Her gaze lingered on Cassandra, who was now running helplessly, trying to avoid both the projectiles and the countless accusing eyes.
Yet, despite everything... Lana felt nothing. No joy. No satisfaction. Just… stillness.
'…I've been here before,' she thought faintly.
Her eyelids lowered slowly.
Perched on her shoulder, Mr. Crow also grew still, its dark eyes closing as if sinking into the same memory.
In an instant, Lana found herself staring at a familiar scene.
A younger version of herself stood there, black hair falling softly over her shoulders, her eyes wide and glistening with desperation. She stood in the very same position Cassandra now occupied.
But unlike Cassandra, that version of Lana was trembling uncontrollably.
"I don't know why…" the younger Lana cried out, her voice shaking. "I don't know why my designs look like hers… it's like she's reading my mind!"
Laughter erupted from the crowd. Cruel. Mocking.
"Has she gone insane?"
