"Of course, I am your mother after all."
Atlas gazed at her smirk, his fingers twitching with the urge to activate his Truth Eyes. Just one glimpse—just enough to confirm what he was dealing with. Bela Von Roxweld. A woman who had consumed Henry's heart so completely that kingdoms trembled under their union. The same woman whose shadow loomed over every corner of this palace, even now.
And Atlas himself—their son. From the outside, they must have looked like a perfect family portrait: a king, a queen, and their heir. But beneath the surface? No one could guess.
He wanted more memories. More fragments of Atlas's past. Maybe that was the key to escaping this illusion—a map drawn from recollections buried deep within his borrowed soul. But when he tried to access his Truth Eyes or World Understanding skills again, nothing happened. His system was dead silent, as if mocking him for relying on it in the first place.
'...it's only me now...?' he thought bitterly, staring at Bela.
