Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Private conversation (3)

After this man uttered these words, silence fell over the carriage — a heavy, almost palpable silence.

I sat there, staring at my companion, and felt a slow but inexorable irritation growing somewhere deep in my consciousness, intertwined with confusion.

His calmness, cold and unshakable, was irritating. He spoke as if everything he said was not insane ravings, but absolute truth, beyond question.

My mind refused to accept it all. His words echoed in my head, colliding with a desperate desire to reject them. I felt my fingers clenched on my knees trembling slightly — whether from indignation or incomprehension, it was hard to say.

I frowned, forcing myself to breathe evenly, trying to hide the confusion that was rising more and more insistently from within.

No. This was all ridiculous.

What end of the world? How could anyone take such madness seriously?

"So you..." I finally said, trying to make my voice sound firm, "you arranged all this to make me come here? Just to say all this?"

He didn’t move. His posture remained perfectly calm, and in his eyes, hidden under the shadow of his hood, there seemed to be a barely noticeable glimmer of light.

"Yes," he said quietly but firmly. "That’s exactly why."

Everything inside me broke. His calmness and serene confidence in his own words gave me a strange, unpleasant feeling. It was as if I was looking not at a madman, but at a person who really knew something that I didn’t.

And yet... I still couldn’t take it seriously.

"And... what’s the point of all this?" I asked after a short pause.

He didn’t answer right away. For a few seconds, the stranger sat motionless, as if thinking about how best to phrase his answer. Then he lowered his head slightly, the shadow from his hood sliding across his face, hiding his features, and said quietly:

"Because I need your help."

I blinked involuntarily, not immediately understanding the meaning of his words.

"My help?" I asked again with obvious disbelief, feeling my eyebrows rise of their own accord. "I’m sorry, but... you do realize how that sounds?"

"I know," he replied calmly.

"And yet it’s true."

"What...?"

He looked up at me, his eyes tired but determined.

"As I said," he said in a low, steady voice that sounded grimly confident, "if we do nothing, this world will soon collapse."

I exhaled deeply, feeling irritation boiling up inside me.

"Even if that’s true," I said, emphasizing each word, "even if we assume that all of this is true, what does that have to do with me? Why me?"

He lifted the corners of his lips slightly, but this time there was no irony or mockery in his smile, only complete confidence.

"Because you are the only one who can help me stop her."

I shuddered involuntarily, feeling something tighten in my chest.

"Stop... Rubiella?" I asked, feeling a chill growing in my chest.

"Yes," he replied simply, without further explanation, but there was determination in his voice. "Only you can change the course of this story."

I frowned, feeling an icy premonition slowly rising from my chest to my throat.

"And how?" I finally asked. My voice sounded cautious, with a hint of hidden anxiety.

He looked away for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and the shadow from his hood slid across his face.

"You must play the game to the end," he said slowly, "and reach the true ending. Only then will we have a chance to save ourselves."

I froze.

"The true... ending?" I asked, almost in a whisper, not believing I was saying it out loud.

He nodded.

I looked at him, still unable to fully understand what he meant.

And only after a few seconds did it begin to dawn on me. Gradually, as if out of a fog, a disturbing guess formed in my head.

The boy seemed to sense that I was close to figuring it out and spoke softly, confirming my thoughts:

"You must complete the love story with one of the key characters. Only then can you open the way to the true ending."

I blinked, not immediately knowing how to respond. Then, when the meaning of his words finally dawned on me, I almost cried out:

"What?" My indignation burst out spontaneously. "Are you suggesting that I do this? Why me? Why not ask the main character? After all, it’s her story, not mine!"

The words came out of my mouth before I had time to think them through. It seemed to me that I simply couldn’t do otherwise — everything he had just said sounded too absurd.

If this boy really knew that we were inside the world of an otome game, then he must have understood that there was a main character here — Angela.

She is the center of this world, its core, around which all events and characters revolve.

And so the fact that this strange man had chosen me, a minor character, and not a positive one at that, seemed completely illogical.

Why not Angela? Why me?!

I tried to find some kind of explanation for this, but my head was a complete mess.

However, my interlocutor did not answer right away. He just looked at me silently, calmly, almost expressionlessly, and there was no irritation in his gaze, which I expected to see. On the contrary, there was a barely perceptible shadow of... regret. Or perhaps sadness.

"Because she can’t help us," he replied quietly.

"She can’t?" I frowned. "Why not?"

He looked away for a moment, as if hesitating whether to continue. His fingers trembled slightly as he clutched the edge of his cloak.

"There are reasons for this," he finally said. "And I can’t tell you everything right now. But believe me... only you can help this world."

My heart sank.

I exhaled sharply, trying not to show how much these words had upset me. Irritation and confusion mixed together inside me into some kind of unstable mixture — either anger, or fear, or simply helplessness in the face of the absurdity of what was happening.

In any case, what this mysterious stranger was talking about sounded like pure madness. And I was definitely not going to take part in it.

I smiled, although the smile came out nervous and unnatural.

Go through a love story with one of the characters to save the world? It sounded ridiculous!

"No," I finally said firmly. "I refuse."

This time, the boy frowned slightly. His face, almost hidden in the shadow of his hood, seemed to darken, and his voice became slightly lower than before.

"Lady Weinstein," he said slowly, almost emphatically, "as I have already said, the fate of this world depends on your decision. Since you...

"As I already said," I interrupted sharply, not wanting to listen any further, "I don’t believe you. Everything you say sounds like complete nonsense. These stories about Rubiella are ridiculous. And besides," I clenched my fists, "I will never cooperate with a person who is not even capable of revealing his face and saying who he really is."

For a moment, I thought I saw disappointment flash in his eyes. But he quickly looked down.

The boy was silent for a while, as if listening to his own thoughts. Then he spoke quietly, almost in a whisper, with undisguised anxiety:

"Lady Weinstein... you have no idea how much you may regret this decision in the future."

"We’ll see about that," I snapped, getting up from my seat. "In any case, it’s time for me to go."

I tried to keep my voice calm, but his words still echoed inside me. Whatever he meant, I wasn’t going to show that they had affected me in the slightest.

"Have a nice day," I added coldly and, without waiting for a reply, opened the door.

The street breathed in fresh air — damp, smelling of recent rain and stone dust. I stepped outside, feeling my heart beating somewhere near my throat. My fingers were still trembling, even though I was trying to maintain my composure.

Without turning back, I left the alley, leaving behind the gloomy carriage and my strange companion.

Inside the carriage, complete silence reigned for a moment. Only the faint creaking of the wheels and the distant patter of raindrops on the roof broke the silence.

The servant in the dark cloak, who had been standing nearby all this time, cautiously stepped closer. His voice sounded uncertain:

"Sir... what shall we do now?"

The boy did not answer immediately. He sat motionless, his head bowed, as if thinking about something.

Finally, he looked up. From under the shadow of his hood, his eyes flashed — unusual and multicolored, as if woven from magic. But there was no softness left in them — only cold tension, anxious and foreboding a storm.

He exhaled quietly and said:

"It seems that what I feared will begin to happen after all."

The servant bowed his head.

The boy closed his eyes, resting his elbow on his knee, and ran his hand wearily over his face.

"We waited too long," he muttered, almost to himself. "Now it may be too late."