Chapter 9 A Face That Wasn't Mine

By the time I found my way back to the house, my thoughts were a mess. The pain was still there, sharp in my cheek, dull along my ribs. But it wasn’t what unsettled me the most, it was those guys. The way they spoke. The way they looked at me like they already knew me.

“You think disappearing wipes your debt?”

The words wouldn’t leave my head. Debt. What debt? Lucian’s debt? Was it Money? It wasn't my debt and yet I was the one who stood there, got hit, threatened, told I had three days like my life had already been priced and scheduled.

I slowed my steps as I approached the house. If Father saw me like this, he would ask questions. And if he asked questions, I might be able to dodge them easily. I reached the door and took a slow breath before stepping inside.

The room was quiet. For a moment, I thought I might be lucky.

“You’re back.”

I froze before I quickly plaster a soft smile on my face.

He was seated at the table with a cup in front of him. His eyes lifted to meet mine, steady and sharp. They reminded of of Lucy's.

And that told me something immediately. He was clear-headed. It was not the usual evening where he was distracted, when his mind drifted about.

I forced myself to walk forward.

“Yes, father. I'm back now,” I said.

His gaze lingered on my face before he spoke. “You’re late,” he said.

“I went further than I planned. I'm sorry”

He nodded once, then leaned back slightly.

“Come closer.”

I hesitated for half a second before stepping forward. His eyes moved across my face slowly, taking in every detail I had tried to ignore.

“You fell,” he said and it wasn’t a question.

“Yes, father.,” I replied. “I fell on the road” I said quickly. “There was a loose stone. I didn’t see it.”

He held my gaze. For a moment, neither of us spoke but I could see the doubt in his eyes, he didn't believe me. It wasn't confusion or forgetfulness.

“You should be more careful,” he finally muttered and I sighed. “The streets don’t forgive carelessness.”

“I will.”

He nodded slowly, still watching me. Then he opened his mouth like he was about to ask me another question. I didn’t give him the chance.

“Do you want a massage, father?” I asked.

I noticed the change immediately. His brows lifted slightly and his face lightened up.

“My back has been stiff since morning,” I continued. “I noticed earlier.”

We always take turns to massage. I would massage his body and he would mine after.

He paused and then exhaled.

“Yes,” he said. “That would help.”

I stood up before he could reconsider. He turned his chair slightly and I stepped behind him, placing my hands carefully on his shoulders. His muscles were tense. I pressed gently at first, then gradually applied more pressure.

He let out a slow breath.

“That’s better,” he muttered.

The tension in the room eased and I smiled. He reminds me of my father too much.

“You don't use to offer, Lucian” he said after a moment. I chuckled loudly for him to hear.

“N, father. I just realized you needed it.”

He hummed softly but didn’t respond. It seems he was enjoying my touch so much and so I focused on my movement instead, keeping my hands steady.

“That’s enough,” he said after a while, leaning forward slightly. “You’ll make me fall asleep if you continue.”

I stepped back and he stood slowly, stretching his back. “Better,” he said.

Then he looked at me again, at my bruised face. This time, he didn’t say anything about my face. But the look remained. He hadn’t believed me.

“I’ll rest in my room now,” I said.

“Go,” he replied.

I turned and walked away, keeping my pace even until I reached my room, Lucian’s room but now mine. I closed the door behind me and let out a slow breath.

I moved toward the bed and sat down, pressing my fingers lightly against my jaw. The pain was still there and so was the memory. Those men were scary. They reminded me of Victor and that man dressed in black. With their deep hard voices and stones faces. Three days. Their words still echo in my head.

I leaned back slightly, staring at the ceiling. Then I sat up again. Thinking wouldn’t solve this. I needed information. I rose and beganto search the room. I searched carefully, systematically. Drawers first and then clothes. Nothing unusual. It all looked normal. The desk and a few scattered papers, but nothing with real meaning.

Unlike my father's drawer, there was no letters, no records or anything that might explain who Lucian was or what he had been involved in.

I moved to the shelf.

There were a few small items, some bottles, a couple of folded cloths, and a handful of knives. I picked one up of the knives.

It was sharp and well-maintained, although I could see that it has been used. But I wasn't concerned about that at the moment. With the kind of people Lucian seemed to be associated with, he might have killed a person himself. I shuddered as it reminded me of the man I stabbed myself.

I set down the knife slowly. Lucian wasn’t living a normal life, that much was clear.

I’ve checked under the bed, the walls, nothing hidden.nNo obvious secrets. I stepped back and looked around the room again. It was all empty.

I exhaled slowly and turned toward the shelf again. His picture was still there so I picked it up. Lucian stared back at me. Same face, same features and everything.

I frowned slightly. How was that even possible? I tried to remember anything about Lucian's past life– name, stories, places– but nothing came. It was like trying to recall a dream that vanished the moment you reached for it. There was something wrong. It was not just with this situation but with me. Why was I here in this small town? I stared at the picture a moment longer, then set it down.

Doppelganger.

The word slipped into my mind and my eyes widened. Could Lucian be my doppleganger? If yes, it could explain why I was mistaken for him it would make sense since I look so much like him. But it didn’t feel right still.

However, doppleganger was the closest thing I had. I paused for a few seconds before I turned and walked out of the room. Father was still in the sitting area and he looked up as I approached.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Where is the town library, father?” I asked and he frowned slightly.

“The library?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want to do in a library?” he asked.

“To read, of course,” I said before I could stop myself.

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew it sounded wrong. Lucian probably wasn’t the type to walk into a library asking to read. Father stared at me for a second longer than necessary. Then he nodded slowly.

“Two streets down,” he said. “You’ll see it near the old square.”

“Alright.”

He didn’t say anything else. But as I turned to leave, I could feel his eyes on me.

The library was quieter than I expected. It was not like the one back home at the city. The moment I stepped inside, I could feel it.

A woman sat behind the front desk, flipping through a book lazily. She looked up as I approached. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual and then a small, knowing smile appeared on her lips.

“Well,” she said, resting her chin lightly on her hand. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Lucian.”

I didn’t react.

“I need some books,” I said.

“Do you?” she replied, her tone slightly amused. “On what?”

I hesitated for a second before I said it.

“Doppelgangers. Ghosts. Reincarnation.”

Her brow lifted slightly as her expression became amused.

“That’s… an interesting mix.”

“I need information.”

She studied me for a moment, then nodded.

“Back section,” she said, pointing. “Third row to the left.”

“Thank you–” I raised my brow.

“Samantha”, she provided and I winked at her before I walked past her without another word.

The shelves were lined neatly, the books arranged in careful order. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for. I pulled out the first book and opened it.

Tale of the Doppelgangers.

The descriptions were clear. A doppelganger was said to be a double of a living person. Identical in appearance, sometimes mistaken for the original.

But there were always difference, subtle ones.

It might be a difference in behavior, memory or presence. Some believed they were omens.

Others believed they were separate beings entirely. But one thing remained consistent, they were not the same person but different people who existed separately.

I closed the book slowly. That didn’t explain this.

So I picked up another.

Reincarnation.

The idea that a soul leaves one body and is reborn into another. A new life. A new form. No physical resemblance required, only fragments of memory, sometimes. That didn’t fit either. I flipped through another page, scanning quickly. Then I stopped. What I saw was a different concept. Not doppelganger or reincarnation. It was something else.

A soul entering an already existing body. It was like a displacement, a replacement. The original consciousness would be gone and another would take its place while the body remains the same. But the mind, it changes.

My fingers tightened slightly around the page. That was it. That was the only explanation that made sense. I wasn’t a copy or a fake. I wasn’t reborn. I had taken someone else’s place. Lucian’s.

That was why I looked like him. That was why no one questioned me. It explained why I had no memories. Because they weren’t mine.

A cold feeling settled deep in my chest. It was fear. This wasn’t just strange. It was wrong. It felt completely wrong, as if I had stolen something that doesn't belong to me. I closed the book slowly and stared at the shelf in front of me. Then one thought rose clearly above the rest. I needed to leave.

Before whatever life Luci

an had built swallowed me completely. I turned slightly, my mind already racing. I should run like I did before. I should leave this town. Now, before it was too late.