Chapter 4- The Name That Hurts

The room was quiet except for the flickering sound of the candle. Lucia’s lips trembled as she whispered the name she had just read.

“Ian…”

The moment the word left her mouth, a sharp tightness wrapped around her chest. Her breath hitched, as if invisible hands had gripped her heart. A wave of strange nostalgia surged through her—fragments of warmth, laughter, and loss all at once—emotions she could not place.

Her fingers clutched the phone tighter. Why… why am I feeling this?

She pressed a hand over her chest, as though that could calm the ache. Her mind screamed in confusion. I don’t know this person. I have never heard this name before. Then why does it feel like… like I’ve already lost him?

Her vision blurred slightly with unshed tears.

She shook her head, almost angrily. “No. This doesn’t make sense,” she whispered to herself. “I don’t know Ian. I don’t.”

But the more she denied it, the stronger the ache became. Like a memory locked behind invisible doors, pushing to break free.

Her surroundings suddenly felt different—colder, heavier. The candle’s flame wavered violently as if responding to her unrest. And somewhere deep inside her chest, a forgotten echo whispered back at her, soft yet haunting:

“Ivor.”

She froze. That voice wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. But it felt real enough to send shivers racing down her spine.

Lucia shut her eyes tightly, hugging herself. “Get it together, Lucia… this isn’t the time to lose yourself.”

When she finally steadied her breathing, she glanced at the wardrobe. Her heart pounded as she reached inside and pulled out Ivor’s clothes. They were simple but neat—slim jeans, a clean white shirt, and a dark jacket. As she slipped them on, she studied her reflection in the mirror.

The boy staring back at her was beautiful—too beautiful. Purple hair falling over gentle features, eyes carrying an innocence she didn’t feel.

She tugged the jacket tighter around herself, gripping the phone in her hand.

“Just do this, Lucia,” she whispered to her reflection. “Get the answers you need. Mamma, Papa… bless me, please.”

Gathering her courage, she moved toward the door.

Bzzt.

Her steps faltered. A reminder buzzed across Ivor’s phone screen, flashing a date: 5th June.

Lucia frowned, her brows knitting together. “Now what is this?” she muttered, her stomach tightening with unease.

She didn’t have time to think about the reminder. Locking the door behind her, Lucia forced her trembling legs to move. Every step echoed in her head—she was no longer Lucia… no, right now she had to be Ivor.

Outside, the air was cool, carrying scents she could almost taste on her tongue—car exhaust, fried food from a nearby stall, even the faint perfume of strangers passing by. Her nose twitched at every detail. Why am I sensing everything so sharply…?

She quickly hailed a taxi. Sliding into the backseat, she muttered under her breath the entire ride, like a chant meant to keep her courage alive:

> “You can do this, Lucia. Don’t be afraid. Just… act natural. Just act like him.”

The city blurred outside the window, neon lights flickering against her uneasy face. Her palms were clammy; she kept wiping them on her jeans.

When the taxi finally pulled over, she stepped out to see a warm, inviting glow spilling from a decent-looking restaurant. Laughter drifted from inside. It wasn’t too fancy, but it wasn’t cheap either. A reunion spot… it made sense.

Lucia’s heart pounded. Now… how do I find Ivor’s friends?

She stood awkwardly near the entrance, trying not to look lost. Just then—

Tap.

A hand landed on her back. Lucia nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Hey, my bestie!” a cheerful voice rang out.

Lucia spun around. A girl stood there, radiant with an easy smile.

Her mind raced—who? Who is she? Think, think, THINK—

Her lips parted before her brain caught up. “...Letty?” she blurted.

The girl burst out laughing, flicking her hair dramatically. “What? Now you even forget your best friend, you idiot?”

Lucia’s heart almost dropped to her stomach, but she forced a laugh, scratching the back of her neck the way she imagined a boy might. “No! No, I was just… shocked. You’re looking beautiful today.”

Letty’s grin widened instantly, her cheeks coloring with playful pride.

“Ohhh, after getting a compliment from our Beauty God, I feel like flying~” she teased, clasping her hands together as if she’d just won an award.

Lucia managed a small chuckle, though inside she was screaming. Beauty God? Ivor, just what kind of reputation do you have…?

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