased all thought process.

  “...Master Flugel.”

  She spoke.

  Not in fear, but with conviction. To reference something almost.

  I peer over to her, and she’s not smiling, no. She’s timid. On edge, maybe just like I am. As if she came across news she never wanted to hear.

  My eyes narrow, but she doesn’t retreat, not once.

  She knows I don’t like hearing his name, or even the title like that being referenced in the house. Not towards Flugel.

  So…why?

  “Jex…?” I speak out. I’m still trying to connect the dots, link up whatever I could. Maybe I should’ve said more, but I’m too tired to. To drained too even think of something.

  She looks back, but with dreamy eyes. Accepting eyes. Inviting eyes. Her cryptic messages, it’s as if she’s trying to get me to read her mind. Maybe translate the message and hope I get it in return and we go on from there.

  But I can’t. I’m no mindreader. I’m not a telepathic guy.

  And so?

  She places another hand on my back. Soothing. Accepting. Warm.

  I have no idea what she’s doing, or what’s her plan. I should probably stop her. But I can’t.

  She speaks again, “I…I thank you for everything you’ve done here so far…I really do.”

  Her hands continue to rub my back. If I had back pain, then maybe I would be grateful for the message.

  But there’s that look on her face. Something that’s telling me. Her hands may be conveying one thing.

  Her face is telling me otherwise.

  And right now?

  It’s nothing more than a ulterior motive.

  There’s something Jex wants to say or do.

  But she’s not being upfront about it.