A False Confession
I confessed. I couldn't do it while sober, so I took a shot of liquid courage.
“I like you.”
“I just like everything about you.”
“... I don't understand.”
Something's strange. His voice is deeper, his height slightly different, and his physique even more so. In fact, after a closer look, even the hair color that reflected the moonlight—this is crazy. It’s someone else. It's none other than Duke Cabel Willard whose known as the 'Grim Reaper' of the battlefields.
“... Excuse me?”
“From now on, don't refer to me by any strange titles. Call me by name instead.”
The corners of his lips that were always frozen stiffly curved into a smile. It seemed like he would immediately kill me if the truth of my false confession was brought to light.