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Chapter 2 - Maybe the beast just wanted to be in love

"Ah... Lillian Wilson."

She tilted her head, a half-smile forming.

"Don't scare me like that," she laughed.

He laughed too awkward, not quite right.

"You look tired," she said. "Are you alright?"

He ruffled his hair.

"I've just... been busy, that's all.

A lot's been happening lately.

After becoming your boyfriend three days ago..."

He let out a nervous chuckle, walking toward her.

She smiled and pulled out a small basket.

"I brought you breakfast. Just bread. Nothing special."

His eyes flicked to it.

"No, no... I already ate," he said quickly.

But he still took it, setting it aside.

"So... what brings you here, my lady?"

His golden eyes never left hers.

"Miss me already?"

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Then slowly, she picked up a book from the floor.

"You know, Robert...

actually, I wanted to tell you something."

Robert followed her around

as she glided through the bookshelves,

placing missing books where they belonged.

"Here."

She held up The Secret of the Beast.

"This last page... that line,

'The beast killed my whole family, including me.

It just wanted to be me.'

What was that all about?"

She frowned.

"Why would you end the story like that?

The whole book was amazing... 

but that ending..."

She hesitated.

"But this one... this one felt different."

He stared at her, trying to find something.

a word, an excuse... or a lie.

"Yeah," he said finally, voice uncertain.

"I wrote it. You don't like it?"

He leaned in closer, hands on the book she held.

"You don't like it?"

She stepped back instinctively.

"No—I mean... why would the Beast want to be the man?

Isn't that strange?"

He smiled, setting the book aside.

"You're too clever, my lady. What if..."

He paused.

"...the Beast was just trying to find a place?"

He stepped closer, voice lower now.

"What if... the Beast had a story too?

And in this one—"

He gestured to the book.

"The Beast ran to the human world.

Killed the man. Took his name.

His face. His identity.

Even... his heart.

Because the Beast didn't have a heart."

Lillian froze.

He leaned closer.

"The worst part is..." he whispered,

"...he can't stay human once it gets dark.

And no one knows.

You might walk past him in the street and never know."

A chill ran down her spine.

Goosebumps formed on her arms.

"...What?"

Her eyes didn't blink.

He chuckled.

"Don't worry. It's just my imagination.

No one survives to tell the tale."

"But... what if?" he asked softly.

His hand lifted gently to her cheek.

His eyes gleamed strangely.

His face too close to hers.

"Maybe... the Beast just wanted to be in love."

Lillian gasped.

She placed both hands on his chest and pushed him back gently.

"All right, all right... enough playing around.

You joke too much.

If you wanted to kiss me, you could've just asked."

He tilted her chin with his thumb.

"Then I'm asking now," he murmured.

"Can I kiss you?"

His thumb brushed her lips.

His other hand held hers.

Her cheeks turned soft pink.

"I... I mean..." she stammered.

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers—

Ding.

The sound of the bell on the door.

The door creaked open.

"Hello, Robert."

They froze.

Lillian quickly brushed her dress,

stepped away, and turned.

In the doorway stood an old man.

"Well, I suppose today I'm here for another newspaper.

I hope I didn't interrupt the moment."

Robert blinked.

"Oh, right. Mr. Smith. As usual?"

"Yes, yes," the man said, making his purchase and quietly leaving.

Lillian and Robert exchanged a look,

then both laughed.

"Well... I should be going now, my dear," 

she said with a bright smile.

"Wait! Not before one kiss," Robert teased.

She smirked playfully.

"Maybe next time."

She bowed and left the library.

Just outside the door,

she touched her lips and shook her head gently.

"...Robert."

Then, just as Lillian took a step away from Robert's place,

a girl's voice called out to her.

"Lillian~"

Lillian turned.

A smile bloomed on her face as she recognized that voice.

"Nira?" she called softly.

There stood a girl with blonde hair in a bob cut,

holding a small basket full of flowers.

Lillian studied her curiously.

"Flowers? Where are you taking them?"

Nira looked down at her basket.

"Oh, these? We're having a small gathering down the street.

You should come too."

Lillian tilted her head gently.

"Somebody's birthday?"

Nira smiled and nodded.

"Reana just gave birth."

"Oh... congrats."

Lillian glanced to the side where Mikael stood silently,

as if asking for permission to go.

Mikael gave a small nod.

So the two girls wandered down the street,

side by side,

their steps light on the cobblestone.

Children laughed and ran past them,

the scent of fresh bread riding the wind,

and birds chirped overhead—

an ordinary afternoon in the village of Westward.

Then Lillian asked quietly,

"Nira... do you ever wonder where all the birds go at night?"

Nira chuckled, nudging her.

"You've been hanging out with Robert too much.

Now you have his imagination.

Is that what it feels like to fall in love?"

Lillian hugged herself,

shoulders rising to her neck—

smiling or dreaming.

"I'm not sure...

but today,

he was different."

Nira's eyes narrowed slightly.

"How different? A change of heart?"

"No... he was extra,"

Lillian answered gently.

Nira grinned, hand resting on her lips.

"I'm happy for you. Robert's a good partner."

She pointed at the book in Lillian's hands.

"What's that you're carrying?

Is that one of Robert's too?"

Lillian's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Oh, this? Yes. It's his latest story.

It's about an old tale from our village."

Nira laughed.

"Let me guess about the Beast who comes out at night?

The one our parents always talked about?

They just told us that story so we wouldn't wander around after dark.

There's no Beast. It's just... dark.

Parents love using fairytales to keep us in line."

Lillian only nodded, still holding her book close.

But the closer they got to Reana's house,

the more the air changed.

A low hum of voices.

People murmuring.

Faces tense. Pale.

Whispers twisting through the crowd.

"What's going on?"

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