She tilted her head slightly, voice softening—but only just.

Mocking.

"Why get so angry when you’re the one being played with, hmm? Isn’t that how Selene first earned your trust? By misleading you? By keeping secrets?"

Azalea blinked. "Wait. She’s... not wrong?"

Milena pressed on, relentless.

"You forgave her. Easily, in fact. But me? One twist, one mirror, and you snap."

My fists clenched. Selene still couldn’t meet my eyes.

"And that," Milena finished, "is why you’re so fascinating."

I didn’t respond. I was too busy trying to decide whether to scream... or just walk away.

Azalea looked about ready to throw a shoe.

"Okay, seriously, what kind of messed-up game is this?!"

And Milena—of course—just gave a small laugh.

"The one you’ve all agreed to play."

Milena, having just dropped what could only be described as a world-shattering info-dump without so much as blinking, calmly folded her hands and turned to the side. Like she’d just reported the weather. Like the emotional debris left in her wake wasn’t her problem.

Azalea, who had been valiantly following along—despite an expression that looked increasingly like her brain had been scrambled in a blender—blinked a few times in disbelief.

Then frowned. Then...

She pouted.

Full-on, lips-jutted, eyebrows-tilted, anime-level pout.

"H-Huh?! Wait, excuse me?" she squeaked, arms flailing like she was trying to flag down a passing carriage—or a bus that refused to stop.

"Did you seriously just info-dump your entire villain origin story and not even acknowledge me?! I was here the whole time! I heard everything! I’m not just some emotionally supportive furniture!"

Milena didn’t even twitch.

Azalea sucked in a dramatic gasp.

"Ohhh, I see how it is," she muttered in a stage-whisper, eyes narrowing.

"Because she’s the imported genius soul from another world with all the fancy contracts and apocalyptic consequences, suddenly I’m just a decorative background noise."

Still no response.

Milena was either very committed to the bit or genuinely did not care.

Azalea stomped one foot—not hard, more like a kitten trying to throw hands with a thunderstorm.

"I’ve been emotionally available this entire time!" she exclaimed.

"I held Kairi’s hand while she was unconscious! I didn’t even scream when the creepy floating bird lady started monologuing about soul theft and magical fine print! That’s supportive! That’s, like, MVP-tier friendship!"

Selene gave the tiniest, breath-of-a-laugh chuckle. Barely there. But it was something. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Milena? Nothing. Not even an eye twitch.

Azalea gasped again, louder this time, and planted a hand over her chest like she’d just been betrayed by the entire cast.

"I—I’m literally the emotional glue in this group! And this is how I’m treated? Maybe I should have teamed up with the snake monsters! At least they would’ve noticed I existed!"

That got something.

Barely.

Milena tilted her head. Not even fully—just enough to register Azalea’s presence, like a bored cat glancing at a distant noise.

"You wouldn’t last two seconds," she said flatly.

Azalea instantly lit up. "Aww, see? You do care!" she beamed, practically glowing under the insult like it was a bouquet of compliments.

"You noticed me!"

I groaned and buried my face in both hands.

"Kill me," I muttered. "Just kill me now."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, from beside me, Selene finally spoke up—quiet, hesitant, trying to be helpful but absolutely missing the emotional context.

"...Poison’s the cleanest."

I slowly turned my head toward her, eyes wide with disbelief.

Azalea blinked. "Wait, what?"

Selene, ever the scholar, continued with the same thoughtful seriousness one might use to suggest herbal remedies for migraines. "I mean, if you’re asking. Something odorless and fast-acting. Ideally, tasteless too. But not cyanide—that’s too theatrical and it leaves a smell. Something alchemical would be more efficient."

I stared.

Azalea stared harder.

Selene faltered, a faint pink rising to her cheeks. "Or—um—not that I’ve... thought about this extensively."

Milena gave a snort. "She has a whole section on it in her journal. Indexed."

Selene’s blush deepened into pure mortification. "That was for academic purposes!"

"Sure it was," I deadpanned. "Definitely not concerning at all."

Azalea squinted at her, deeply disturbed. "You guys study this?"

Milena shrugged. "The classics never go out of style."

Azalea just made a muffled noise that might’ve been a scream, or a laugh, or possibly the death of her last functioning brain cell.

I let out a long, ragged sigh, dragging both hands down my face.

"...Okay. New plan. No one is allowed to talk unless supervised."

Milena raised a finger. "Even in cases of emergency?"

"Especially in cases of emergency."

Selene looked like she wanted to die from embarrassment. Milena looked vaguely proud of herself. And Azalea? She was now sitting on the floor, dramatically hugging her knees like a war survivor who’d seen too much.

"Honestly," Azalea whispered, "the snake monsters are sounding better by the second."

Azalea was still muttering to herself on the floor, gently rocking back and forth. "Snake monsters. Friendly. Simple. Probably good listeners..."

That’s when Selene, still red-faced but clearly fed up, let out a sharp exhale and muttered under her breath:

"At least they’re not Helena’s cuck."

The room went dead silent.

Azalea slowly lifted her head like a meerkat sensing danger. "Wait. What?"

I blinked. "Did you just—"

Selene crossed her arms tightly and looked away, jaw clenched. "You heard me."

"Oh my gods," Azalea wheezed, eyes wide with delight. "Selene!"

Milena looked halfway to laughing. "Now that’s a choice of words."

"Accurate," Selene bit out, voice like cold steel.

"She leads. He follows. He simps. He runs away. Rinse, repeat."

"I mean, you’re not wrong," I muttered, still half-shocked she said it aloud.

Azalea was now lying on her back, kicking her legs in the air like a gremlin on sugar.

"I knew you hated him! I knew it! This whole time you were so civil, but underneath—boom. Salty fireworks."

Selene didn’t deny it. Didn’t say another word, in fact. Just stood there, arms crossed, staring at a fixed point in the air with a look that could curdle milk.

Milena, amused, turned to me. "Well, that just made my day. Say what you will about curses and soul contracts, but that level of spite? Chef’s kiss."

I groaned again. "Remind me to destroy everyone’s journals before I die."

Azalea sat up, completely revitalized. "No way. I’m making copies. Annotated. With footnotes."

Selene didn’t look at any of us, but I swear I heard her mumble:

"...And a bibliography titled ’Men Who Should’ve Stayed Dead.’"