The Last Page: Episode 05

Finnian wanders through the Royal Library, his fingers trailing lightly along the spines of ancient tomes and his footsteps echoing on the polished marble floors. It's been a week since Lochlann's engagement has been announced, and yet Ciara remains unharmed. Lady Ein should have made a move by now; Ciara should be in the infirmary recovering slowly from a poisoning attempt.

A flurry of movement catches his eye, and he glances over to see Brigit sprinting between bookshelves, her arms loaded with thick volumes, strands of light brown hair escaping her messy bun, and her thick glasses sliding down her thin nose. 

Finnian pauses, watching the assistant librarian rush about. He tries to recall if Prince Finnian... If he dies on ​Brigit’s romance route in Ciara Romantica. He vaguely remembers finding Brigit's story dull. There had been little chemistry between her and Ciara; their romance had felt forced and unrealistic. He dies in Lochlann's route, in his own route if it's a Bad End, and in Riona's route no matter what ending the player gets... And maybe dies in Brigit's route, too...

He had been so excited to play Riona's route with the revolution and epic battle and he thinks he remembers laughing at the deaths of both Prince Lochlann and Finninan. At least, e thinks he recalls telling someone that in his past life. Someone... Someone whose face and voice still elude him even if her shadow is in every one of the memories he has recalled so far.

But what about Brigit's route? Tere is something about an explosion in her route, isn’t there? Some magical mishap that occurs here in the library? Isn’t that what triggers the start of the Ciara/Brigit route? Finnian chews his lip. He has worked too hard manipulating events to make sure Ciara ends up with Lochlann; that’s the only route he is certain of--the only one he knows he can fully manipulate​. So long as he keeps control, and keeps Ciara on the right path, he might just survive this next life. 

And once he does, he can finally transition. He wishes he could start his transition now, but that would be one more variable. One more deviation from the game. A deviation that could have far reaching effects that somehow land him back on the road to doom.​

He plops a book down on the table and opens it to a random page, not even sure what he is pretending to look for. A violent boom ricochets off the high ceilings and marble columns followed by a chorus of screams and shouts. A cloud of smoke spreads across the library, engulfing everything. Without thinking, he dashes toward the heart of the commotion.

Scholars and students emerge from behind their fortresses of books, expressions ranging from terrified to mildly annoyed. He rounds a corner and skids to a halt as the smoke clears. Shelves lie toppled, their contents spilling across the floor in a mess of parchment and leather. In the center lies Ciara, her robes singed at the edges and blood dripping from her hands. "I didn't mean to," she says. "I don't know what went wrong."

Lochlann and Brigit are at her side first, fussing over the stunned and bleeding woman. He blinks, the scene before him superimposed over his memories of the game. In the story, this situation was intentionally set up as a trap rather than being a mere accident.

But he can’t remember who set it up. He would suspect Lady Ein had orchestrated this if this were an event in his own route, Lochlann’s route, or Ríona’s route. But it’s not; as far as he remembers, this event is only in Brigit’s route. Right?

“Are you alright, Ciara?” Lochlann’s voice is strained as he examines her injured arm.

“I didn't mean to," she says again, eyes wide. "I don’t know what happened. I was just taking notes, and then the book exploded.”

“Did you see anyone else around when this happened?” Lochlann asks, scanning the library.

Ciara shakes her head, wincing. “No, I was alone.”

“I am going to fetch the royal physicians,” Lochlann says, rising to his feet. 

"No." Finnian kneels at Ciara's side next to his brother. Lochlann has to stay here, where he can bond with Ciara more. If Lochlann leaves, it will definitely trigger the start of the Ciara/Brigit route! “That will take too long.”

“The physicians are too far away to arrive here quickly, but I have a friend who is just down the street,” Brigit says, pushing her glasses up with her thumb. “Ríona. She’s a healer. I can fetch her.”

Brigit knows Ríona? But how? This is bad. He can’t have Ciara starting two other routes. Especially not in the same day.

“Is she good?” Lochlann asks, voice tight.

“Ríona is the best,” Brigit says.

“Fetch her! Hurry!”

“No. There’s no need for that,” Finnian says, wondering why it seems like no one is listening to him. “I can tend to Ciara’s wounds here. Brigit, please fetch the medical kit from the staff closet.” 

Brigit nods and hurries off. Lochlann squints, uncertain, hovering next to Ciara. “Are you sure? These look like serious injuries.”

Finnian claps his brother on the shoulders. “I may not be a royal physician, but I know enough to clean and dress a wound. Ciara will be alright. I was studying medicine, after all.” 

“You were studying magical healing, not medicine,” Lochlann says, but relents.

Finnian takes her injured arm. She winces but does not pull away. He fights to keep his expression neutral; he cannot allow anything to derail his plans. Ríona must not become involved. He scolds himself for his miscalculations. He had let Ciara meet Brigit—a small error in his grand scheme—but he can still control the outcome. He can navigate this. “Lochlann. I need you to stay here with Ciara to help keep her calm. Hold her while I do what I need to do.”

Brigit returns with gauze and alcohol and plenty of creams, potions, and ointments. He carefully examines her wound while too many people examine him. As he applies one of the creams to her arm, a strange pickle runs down back of his neck again. I’ve done this before. No, it wasn’t him who did this. He played this scene before. This isn’t the start of the Brigit/Ciara route. This is the start of Finnian's route with Ciara. This is the event that triggers his own love story with the game’s heroine. 

Memories from too many lives mix together. Finnian lets out a shaky breath. The fall from his horse’s back at the funeral had cracked his skull in just the right spot to unlock memories from his past life. A past life that had been cut tragically short, ending far too soon for reasons he still can’t recall. His days back then had been spent in dreary poverty, paycheck to paycheck. His only joy had come from playing otome games with his girlfriend on the secondhand console they had scrimped and saved for. Ciara Romantica had been his favorite, the pinnacle of the genre. It had swept the awards circuit, even winning accolades from staunch critics who normally refused to acknowledge otome games as true works of gaming artistry. But now here he is, living inside of it, still trying to direct the games heroine onto the “best” romance route.

This is the moment where he is supposed to fall in love with Ciara. But this isn’t the same game and he isn’t playing by its rules.

Finnian has no intention of falling for Ciara’s charms. He knows that he can’t afford to let her notice him—not when he needs her to fall for Lochlann instead. The irony isn’t lost on him—the only person in this world who could possibly love him for who he truly is, is the one person he must ensure never sees him.

His heart twinges at the thought. In another life, in another world perhaps, things could have been different. But here and now, Finnian must focus on surviving, on making sure his carefully laid plans come to fruition. He will remain unseen, unnoticed—a silent observer in his own life. Because in this world, survival isn’t about winning the heart of the heroine—it’s about making sure she never even notices that he exists.