Mirror of the Past; The Villainess' True End

That nightmare woke me up in a foul mood. I don't have any classes today, but I decided to head to our clubroom to paint. No matter how much glasses of ice I munch to appease my anger, refuses to subside. It only douses the fire burning in my chest a little and I needed an outlet that is even more substantial than shattered cubes to release it.
When I arrive, the clubroom is quiet as the sunlight streaming through the blinds in narrow slits. It casts faint patterns on the walls, added the peacefulness that I craved the moment I woke up from Karina's memory. It felt like my sanctuary now, a refuge from the raging inferno that I just experienced.
I walked towards the window where I usually paint and began preparing my things. The brushes, the paint, the canvass—all the tools to give form to the chaos overflowing inside me. As I grab the brush and start painting, I get lost in thoughts and for a brief moment, everything else fades into the background in each stroke I make.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't even notice when someone else entered the clubroom. It barely registers in my ears the soft clicks of the door and the familiar shuffle of footsteps don't pull me away from the rhythm that I've trapped myself. The brush in my hand kept moving smoothly in a deliberate stroke, each emotion I felt upon seeing that memory spills in every color I used, spilling everything that has been drowning inside me for days now after the last conversation I had with Achilles Dimitri. My hand only stopped upon releasing everything, and I finally managed to breathe calmly.
"Did something happen?"
Hearing Kairos' worried voice behind me finally made me realize that I am not alone in the clubroom anymore. I turned to look at him but almost fell back when I bumped into him. If it wasn't for his quick reflexes, catching my waist without looking away from the finished painting, I would have crashed right into the floor.
My heart races for a moment because of the sudden jolt that breaks the tension I built around myself. His hands on my waist lingers only for a second as he helped me steady myself. The brief touch of his cold hands sends ripples through me, that I immediately push aside.
"You okay?" He asked in a gentle tone after stepping back a little to give me space and stared back again at my painting when I nodded.
"I'm fine. What brings you here?" I asked, my tone a lot calmer now, as I set down the brush. The tension inside me has finally subsided, and I was starting to feel a little more in control of my emotions now than this morning. I glanced at the canvass and smiled proudly upon seeing the finished painting.
My painting bursts with raw intensity. It captures the exact explosion of emotions I felt, bringing them to life through vivid colors and forceful strokes—fiery reds and scorching yellow hues dominate it—making it seem engulfed in flames, brimming with rage and turmoil as the jagged black strokes cut through it like violent cracks, adding an ominous depth of chaos. Each stroke rooted from my frustration, anger, and an urgent need to unleash my wrath. And the deep purple weaves through the fiery storm of blazing reds and molten gold hues, adding a subtle trace of bruised pain—her pain. The smears and splashes erupt unpredictably, evoking the unrestrained fury I felt. It's a visceral representation of my burning anger, chaotic yet mesmerizing in its intensity.
"Did something happen? Did Achilles bother you again? Or was it your family?" Kairos asked again as he turned his gaze back at me from the painting, his voice is calm but curious.
I frowned, a flicker of amusement crossed my face.
I crossed my arms and looked at him with a mischievous glint in my eyes. "Did you do a background check on me?"
Kairos raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curved a smirk as he turned his gaze at me. "Do I need to?" He chuckled as he pointed with his thumb at my painting. "May it be through writing or painting, you're not really subtle."
My gaze settled back to my painting. The emotions I poured into it were still blazing on the canvas. I know that through my art, these people could easily understand me, like how they understood my creator. But Kairos gives me an impression that he knows more about me than what I was willing to show? As far as I knew, - at least from the original Karina's memory—no one besides Achilles Dimitri knew about her family situation. So how could he possibly have a clue? Even if he has the resources to dig into my past, I don't see him as that type of person.
Or is he secretly...
I scoffed, shaking away from my head that thought as I leaned casually against the window. "Oh, really? That's a bold claim. Care to elaborate?" I asked, my tone was playful, yet my eyes say otherwise as I shifted my gaze back at him.
Kairos took a step closer, his intense gaze never leaving mine, as if he could read the ridiculous thoughts swirling in my mind. "You know, Karina." He began, his voice steady but it carries a hint of something I couldn't place, "You might not realize it, but you're an open book." He leaned closer, resting his hands on the window sill as he watched me with an intensity that made my heart race for a moment upon realizing our close proximity.
Being trapped between him and the window, a certain memory flashes in my mind for a moment—the last memory I had with Kairos of my world.
"Are you happy even though you knew that he let this engagement happen for political reasons?" The brush in my hand kept on stroking the canvas with elegance and the smile on my lips just deepened upon hearing his thoughts on my current painting.
"You really know me well." I chuckled as I placed down the brush and faced Kairos. The smile on my lips faded when I noticed his somber expression. His eyes were a bit red, and there were droplets of sweat on his face as if he ran to get in here. "What's wrong, Kairos? Is there a problem?" My heart filled with worry when he only forced a smile and shifted his gaze back to my painting.
I stepped back and leaned at the window sill to admire my last masterpiece. The colors of my painting are swirling together like a dance of emotions. The soft brushstrokes of pink, lavender, and gold created a sense of love and longing, like my feelings towards the crown prince. A yearning for his love that I knew I would never have despite him agreeing to this engagement. Bursts of yellow and orange add warmth and a strange of happiness despite the sadness that lingered beneath. The deep blues and purples bled into the edge of the canvas, hinting at the ache of unrequited love that I was trying to ignore, but they were softened by the vibrant hopeful tones at the center.
Knowing Kairos, I knew that he understood this painting well. That amidst longing, pain, and sadness of my unrequited love towards the crown prince, I felt a peaceful acceptance as long as I could be with him, that I could help him in his journey to become the greatest king of the empire.
"Are you going to give that to him?" he asked, taking a step towards my finished painting to take a closer look. His voice was calm, yet there's a subtle sadness in his eyes while he gazes at my painting.
I shook my head and smiled. "No. I know my place. I just wanted to paint what I feel for the last time."
"Can I, have it?" Kairos looked at me, his deep green eyes gazed at me with a wistful resolve.
"Why?"
He closed our gap, leaned a bit closer, trapping me between him and the window sill. For a moment, my heart races upon seeing him this close with an unfamiliar expression on his face. The mischievous smile and glint of happiness in his eyes whenever he's with me was gone. He stared at me like he was burying my image into his head, and unknowingly, I did the same.
For the first time, I realized that Kairos has a striking appearance that even in mercenary attire, anyone would think that he's from a noble family. He has sun-kissed skin, in contrast to the ocean-green hue of his eyes, probably due to his job. Unlike the other mercenaries, he always had his neck-length auburn hair tied up neatly. His sharp features are softened by the natural curve of his lips, which often curve in a smug.
"Kairos?"
He wistfully smiles as he brushed off the paint on my cheeks with his fingertips. "I'll keep it safe." He took a step back and turned his gaze back to my painting, "Your feelings."
"At least for me, you are." Kai Alaric's voice sends me back to the present. He brushed off the paint in my cheeks gently and took a step back and once more, settled his gaze back to my painting. "Are you taking that home?"
"What?"
My mind buffered.
Kairos looked at me with a mysterious smile on his lips. "Can I, have it?"
My heart raced and I froze on my feet. A sense of déjà vu washed over me as we continued our conversation. As much as I want to convince myself that the Duke of the North and the Mercenary, Kairos that I met in my world are two different people, something deep within me resisted the idea. Not only my heart but my mind and soul came to an agreement—it wasn't completely impossible. Because in my world, anything is possible.
Like changing a person's appearance.
"Why?"
Kairos turned his gaze at me and stared at me for a moment, before a heartfelt smile curved his lips. "I'll keep it safe..." he paused.
The familiar warmth of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. My world around us seemed to blur, and all I could see was the Kairos I met in my world. His features overlapping with the man in front of me, the man that bore the same name of my family's savior back in my world. They don't have any resemblance but when those two images merged into one, I finally got a piece of plot hole in the original Karina's story.
I finally got the answer why the Duke of the North, Kai Alaric Ashford restored my family's name even after my death.
Kairos never looked away from my gaze as he added, "Your rage."
Because they are one.